RE: Monarch
Chapter 72: Enclave XLII (Second Draft)

I sat back on the throne and watched the proceedings. The begging and crying gave me no satisfaction. Not even the secret, twisted kind that the heroes of stories feel when they watch ruin settle upon their enemies.

Of course, now negotiations were on the table. The amount of bribery and amends she was willing to make was almost staggering. Unfortunately, I couldn’t trust any of it. My father—damn him—had been right on one account. There was something to be said for negotiating from a position of weakness. My hope had been, however childish, that Ephira would join with me. That despite holding me at her mercy, my humble plea would reach her. But the covers of intrigue and mystery had been tossed aside, and I witnessed her response firsthand.

There was no going back for us.

“What do you wish to do, my lord?” I could feel his cold blue eyes staring down at me, evaluating, waiting for the second I went back on my word.

My core tightened, forehead straining as I watched Ephira squirm against her captors, her queenly grace all but forgotten. My mind drifted back to the hours earlier, searching desperately for a way out.

“This is folly!” Nethtari hissed. Her voice crested the perpetual monotone and accelerated in a panic I’d only heard when she was dying. She flung her wineglass into the fireplace, shattering it, stirring the flames. “It’s poorly thought out, and dangerous, and impulsive, child, even for you.”

“Tell me why.” Leaning against the wall, I stared into the fireplace.

“Because the things you are playing with, the forces you intend to parlay—these are not simple contracts that can be bought out later. These are eternal—“

“Which is why I need a competent solicitor by my side to ensure that nothing untoward is snuck in.”

She jabbed a finger at me. “Even if I could find a flaw in Ephira’s contract, which is likely so iron-clad and well-thought-out that an entire team of solicitors would come up short, it does not change what it will cost.”

I held out my arms wide, frustration finally bubbling to the surface. “I have it on good authority that she went out of her way to deceive them. And If you have an alternative course, by all means, voice it, Nethtari.”

“Backup from neighboring cloisters-“ She started.

I slapped it down immediately. “Already tried. Doesn’t matter. This arch-demon, this Ozra, is the sort who comes around once an eon. Any force we can muster in a month’s time will be crushed easily. From what I’ve seen, the battle lasts less than a day.”

Nethtari put her hands flat against the table, bent over, deep in thought. “What about the other legions? They’re wild and brutal, but they do self-govern. Surely, if they knew such an attack on the status quo was imminent they would intervene.”

The thought had occurred to me as well. The problem was that most legions outside the asmodials were fractured and decentralized. I’d considered financing an expedition to find the bastards and attempted to do so several times, but the level of preparation required meant that the expedition would not be ready until the deadline was practically upon us.

There were further issues. My best bet for opposing the asmodials were the decarabia—the demons rumored to be fallen celestials. Most legions paled in comparison to the four primary legions, and within those legions laid a classic tactical dilemma. The asmodials had tangential ties to the malthus and cemeries legions.

From everything I read regarding their historical conflicts, the one factor that kept the decarabia from fully committing in a war against the asmodials was the malthus and cemeries legions working as arbiters to limit the scope. If the decarabia ever fully committed against the asmodials, I had no doubt that the malthus and cemeries legions would move in to finish them off.

If I had unlimited time, then perhaps I could simply force the issue. But with every additional reset my confidence in that notion had evaporated. I’d felt a slight tug between lives, towards the end of the altercation with Barion. This feeling had not been present when I died outside Kholis. But what had felt like a slight pull had crescendoed into a rending, searing tear. From this, I could only gather one conclusion. I had been given additional time. But it was not unlimited.

As I described my theories on the demons to Nethtari, the doubt that flickered in her eyes told me I was correct. I watched, not without sympathy, as she followed the same train of thought I had. “And if we evacuated the Enclave, we’d be abandoning our children. Leaving them to the demons.” She looked up quickly. “What if Ralakos sent troops into the sanctum? It wouldn’t have to be a large group. Just enough to seal off the exits and act as warning until we returned.”

My eyebrow rose. “And that would be acceptable to you? Asking men I’ve never met to make sacrifices I’m unwilling to make myself?”

“That is the nature of war.” Nethtari’s lips curled in displeasure. I was reminded of Thaddeus and his damn sliding scale of morality. Even Nethtari was not immune.

“Perhaps,” I said. “But it would be a desperate sacrifice to lock us into a losing battle. We don’t know what Ephira has planned, specifically, but we know her intentions. When she unlocks the dimensional gate, she will incite the infernal warriors within, and they will burn my cities to ruin. It would take an immense struggle to oppose them, and leave me unable to oppose Thoth in her efforts to gather an army elsewhere.”

Nethtari’s eyes began to glisten. “But why does it have to be you?” The anguish in her voice wrenched at me. “This is not your fight.”

“It is, though.”

You don’t have to say it. I’ll look after your family, Maya. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ N0vᴇlFirᴇ.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

Maya trusted me. The way Lillian had trusted me.

“The upside is, it will work to my advantage. It is the rational choice, and it will be a long stride towards evening the playing field for the inevitable conflict. And… I’ve broken too many promises, Nethtari.” My hands began to shake. “This one I have to keep. Or I will be lost.”

Nethtari squeezed my shoulders. “I know what you must think. That if the consequences fall on you and you alone, that makes them acceptable, no matter how horrible they are. But you are wrong, Cairn. Others will pay. They always do.”

There was a warning in her words, amidst the grief. But I was too focused on the trial ahead to pay it any mind.

Nethtari supported my arm as we departed the boats and headed further into the Twilight Chambers. Theros lead the way, his face drawn and wary. He would only accompany us to the point that Persephone had marked. With knowledge of her son, it had been easy enough to convince her to pool her funds with Ralakos and buy Mifral out, the additional capital used to ensure the woman’s silence.

The shadows grew longer and I began to see things in them, my previous flashes in the boats extending out into entire scenes, my mind repeating what had been done to me, over and over again.

I closed my eyes and tried to think of anything else.

Not long after Theros departed, the demons found us and escorted us into the antechamber. Nethtari announced herself as a solicitor and a neutral party—I had my doubts that the asmodials would care, but her insistence to the contrary turned out to be correct. Even if negotiations fell through, she would swear a vow of silence and be allowed to leave.

The demons chittered and circled me, like sharks following blood. I reminded myself that they could sense my fear and tried to quash it. I actually managed it, to some extent, focusing on Nethtari. She was sitting across from what I assumed to be a greater demon. He had no lips, painfully white teeth and gray gums exposed, and he wore a cloth blindfold to cover his eyes. The rest of his body was entirely hidden in tight cloth, hands shod in gloves.

He was leaning over a piece of paper, whispering angrily. Despite his intimidating appearance, Nethtari did not falter, arguing whatever point she was making vehemently. Finally, the blindfolded demon stared at the piece of paper, scrawled in demonic, and took it through one of the back tunnels.

When Ozra entered, I felt myself grow weak. Unintentionally, I began the small pulse of mana that would activate my suicide inscription—only I didn’t have the inscription. As he approached the throne I attempted it twice more, purely on reflex.

Do not let your enemy see your fear. I heard my father’s voice, as clearly and loudly as if he was sitting next to me. His cruel hand gripped my wrist tightly. Speak to him as if you have already died, and the outcome of the conversation is trivial to you.

I stood and approached the throne.

“Arch-Fiend Ozra.” I did not tend to the bead of sweat that dripped down my forehead.

Do not bow.

I remained upright, as stiff as a board.

“Prince Cairn.” He studied me, as if I was a piece of mud on the bottom of his shoe. “My underling has brought it to my attention that we have been deceived.”

“That is correct, your grace.” I defaulted to a standard honorific of respect.

“Polite, for a human. Brusque. But polite nonetheless.” Ozra’s long pointed fingers tapped against his throne. “You were even kind enough to bring along a solicitor to overlook the contract.” He looked over towards Nethtari, who was openly glaring across the room. “You’re lucky. She’s excellent at what she does.”

“Yes.” I felt tentative relief beginning to grow. “Surely you can see how following through with Councillor Ephira’s plan would be folly.”

“I disagree.” Ozra said dismissively. I felt the hope that had begun to build disperse. “Ephira merely provided the excuse.” He sounded almost playful. “It is in our nature to rise against the infernals. My followers have thirsted for vengeance on this scale for quite some time, and my control, while not insignificant, is tenuous. I could not stay their hand, even if I wished to. ”

I could still feel my father’s grip on my arm. Slowly, I let the fear go and began to inhabit the cold, brutal mindset I’d used to interrogate Persephone. Only instead of wearing it, this time I let it invade me and take over entirely. My lip curled in disdain.

”Do not waste my time.” I said. Ozra’s eyes slipped towards me slowly, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard.

“Care to say that again?” Ozra asked.

“Revenge is such a tepid notion.” I remembered, vividly, all the agony and torture they put me through. How little they cared for the answer to the questions they supposedly sought. How they reveled in my suffering. I sneered and lowered my voice until it rumbled. “Your motives are much more straightforward. Pure. You are artists, who paint the very canvas of history with blood.”

“I have no time for games, human. Make your appeal or be silenced.” There was a glint in his eye, cold and dangerous. Ozra would not be trifled with.

A small, goblin-esque demon broke from the line and jumped at me. I called the aegis a second too late and its teeth tore into my arm. Enraged, I wove the air into a glove which I used to smash it into the ground. The demon laid there, stunned. I stomped downward and its skull cracked under my heel.

Ozra did not comment, or even look down. Instead, he waved a hand and the minor demon’s body disintegrated. My mind returned to the task at hand.

I presented the diamond scepter. Its body was platinum, with rose-gold inlay. It looked more at home at a banquet hall than a dungeon, something we had in common. A massive diamond in an oval-cut sat within its circular base. The second and third items were from Ralakos’s personal collection. A sword and a ring. The sword’s capabilities were unknown to me, but they were said to be of great value. The ring was crystalline, and said to be an excellent catalyst for magic.

Ozra took interest in the ring immediately. He bent down to take it, placing it on his finger. It sent a clear message that this was not a negotiation. It was a tribute.

I reached back into my bag and hesitated. This was the gamble. The question I had no manner of answering. A simple desperate hope that my hypothesis was correct. I withdrew a small pouch from my rucksack, which I passed to Ozra. He opened it, revealing almost a dozen glowing spheres.

“Memory orbs?” Ozra asked. For the first time, he seemed confused.

“I was told that a strong enough magician could break through the seal of a memory orb.” I said. There was little doubt Ozra could do so. From the raw displays of power he displayed during the attacks, it was hard to imagine a magician more powerful than him. The question was, whether he would be able to interpret the information.

He summoned a pure black aura and held it over the orbs. One by one, the light they held extinguished. With each orb, Ozra’s expression changed, slowly merging from indifference to wonder.

He saw them. I’d selected the fragments carefully. The scale and unity of the attack on Whitefall were shown. Thoth’s battle with my father. When she’d bragged, about how every human city had been conquered and destroyed on the same night.

Ozra’s expression of wonder was tempered, slightly, as he viewed the last memory. He was trying to rein in his reaction, but his hands gripped the throne.

“These are visions?” He asked carefully.

“Yes.”

“And what do you propose?”

“A contract, of course.” I could feel my father’s hand on my back, pushing me onward. “You will get your violence, arch-fiend. On a scale much larger than a single city. Rather, an entire nation entrenched in the fires of war. Hundreds of thousands of souls, freed of their coils, yours to collect.”

“But you intend to prevent this war.” Ozra said. His seething eyes pierced straight through me.

“I intend to mitigate the cost. I intend to bring unity, and build a better world that can form from the ashes. But the war is inevitable.” As I spoke the words, I found them true. The idea of stopping Thoth altogether? Preventing the war entirely by collecting allies?

Who was I kidding?

The enclave was the first real test of my abilities, and it had almost been the death of me. I was a mess. My mind was on the verge of snapping. I’d ridden into the enclave with utter confidence that fate was on my side. I’d been given the magical key for the magical lock that would give me allies.

That seemed like a joke now.

“If I manage to steal half of Thoth’s allies away from her, that would be a rousing success. And there is still no guarantee that I would win. The only guarantee is that the blood will flow.”

“This… Thoth. I want her.” Ozra said.

My stomach twisted. I’d read about this. The demons’ fascination with souls was due to what supposedly happened in hades itself. Magical ability was magnified exponentially on the other side. If a demon owned a person’s soul, thus preventing them from reincarnating, they effectively had a powerful weapon to utilize in the endless war for territory that raged within hades itself. What separated it from Valhalla was that there was no banquet afterwards, no mending in the Elysian Halls, no cavorting with sprites. But the comment meant he was considering the idea.

Hades was just battle, after battle, after battle, an eternity of endless violence. Thoth, being one of the most powerful beings in Uskar, would be almost a deity in hades.

The fate was horrible. But I owed her nothing. “Fine. I will do everything in my power to see that she is remanded to you, before she meets her end.” I held out my hand. “Do we have a deal?”

Ozra smiled. “Not quite. There are problems.” He pointed towards his throng of monsters. They looked irritable, angry even. “The promise of a nationwide war is enough to stay my hand, but not necessarily theirs. They are far too aggravated. We will need some form of entertainment, or who knows what they’ll do.” He held up a second clawed finger. “And then the real problem. I had one soul in hand for my term in hades. Now, with the contract voided, I have none.”

My heart dropped.

“Thoth…”

“Is a whisper and a promise.” Ozra shrugged. “Nothing more.”

I knew this was coming. I had planned for it. Prepared for it. It didn’t make it any easier.

“A soul for a soul then.” I said, my eyes shut tightly.

He stared at me. For the first time he seemed off-balance, the veil of cold calculation pierced.

“No.” The answer came. But he hesitated. I had him. All it would take was one final push.

“Why?”

“Because I do not share my kind’s obsession with royal blood.” Ozra mused. “Your soul is not equivalent to hers.”

“Not yet.” We were negotiating now. It was familiar territory. I could do this. “Ephira has reached her pinnacle. But I have a long way to grow. I am thirteen years old and I have already reached my second awakening.”

His eyes were cold. “And the moment I take your soul, your growth will atrophy. The darkness of your future will weigh you down, mire you in existential dread. I’ve seen it a thousand times, child. The humans have a phrase that fits here. ‘A bird in the hand.’”

His argument, everything he was saying, it made sense. I could see it. Perhaps, if I was the same person I had been before, he might have even been right. But that was before all the death. The slaughter. Watching friends and allies die over and over again. That had brought the truth of things into focus. Nethtari and Kilvius. My sisters. My mother. What was one life in the face of that? Of them?

“I don’t give a shit.”

“I’m sorry?”

I approached, until I was only inches away. The faint smell of ozone and sulfur hung heavy. I let out all the rage, all the frustration, all the pent up anger and bitterness that had resulted from being unable to do nothing.

“You seem to be under the impression that I care what happens to me.” I paced back and forth. “And you’d be right. I did. There was once a time when I felt I was the only thing in the world that mattered. So small minded. So selfish.” The hatred turned inwards. “But oh, how things have changed. You think after trading my soul away I’ll live in fear? No. Nothing will change. Because I live in fear every single day.” I let the words hang. From behind, I could hear shuffling as the demons crept closer to the throne, listening. “Fear propels me forward, sustains me, armors me. There is no trial, no suffering you can put me through that compares to watching the people I love suffer and die. So drag me to the hells and do your worst.”

I held my arms wide, then dropped them to my sides. “I have been stabbed, sliced opened, crushed, set on fire, flayed to my soul, and I am still standing. Because I am not a child. I am a revenant.”

“... You are not lying.” Ozra said. He seemed to come to a decision and his voice changed, became smooth and reassuring. “Perhaps we can come to terms. Fortified by the malthus and cemeries legions, the asmodials will back you. All I ask is that you join me in the eternal fire. And we will rule the underworld forever.”

I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. But in the end, the choice was perhaps less difficult than you’d imagine. In many ways I had already made it. Nethtari reading over the third version of the document, looking visibly ill. I’d been as clear with her as I possibly could without triggering the wipe that would remove the information from her mind. I didn’t want her to try and trick the asmodials, or leave loopholes. Even if they weren’t clever, Ephira had made fools of them, and they would likely be looking closely for anything resembling an escape clause.

The crucial point was for her to ensure that my soul would be bound to hades as its final resting place. Emphasis on “final.” The contract would be written in such a way that the demons could not accelerate my death, or prevent my soul from returning to my body in the case of divine restoration. I was worried that this might be a point of contention, but Nethtari was not. Resurrection magic was rare to the point of being legendary—usually only talked about in elven legends—but folk often left room in contracts such as these for the fantastical. It was more often than not an act of final desperation.

Nethtari placed the contract in front of me. I looked through the demonic scrawl. I could read over half of it, though there were likely implications and double-meanings I could only guess at. She looked like she wanted to say something, but the time for argument was over.

Ozra cut his palm, squeezing his fist and allowing a trickle of blood to flow into the waiting inkwell. He handed me the knife and I did the same.

I dipped the feather pen and froze.

My hand would not descend.

Still staring at the contract, I felt cold and empty. My voice caught in my throat. From off to the side, I heard Nethtari stifle a sob.

Ozra bent down to meet my gaze, recognition flickering in his eyes. “You have heard the stories, then.”

“Yes.”

“For a moment, I thought you a fool. I am glad to be proven wrong.” He paused, choosing his wording with care. “There is a period of correction. Certain things must be set right. Weaknesses eliminated.”

The pen quivered in my hand.

“After that, unless you rebel, or are captured by another legion, then no. We do not abuse our residents, especially those who are powerful and have given their souls willingly.” He smiled at me. It was a terrible smile, full of sharp teeth and fangs. “And you will be powerful.”

I was reminded of the coronation. Of how I had put my selfishness above the needs of so many. This was my chance to do the opposite. To right the scale. In this life, it would cost me nothing.

I would never join my family in Valhalla.

But that was alright, wasn’t it?

Passing this hurdle would be the first step to ensuring they lived better lives. That the world that came to be after the war would be a better one. And it wasn’t just my family. I would save Maya’s family—no, her entire people. The price was paltry.

One coward’s soul for the lives of millions.

There was never any choice.

I pressed the pen to paper and signed my name in red.

Everything that followed had been Ozra’s idea. He wanted Ephira dead for what she had done, her men as well. I’d asked him to stay his hand. I hated Ephira for what she’d done, but Ralakos wanted her tried in front of the council and after what this had cost, I wanted to ensure my relationship with the infernals was forged in steel.

And Ephira was clever. If I could get her to see past her hatred, to spare me out of simple mercy, perhaps she could be useful to the future of Uskar. But more than that, after all the bloodshed, I wanted to resolve this peacefully.

Ozra had made me a wager. If I could bring Ephira to my side, he would spare her. If I couldn’t, then the asmodials would kill her, and every man that accompanied her. But she’d had her chance.

“What do you wish to do, my lord,” Ozra asked.

The demons cackled. One swiped at Ephira’s leg, drawing blood. She yelped. One of her guards broke free and ran to her, only to be cut down.

“Prince!” Ephira called up at me, cradling her wound, her eyes wild. “I made a mistake. I was not thinking clearly. Please. Show mercy.”

Ozra’s face grew crafty. He whispered in my ear. “You know, I could still spare her. There would be favors owed. But I can be quite amenable when the mood strikes me.”

I rested my forehead in my palm, Ephira’s begging drowned out by the torrent of voices and thoughts in my head.

It is one thing to slay an opponent in battle. Another entirely to murder him in cold blood.

He was too weak to do what was necessary.

You will be a good king. A kinder king.

A king has only one use for mercy, boy. To flush out the snakes at his heel.

I saw Agarin, in the dark of his room, details marred by the shadows of the red auric sun. His white eyes stared up at the ceiling lifelessly. There wasn’t much blood. It was the casualness of it that stuck so firmly in my mind. My double had reached down into the crib, placed a hand on his chest, and pushed.

My breath was as frigid as the cavern air. I opened my eyes and signaled Ozra.

“Do as you please.”

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