Cataclysm War | Chapter 71: The King and the Shrew (First Draft)

“Leonidas is the Cataclysm?” Reginald demanded, and Leonidas was thankful for the privacy bubble as Kairi nodded boredly.

“A-Yup,” she said casually. “So that Quest you and mom got? Yeah, it’s Ace.”

Maryanne and Reginald stared at Kairi, and then looked at their son, who sighed quietly.

“Not how I wanted it to come out, but yes,” he said, feeling Aylar sliding her arm around him comfortingly. “I’m the Cataclysm. It’s a… long story,” he said finally. “Has to do with Elatra and all the stuff that happened after, but I’ll tell you guys after the ball, if that’s okay? I still have, uh, King things to do.”

Aylar smiled ruefully at his side when he glanced at her, and his parents appeared uncertain, looking at eachother with quiet unease.

Almost on cue, Aylar swept forward and pulled their arms into hers. “You know, I never did get to tell you both about my home,” the Queen said warmly. “Would you be kind enough to listen?”

His parents hesitated when she acted, but he saw the way her charm washed over them, and his parents sighed.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow, son, okay?” Reginald pressed. “No later than that.”

Leonidas, in relief, simply nodded, and that seemed to satisfy his parents, who allowed Aylar to lead them away as Ceruviel dropped the bubble.

“Thanks, Kai,” he said as he glanced at his sister. “Real helpful.”

Kairi smirked at him, shrugged, and then waltzed away without a word.

From there, Leonidas returned to the Ball for the following hours, leaving Ceruviel and Uriel to entertain themselves.

He resumed his rounds, eager for the distraction following the conversation, and found himself reacting quickly with faint amusement at the new reactions from the partygoers. Where before his Kingship had seemed almost like a novelty to many of the assembled members of the guest list, now it seemed far more enforced by the singular actions of his rowdy Mentor.

Baron Cartellis had almost turned into a kind of social measuring stick for the seriousness of his title, and the subsequent deference he received following the unequivocal demonstration of its implacability reflected the attitudes of the assembled guests, both nobility and so-named commoners alike.

Haelfenn greeted him more politely, affecting manners and implicit submission that hearkened to their own cultural norms, while Nyrfenn regarded him with a kind of curious fascination, following social protocol while eyeing him as one might a particularly interesting manabeast.

Terrans, of all of them, remained entirely enthusiastic—loudly saying ‘Your Majesty’ as if making a firm point. That, more than anything, he found oddly endearing. His own species were thrilled to have a Terran King after fearing they’d be living under Haelfenn supremacy, and many were ecstatic about his reignition of the Pendragon name.

Two of them had even grilled him, politely, on his genealogy and been beside themselves with glee over learning he truly was a direct descendant of Arthur Pendragon. They’d called his ascension Fate, mirroring the legends of Merlin with pointed glances at Ceruviel, and he’d had to assuage them away from the tale before it grew feet and wings of its own accord.

The last thing he wanted was Terrans thinking of Ceruviel as a Kingmaker.

Even if, strictly speaking, that’s exactly what his Mentor was.

The strangest of his encounters, however, occurred while he was talking to his wife’s Noble councilors, and formalizing a proper meeting with the Haelfenn whom he knew to be among Aylar’s staunchest supporters.

“{I doubt this reformation will be a simple matter, Your Majesty,}” the Earl was saying, as Viscountess Haeyr, Marquis Yvaris, and Count Saelyr nodded along. “{Your ideas for representative governance are not unprecedented, but wariness should be exercised, lest you dilute your own power. Benevolent autocracy is always preferable to corrupt democracy.}”

Despite his American roots, Leonidas actually agreed. He’d come to that conclusion himself. Despite his overarching love for his homeland and his own people, he knew exactly how prone Terrans were to corruption.

“{I learned that lesson well during the time prior to the Integration,}” he assured the four of them, sipping his Aetherwine before continuing. “{The Congress of the United States was prolific for its institutional corruption and legislative malpractice. I have no desire to return to that manner of status quo.}”

“{Then what are your plans, Your Majesty, relating to these ‘Houses’ you mentioned?}” Viscountess Haeyr pressed, her black hair styled into ringlets that popped against her golden-veined, scandalously clinging blue dress. “{Surely, you are not expecting the Aristocracy to settle their differences without a single Duel.}”

The Marquis and Count nodded firmly to that, while the Earl sighed quietly, and Leonidas smiled.

“{The House of Lords and House of Commons will serve distinct purposes, Viscountess,}” he assured Haeyr with calm certainty. “{The former will exist to present a voice of the highborn to the Crown, and the latter will exist for the same purpose for the common people. My goal is for both Houses to work in tacit cooperation to submit legislative agendas for Crown review. Ultimately, final authority will always rest with myself and Aylar.}”

The Nobles observed him after he finished, and it was Marquis Yvaris who spoke next, his cropped auburn hair carefully styled on his head.

“{What manner of cooperation do you envision, Your Majesty?}”

Leonidas smiled at the question and gestured around them idly with his glass. “{So many Avalonians,}” he emphasized the word as he spoke, intending on making it stick, “{are already present here in harmony, under the watch of the Duke and Duchess, as well as the Royal Guard, certainly, but harmonious nonetheless. My intention is for the Commons and Lords Houses to be a check on one another, in point of fact. Neither can submit a legislative agenda without approval from the other, but both may offer advice to the Crown through their elected Speakers.}”

“{And how will you formulate those elections fairly, Your Majesty?}” Count Saelyr pressed. “{Naturally, our body politic would defer to the most senior of our rank for that role, speaking for the Aristocracy.}”

Leonidas nodded in acknowledgement of the concern before he answered.

“{Simple: All candidates for Speaker will have their minds scoured by Duchess Latherian prior to the Crown approving their candidacy, and the vote will commence based on their sincere political agenda,}” Leonidas said calmly. “{They will serve a two-year term before being replaced, and cannot run for re-election until two terms have passed since their last successful campaign. I have no doubt several high-ranking highborn will be disqualified long before the vote.}”

That drew a round of uncertainty from the nobles, and it was Earl Brightblade who spoke again.

“{That is… dangerously invasive, Your Majesty,}” the Earl said carefully.

“{Only the corrupt need fear an Archon’s intrusion, my lord,}” Leonidas responded calmly. “{I am not afraid of what the Duchess would glean from my mind, and as King, should not my example be fit for all below me? The Queen and I are quite comfortable opening our minds to the Duchess. One might wonder what there is to hide if someone proves unwilling to permit such an innocuous process.}”

The Earl frowned at his words, but after a moment, nodded slowly.

“{Only traitors or villains would fear her touch, true enough,}” Brightblade said in reluctant concession. “{None of us here are among them, though I cannot speak for every member of the Aristocracy.}”

“{But what of lineage, Your Majesty?}” the Viscountess asked immediately. “{How would the votes be distributed? Eventually, we will all be landed. Would it be based on wealth, or populace, or some other metric?}”

Leonidas smiled wryly at her words and lifted his right forefinger indicatively.

“{One vote, my lady, per bloodline. Just one. No more, no less. From the Ducal lines down to the humblest Baronet. One vote.}”

He saw them realize exactly what he intended a moment later, and turned to Marquis Yvaris when he put it into words.

“{Then lineage and standing would be irrelevant in the House?}” the Marquis asked with faint disbelief. “{We would be as equal as the lowest or highest of our number?}”

“{Governance is a service to the citizens, my lord,}” Leonidas said firmly in reply, before anyone else could object. “{Obligation of nobility, or} Noblesse Oblige {as my people say, is a foundational aspect of my vision for Avalon. Would it serve my purposes to arm the Duke of Morning and Duchess of Twilight with immense voting power? Naturally, but that would be inequitable. If we are to rule, my lords, my lady, we must do so with service as our foremost priority. That means equity—for all parties, no matter their external standing.}”

The nobles, despite their reticence, nodded at that—Haeyr and Saelyr reluctantly, Brightblade and Yvaris understandingly—before glancing at one another.

Finally, it was Brightblade who spoke again.

“{Then it will be one representative per bloodline, Your Majesty?}”

“{One, with deference to defer their vote to a proxy or two in the instance they cannot attend a session,}” Leonidas agreed. “{However, to combat inevitable corruption, the votes will be made no later than twenty-four hours following each proposal. Enough time to ponder, never enough time to scheme,}” he stated plainly.

“{A bold move, Your Majesty,}” the Viscountess said while eyeing him shrewdly. “{A very bold move. You will anger many with this, but I see the merits. Nobility itself brought into equity, at least in governance. It is not going to occur without argument—but I daresay you may very well get your wish, if others see the benefits to this as I believe we do.}”

The Marquis and Earl nodded, while the Count seemed faintly uncertain.

“{Benefits?}” Saelyr asked directly. “{I do not follow. No disrespect, Archon-King—}” the term had seemingly taken off, following the Baron’s prior outburst “{—to your notion, but I fail to see how this benefits the nobility. Lower ranks that break unity with those above them would just open themselves to reprisal outside the House.}”

Leonidas smiled wryly at the concern and turned to nod at Uriel and Ceruviel.

“{They would, my lord, save for the fact that I intend on appointing the Duke and Duchess as Arbiters—the Duke to the House of Lords, and the Duchess to the House of Commons. Any punitive retaliation between the House members will mean the aggrieved party may seek restitution with the Arbiters.}”

That raised some eyebrows, and it was the Viscountess who asked the question they likely all wondered.

“{Why the Duke and not the Duchess for the Lords, Your Majesty? I would assume that the Last Archon would be an ideal candidate to wrangle the unruly nobles.}”

Leonidas nodded and explained without preamble. To him, the logic was sound.

“{My Mentor is many things, and while she is highly gifted at intimidating the Aristocracy, what I require is someone talented at shepherding them. Fear has its place, but it should not dominate in place of respect. Uriel Aventus is lauded as the prime example of a Ducal noble, and for good reason. Where the Aristocracy may find ways to try to circumvent Ceruviel out of fear or abstract notions of undue punishment, they will gravitate to the Duke for his fair-handed and equitable nature.}”

Leonidas shrugged and smiled when they blinked at him in collective surprise.

“{I am simply matching the right person to the right audience. The nobility may obey Ceruviel, but they will bristle and find any chance they can to avoid her. Conversely, they will seek out Uriel. His wisdom, even-handedness, and general sense of proven, reason-driven justice will make them—you, that is—feel far better about him resolving disputes.}”

After several moments’ contemplative silence, it was Count Saelyr who spoke.

“{That is… surprisingly insightful of you, Your Majesty, if you forgive my saying so. Very surprising. I never would have expected a Terran to grasp our nature so perfectly. Er, not that I meant you—}”

Leonidas smiled wryly at the compliment and reached out to clap the Count on the shoulder, dispelling the momentary worry for the hot-headed Haelfar man when he did.

“{Well, we all have our secrets, my lord. Take heart in knowing that mine is a particularly keen-minded wife who can advise me in areas where I lack experience.}”

The subtle shift in credit to Aylar seemed to dispel their curiosity about his handling of the situation, and the four of them nodded in clear understanding. It was much easier to focus on his Queen as the brain behind the choice than to explain his experiences in Elatra and his dealings with the nobility there.

“{That makes sense,}” the Viscountess said. “{Very well, Your Majesty. We’ve taken up enough of your time. Thank you, kindly, for entertaining our questions.}”

Leonidas inclined his head as he’d been taught by Lyara as the four bowed—and in the Viscountess’ case, curtsied—to him in tacit agreement, and moved off without another word, spreading out immediately to convey the information to what he suspected was a great number of curious highborn. It would invariably be misinterpreted, but he could handle that well enough as it came.

Chalk up one on the board for me, I guess, he thought triumphantly, sipping his Aetherwine as he turned finally, and very nearly slammed face-first into a tall Svartfar staring at him with what looked like the worst attempt at a smile he’d ever seen.

The woman was only slightly shorter than Aylar, with ash-grey skin that made her lambent red eyes glow even more, and a plunging neckline to her bodice that flowed into a tight-fitted corset of base black, with golden highlights woven across the fabric. She wore gloves that seemed strangely practical for a ball, and had faint Haelfennyr runes woven into the fabric. Her shoulders, he noticed distantly, seemed to dance between putting her impressive—for a Fenn, at least—chest on display, and hiding it with an intentional hunch.

What was most notable, however, was the very blatant way she appeared to be trying to look charming while simultaneously looking like she’d rather be anywhere else on the planet.

She was, in a word, the strangest woman he’d met yet.

“You are the King,” the woman said in English, her voice strangely dulcet to his ears, almost as if she were more used to whispering or singing than speaking properly. “I am Xarina.”

The flat, direct introduction momentarily caught him off-guard, and Leonidas quirked a wry smile.

No mind-glow on this one. Is that a Svartfenn thing?

“Well met, Xarina,” he said to her with faint amusement. “You look like you’re a little out of place.”

“Why?” she asked immediately, her crimson eyes flaring. “Because I am not fawning like the rest of these light—lighthearted rabble?” she said, as if catching herself stating something else.

Leonidas regarded her with abject curiosity at her tone, and then blinked as he glanced around.

“Well, no,” he said slowly. “More that you look as if you’d rather be anywhere else,” he explained, looking back to her with the same mix of amusement and faint confusion. “Especially anywhere else but near me. I think you’re a bit out of your element here, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

The woman, Xarina, grimaced at that and—after a moment of thought—thrust her chest out more, a subtle blush on her cheeks and the tips of her ears as she did. “I am here to meet you, King. That is my purpose.”

Leonidas very nearly laughed at her actions, out of sheer bewilderment, and then raised a hand to gesture for her to relax.

“There’s no need for that,” he said quickly, feeling his own cheeks redden faintly. She did have a very nice chest, but the way she was wielding it just seemed awkward more than anything else. “Really. You don’t need to show yourself off. You’re quite beautiful without the effort.”

Xarina hesitated at his words and then dropped her shoulders, folding her arms protectively over her chest and eyeing him speculatively, before grimacing and glancing away.

“I was told males are easily distracted by exposed flesh,” she said frankly, her eye twitching faintly as she glanced at the nearby Haelfenn disparagingly. “I was told it was the best way to approach you.”

“I… see,” Leonidas said, blinking at her in mounting confusion, and somehow finding her far more interesting than offensive. There was something refreshing in the woman’s abject lack of social graces. “If I may ask, why are you approaching me?”

“To see what all the fuss is about,” Xarina answered flatly, looking back at him with shrewd eyes. “You aren’t bad looking, as far as males go, but I don’t see much about you to mark you as very special. I can’t see why everyone is being so idiotic about winning your favor. Your wife is the real power, anyway.”

Leonidas blinked again at her words, and then, despite feeling like he should have been offended, he laughed quietly.

“You’re very blunt, Xarina. Has anyone told you that?”

“I am honest,” she replied stiffly, quietly pulling up her neckline to hide her cleavage, which promptly pushed it back down again—much to her apparent irritation. “I should never have worn this ridiculous outfit…”

“I appreciate the difference,” Leonidas said sincerely, and then conjured one of his jackets from his [Spatial Storage Ring]. “Do you mind? I think you’ll feel better if you aren’t nearly popping out of your dress.”

Xarina glared at him, hesitated, and then removed her arms from her cleavage with another blush.

Shaking his head, Leonidas calmly draped his jacket over her, carefully nestling it so it covered her chest, without touching her.

“There,” he said after a moment. “Better, right?”

Xarina muttered something too quiet for even his Tempered ears to hear and pulled the jacket around her more tightly, eyeing him as she did.

“Is this some sort of ploy? Do you intend to demand my body as recompense for—”

“Jesus!” Leonidas interrupted, raising a hand in warding denial. “No. Christ. I’m just being polite. It’s how I was raised.”

Xarina grumbled again and then, after a moment, sketched a jerky nod. “Thank you. King. For the, er, kindness,” she said mechanically, her cheeks still a dark, flushed red. “This is not how I intended this to go.”

“Oh?” Leonidas asked with genuine curiosity. “How did you intend it to go?”

“I—that is irrelevant,” Xarina declared imperiously, lifting her chin with all the pride of a Queen, and then eyeing his drink. “How are you consuming Aetherwine?”

“Pardon?” Leonidas asked, trying to keep up with the sudden change in discourse. “I don’t understand your meaning.”

“Aetherwine,” Xarina repeated again, slower, as if he were daft. “You’re drinking it and not falling over. How?”

“Oh. Oh! Right, usually Terrans can’t—well, uh, I suppose I’m just a little more robust than most of my species. Archon, and all that,” he said while glancing at the pinky-violet liquid. “It’s nice, actually. Sort of fruity.”

“I see,” she said flatly, almost as if disbelieving, and then pulled his jacket tighter around her. “Very well, then. We have met. I will see you again, King. Later. I will, er, reward you for your service. Yes.”

Leonidas stared at her in mounting confusion as the Svartfar turned gracefully on her heels, paused, returned, took his Aetherwine, and then hurried away without another word.

“What… what just happened?” Leonidas asked to no one in particular, staring at his now-empty hand and the swiftly retreating posterior of the dark-dressed woman.

“I have no idea,” Kairi said as she manifested beside him. “But she was hot.”

Leonidas glanced down at his apparition-of-a-sister and sighed.

“The woman seemed barking mad, Kairi.”

“Yeah, well,” the younger woman said with a shrug. “You’re the one marrying a Dragon chick. Looking to diversify your portfolio with a bit of dusky Svartfar?”

Leonidas snorted and flicked her forehead, drawing a grunt from his sister.

“Don’t even think it,” he said to her firmly, and grabbed her hand. “Now come on, let’s dance.”

“Dance?!” Kairi demanded as he pulled her toward the floor. “Ace, we don’t dance!”

“Kairi,” he said to her with amusement, “this is my wedding celebration as much as anything. Are you really going to deny your only brother a brother-sister dance?”

Kairi eyed him balefully, sighed, and then eventually smiled.

“Fine, whatever, you win,” she said in surrender. “But if you grab my ass, I’ll break your fingers.”

Leonidas snorted in revulsion.

“That’s disgusting, Kai. You’re my sister.”

“Oh yeah,” Kairi said with relief. “Ugh, thank God. I’ve had to bully half a dozen damn jerks away from pawing me tonight. You’d think the first broken nose would teach them.”

Leonidas smirked knowingly.

“You know, since I’m a King, that technically makes you a Princess, right? They’re probably looking to marry up.”

Kairi stared at him, blinked, and then groaned in despair.

“Oh, great,” she said as they came together for a waltz. “You just have no consideration for me at all, do you?”

Leonidas laughed at her as they began the dance.

“Torturing you is one of the best parts of being your brother, Yunalesca.”

Kairi kicked him in the shin at that, and Leonidas just grinned.

Point to me, he thought victoriously.