Hero of Arcadia

by Annathesa Nikola Darksbane

  “So, Jonelise. A question.” Elizabeth cut another slender sliver of egg and politely ate it. “Exactly how long have you been in my dungeons?”

  “...What?” Jone blinked and looked up from the bowl of meat and...beans? Were those some sort of beans? Her mouth watered incessantly; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a good meal, or even enough to eat. “What kind of question is that? How could you not know? You captured me.”

  “Oh, Jonelise. Please don’t take such a simplistic view of things.” Elizabeth reached out toward her; Jone tensed, but the Queen retrieved a tall bottle with a smirk and refilled her crystalline wine glass. “Francis captured you. Recently, to hear him tell it. And now you’ve suddenly escaped? Please.” She sighed quietly. “So how long have you really been here?”

  “I…” Jone frowned, her irritation bubbling up. “How could I know? What kind of game is this? Your people tortured us. Me. Your arcanists conducted experiments, trying to figure out what made me—”

  “Jone,” Rote warned. “Are we sure she knows about me? What if she’s telling the truth?”

  “Special?” The Queen nodded. “Well, that does sound like me.” Jone glared at her, and Elizabeth shrugged. “Would you prefer I lied? That would get us nowhere. I use the most effective means to solve my problems, to protect my people. Just like you do.”

  Anger tightened Jone’s jaw. “We’re nothing alike,” she managed through clenched teeth. “You’re the villain here. You kill and steal in the name of expanding your own Empire, and—”

  “Jone.” The Eternal Queen tapped the table firmly, her dark eyes unyielding, smothering Jone’s momentum in an instant. “You do realize that to my people, you are the villain? You terrorize and kill. You maim people just doing their jobs, rob families of their spouses and children.” Her gaze softened. “You have no idea what, or why, I started my crusade. Do not pretend to. And don’t demonize me to better justify your own actions; we both know you’re better than that.” Her eyes glittered while her hands deftly buttered a piece of oddly shaped toast. “At least, I hope so.”

  “I…” Jone faltered.

  “Don’t let her get to you. Don’t let her get in your head.” Flashes of splintered gemstones flickered through her mind’s eye. “She’s still a killer.”

  So am I, Rote. So are you. Jone swallowed hard. “You’re not wrong. I know that.” She settled herself with a breath. “But I didn’t start this fight.” Newly recovered memories surged, and she gripped the table tight. “You sent your army to my home; I did what I had to in order to defend it.”

  The Queen nodded. “Actually, that’s what I respect most about you. You’re resourceful, dedicated. Unyielding. But not unreasonable. Those qualities are what make me think we can work together to save our people.”

  “Our people?” Jone raised an eyebrow. “Do you mean—”

  “Unification, Jone. That’s what I mean.” Elizabeth shared another dazzling smile with her, her dark eyes suddenly sharp and excited. “An end to the wars. No more borders.” She stirred her own bowl of bean-like objects together with the eggs, irreversibly blending them together. “Without borders between lands, you remove people’s arbitrary allegiances, their tendency to think themselves better than those one town or one continent over, to think that the way or place they were born is the best one. Without borders of culture, of religion, of philosophy, you remove those same differences in the heart, in the mind. Think of it!” She grinned. “In a few generations, we could remove most of the reasons people kill one another.”

  It took a moment for it to all sink in before Jone finally shook her head. “There are other reasons. Violence is a part of life, however much I would like it to be otherwise.”

  Queen Elizabeth studied her with clear, intelligent eyes. “No offense intended, Jone, but you’re a career soldier. Violence is how you have been taught to solve problems. What if there were another way?”

  Jone took her time considering that as well. Meanwhile, the Queen waited patiently. “I’m not perfect,” she said finally. “Far from it. I truly want there to be another answer. But there will always be crimes of passion, or those who steal to eat, or—”

  Elizabeth was already shaking her head. “I’m not naïve enough to think we can wipe out all such crimes.” She leaned conspiratorially closer to Jone. “Just the biggest ones. Uniform laws that do not vary from country to country, or in enforcement from town to town, would do wonders. As would a powerful, unbounded army, universal education, a healthy economy…”

  “Like the one in Arcadia?” Jone’s voice went hard like stone. “Where you plundered so much from the populace they could barely sustain themselves? I saw it with my own eyes; the poverty, the misery, the hopelessness. Just as I saw the death you rained upon us each time we would not bend knee.” She felt her skin start to burn as Rote’s rising anger added to her own. “You killed my family. How is that justice, fairness, equality?”

  The Queen blinked. “With your own eyes, you say? I don’t remember going to Arcadia in the last few years, much less plundering anything, or killing anyone. I dare say you didn’t see me doing those things at all.”

  Jone narrowed her eyes. “Your people, by your command. You know full well what I mean.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “The problem is that my people are too loyal, too fervent. Wars escalate because of the actions of both sides. I didn’t want those things to happen to your people! Why would I? I want their devotion, their loyalty. Dead Arcadians lend me little power; in fact, I think history has shown that they cause more problems than anything.”

  She nodded toward Jone, still sitting rigid at the Queen’s right hand. “The real problem lies with my people, not I. They go too far; fanaticism, if you will. Or self-interest.” She sighed, a soft huff, and took a small sip from her glass. “Look at poor Sir Francis. So eager to go to war, in his youth. He did so love the thrill. But not everyone can handle the introspection of a three century lifespan. As he began to regret his choices, he began to seek to shift the blame, to make his own burden of guilt lighter.”

  The Arcadian frowned heavily, a chunk of her ire evaporating. It made too much sense. Her deeds had already weighed heavy on her own shoulders, even before Rote’s memories had come rushing back. “A leader is always responsible,” she said finally, meeting the Queen’s gaze once more. “It’s always our fault.”

  To her surprise, Elizabeth leaned back, a note of regret in her eyes and posture as she toyed idly with her silver fork. “You’re right, of course. But it’s also more complex than that. If any one of your men ever steals, or kills, or rapes, does that make you the same as them? I think not. I guarantee that, like my own soldiers, some of your Arcadians committed war crimes in the past couple of centuries, some of which happened under your very command. Should we both be tried for those crimes then?”

  Jone shook her head. “I suppose not. But something must be done.”

  “And it will be. That’s exactly the point,” The Queen replied. “But it takes time. After three hundred years, I still haven’t gotten it right. But I’m trying. My problems are magnified by the scope of the forces I command, and the devotion which I inspire.” She leaned forward. “I am a demigod, Jonelise. It affects people’s minds. Most of my subjects could not even sit and hold a conversation with me, as you do now. They simply lack the will.” Elizabeth eyed her. “That’s why I need more people with willpower and morality. Usually it’s just one or the other.”

  That made sense too. It was harder to think in the Eternal Queen’s presence.

  “To top it all off, I can’t always be as forgiving as I’d like,” she frowned lightly, distastefully. “If equality is the goal, then it has to be real equality. When your people lash out against mine, when one of my soldiers turns up dead in a box behind the harbourmaster’s office, there has to be punishment.” Jone winced. That had been her; she still remembered the woman’s face. “Then that punishment makes more people angry, and they
act out…” Her dark eyes flickered with irritation like a flash of lightning and then were still. “But that’s where you can help. Together, we can fix this. Fix it all.”

  Jone looked up, met the young Queen’s eyes, and felt...hope, of all things. Tentatively, she smiled. “But...how? I would truly like for there to be peace. I would truly like to help, to be able to lay down my blade and know that my people are safe.” I don’t know what I would do with myself in such a world, but that’s hardly important.

  “Jone…” Rote buzzed worriedly at the back of her mind, but Elizabeth’s friendly voice drowned her out.

  “I’d like to offer you a truce, Jone.” Elizabeth set aside her fork and pushed her plates away, leaned her elbows on the table as she watched Jone’s face. “Have your supporters lay down their arms, to the best of your ability. They’ll listen to you!” She chuckled softly. “Even pirates like my cousin. In return, you can have Arcadia, free and clear. We can start over. Eliminate the borders, the taxes, the wars. Integrate into my Empire, adopt my policies, and acknowledge me as your rightful Queen, and your people will be free. We can lift the sanctions, remove the patrols. Police and build policy, together! You can help lead your people toward a brighter, better future, hand in hand with me.”

  The Eternal Queen smiled brightly, holding out a hand toward Jone’s side of the table. Her eyes were hopeful, too. But were they honest? Jone had no idea. “Together, Jone. You and me. We can save them from themselves.” Their eyes met and held across the extravagant breakfast; the contact was intense, electric. “I need someone like you. Incorruptible, unbreakable. Someone that can help me keep this whole mess straight.”

  Jone put her free hand on the table, barely a foot from Queen Elizabeth’s. She stared at it. “But you killed them,” she said quietly. “The spirits, at the Core. Your New world. They’re people, just like us. I’ve seen them, spoken to them. And you enslave and murder them by the thousands.”

  The Queen blinked, taken aback.

  The expression was gone in an instant, smoothed over with confidence and control. Elizabeth looked away. “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know?” She tried to meet Jone’s eyes again. “Either way, it’s another problem we could fix together. But I need your help to do it.”

  Jone stared at the Queen’s hand instead, the painted nails, the ruffles and lace, the bejeweled rings. Meanwhile, her thoughts circled around the offer like hungry scavengers, picking it apart. Could this whole bloody mess be better resolved from within, instead of by violence? What if she could actually change things for the better this way, for everyone? She had to do what was best for her people and Rote’s. Vengeance couldn’t weigh into it. This chance, if squandered, would never come again.

  “Jone…” Rote buzzed again, insistently, a tint of ire layered over the concern.

  Jone pushed her friend aside.

  She had to think this through without interference. Not from Rote…

  ...And not from Elizabeth.

  Finally Jone looked up, her eyes heavy and resigned. “I…”

  Rote sparked anxiously, perhaps angrily, along her veins.

  “...Can’t,” Jone said. Her shoulders slumped with the overwhelming weight of the decision.

  Queen Elizabeth looked down and sighed.

  Jone squared her shoulders. “And you’ve no one to blame for it but yourself,” she stated, passion flaring in her voice as her eyes went hard. “I can not trust you. You had me killed under the last flag of truce, remember? I know better than anyone alive how peace is only a tool to you. Would you keep your word this time? Or would you let us alone to weaken and become complacent, while you build power, while belief in me fades away on the mainland I abandoned, only for you to come for us once again?”

  Before she realized it she was shouting, on her feet with the massive sword in her hands. Her chair tumbled off the dais behind her, the sound of its fall eerily loud in the sudden silence.

  “People always want their freedom,” Elizabeth said quietly, somberly, pushing her own chair back slowly as she rose. “Even when it’s not good for them.” She stepped away from the table, shaking her head. “It’s not a gift everyone is equipped to handle, Jone.”

  Jone scowled. “That’s not a decision we get to make—”

  “When you imprisoned Heinrich, you did the same!” Elizabeth snapped. “With each life you took, you made the very same decision! Hypocrite!” Jone took a step back at the sheer force in her voice; it didn’t just shake with rage, but hit her physically with barely restrained power.

  “It’s not—” Jone began, but her own voice was weak and small by comparison, even to her own ears. Rote vibrated nervously; for once, even she had nothing to say.

  “You don’t even realize what your little rebellion has cost, what I was willing to forgive you, Jone. How many more generations I'll have to wait before everyone forgets your little insurrection, before the world's belief is again in my hands. Think of it, Jone, true godhood. Guidance that this world has been missing for millennia, in our hands! The ability to fix everything. To drag the whole Abyssal world to a better place, kicking and screaming. That's what the whole game is about, and there can only be one winner in an aeon.” Her heeled shoes floated free of the floor and she peered down at Jone piteously. “I had really hoped you would understand.”

  Jone could barely stand her ground as the Queen’s aura of power bloomed; she felt an immense rush of power as the Eternal Queen drew on countless followers around the world, loose wisps of her hair waving wildly as she rose into the air. Energy thrummed through the stone beneath Jone’s feet, through the air, through her own bones. Her hands trembled under enforced awe.

  For the first time in her life, she fully understood how Elizabeth could command the steadfast devotion of countless millions.

  In another place, another time...perhaps she would have been one of them. Perhaps things would have been better that way.

  Perhaps fewer people would be dead that way.

  “Or maybe this is destiny. Maybe the way things are is the way things had to be,” Rote challenged. “Remember! I chose you—and you alone—for a reason, Jonelise.”

  “You don’t know what is best for everyone!” Jone called up defiantly, leaping off the dais and following the airborne Queen through the foliage. “No one does!”

  “Then who knows better? You?” Queen Elizabeth roared in return, her words backed by the howl of a bitter, angry wind. “You, the hypocrite? Who else has come as far as I? It’s easy for the fool to say they could do a better job, but is there any that can show it? Why should I cede authority to anyone, when my way is the best so far? I thought you, the only one to ever truly contest me, would understand. That you would agree, if only we could just talk. But you’re just as blind and ruled by hatred as the rest!”

  “I...don’t think we’ll be able to work this one out.” Rote paused. “Also, dodge.”

  Amid the rush of power that filled the air, Jone’s failure to sense the Queen’s magic almost cost them both their lives. Jone leaped aside at Rote’s instruction, an instant before Elizabeth’s contemptuous gesture ripped the earth asunder. A splash of red-hot melted rock and a sharp spike of stone sawed through the space that Jone had occupied a moment earlier, and the Arcadian’s eyes went wide.

  Jone remembered slamming face-first into Alexander Leszczynski’s summoned ice wall what felt like ages ago. Her revenant nature might absorb hostile magic, but it didn’t do squat about something conjured with hostile magic. Which meant…

  Rote whistled, on edge. “We’re in a lot of trouble.”

  Jone hit the ground, rolled, and came up in a sprint, circling the Queen, looking for weaknesses, trying to buy herself a moment to think. Jone reached out to her webwork of followers, drawing power from them and invoking it to enhance her body. But barely in time; another sharp spire of metal and rock tore through the manicured garden right at her heels. Hopefully, it would be hard for even someone like Elizabeth to
land a decisive hit if she poured on the speed and kept moving.

  “I don’t think that’s going to work—”

  The air around her became electric as a massive lightning bolt manifested from the faux sky above and slammed into her. Her hair stood on end and it sundered the ground beneath her feet, arcing directly into the massive greatsword and rushing through her body as it sought to ground itself out. Jone’s heart jumped once, spasming—

  —As her hollow revenant core drew the magic inward, devouring the full force of the Eternal Queen’s wrath.

  “She doesn't get it!” Rote crowed. “She didn’t know!”

  Jone’s body swelled with power like never before, more even than during the defense of Arcadia. She felt swollen inside, like she was about to burst, or as if her heart might simply stop, sometime shortly before her nerves burned themselves to a crisp and her flesh baked away from the inside.

  The trapped magic needed an outlet, now.

  So Jone gave it one.

  Her war cry shook the air as Jone leaped at her foe, calling out to her people, adding their power to that trapped within her. Resonating with vicious glee, Rote answered the call as well, and her skin burned dangerously hot, streaming dark smoke.

  The greatsword slammed into the Eternal Queen with terrific force. The garden shook around them as a shock wave rippled visibly through the air.

  A surprised Elizabeth manifested an arcane sigil and stopped the weapon cold, half an inch from her throat.

  Jone sheared through the sigil with a primal cry, expending all of her stolen power in a single moment, throwing it all behind one mighty strike.

  The greatsword heated up, glowing cherry-red as the protective Old Magic shattered, and the blade swung free.