H - 125: I Unilaterally Declare Friendship (Patreon)

“Finally, peace.”

Kaln put everything he had into his voice—the divine power that helped keep him the center of attention, and also contracting his upper abdominal muscles, what the singer he’d learned about this from called the “diaphragm,” to cast his voice with much greater volume. He was no more an orator than he was a blacksmith, but Kaln knew handfuls of basic tricks from dozens of arts and professions, the legacy of a youth spent befriending everyone who would tolerate him in every tavern, teahouse, and market stall he’d ever visited.

He looked up, flicking his gaze across the dragons looming over them all and, for the moment, pointedly ignoring the humans present. The divinity in him resonated with them, connecting more thoroughly than before; he could not sense them more deeply, but now Kaln found he could project his own feelings into them on a level beyond the clumsy nudges he’d managed thus far. It was still not telepathy, it was barely communication, but it was stronger.

They understood his intent. It was Tiavathyris who smiled and held out one enormous claw, palm up.

Kaln flashed upward with a thought, now standing in her grasp with her talons rising up around him like the arms of a draconic throne as he stared down at the rulers of Boisverd.

“So! We must first address the fact that you conspired with the Flock, abducted me from my home—via conjuration, which is one of the most unimaginably painful things I have ever experienced, and kept me prisoner in your dungeon.”

Queen Henrietta did not venture any response to this, only shuffling backward with clear alarm while her soldiers moved forward to stand between her and the dragons. They had begun to react at the word “conjuration,” displaying rising anger, and now all six were baring fangs; Vadaralshi and Vanimax hissed aggressively.

Kaln held up one hand, silent.

His dragons subsided at the wordless command, settling back into more neutral postures, which was only half of his purpose. The other half was to have the royals and their soldiers see him effortlessly wield the obedience of the creatures from six centuries of their ancestors’ nightmares.

“For that,” Kaln stated, “I have decided to forgive you. While I did not order Vanimax’s actions, they still reflect upon my household—as does the fact that I not only honored the Princess’s request for asylum, but did so without notifying you. I feel that rises to the level of…provocation. I would probably have done worse, had it been my daughter. Since you did all that, I am also no longer interested in making any apologies. I’ve already reached an accord with Anessima. Let’s call it even, shall we?”

“I suppose it is for the best that we do,” Henrietta replied, her voice ringing cleanly across the courtyard. Somehow it didn’t surprise him that she knew how to project. Soldiers were now three ranks deep in front of her, but from his current altitude Kaln could see her clearly over their heads. “Allow me, then, to extend you the offer of more comfortable environs in which to negotiate our next steps forward, Lord Zelekhir.”

This was the hard part.

Kaln didn’t prefer to play games of dominance and manipulation, but he certainly knew how. He wanted to reach an accord here; his instinct was always to seek peace and cooperation. And he would still do that, but he understood politics—at least in theory—well enough to know that from now on, he had to offer peace only from a position of power.

That, or he’d never have a moment’s rest. The world would know of him after today; they would all come like jackals to snatch bites of what was his.

Until they were reminded why jackals did not contest lions.

“When you had me prisoner,” he said after allowing the silence to hang for an excruciatingly tense span of seconds, “and utterly at your mercy, you still addressed me with courtesy—with, pointedly, no more cruelty than the situation absolutely demanded. It impressed me very much, your Majesty. You set an example I aspire to live up to. I took note, also, that you declined to negotiate.”

Henrietta’s mouth tightened momentarily. Franz and Etienne both scowled outright; Percy looked nervous. He had hopefully earned her trust, but Kaln was uncomfortably aware that he was now showing a side she had never seen.

“Today,” Kaln continued, “my family have come here, despite your treatment of me, despite centuries of mutual hostility, and cleaned up your mess. Defended your city from an attack launched by your Court Mage, over whom you lost all control. Saved the lives of your people, without being asked, and asking for no reward.”

He paused for effect. One beat; the Lord Scribe had taught him to think of the rhythms of a speech in terms of music.

“And right now, I have six dragons and two squads of soldiers who outclass yours by orders of magnitude, occupying Boisverd’s center of government. I have this nation’s entire royal family in the palm of my hand. No, your Majesty, I don’t believe I will discuss terms. I will dictate them.”

Henrietta folded her hands before herself, and waited, composed. Etienne and Franz both mastered themselves, at least somewhat; Percy linked her arms reassuringly with both of them.

“I see a lot of weapons aimed at my family,” Kaln observed. “Rectify that.”

Silence and stillness answered him. Henrietta met his stare, resolved and unflinching. Seconds ticked by, stretched. Kaln began to be terribly afraid he would have to force the point.

But she spared him that, at least.

“All soldiers, stand down,” the Queen commanded. “Assume posture of surrender.”

Her forces were disciplined; they did not protest, despite deeply unhappy expressions, but simply obeyed. Kaln waited for the sounds of swords, guns, and casting wands being dropped to the ground to cease before continuing.

And then…waited a second longer. Processing this.

He remembered, now, Hii-Amat’s warning. Of the two moments which would come, and which would determine the entire course of his future. He could see, now, how painfully right she was. The first moment, seeing enemies broken at his feet…

Kaln stood in command of the most destructive force which existed on this continent. He held the fate of a nation in his grasp. A Queen waited politely for him to pronounce her fate. All who had challenged him today, humbled and at his mercy.

It was…unlike anything he had felt. Dizzying, heady. Somehow more cloying even than the transcendence of seeing beyond the veil of physical matter.

The power.

He understood, now, why people went mad with this. He’d have been no less vulnerable to it.

But Kaln had been forewarned, had known this was coming, and had grown to fear it. Nothing could truly have prepared him for it, but the warning was enough that now that it was here… Well, it did not diminish the burning lust for more of this.

It enabled him, though, to step outside himself. To see himself feeling that, and to be disgusted by it.

The revulsion brought him back to himself. Tiavathyris’s gentle words of caution and support resonated in his memory—he would, inevitably, make mistakes and cause disasters, learning to wield power. And they would fix it, together. He reached out and, for just a moment, ran his hand along the upturned claw of her thumb; she very gently flexed it in his direction in response.

“The actions we take to treat one another with civility matter very much,” he said, softly, but still projecting—both voice and divinity. “The more so, not less, because we can never get away from the truth of power. It is the privilege of the strong to dictate the fate of the weak. The strong must be merciful, or there will be no world left for us fit to live in.”

Kaln took one step forward, bracing his foot against one of his wife’s fingers, and inclined his head toward the waiting royals and soldiers arrayed below him.

“By right of conquest, I unilaterally declare friendship.”

Several soldiers shifted and muttered. Etienne and Franz both scowled again; those two were in such perfect lockstep that it was funny, given—if he correctly remembered Percy’s description of her family tree—they were not actually related by blood. Percy herself grinned hugely up at him.

Henrietta’s shoulders shifted in a small sigh, and she raised one eyebrow.

“I approve of your rule, your Majesty,” Kaln said, now smiling himself. “My…advisors have been very positively impressed by the running of your country. I will not interfere with you any further. We will demand no price and bear no grudge, and henceforth, when you have need, I encourage you to call upon Dragonvale for aid. I will not promise to be at your beck and call, but you of all people know what problems of a ruler are and are not suitable to share with…let us say, for now, neighbors. Perhaps soon, allies. And I hope one day, friends in truth.

“I am Ar-Kaln Zelekhir. It was I who slew Atraximos the Dread, and it is I who now reign in Dragonvale. This is a new world—a world in which the dragons of the Evervales will be partners, not destroyers. I do not expect anyone to simply take my word for it, but today in Boisverd, we have begun to prove it. And so we will continue, until it is done.”

With that, Ar-Kaln Zelekhir changed the course of the world. More importantly—to him, at least—his wives and their offspring were gazing at him with pride and approval.

Well, Vanimax looked a little skeptical, but you couldn’t have everything.

***

Declaring from on high that he would be dictating rather than discussing was great political theater, but down here in reality, there were conversations that absolutely needed to happen if he was to move forward with such a huge shakeup in every norm by which entire civilizations lived. To begin with, a proper accord with the royals of Boisverd was necessary. Fortunately, he was approaching this task with some solid advantages.

Namely his established friendship with their daughter, and the fact that he’d just publicly passed up an opportunity to seize their whole kingdom, which they knew very well he could un-pass again at a whim.

To begin with, he had been provided with the courtesy of a private parlor in which to catch up with Izayaroa, the only member of his family who had accompanied him here after the rest of the dragons collected their friends from atop the cathedral and returned home. And also her guest, as it turned out.

“The funny thing is that Savasmittar used precisely the maneuver you just did, husband,” she said with a smile once she had thoroughly warded the room against eavesdropping. “Exerting enough force to establish for an incontrovertible fact that he could, and then exercising the utmost mercy.”

“I’ve thought from the beginning that I would like him,” Kaln admitted. “Shima Vaat is a beautifully orderly city. Did I tell you about the palm trees?”

“Yes, I recall your approval,” she replied, still smiling in warm amusement. “I think you are right, husband. This relationship is still profoundly young and you represent a massive potential threat to him; I fear it will be some time before the Sovereign welcomes you into his presence. But the two of you have a surprising amount in common.”

“Well, we learned it from the same source. ‘A cycle of violence is ended by one of two things,’” he quoted, ‘”either a heroic effort of compassionate restraint from all involved parties, or an absolute exercise of power from one. Any ruler who desires to effect the former should do so only after effecting the latter, for mercy issued from anything but an unequivocal position of strength will be taken as weakness.’”

“Kaln,” she said, outright grinning now, “do you have all my writings memorized?”

“Good heavens, no—not an author as prolific as yourself, my love. But I reckon I can rattle off at least all the most famous and oft-quoted passages, and probably a few others as well.”

“Well,” she continued, “I believe the last update you had, we had been stymied—Savasmittar actually concocted an outer defense sufficient to force three elder dragons to politely await his pleasure, the details of which I look forward to relating at a more relaxed moment. Emeralaphine was fortunately able to invoke a contingency to come to your aid, which I gather proved very helpful indeed.”

“Despite the general Shadrach-ness of him, yes, Shadrach does unimpeachable work. He absolutely saved my ass today, and also let’s please try not to hire him again. I’m about ready to demand Emeralaphine do all our teleporting from here on out.”

“In any case, no sooner had she returned than the Sovereign himself emerged to commence negotiations. Having made his point, it seems he wished to adopt a conciliatory stance toward us. For our part, we proceeded with the agreed strategy of agreeing to whatever he demanded, and there ensued an almost comical exchange of concessions and attempted surrenders. Again, husband, I will appraise you of all the details later, but in brief: Shamissar and Dragonvale are now at peace, and formally allied.”

“Even understanding how he did it, I find myself somewhat in awe of a fellow who can achieve that result with people on whom he just declared war.”

“It was a skillful gambit,” she admitted. “Not one I would have used, but I cannot argue with results. This has been…not the most expeditious treaty negotiation in which I have participated, but at least in the top five. In fact, I believe, top three; an hour ago I was fully expecting to be stuck there for the next week. But now… Well, husband, permit me, belatedly, to introduce to you our new ward and housemate, Princess Nashma of Shamissar.”

“It is a pleasure long-awaited, Lord Zelekhir,” said her Highness, who had observed the entire preceding exchange with amused interest and no sign of impatience. “I look forward to growing acquainted. My father is fascinated by you.”

Kaln immediately liked Nashma, and had to remind himself that someone given a princess’s upbringing who was not a mental variant in a culture that didn’t know how to educate her definitely had the social skills to induce that reaction in him on purpose. He would have to do his best to defer true judgment.

She was dragonborn, of course, with all the same physical features as the humanoid forms of full dragons: horns, tail, scaled arms and legs, clawed fingers and digitigrade talon feet that made her stand a head taller than Kaln even discounting the horns. And she was only partially visible to his dragon-attuned senses, a slippery presence as if his divine aspect could not decide whether it applied to her or not.

Nashma had a very Rhiva-like complexion, as did many of the Missari he had met when visiting Shima Vaat. Her coppery hair and scales were clearly from her father, though, the scales seeming to shimmer with every movement due to each one being colored in a gradient from dusky gold to reddish orange. Rather than any royal finery, she wore a military uniform he remembered seeing in the teleport offices in Shamissar.

“The fascination is mutual,” Kaln said politely. A courteous distance seemed the safest approach to take here, at least until he had a handle on the situation. “Forgive my ignorance, but…ward?”

“The practice of fostering a ruler’s offspring with an allied ruler is ancient, husband,” said Izayaroa. “This is…somewhat different, of course. Her Highness is a grown woman, for one, and also in our case there is not the subtext that we would be keeping her hostage to ensure her father’s good behavior. Quite the contrary: the Sovereign desires a trustworthy eye in Dragonvale to monitor his…investment. It is also an expression of significant trust, placing his daughter in a vulnerable position among us.”

“I see,” said Kaln. “Well, I suppose I can’t fault him for that. We are very much a new factor in the world’s calculations; it will be incumbent upon us to demonstrate our good intentions. In fact, perhaps I should thank Sovereign Savasmittar for granting us the opportunity.”

“An exchange of opportunities is a fine summary of the relations between our households,” Nashma said with a wry little smile.

“We don’t exactly have a living space set up that’s suitable for a Princess, but I can fix that quickly once we’re home,” Kaln mused. “After all, that’s a problem we already had to solve once. Should be easier the second time.”

Nashma tilted her head inquisitively, but before she could comment, the parlor door opened and Percy slipped through. She was holding the dark Illuvon Lenses in one hand, their earpiece still extended as if she had just taken them off. Her exposed eyes were noticeably reddened.

Izayaroa was already gliding across the room before Kaln could react. “Percy. How are you?”

“These…work very well,” the young woman said, having to pause and clear her throat. “I can’t thank you enough, Kaln. It turns out they start to give me a headache after an hour or so, but… They got me through everything without, you know, losing control.”

“I’m very glad to hear that,” he replied. “But more importantly…how are you?”

She paused, and he could see her actually considering the question. Percy didn’t usually do social pleasantries very well; a serious question was going to get a serious response.

“Above all, tired,” she said finally, “but not…in a bad way. I’m so glad I got to see my family again. I’ve missed them terribly. And…” She paused for a moment, swallowing painfully. “And well…I can’t stop thinking about Cora.”

“I’m sure that was a horrible thing to have to see,” Izayaroa said.

“Well, yes, but… I find I can’t really condemn Emeralaphine. She took the action that needed to be taken. Maybe the way she went about it was unnecessarily gruesome, but I can’t say I had a better idea. The entire city, possibly most of the kingdom, was saved because she acted. It’s just…”

She trailed off, staring at the wall. Kaln stepped over toward her as well.

“I was brought up to speed about conjuration sickness on the way in here,” he said quietly. “I’m really sorry, Percy.”

“You know, I can’t honestly say I ever liked Cora,” the princess mused. “I’m absolutely certain she didn’t like me. But still… Some of the upper nobles in my age group like to play a game where they’ll corner me and…apparently make fun of me right to my face, in a way that I can’t figure out the subtext. Franz chases them off when he finds them at it, but a lot of the time, it was Cora who did so. And then she’d chew me out for not standing up for myself. Even I could tell she was just…worried, not actually angry. She was always like that. Standoffish, blunt… But never mistreated anyone. I noticed her being more polite to servants and guards than she was toward nobles several times. She worked hard and was loyal, and…and kind, in her grumpy sort of way. What happened to her wasn’t her fault. She deserved better. I just…wish…it didn’t have to happen that way.”

Nashma remained discreetly across the room, her expression mostly neutral, though Kaln noticed her eyebrows drawing together in what might have been concern.

Kaln gently touched her once on her upper back. He instinctively wanted to give her a hug, but she was a mental variant and a Valefolk woman, which was two counts against her possibly wanting to have a man’s hands on her in general. Izayaroa did, in fact, slip and arm around Percy’s shoulders and squeeze her, prompting the girl to lean her head against the dragon’s shoulder for a moment. The two of them were definitely closer; he couldn’t find it in himself to feel left out.

“No platitudes, then, Kaln?” Percy said with a tired smile.

“Well, I have some great ones if you really wanna hear them,” he replied lightly, “but in my experience they don’t really help. When life is hard, the only thing that seems to help is knowing you’re not alone. And you’re not, Percy. We’re here, for whatever you need. Though if you’ll accept some advice: if you’re approached by an obviously suspicious shadow entity trying to take advantage of your vulnerable moment to goad you into a revenge quest, don’t listen to it.”

“Really, now,” she said, some true humor re-entering her weak smile. “Don’t be silly, Kaln. Who could possibly fall for that?”

Izayaroa, though also smiling, cleared her throat. “Ahem. Princess Perseverance of Boisverd, this is Princess Nashma of Shamissar, who will be staying with us for a time.”

“Oh! Do forgive me,” Percy said, turning to Nashma and curtsying. Kaln still found that gesture very odd, but he wasn’t one to criticize another’s culture. On the contrary, he needed to start getting accustomed to the Valefolk and their ways.

“Not at all,” Nashma said smoothly. “Given all that is happening, I can hardly take exception to being an afterthought. We shall all have time to get to know one another as matters begin to settle down.”

“Right. Matters, yes.” Percy turned back to Kaln. “I actually came in to let you know my mother will be here shortly. This is…ah, that is, I gather this isn’t meant to be a full diplomatic summit, but she did want to speak with you in a less formal—”

A soft rap sounded on the door, and before they could reply, it opened again, this time admitting Prince Franz. He stepped to one side, bowing and holding the door open to allow Queen Henrietta through.

“First,” she said as her son closed the door behind her, “before we proceed to any official business, Lord Zelekhir, I wish to address you on an entirely personal level.”

“Oh?” Kaln replied, glancing at Percy. He couldn’t think of anything else she might want to discuss with him, personally. Izayaroa assumed a mask of calm indifference, the tip of her tail slowly dragging back and forth across the carpet.

“In the course of Lady Cora’s madness,” Henrietta continued, holding Kaln’s gaze with a serious expression, “she abducted me from the custody of my guards via conjuration. Sir, I have given birth, survived the red fluenza, and been shot in the thigh with a crossbow, and I was still unprepared for the revelation that agony of that caliber can exist. Now I finally understand why the cleric of the Flock was so disturbed by what Cora did. As a Queen I will do what I must on behalf of my nation and people, but speaking simply as one human being to another, I am sorry from the bottom of my soul for putting you through that. I am mortified that I was complicit in subjecting a living person to such a thing. Had I understood what I was authorizing, I swear to you I would never have agreed to it.”

“Well,” Kaln said slowly, “ignorance may not excuse, but it explains. Apology accepted, your Majesty. How are you feeling?”

“My doctor administered a recovery potion, which has done wonders. I thank you for your concern.”

“Ah, yes, I got one of those, too. Marvelous stuff. I confess I was…unaware of the implications of conjuration as a school of magic, myself, until very recently. Though in my defense, I don’t have a dedicated conjurer on my staff.”

“The position of Court Mage is responsible for keeping the monarch informed of relevant magical knowledge,” the Queen said dourly. “In hindsight, this gap in my defenses was embarrassingly obvious. Several countries in the Evervales keep multiple mage advisors as a matter of law; one of which I am aware requires that they be of different magical specializations and political alignments. I have always considered this an indulgence Boisverd cannot afford, but now I believe that would be less costly than the risks associated with one mage’s ability to wield the power of the state while concealing crucial knowledge from me.”

Izayaroa cleared her throat pointedly. “I wish you success in that, your Majesty. Let us now discuss the future.”

“Yes, the future,” Henrietta replied, her tone heavy with an emotion too complex for Kaln to quite identify. She looked at Franz, who only grimaced in response. “I presume, Lord Zelekhir, that when you made your…unilateral declaration of friendship, you did not expect to have it immediately tested.”

“I’m growing increasingly accustomed to being tested,” Kaln replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Since it seems Dragonvale is no longer a zone of instant death for all mortals,” said the Queen, “and since you seem to have established a mutual fondness with my daughter… I fear the entirety of my family must follow her example.”

“Her…example?” he asked warily. Something told him she was not talking simply about being friends.

Henrietta folded her hands demurely, maintaining her even expression, while Franz hovered at her shoulder.

“I wish to petition you, on behalf of myself, my wife and my son, for political asylum.”