Arkk stood in Langleey Village, seated on a small bench just down the way from the old shack he once called his home. A family far too large for the small building now tried to squeeze into it. Refugees from Smilesville, brought here after he ordered their evacuation in advance of the Eternal Empire warships sailing past the burg. They wouldn’t need to stay for much longer, only until his men were sure there was no danger of straggling groups that had made off into the night.
A group of children, a little younger than Hale, kicked about a straw-stuffed leather ball. Their laughter filled the crisp morning air, reminding Arkk of simpler times. He watched them play, momentarily lost in their carefree world, while his thoughts drifted back to his childhood kicking a ball around with Ilya. If only their younger selves could see the state of things now…
As the sun climbed higher, casting long shadows across the cobblestones, Arkk’s mind reluctantly returned to the present. He watched the older villagers move about. Just because the situation was unusual didn’t mean that they could remain idle. Fields needed tending, livestock needed feeding, trees needed felling, and all manner of other work had to be done just for the village to still be here six months from now. Some of the Smilesville refugees helped out. Most didn’t. It wasn’t that they were ungrateful for their hosts. Langleey was just too small of a village. Too many people trudging through the fields would trample them, not help them flourish.
He had, of course, informed everyone of Company Al-Mir’s victory. He hadn’t personally been involved in evacuating Smilesville, having been busy with the actual fight, but he had heard from his envoys and escorts that a certain sense of despair had come over the townspeople. As to be expected. Just like all the other burgs and villages that had to evacuate during Evestani’s initial push into Mystakeen, they hadn’t been hopeful that they would ever be able to return.
Now, there was an excitement. A charge of energy that lingered in everyone’s eyes. They won. Barely a week away from their homes and they would already be going back. The night before, Baron Freede met with his Smilesville counterpart and, after a short deliberation, broke open some of the emergency stores to throw a celebratory feast this evening. Already, people were preparing.
Arkk rose from the bench, stretching his legs as he let the familiar sounds and smells of the village wash over him. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted over from old lady Hubbard’s home, mingling with the earthy aroma of the nearby fields. The windmill in the distance cranked and clattered as its grindstone worked. John’s carpentry was much the same, utilizing the river to power its machines.
As he made his way down the main street, villagers nodded in acknowledgment, some offering a quick word of gratitude or concern for the future. Arkk responded with practiced ease, smiling and assuaging them of any future troubles. There was no reason to expect more fighting in the future and any other problems weren’t for them to worry about.
Evestani was under their control. Prince Cedric would be departing to oversee the region. The Eternal Empire was an ocean away. Even if the people there wanted revenge, he doubted they would be able to act in the near future. Losing their Eternal Empress had to have thrown the country into chaos. It would be good if he could get spies over there, just to monitor the situation, but it wasn’t a priority.
The only major concern at the moment was that of the Calamity. Already, Zullie’s measurement spells were detecting an alarming increase in the levels of ambient magic. It was a problem that required immediate attention, but also wasn’t going to kill everyone straight away. Now that two avatars were dead and the fighting had stopped, Zullie had managed to measure the increase in magic ambiance and chart its trajectory, provided it continued increasing at the same rate. They had at least five years before the toxicity would start showing effects. Ten years before the toxicity would hit a level whereby crops stopped growing entirely.
So, for now, he allowed himself this brief moment of peace.
Reaching the end of the street, standing just in front of the Abbey’s church, he turned and looked back at the village. This place, though small and seemingly insignificant in the grand scheme of things, was still important to him. A reminder of the good times, a reminder of what he was fighting for.
What people had died for.
The memorial wall in Fortress Al-Mir had grown despite his best attempts to keep everyone as safe as possible. Some were simply killed by enemy spells or swords before he could evacuate them. Others were lost to his own incompetence. Leda in particular weighed heavy on his mind because of that. Yoho, the First and Last Primeval Lord, still had yet to gather together his judges. But, after that last meeting with him, Arkk wasn’t so sure that raising any of the dead was a good idea.
It was something he needed to have asked those to be raised before they died. Whether or not some of them might have wanted the chance to live even despite the condition of undeath, or whether they would have preferred to move on to the peacefulness of the Silence. He could imagine some would have preferred coming back, perhaps the orcs might have wished to use their undead bodies to engage in endless fighting or perhaps Gretchen would have wanted to join Zullie in eternal research into magic and the arcane.
But perhaps they wouldn’t. Perhaps they wanted the rest.
The Necropolis was filled with lively and seemingly happy undead, but it held even more undead who had chosen to return to their crypts and slumber away the eons. Arkk didn’t know if undead could truly die again or if a permanent slumber was the only option available to them. If so…
Arkk had to stop and force the dour thoughts from his mind, focusing on the current peace of the village instead. The people still alive.
There was just one thing missing…
“Thought I’d find you here.”
Arkk turned.
Ilya, eyes blazing red, lightly bumped her shoulder into his. She stopped alongside him, looking out over Langleey Village. Arkk didn’t respond to her, but she didn’t seem to expect a response. She simply stood in companionable silence as the sun crept its way up and over the horizon.
The people passing by shot far more wary looks in their direction now. The friendly, calm, or happy looks were a bit more fearful now.
“Maybe tone it down a bit?” Arkk said, finally breaking the silence with a gesture toward his eyes.
The elf sent him a glare, one made all the more effective by the glowing red of her eyes. “We didn’t get much of a chance to talk between me taking the Spire and now, so I am going to say this in the most patient way I can. How?”
“Just… don’t glow?”
“You don’t know.”
“It helps if you’re calm.”
“I am perfectly calm.”
“Really?” Arkk asked, smiling at the obviously irate elf. When he got another glare, one with even brighter eyes, he took Ilya’s hand and pulled her over to one of the benches outside the church. He sat her down, planted his hands on her shoulders, and started kneading. He had to be careful with his right hand not to hurt her now that it was more draconic in appearance.
The stiff coils of tense muscles under her skin, enhanced somewhat by Hale, slowly relaxed under his twisting thumbs.
“We did good out there,” he said, not sure if he had actually had a chance to say that in the immediate aftermath. “You did good. There is nothing to be stressed about.”
“I feel like I barely did anything,” she said, eyes closed. “You did all the work.”
“You captured an entire enemy nation in a day. Nearly bloodlessly at that.”
She took in a deep breath, head angling off to one side as Arkk focused on the base of her neck. “That was those commanders. I was just a glorified carriage.”
“Those commanders would have taken weeks to traverse the land, allowing Evestani time to organize whatever forces they hadn’t already sent into Mystakeen. They would have been stopped at walls and garrisons, forced to siege them, drawing out everything for weeks if not months and years. Maybe Mystakeen could have gone back to normal in that time, or maybe something would have gone wrong and the war would have begun anew. Without you, we would have had to live through that uncertainty.”
“Still a carriage.”
“An important carriage,” Arkk said with a grin.
Ilya opened her eyes, casting yet another baleful glare in his direction.
Her eyes were back to their beautiful silver.
They sat in silence for a while, watching the village come alive with the morning’s activities. Neither spoke. Neither needed to speak. He leaned up against Ilya and she leaned against him.
For just a brief moment, he closed his eyes. Somehow, in that brief moment, the sun shifted from the horizon to straight overhead. At some point, Arkk must have fallen asleep. He carefully looked over at Ilya, finding her with her head on his shoulder, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. He took care to remain as still as possible, as if Ilya were a cat sleeping on his lap.
It became a bit more difficult when he noticed a familiar face walking up the road to the church. An elf with silver eyes and silver hair, older and more regal in posture than Ilya.
“Alya,” Arkk greeted, tone neutral and voice soft.
She was the one he had sent to coordinate the evacuation of Smilesville. He wasn’t surprised to find her here. If anything, the surprise was that she hadn’t shown herself earlier.
Of all the people he didn’t want to talk to, Alya ranked somewhere near the top. He supposed she was better than one of his advisors, come to nag him back to work, but just judging by the look on Alya’s face, she had her own nagging to do. But she didn’t get right into it. After staring at him and Ilya for a moment, she approached, sat down on the far end of the bench—well away from Arkk and Ilya—and simply let out the longest, most exhausted sigh imaginable. She leaned back against the church’s brick wall and stared up at the sky.
“I suppose you’re happy with yourself.”
“More or less,” Arkk said, still keeping his voice low. He didn’t know when Ilya last slept and she definitely deserved to not be disturbed. “More than less, I suppose. Were there things I could have done better? Certainly. I could have had my researchers focus on counter-air spells to take down those airships earlier. I could have had a proper way of detecting demons, maybe saving Leda. I probably wouldn’t have sent Leda out with Priscilla in the first place… But it is easy to see what I could have changed after the fact. I believe I acted as best I could have at any given time, given the information and resources I had at those times.
“We won, in the end. With the death of Evestani’s avatar, maybe the peace will last longer than a generation.”
“Peace,” Alya said with a scoff. “I had been working toward peace. I spent years pushing the right people into the right places, orchestrating meetings between the Sultan’s daughter and our late Duke, angling for lowered tensions and increased trade.”
Arkk didn’t comment. There was no need to. Alya had failed. It really wasn’t her fault, even. If Arkk never existed, if he never drew the avatar’s attention by claiming Fortress Al-Mir, she might have succeeded. Having heard some of the history between the avatars from Lyra, he doubted it would have been a lasting peace.
“Evestani will be subjugated,” Alya said. “Our people are angry. Their people have no voice. With that prince at the helm, there may not even be an Evestani people in a century.”
“What do you want me to do about it?” Arkk hissed. “Go out there? Take it for myself? Send Ilya as regent, maybe? Assassinate Prince Cedric? I’ve actually considered that last one. He summoned a demon once. That makes him liable to do it again. I’m sure I could frame some Evestani extremists or Empire holdouts. But the King won’t lie down and take the death of his son without retaliating. So what then? Off the King and take over Chernlock? I’ve considered that one too… Frankly, I would, but we can’t afford it right now.
“Any action I take will lead to more war.”
Ilya started stirring. Arkk got a bit more intense than he wanted. He clamped his jaw shut and simply waited a moment, lightly rubbing his thumb against the back of Ilya’s hand. Only when he was sure she calmed down did he look over to Alya once again.
“A new Calamity will be upon us in little more than five years,” Arkk said, keeping his volume no louder than a whisper. “I can’t focus on that and fight off every nation at once. I need them to leave me alone. For now. Who knows? Maybe after Lyra and I fix this entire plane of existence, I’ll go conquer the entire world.”
“That isn’t what I want, Arkk.”
“Then what do you want, Alya?”
Alya remained silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on the horizon as if searching for the right words. Finally, she spoke, her voice carrying a mix of frustration and determination. “I want a future where people can build lives without the fear of losing everything in a heartbeat.”
“Is that really what you want?”
“Of course it is—”
“I’m not saying you don’t want it,” Arkk said, interrupting. “I would like that as well. But the path isn’t straightforward. Some sacrifices and compromises need to be made if people want to live at all. If Evestani has to be overseen by Cedric for the entire world to live, then that isn’t something I am willing to fight. Because, more than anything, what I want is for my people to be safe. Everyone else is a secondary concern.”
They lapsed into a brief silence, Alya scowling off at the town while Arkk closed his eyes and simply enjoyed the warmth of Ilya’s body. He spoke again after a respite, allowing his words to sink in.
“I spoke with Olatt’an after your joint venture through the Underworld,” Arkk said, keeping his tone more sensitive now, aware of the personal nature of what he was about to say. “He told me of your conversations. Your… dissatisfaction with overseeing the Cursed Forest and your feelings of failure with the Duke and the Sultan. It is easy to say you want world peace—most people would—but Alya, I want to know what you want.”
Alya remained silent, eyes flicking back and forth over Arkk’s face as she processed his words. She eventually let out another long, tired sigh as her shoulders slumped. “I… I want to feel like my efforts mean something. Like my life hasn’t been a waste.”
“Then do something. You’ve failed before, but that doesn’t mean you’ll fail again.” Arkk smiled slightly as an idea popped into his head. “I’m sure I can get you attached to Prince Cedric’s retinue. Go with him and try to keep him on a gentler path. I can’t, but you’re free to follow whatever path you think will matter to someone.”
Alya let out a single, clipped chuckle. “And get out of your and Ilya’s life at the same time.”
“I’m not going to pretend I like you, but I doubt Ilya wants you out of her life.”
“And what of her?” Alya asked, looking over her daughter. “What does Ilya want?”
Arkk held back his first instinct to retort that Alya never cared when she ran off with the Duke, why care now? He lightly rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand again. From the change in her breathing, he was fairly certain she had woken up at some point.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, though only partially. Based on everything he knew about her—and especially their conversation earlier, before they fell asleep—he imagined she wanted something similar to her mother. To matter. The apple, as the saying went, fell near to the tree. “I don’t know, but you can rest assured that I’ll do everything I can to help her achieve everything she wants.”
He felt her fingers tighten around his hand, just a light squeeze, but enough to confirm his suspicions.
Alya, whether she noticed or not, sighed and stared back out over the horizon. “She’d hate me for running off again.”
“I doubt it,” Arkk said, earning another squeeze of his hand. “We aren’t children anymore, watching you be dragged off as tribute to the Duke. You have reasons. We have ours. Though, maybe consider sending a letter once in a while.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Alya said. Resting her hands on her thighs, she stood. “You can truly get me into Prince Cedric’s entourage?”
Arkk dipped his head in a shallow nod. “Probably. Whether he trusts you enough to listen to you will be another story. I imagine you have work ahead of you, gaining that trust.”
“I didn’t go from tribute to Levi’s trusted advisor without learning a few things.”
“Good. I’ll contact my people, see what strings I can pull.” Arkk watched as Alya started leaving, and said one more thing. “Oh, and if you suspect he is going to or has summoned another demon, I’d appreciate a warning at your earliest convenience.”
“I don’t know the status of Evestani’s Swiftwings, but I’ll try to keep up a regular correspondence.”
Arkk nodded and leaned back, resting his back against the church wall. “I take it you’re alright with all that?” he asked quietly once Alya disappeared down the road.
Ilya let out a simple, neutral “Mhm.” She didn’t move her head from Arkk’s shoulder or even open her eyes. “You’ll help me with whatever I want, will you?”
“That’s always been the case. Even before Fortress Al-Mir. I just happen to have a lot more reach now.”
“Lovesick fool,” she murmured. “I might have to put that reach to the test.”