Cataclysm Conquest | Chapter 08: Threat Assessment (First Draft)

Saturday, November 26, 4 S.E.

Countess Diana Margaret Montgomery entered the guest quarters provided for her by the young King and Queen with a sense of begrudging admiration, eyeing the polished white manastone, luxurious carpets, and spacious rooms with a lifelong aristocrat’s appraisal. There was little to take issue with in what she saw, and that did nothing to ameliorate the faint sense of unease stirring within her gut.

Her [Magmaflare Core] had been vibrating the entire time after she’d left the Throne Room, guided by a well-dressed Elven butler who’d shown them to their rooms, and escorted by a so-named ‘Echelon’ of the halberd-bearing guards the King had named Aureates. The mix of English and near-perfect Latin had thrown her quickly when she’d first heard the various mentions, but that was a minor detail compared to the proverbial elephant in the room.

A knock came at her doors and she turned, smoothing her dress as she called “Enter!” in a cordial manner.

When her six companions filed in and shut the door, Diana relaxed at their quick thinking, and gestured silently for them to follow; gliding through the apartments toward the spacious sitting area, and setting the [Spatial Projector] in her storage upon the large table within it, creating a field of isolated space within which they couldn’t be overheard—nullifying any potential listening enchantments or Aetherotech in the process.

“Well now,” Winston Lockheed said promptly, settling himself down on the couches and sighing as he did, a gloved hand running through his blond hair. “This is entirely unexpected, wouldn’t you say, my lady?”

Diana smiled ruefully at the man and shook her head, motioning for the others to take seats as she did.

“Unexpected, yes, but not in a strictly disastrous manner,” the Countess said with a hum. “We have learned much from the young monarchs, though I cannot tell which of them is truly the power in this Kingdom.”

Cassidy Torrence, one of her other companions, sighed and stripped off her white gloves, fanning herself idly despite the room’s perfect temperature, and touching her gloves to her reddened cheeks while brushing back her auburn hair from her green dress.

“It’s obviously the Queen,” she said brazenly, her voice dripping with contempt. “The boy barely said a word until the end.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Cass,” Siobhan McCabe stated with a frown, flipping her black hair as she settled down and smoothed the blue fabric of her own dress. “There was something about that man that was hard to look away from. He didn’t seem cowed, he seemed—”

“Calculating,” Matthew Watson agreed from another chair, removing his top hat and folding his left knee over his right as he settled, brushing back his sandy-brown hair. “The Archon-King, they called him. I wonder what that means. It sounded important.”

“It’s a class.”

The answer came from Theresa Mayfair, the other blonde of their party, and a Baroness of the Empire. She also removed her gloves as she spoke, shifting so her white dress wouldn’t crease, and settling her blue eyes on them all. “I asked around before we were escorted in. Archons are apparently very powerful Psionic Knights from Altera, the world the High Elves seem to hail from. Purportedly, they sound somewhat like space wizards, if you understand my meaning.”

Marcus Ward, the final member of their party, sighed at the reference and settled down beside Diana, reaching up to check his auburn ponytail before he spoke. “Space wizards, Theresa? Truly?”

“It would make sense,” Winston said after a moment. “He seemed to be watching us with uncanny understanding. I still can’t tell if that was performative or not, but I almost felt like he knew what we were thinking.”

“Then why let the Queen speak so much?” Cassidy challenged. “She did all the talking for the pair of them, barring when he gave orders. Though I must say, he did sound terribly authoritative. It was rather stimulating.”

“Ugh, you are just incorrigible, Cass,” Siobhan said with a laugh. “Haven’t you devoured enough men for one year?”

“Never a King,” the auburn socialite declared primly, and fanned herself again while Diana shook her head. “I wouldn’t mind some royal entertainment, if you understand my meaning.”

“You are all missing the broader picture,” Diana declared, cutting into their banter before it grew genuinely scandalous. “It is clear that these young royals work in tandem—and if what Theresa said is true, it is entirely plausible they were silently coordinating the entire time. I cannot tell who the true power is, but I also cannot discount the idea that there isn’t one.”

“What do you mean?” Matthew asked curiously.

“Well, consider what we know to be certain,” Diana said as she stripped off her black gloves with a sigh of relief, setting them on the table and looking at her assembled companions. Despite their youth, they were all highly intelligent and very capable, even considering the odd proclivities some of them held. “This Kingdom has already amassed an immense army and is poised on the cusp of unleashing it. There was intent in the Archon-King’s eyes when he told me of his numbers, and a sense of inevitability to his words. He is preparing for something.”

Her companions nodded at her words, and Marcus frowned.

“But that doesn’t answer your own question, my lady.”

“Ah,” Diana said wryly, “but it does, Marcus. I wondered who held the true power, given the nature of their interactions, but Theresa’s clue settles several pieces into place. Namely, this may very well have been entirely performative. The Archon-King conducted himself cold and taciturn, but why would a ruler of that manner be so evidently beloved? I believe they were trying to hoodwink us. We can see this further in the way he gave orders—he played his hand, there, unwittingly. The level of obedience his subjects offered, two Ascendants no less, points toward terrifying competence. We were supposed to see a taciturn young man, not the Conqueror he intends to become.”

Her companions exchanged glances, and Winston leaned forward with a thoughtful frown.

“You think they wanted us to believe the King was a subordinate partner?” the man asked curiously. “To what end? Strength would be the best way to assert their authority.”

Theresa hesitated and then lifted a finger, shaking her head as she did.

“Not necessarily. If the entire affair was designed to thwart our assessment, they may have wanted to encourage a certain viewpoint so as to skew our reports to His Imperial Majesty. The revelation of the Archon-King’s bloodline, for example.”

The room fell silent at that mention, and Diana herself frowned, wishing she had a cup of tea to enjoy at the words while her mind raced with the memory.

“King Arthur’s trueborn Heir,” she murmured to herself, reaching up to idly toy with her pearl necklace. “It creates considerable complications for us, not the least of which is a matter of succession. King Arthur was the endowed ruler of all Albion-cum-England-cum-Britannia, by the authority of his wielding of [Excalibur] and his parentage.”

“Which makes Leonidas Pendragon a direct contender for the title of Emperor,” Siobhan murmured, inspiring grim frowns across the seven of them when she did. “With His Imperial Majesty having no sons—”

“Male primogeniture was eroded by Queen Elizabeth the Second,” Marcus pointed out immediately.

“Yes,” Cassidy put in with a grimace, “but that doesn’t change the nature of perception. A trueborn male Heir to Arthur bloody Pendragon? The only thing more Britannian would be if he were descended from Saint George! God help us if he actually manages to claim [Excalibur].”

“Naturally, we cannot allow that to occur,” Diana agreed. “It would destabilize the Empire completely. A Britannian descendant of King Arthur wielding [Excalibur]? Even the holdouts would kneel to him.”

Marcus frowned at her words, then turned and engaged Winston.

“He didn’t sound Britannian to me, nor entirely American, Winston. There was a southern twang to some of his words, but there was a definite aristocratic air to others. He sounded like he’s lived in the Isles at least for a time. You’re the linguistic expert. Do you have thoughts?”

Winston lifted his right hand and wiggled it in response as Diana observed them calmly, letting her younger companions think it through.

“It’s uncertain,” the blond man said hesitantly. “It wasn’t quite Britannian, but it definitely was American—South, I think. Texas or perhaps Louisiana. The dialects are not entirely discernible for a non-native.”

“It was sexy, is what it was,” Cassidy said with an indulgent chuckle, while still fanning herself.

“Focus, Cass,” Theresa said with a faint frown and long-suffering sigh. “Stop thinking with your thighs.”

“Fine, fine,” the socialite said with a dramatic sigh, and waved an elegant hand airily. “Candidly, all of this is secondary to what her ladyship said. The man has armies, countrypeople. He has Legions, and he intends to use them. What we need to truly worry about is whether he decides to settle for just North America.”

A grim silence settled over them again, and eventually, Matthew shook his head while idly gesturing with his hand in a subconscious sign of thought.

“No, I don’t think he’s going to try to bother the Empire. We’re too distant, and South America is closer. It would take him years to fully secure the North alone, to say nothing of acquiring a Navy sufficient to assail the Empire. We’re already in the process of building a fleet again. Assailing the Isles would be a disaster for him.”

Diana sighed quietly at the words and spoke into the silence that followed.

“Not if he went through Europe,” the Countess said succinctly, looking around at her younger companions. “Not everyone is as united as the Empire, and His Imperial Majesty is still securing his hold over Scotland and Ireland. The Integration greatly damaged our unity. It will be years before we’re able to truly expand south toward Europe.”

“But surely, the Archon-King won’t be able to unite the Americas in that time enough to protect from a domestic incursion?” Marcus questioned.

“Sixty thousand Legionaries, my dear Marcus,” Diana said steadily, still toying with her necklace. “There are likely myriad small factions that would rather capitulate than face that force. He’d win their surrender just by showing up, and they would invariably be added to his manpower. If he demanded service for citizenship, he could swell his ranks by thousands with every settlement—and then roll over the remainder with momentum alone.”

“The initial reports did say he’d already won a great battle,” Winston murmured, glancing at Theresa. “I didn’t believe it, myself, but the size of his military…”

Theresa nodded at the man’s words and brushed her blonde hair behind her ears as she chewed her lip in thought.

“If there’s any measure of truth to the rumors we heard, then establishing a successful relationship with Avalon is even more imperative. His Imperial Majesty does not have the resources to launch a conquest of this Kingdom, not for years, not until all of Britannia is reunited—to say nothing of Europe. A dozen Kingdoms have exploded into being following the incursion, and Nova Deutschland is another concern.”

Cassidy snorted quietly at her words.

“The wish-to-be Kaisereich is not a real threat to the Empire, Theresa, don’t be absurd. They’re too busy feuding with the Danelaw and Frankia.”

“Why does it sound like we regressed to three different historical time periods every time we discuss Europe?” Winston lamented.

“Because societal breakdown compels a return to primitive drives,” Diana said calmly and sighed. “We reignited Britannia, and our ancient rivals reignited their own legacies. Europe has always had one foot in monarchy, my dear boy. It is hardly surprising that we would see a rapid re-emergence of hereditary polities within her bosom.”

Her companions chuckled mirthlessly at her words, and Siobhan sighed quietly while lifting her head to peer at Diana.

“We are drifting off-track, Countess. What do you think we should do? We have delivered the Emperor’s Gift and assured Her Imperial Highness’ safe travel to Avalon. Do we return?”

Diana considered the question and hummed, peering at the rooms the Monarchs had granted her thoughtfully. Even the Empire didn’t have the comfortable luxury of this kind readily available, not even in Buckingham.

“No,” she said after a moment, turning back to Siobhan and then looking around at the rest of them. “No,” she repeated again, more decisively. “We will remain here and aid the Princess with establishing her Embassy, and we will work to glean more information as we do. Avalon will soon march to war; it is a question of when, not a question of if. We need to see the results of their first conquests to provide Britannia with a clear image of what the Empire is dealing with.”

Her companions nodded in acceptance of her words, and Matthew grimaced after he did, turning his attention to her.

“Sixty thousand is just his Legions,” he pointed out after a moment. “If we assume he has even more than that, and his claims about the absurd level of strength he possesses are true, how long do you reasonably think it might take this Archon-King to truly assert a claim over North America? Everything from Alaska down to the former Mexican border, I mean.”

Diana considered the words as they all looked at her and rose, stepping around Cassidy to walk toward the large balcony doors and open them, peering out at the fantastical skyline of the city as it stretched out around the palace. Dawnhaven was a truly beautiful place, that much she could admit. There was an almost alien nature to the architecture, but it held gravitas that only Gothic stylism could replicate. It felt like they’d stepped into a different world.

“Five years,” Diana said finally, after her eyes tracked across the City and found the marching formation heading for the immense Prosperity Gate at its immense, walled entrance. “In five years, this Kingdom will hold dominion over all of North America, barring unforeseen complications,” she repeated, turning back to her companions. “Which means we have even less time than that to come up with a plan of action.”

Her companions peered at her and glanced at one another before Cassidy spoke at last, voicing the question they all held.

“A plan for what, exactly, Countess?”

It was asked out of interest, not ignorance. Her companions were readily intelligent, but she was their leader for a reason, and they hearkened to her wisdom.

Diana smiled at them wryly and reached up to toy with her necklace again as she enjoyed the breeze sweeping in through the doors.

“On how to wield this nation for the Empire’s benefit,” the Countess answered calmly, “and if it becomes a threat, on how best to ensure that His Imperial Majesty can cut the head off the snake before its venom infects our homeland.”

Her companions nodded at her words and turned back to each other, falling into discussion once more as Diana turned back to the open balcony.

Rule, Britannia, she sang quietly in her own mind, Britannia rules the waves.

Diana smiled quietly as she recited the ancient song of imperial pride.

First the waves, and then, eventually, the world.