Chapter 227: Red-Hued Mountains pt.2

For the mortals, the time between when I revealed myself and when the panic started must have been an instant. For me, there was more than enough time to catch expressions, feel the anger borne of fear, and watch the hands that moved toward weapons.

All periphery, however, as my eyes were fixed up the table, past the stumbling count and vacillating duke, and squarely on the king. Several emotions flickered behind calculating eyes, accompanied by a warm, brief flash of anger. He hesitated.

“Guards!” The shout was someone else’s.

“Demon!” Duke Ludwig screamed as the count next to me fell out of his chair in a mad scramble to move away.

The guards hesitated, too. I recognized at least one from the incident earlier today. Whatever he shouted was lost to even my hearing, caught behind a scramble of falling chairs and rushing bodies.

The first attack was a magicked sword toward my neck—easy for them to reach as I’d not bothered to stand. Catching the blade with one left hand and holding in a wince as it bit deep, I grabbed the poor guard’s hand with my other. He probably expected to lose an arm; all he lost was the sword as I yanked it free, blade first, sending drips of burning blood across the table.

A spell came my way next, sent from of all people Duke Anzo Beck’s stand-in. I didn’t bother to block the fire magic, letting it wash over me. I did, however, summon a gust of wind that kept the flames from Countess Veronika Elstein’s side of the table.

Among everyone who stood, she was one of a handful frozen in their seats, staring wide-eyed at me. The brief moment where our gazes met, she didn’t flinch away.

“Stand down!” King Carvalon shouted, rising from his seat at the head of the table. A call to order, and a projection of maintained control.

Another guard took a step toward me—my tail caught him and he tumbled over a chair. A wide-eyed Count Karl, hemmed and blocked in next to me, thrust a dagger at my shoulder. The blade bounced off and he fell against me.

“Careful,” I mouthed as I gently pushed him off.

He flailed the blade, and were it magicked I’d have scored many more cuts like the still-healing slash across my palm. Instead, his strikes were akin to blade against rock; each one sent a visible tremor up his arm.

More spells hit me—not fire this time. A bubble of warm wind sent most of them away and others missed entirely. Not without consequence as I heard more than one cry of pain from a guard behind me. All this time, the shouts of “Demon!” and “Guards!” continued.

Over them, King Carvalon shouted again and again for order. All in vain. It made sense: in a cage with a bear, would you rather try to find a way out, or listen to the circus owner stuck in there with you?

I pushed Count Karl out of the way of another blade as two guards came for me at once. I stood and thrust my two lower arms out to the sides. With twin “oof”s, the winded humans fell to the ground. A crack sounded, and I realized my lashing tail had caught and splintered my own chair.

By now, people had made it to the heavy chamber doors. Either order would be restored shortly, or I’d have to deal with the consequences of causing this panic. Ill rumors would be the least of my concerns were that to happen.

I snapped my fingers, and crimson flames burst up in front of the doors. Purposefully, I made them no hotter than a paving stone on a warm day, but no one dared to find that out. Before the panicked humans could go for the windows and the lethal fall on the other side, I finally acted.

Very nearly did I shout for order myself. It would have worked, scared them into compliance if nothing else. But to do so would be to break the hierarchy of king and subject. For now, with nothing more concrete than suspicion and past wrongs to beg otherwise, I was still a subject of the crown.

With a gesture Sey had taught me, and enough draw from my magic reserves that I felt it, I pulled the wind from the room. In an instant, the fire went out, the sound ceased, and the closed windows slammed open in a rush of air. With it, I took the edge off the anger in the room.

Into that brief silence, I bowed and spoke. “I apologize for the injury and chaos. Would that I did not require such deception to live in my homeland, though I believe the state of this room more than proves my need.” I gestured to the topped chairs and groaning guards.

I looked past the crowd and to the purple mountains beyond. “I am Zarenna Miller, Marchioness of Astrye, and Sovereign of Wrath. That I am a demon is known to some, but not to all. Given the current circumstances, I feel it vital all here know what I am.”

“Do not for a moment think us to believe your words, demon!” Duke Ludwig shouted from behind a wall of guards. “I and my estate have borne firsthand the pain of your lies!”

“I never said I wasn’t a demon.” I picked up my chair before sitting and leveling my gaze at him. “Just that I hunted them, and that I’d been corrupted. Both true.”

“A lie by omission is equally a lie!” he hissed.

“You’re right.” I bit out, shoulders shaking as I tried to keep my voice level and the flames inside my mouth. “And I’m… sorry about that. Didn’t want to cause a panic. As for the damage to your estate, and the poisoning of Duchess Arina Kapel, I think you know who’s responsible.” I showed teeth, letting some fire slip through. “I’d like to think you didn’t know they were demons, however.”

“What are you… Guards! Someone! What are you doing standing around!”

Hands went to weapons, even more hesitant this time. The guards I’d tossed aside were still stumbling upright or crawling away. A few bore burns or signs of magic injury. The rest of the gathered crowd stood in stunned silence, eyeing the doors. Only Countess Elstein and a few of the guards seemed to have relaxed in the slightest, though they all still looked wary.

King Carvalon cleared his throat and leveled a glare at me. “She does not mean us harm, Duke.”

Ludwig wheeled on him. “She doesn’t… has she gotten into your head!? She’s a demon, she must be—”

“Stand down, Ludwig.” Carvalon’s hand slammed onto the table. “I know she’s a demon, and I am far from the first she’s told.”

“You—”

“I gave her the title because she had proven herself to be different from other demons and because her goals align with ours. Isn’t that right, Marchioness?”

“I wish to live peacefully with my family in my homeland of Edath, Your Majesty,” I answered truthfully, taking a seat once again.

The king made a gesture, and guards moved in to pick up chairs. “We will resume this summit without further violence.” He looked around the room for a long, tense moment before continuing. “Firstly, now that Marchioness Zarenna’s status is known, I will make it known that the Church had used her as part of their excuse to come here.”

Out in the hallway, I heard distant voices—one familiar. Urgent, but not shouting, and faint enough that I doubted anyone else noticed. Whatever ward had been on this room had probably been weakened or shattered when the windows had been forced open.

“If I may,” Orwin, Duke Anzo’s stand-in, started quietly, waiting for a nod from the king before continuing. “Is her presence amongst Edathan nobility not strong reasoning for the argument we’ve violated the treaty?”

“If anything,” King Carvalon replied with a smile, “it is proof of the opposite. A demon who is both citizen and loyal vassal, with a proven record of altruism despite provocation. Not only does Marchioness Zarenna serve as a systematic part of governance within legality, but she proves Church dogma about demons to be with exception.

“Her open existence undermines the Church’s infallibility. In light of their unwarranted aggression, such an arrangement soundly argues the Church has no right to power on par with or over matters of state here or anywhere.”

Orwin frowned, but nodded slowly.

“Or,” Duke Ludwig started, “it proves we have been compromised to the point where we are making insane claims. Your Majesty, forgive my impertinence, but you cannot be seriously considering this avenue. You’re provoking not just the Church, but the Empire at large!”

I gestured that I wanted to speak. At the king’s assent, I started. “Duke Ludwig, would it not also be a senseless provocation to send mercenaries under your banner to contest and war with another of the king’s subjects, and in alliance with the Church no less?”

He sneered. “You were and are a demon, unfit to hold title. I am simply maintaining the integrity of the realm.”

King Carvalon frowned. “Do you disagree with crown possessions then, Duke?”

Duke Ludwig paled.

“I seem to recall,” King Carvalon said coldly, “That if not for Marchioness Zarenna, Astrye would be a royal holding.”

“I-indeed, Your Majesty.” Duke Ludwig bowed. “I was merely seeking to protect crown assets from what I presumed to be a demon’s illegitimate takeover.”

“See to it that you do not trust an unproven guess over my wisdom again, Ludwig.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

I, quite literally, swallowed my anger. Duke Ludwig had just admitted to the attack by proxy we’d so recently suffered. And all he’d gotten was a mild reprisal. Maintaining decorum or not, it was exceedingly difficult to sit there quietly and let the man go unpunished for causing pointless death and destruction.

Across from me, Countess Veronika smiled apologetically. I didn’t notice her hand on mine until I felt it move off. She rebuffed my wide-eyed look with a shake of her head.  The voices outside had reached the door, and a servant whispered quickly to the king. I caught Duchess Arina Kapel’s name.

“Let her in,” King Carvalon said loud enough to be heard, then continued in with a full announcement. “Duchess Arina Kapel has arrived.”

A guard opened the door and the duchess walked in. The first thing I noticed was how tired she looked; the second was that her blue skin went quite well with her choice of pale gray winter dress.

Gasps rang out around the room as eyes darted quickly between me and her. Why’s everyone…. oh, right. Crap.

“Apologies for my tardiness,” Duchess Arina said with a bow. “Though we faced no ill fortune on our journey, the difficult decision of how to reveal my condition exacerbated things.” Murmurs swelled toward accusations, but she cut them off with a raised hand. The other planted, white-kunckled, on the top of her chair. “My countenance is the result of demonic poison I suffered during the Winter Solstice Ball. Were it not for…” she looked my way and trailed off.

All the calm and practiced composure left her and she deflated like a falling souffle. Now with both hands on the chair, she swallowed. “Were it not for Marchioness Zarenna’s swift action, the poison would have either taken my life or altered me further.”

“Oh? I’ve never heard of a poison like that.” Duke Ludwig spat. “But corruption, I have heard of.”

“Did you not hire Paladin Gareth Warren yourself to investigate Zarenna?” Duchess Arina replied, finally being helped into her seat by a wary-looking guard. “It was he who oversaw my healing, and I assure you my mind is sound as ever.”

“How dare you presume—”

“I saw him… go with them.” Countess Veronika’s voice was soft. She didn’t stand, and the chatter in the room threatened to drown her out until the king held up a hand. He gestured for her to continue, much to certain’ red-faced duke’s growing anger.

“The night of the Winter Solstice Ball, I saw the three of them leave,” she continued. “The paladin was hanging off Marchioness Zarenna’s leg. She… transformed and picked him up with her other arms.”

She knew… I gave the countess an honest smile, and my roiling fury abated just a little.

“Then the paladin’s been corrupted!” Ludwig accused.

The urge to throw him out the nearest window quickly started winning again. It’s even already open! I was about to open my mouth to retort, but the duchess beat me to it.

“Duke Ludwig, you sound like a Church priest when you say that. Do you not value an open mind?”

I thought he would blow. In fact, I left his anger alone, waiting and eager for the chance to see him try something in front of the king… and me. The vein on his forehead throbbed, his jaw clenched and ground.

And, slowly, he sat back down.

“I am not a slave to dogma.” Each word was spat like it’d personally hurt him. “But you must forgive my concern, Duchess, when someone so pious as yourself suddenly sings to the tune of a demon while looking half the part.”

I couldn’t stay quiet any longer.

I sat up straight, raising one hand and laying another down on the table gently. “What is more likely…” My voice was a rumble, low and dangerous. “That I, a demon of Wrath, a being known for the subtlety of an avalanche, have somehow swindled the Gelles Company, our king, a High Priest, multiple paladins, the pious Duchess Arina Kapel, Countess Veronika Elstein, the maid sent to attend me, several members of the royal guard, and perhaps a hundred other people strung out from here to to the northern border…

“Or that the Church’s teachings are fallible?”

Duke Ludwig glared at me. Really stared. I’d say the entire table was silent, but truthfully there’d been side conversations and they continued in hushed whispers as he and I kept up the staring contest like two schoolchildren unwilling to back down.

All of my frankly ridiculous capabilities did not extend to being immune to blinking. But I got lucky and his already red eyes gave in first.

“I do not trust you. I will never trust you.”

“Understood.”

“While I will no longer question His Majesty’s decision to grant your title, know that I do not believe you deserve it, nor do I feel comfortable with the precedent it sets.” He drilled a single finger down onto the table.

“You’re entitled to your opinion.” I swallowed my anger again, but this time, it came back up in a gout of fire. I remembered the dead and dying. “You will pay for your unprovoked attack on Astrye, Duke.”

“His what?” Duchess Arina turned to look at me down the table.

“He hired mercenaries that declared Astrye to be his and fought with the Church to kill me and take it,” I reiterated for the newly-arrived duchess.

Duchess Arina’s head whipped back to King Carvalon. “Your Majesty?”

“An error in judgment, and one he has assured us will not happen again.”

“Your subjects died, and there will be no punishment?” she pressed.

The king’s eyebrow twitched. “I did not say there would be no price to pay. Merely that this summit has already diverged from the goal. We will discuss reparations later.”

“Please do,” I said tersely. Perhaps I’d spoken out of turn, but I didn’t care.

The wrath demon in me wanted to mount the duke’s head on a pike. But the wrath demon in me didn’t understand deescalation, and she welcomed descendents coming for revenge. Nothing could bring back the dead as they once were, and something like proper reparations would be more a boon than further bloodshed. If I needed to leverage what I could do to get proper repayment for the death he’d caused, so be it. Moreover, I had time and contacts to try to bring him down later. I had to play the long game.

All my lessons had taught me as much; it was a bitter, awful pill to swallow and I desperately needed to punch a boulder in half.

“I’m sorry,” Countess Veronika whispered. “I know that doesn’t mean much, dear, but…”

“No,” I replied with a shake of my head. “It does. I’m… wrathful right now and kind words can do a lot.”

“King Carvalon’s only letting it slide because he needs the duke’s troops if we go to war,” Count Karl said next to me. He was shaking, but less so than earlier, although he sat on the far edge of his chair away from me. “You… are you certain mercenaries attacked you, not levies?”

I nodded. “Yes. I do not know which company.”

“I’ll ask around,” Countess Veronika said. “Not a lot goes through Linthel that my husband doesn’t know about. If they returned via the city, I’d already know, so the chances are that they’re local and know the mountains.”

“Thank you.”

She nodded.

We turned our attention back up the table to an increasingly heated conversation between the dukes. King Carvalon chimed in from time to time, but perhaps predictably Duke Ludwig and Duchess Arina were at each others’ throats, almost literally.

“...clearly compromised your judgment!”

“Would you say the same if you had to bury a quarter of Norgath?”

“I do not have your questionable loyalty. Did your husband not nearly advocate for joining Ordia—”

Slap!

Duchess Arina’s glove left a red mark across the duke’s cheek.

“How dare you!” he shouted.

“How many times have you said that today I wonder?” she hissed. “Because from where I’m standing it seems we all dare quite easily to trod on the overlarge shoes of an avaricious blowhard!”

“You!”

“Silence.” Given his proximity, the king didn’t need to yell. “I will tolerate this sort of infighting no longer. Duchess Arina, am I correct in my understanding that you will under no circumstances agree to war with Ordia?”

The duchess let out a long breath, nostrils flared. “You are. Even were I so ruthless, the children of last war’s deceased are not yet adults.”

King Carvalon nodded. “Duke Ludwig, do I understand correctly that you will support defense of Ordia against a breach of treaty?”

“Correct, Your Majesty. But I will not—”

“You will fight with Marchioness Zarenna as needed, Duke.”

He set his jaw, but nodded.

“Now then, while we have yet to hear news from the Church or the seat of the Empress, should the worst come to pass, we must be ready to consider the Treaty of Gedon broken and pursue war. Guards?” He waved his hands, and I felt a surge of magic in the air.

I tensed for a moment, ready for some sort of trap or fight. Instead, the guards closed the windows and curtains smoothly as runes lit up the hall. All noise from outside ceased as the chandelier above glowed with orange-hued magical fire.

The door vibrated, and King Carvalon turned to look. With a wave of his hand, the wards dimmed enough for a shout from outside to reach in.

“We’ve with us a representative of the Church,” a guard’s voice echoed faintly from outside. “He is here to discuss their recent actions and parlay.”

King Carvalon nodded and the guards moved swiftly to the doors. Several definitely-coded phrases were tossed back and forth before the doors swung open.

High Priest Yevon Styon slouched into the room. Like always, he wore formal robes, though these were of a finer silk and reflected the symbol of Dhias in the flickering magical light. His long hair had been done into a braid and tossed over one shoulder.

“Good evening, everyone.” He glanced around in the silence, smiling when he saw me. “Quite the council you’ve got. Want to hear why the Church is so hellbent on kicking hornets’ nests?”