Throne Hunters Book Four, Chapter 35

“The angels wept.” Sam shook her head in disgust as she stared at Vic. “What do we do now?”

Harald had summoned their friends from the entrance hall as Josse convened the highest ranking members of his House for a private Celestara meeting. The Throne Hunters had gathered in the same council chamber as before, though nobody had the poise to actually sit. Instead, they ringed the table, expressions troubled, gazes resting on Vic.

Who threw up his hands. “Am I to be the villain of this story? From the looks of it, yes.”

Kársek considered. “You did break with our plans and kill Melisende.”

“Reacted in the moment to the exigencies of the situation.” Vic shook his head impatiently. “Look at you all. You know what I see? Children.”

“Nice,” said Nessa.

“Seriously. You want to play at politics, you want to poke the beehive but get pouty when you’re stung? The Dungeon is all fun and games, but this?” Vic gestured at the room, the manor house, the political world in which it all sat. “This world we’ve entered is far more sordid, cut throat, and cold. Anna. How was your negotiating with Melisende going?”

“It was going,” said Anna coldly.

“No, it wasn’t. And you want to know why?” Vic raised the pendant that hung around his neck. “She was using this Artifact, the Pendulum of Grace and Dread. Which prevents her from asking for help or admitting weakness. It boosted her Ego, and along with a host of other Artifacts, made her the hungry lioness into whose den we’d naively entered.”

“Lionesses don’t have dens,” said Kársek quietly to himself.

“Harald.” Vic turned to him, expression beseeching. “You must understand, at least. We made a desperate plan, we rolled the die, and came up snake eyes. Melisende was too much sand for our little wagon, and Anna was about to concede every point because she had no choice. It was either agree with Melisende, or allow her forces to cut us down as we beat a hasty retreat from the manor. Look me in the eyes and tell me I was wrong. That I didn’t salvage the situation. That having Josse under my thumb isn’t a far stronger position.”

Everyone turned to Harald. His fury had ebbed, become a smolder. He’d been thinking the matter while everyone assembled, and come to a rankling realization: his fury stemmed from Vic’s willingness to assault Anna and to take matters into his own hands.

But the actual course of action taken?

“We’ve been doing whatever it takes to survive,” Harald said at last. “With the Mother Church and all six Houses after us, we’ve not had many choices. Or time.”

Vic nodded approvingly.

“I would have vastly preferred to do this peacefully.” Harald grimaced. “But perhaps that was a naive dream. Melisende was a creature of ambition and yearning. And the other Houses will no doubt be a variation on that theme.”

Anna raised a finely arched brow. “So you’re condoning this murder?”

Nessa cut in. “What do you think Yseult Khan would have done to us in the Dungeon if she’d found us?”

“This was different. We broke into her home and killed her.”

Vic snapped. “And a noble’s home is sacrosanct why, exactly?”

“Murder is murder,” countered Sam. “Yes, you can argue it was preventative, but where does this road lead? To our killing every noble in an attempt to pacify the city?”

“Hmm!” Vic rubbed vigorously at his chin. “Now there’s an idea. It has a certain rough appeal, though I’m shocked to hear it come from lips, Sam.”

“It’s the course he’s set us on.” Anna inhaled deeply. “House Emberfell made it clear that they’d not countenance murder. Which we’ve gone ahead and done. Which means they’ll now set themselves against us. There’s no winning them over.”

“Then they’re our enemies, and should be treated as such,” said Vic. “Right, Harry?”

“I mean, fuck, Vic, you’ve not given us any choice in this matter.” Harald rubbed at his closed eyes. The past few days, or had it been weeks? Felt like a blur, a fever dream. “Blaze is going to declare war on us. So now we have no choice but to fight back. Unless we give him the Crown and turn ourselves in as his prisoners.”

“No, thank you,” said Vic. “Tempting, but, meh. I’ll pass.”

Nessa shook her head mutely, clearly agreeing with Vic.

Sam shared an anguished look with Anna. “So this is what we’re doing? Going to war against our former ally?”

“He was never our ally,” said Vic viciously. “He was willing to tolerate us as long as we behaved as we were bid. Look, all of you, this is the reality of our situation: we’re dealing with power-mad killers who have warped Flutic to their own ends for decades, for centuries.” He placed both hands on the table and leaned forward. “They may seem civil on the surface, but scratch them and you’ll reveal murderers as cold-blooded as any assassin from the Shambles. They don’t want to play along. They want to use us, break us, discard us, and emerge more powerful than before. They’re none of them our friends. They’ll never be our allies. At best we can convince them that we’re useful tools. At worst? They’ll lie and play along until they can cut us down from behind and take our place.”

“My,” said Nessa. “Tell us what you really feel, Vic.”

“Harald?” Vic turned to him again.

That’s when Harald felt it. The moral center. The weight of expectation. Everyone, from Anna and Sam to Nessa and Vic watched him for direction. A verdict. Only Kársek seemed grave and self-contained, observant and patient.

Harald stared through the table top into nothingness. “Vic’s right.”

“Yes!” hissed Vic victoriously.

“Shut up, Vic. I don’t think the Houses are monstrous by default, but their leaders are what they are. Political animals who’ve brought Flutic to its knees. Bled it dry, left the majority of the population to starve or at the mercy of the Mother Church.” Harald tried to find the right words. It felt like finding a hidden path through a horribly overgrown garden. “There are no words for how furious I am with you, Vic, but—truth be told—it’s for what you did to Anna, and for your unilaterally making this decision for all of us. But.” He cut off Vic’s protest. “You didn’t have time. I know. I understand. And now here we are. Our options are limited. We can surrender, apologize, and throw ourselves at Blaze’s mercy, or we can act to defend ourselves farther.”

“This was our defense?” demanded Sam.

“We’ve been on the defense since Day One,” said Vic. “Oh, haven’t you noticed, Sam? Remember Yseult showing up at Darrowdelve Manor to kidnap us? Remember Gorkin’s treatment of Anna? Remember how the City Watch stood aside while we were all kidnapped? What do you think would have happened if Harry hadn’t massacred over a hundred mercs to rescue us? You think the Houses would have ridden to our rescue?”

“No,” flushed Sam.

“And why couldn’t we turn over the Twilight Crown when we found it, hmm?” Vic pressed his advantage. “Greed? A desire for power? Or the fact that we knew the Council would destroy itself fighting for the Crown, and in turn destroy Flutic? Oh, right, that’s why we fled into the Dungeon, to be hunted even by the Inquisition, who—need I remind you—stated the Mother Church was going to take over Flutic and turn it into a theocracy. This whole situation as been a shit show from day one. Why? Because we made ourselves notable. Useful. The nobles can’t bare to see a tool lying around without trying to claim it. No offense, countess.”

Anna’s stare was hard and cold and unyielding.

Sam pulled out a chair and sat. “So your argument is that the nobility are rotten, there’s no dealing with them, so we might as well just cut them down and replace them with—what? Josse?”

“Josse is a puppet.” Vic waved his hand dismissively. “I’ve got him wrapped around my little finger. This is how I see it: each House is a rotten tree. We pare back the branches till we find healthy wood, then we empower those who see reason and wish the best for Flutic. We recast the political class, we forge it anew with civic altruism as its highest good. How can that be a bad thing?”

Sam sneered. “Josse is your idea of healthy wood?”

Nessa rapped her knuckles on the table. “The fact remains that we must act, and swiftly. Each moment we spend discussing the morality of what’s happened here is another that Emberfell can learn of what’s happened. We currently have the element of surprise on our part. Tactically speaking that’s invaluable. Now.” She paused, glanced about the group, suddenly hesitant. “I know we’re not in the Dungeon, but tactically speaking, as the Delve Captain, I recognize the value of the moment. If we’re going to war against House Emberfell, we have to act fast.”

“Agreed.” Harald thought of Lord Blaze, of Anita Lothbury, and cursed silently. “I won’t surrender. It’ll mean an execution for all of us. So we must act. Our best hope is to kill Doran Blaze and find a willing replacement for him like Vic said.”

Sam shook her head in wonder. “Harald. Are you serious? You want to murder him in cold blood in an ambush?”

“Give me an alternative,” Harald demanded, tone bleak.

Sam opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it.

“Here’s one.” Anna leaned back, arms crossed. “Give Josse the Twilight Crown. Then we depart for the Dungeon.”

“What kind of solution is that?” demanded Vic.

“Josse is weak,” said Anna. “What do you think will happen? Work it out, Vic.”

“He’ll try to rule the others and fail.” Vic sounded cautious, like a man feeling his way down a corridor he knows is trapped. “The other Houses will tear him apart. Yseult and her crew will tear a hole the size of a city block in the other Houses’ forces before going down. Someone will end up with the Crown, and the process will repeat itself, over and over again, till only one House remains, the others shattered?”

“Yes.” Anna’s eyes glittered. “Exactly.”

“And that helps us how?” Vic canted his head to one side. “I thought you wanted to avoid that kind of bloodshed.”

It was Sam who responded. “We let their own natures be the agents of their downfall. By removing Melisende—sorry, by murdering Melisende—we’ve removed the only person of possibly threading this needle. The Houses will destroy themselves.”

“Oh, I see,” said Vic. “Leaving us with clean hands and cleaner consciences?”

“Insofar as we won’t be murdering people who think themselves our allies, yes.” Sam raised her chin. “I know you’ve acquired a taste for this, Vic, what with your Demon Seed and all, but some of us still have qualms about murder.”

“Must be nice,” said Vic, making a mocking moue with his lips.

“What’s our actual goal?” demanded Anna. “What are we striving for, in the end? Hmm?” She glanced around the group. “Somebody tell me, because only then can we properly evaluate our methods.”

“To improve Flutic for the common man,” said Vic promptly. “For poor, beleaguered bastards like myself who never had a chance.”

“Oh spare me,” said Sam. “You think everyone in the Shambles turned into wastrel rakes who tried to swindle their way through the world? That nobody in your circumstances tried to make an honest living?”

“The ones who did are still there, darling,” smiled Vic, “toiling away like idiots for a Copper Moon a week behind some stained countertop.”

“To end the demon war,” said Harald quietly. “At first I wanted to be strong to protect Flutic from real danger. But now I’m seeing that the best way to do that is to help the angels in the Dungeon. Not wait for something to break free through a Shuddering or whatever else into the streets of Flutic proper, but to take the battle to evil.”

“Fine,” said Anna. “To defeat the demons. Vic? Do you agree?”

Vic crossed his arms, expression growing closed. “A little too lofty for me. I’ll settle for turning Flutic into a utopia.”

“By imposing a new political order?” asked Sam. “Built atop a rotten foundation? Vic, you know two of the Houses are demon-tainted. The war in the Dungeon will make a mockery of anything you try to build out here.”

“We can’t win the demon war,” said Vic. “Even if we were Gold-ranked. We’ll never be that powerful.”

“Look at how I’ve changed in a few months,” said Harald. “You telling me that we can’t continue to grow at this pace? That we can’t make a difference if we do?”

Vic pursed his lips.

“When we acquired the Crown we fled to the Dungeon because we didn’t see a choice,” pressed Anna. “If we turned the Crown over to the Council, the odds were that everything would descend into civil war, and that Melisende would end up as queen. But now she’s gone and war is inevitable. We gambled on a peaceful revolution and lost. So the question becomes: do we pursue this war against the other Houses, and put all our energy into destroying them one by one, or do we allow them to do that for us and return to the Dungeon to resume gaining power?”

Nessa rubbed tiredly at her face. “If the goal is to gain personal power, directing troop movement in Flutic isn’t the way to go about it.”

“What are you talking about? We’d be up to our armpits in fighting raiders,” protested Vic.

“No, we wouldn’t.” Nessa didn’t even bother changing the tone of her voice. “We’ve no business on the front lines of the coming war. Yseult Khan is but one example of the kind of power that’ll be thrown against each other.”

“Impressive,” said Vic. “So you’ll just let the Houses tear each other apart in our absence?”

“I won’t take part in murder,” said Sam. “I won’t betray allies, blind side them with ambushes, and tell myself it’s for the greater good.”

“Nor I.” Anna shook her head. “Blame it on my noble birth, call me squeamish, whatever you wish, Vic. But I won’t follow your lead in slaughtering people in service of your vision.”

“My goodness,” said Vic. “Such problematic integrity. If only our enemies were so virtuous.”

“Harald?” It was Sam’s turn to gaze at him inquiringly. “What do you think?”

A dark instinct bid him stand with Vic. To declare bloodshed inevitable, to place his hand on the tiller and guide their ship through violent waters toward victory. To accept the bleak nihilism that would make any action tolerable so long as it was in service of their mission. He understood Vic. He understood the man’s point of view. The likes of Gorkin were an extreme example of the corruption that rotted the ruling class, with Melisende the shining exemplar of ambition made flesh, but to declare every living noble a problem in need of a knife?

The Demon Seed within him urged him to warfare. To weaponize House Celestara toward their own ends, to capture House Emberfell before it knew what was happening, and then crush their enemies one by one till none stood to oppose their rule.

And the result? All of Flutic’s wealth and Artifacts at their disposal, untold amounts of scales with which to Ascend their thrones, the respect, the command, the authority. To have nobody over them, nobody telling them how to behave, nobody to flee from.

“If you choose to go Vic’s route,” said Kársek quietly, “you’ll also have to crush the Mother Church. The Inquisitors will take part in the warfare. You’ll have to kill them, most likely, and the rest of the Church’s militant orders.”

“True,” admitted Vic. “Though given what we’ve seen of the Inquisitors, is that a bad thing?”

“You would also need to kill or arrest everyone who disagrees with your vision,” continued Kársek. “How many members of each House will refuse to accept your leadership after you kill their lords and ladies? How many hundreds or thousands would you be willing to put to the sword if they refuse to swear allegiance to their new masters?”

Vic went to blurt out a defiant response but then fell silent.

“We’re the Throne Hunters,” said Kársek, implacable. “But I always understood that to mean your spiritual Thrones, the angelic Thrones. Not a literal throne of power. I’ll not lend my rune hammer to such a cause.”

“That’s three votes against it,” said Sam immediately. “Anna, myself, and Kársek. Nessa?”

Nessa stepped aside to fall bonelessly into a chair set against the wall. She passed a hand over her face and sighed. “I… I’m having trouble seeing where such a revolution would lead. Good intentions aren’t enough. Once we begin this war, there’ll be no end till either us or everyone else is dead. It’ll be a lot of killing. I…” She fell silent, then shook her head. Everyone waited. “I’m the Delve Captain,” she said at last, looking up to meet their eyes. “I’d rather be delving.”

“Four,” said Sam.

“I can fucking count,” snapped Vic.

“Five,” said Harald heavily. “Vic. They’re right.”

“Are they, though? Or is it cowardice?” Vic’s smile was bitterness personified. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’ve lived most of my life as a coward, so it’s no judgement. It’s just that I’m trying to finally walk a better path. But that was just me being a naive fool. Thinking we could put our power in service of something tangible, immediate, that would better the world. Go on, laugh at my naivete. Contrast my idealism with my willingness to murder Saint Melisende.” He hugged himself and turned away. “Fine. I can’t do this alone. I may be egotistical, but I’m not literally insane.”

“Good.” Sam gave an approving nod. “We turn the Crown over to Josse and exit stage left. Leave the Houses to figure it out, and return to the Dungeon. Everyone agreed?”

Again Harald felt the Demon Seed rebel. The Houses felt akin to ripe fruit just begging to be picked. Did it really matter if they were brought to heel and made to serve the greater good? Or was the opportunity for battle, bloodshed, and power not the real cause for unleashing chaos?

He met Sam’s level stare. In her eyes he saw concern but also a baseline faith in his ability to make the right decision. Approval for his having turned away from the war that was about to unfold, to not take actions that would forever stain their souls.

“Agreed,” said Harald. “And the sooner the better. Vic. I know this galls you. But in time I swear you’ll see that we’re making the right decision.”

“Sure,” said Vic. “When we emerge from the Dungeon a few weeks from now and find Flutic literally on fire, gutters running with blood, and with one House ascendant over the rest and ready to declare a dictatorship.”

“Chaos was guaranteed the moment we took the Crown from Gorkin’s vault,” said Anna softly. “We did out best to figure out an elegant solution, but we’re not angels. Our ambition outstripped our means.”

“No,” said Vic. “Let’s be clear. We’re choosing to walk away. This is a choice, and whatever comes from this is a consequence of our decision. We own the future we’re gifting the city. We’re responsible.”

“Fine.” Sam stood. “I’m perfectly happy walking away from a road that demands betrayal, murder, and slaughtering House loyalists who refuse to agree to our terms. And if you want to talk responsibility, Vic, accept your own: you made this bloody alternative the only option when you killed Melisende. You don’t like it? Next time think before murdering the only person who could have helped us avoid it.”

Vic’s face contorted with anger, but he held his tongue with visible effort.

“Come on then.” Harald pushed off the wall. “Let’s hand over the Crown and return to the Dungeon. The sooner we get out of here the better.”

An urgent knock sounded on their door, which opened a second later to reveal an anxious guard’s face. “Lord Josse is demanding your presence. Immediately.”

“What’s happened?” asked Harald, moving toward the door.

“It’s House Emberfell.” The man’s face was pale. “Their forces are gathered outside the manor. Lord Blaze is demanding to speak with you.”