Afternoon Yllestad, Glacia, (Pre-Dawn Wednesday Morning, Fandom Time)
The thirteen Province Queens assembled outside of Yllestad, shrinking against one another regardless of affiliation. Though Yllestad had been cleaned to the best of Karla's army's ability, there was no way to get rid of the psychic scents that were trapped in the wood and stones of the walls and roads and buildings. As far as Karla's Black Widows were able to tell, nothing of the witchblood cloud lingered. All that remained were the psychic scents of those who had died in it; their pain and horror and fear. She had forbade her people from using the special herbs that could cleanse the scents away. She wanted the Province Queens--and anyone else who came with them--to feel the full brunt of their horror.
It was still nothing compared to what the army had felt and to what Jono's people had gone through, but looking at their pale faces and withdrawn expressions, Karla figured it was enough.
It wasn't a tour, per se. She let them explore at their leisure, not that anyone seemed inclined to meander. They remained clumped together as best they could, noting the state of the city, how parts seem to have been burned, even melted. Zlata, Queen of the Province that Yllestad belonged to, wore an expression of personal grief. She had known people here, visited here for fun and business both, might even have been distantly related to the Queen. Up north, many of the aristo families shared blood in some measure or another.
Her people had done their best to clean the city as much as possible, but there was no way to deny that something dreadful had happened here. Blood stained the road, the wood of the porches, the snow. The remains of a huge bonfire stood in the square; when someone asked what it had burned, Karla quietly explained that the sheer number of dead animals that littered the city had required disposal, too. One of the southern Queens knelt to examine a small gold birdcage half melted in the ashes.
When asked what they had done with the bodies, Karla led them to the Queen's home. It was a good-sized building, both her private home and the center of Court business, and it was the only place where everyone could be kept. They bodies had been cleaned as best they could, at least removing the blood, though they had not attempted to change the expressions nor hide the horrible ways they had died. Karla wanted the bodies treated with respect, but could not countenance anything that would lessen the blow when the Province Queens looked upon them. The bitter cold had been helpful for that; preserving the bodies in almost pristine condition. Those who made to turn away were faced with Karla, grim and implacable, and they turned back to look their full measure.
"You say Hobart did this," Zlata said when they returned outside. Most of the other Queens were pausing to take in deep breaths of the burning air, trying to cleanse their lungs of the stink of death. "How?"
"Witchblood," Karla said. "There's a large field, not far from here, where the bodies of hundreds of Black Widows are assumed to be buried. It's mostly ash now, though anyone who wishes can feel free to pass through the ground and search for bones. They won't be hard to find." Her smile was almost ghastly as they collectively shook their heads. "The only Wind near that field is the Green," she added, watching the calculating eyes of the Queens as they remembered that the strongest male in Glacia had been Hobart's, until Julian had descended to the Sapphire during his Offering. And that male? Wore the Green.
After they had returned to the camp, Karla sat them in her tent (newly cleaned and repaired, thank the Darkness) and let them sip mulled wine as they talked. She had expected them to be angrier and more obstinate, at least the ladies from the south, but it seemed that the sights of the day had robbed most of them of their ability to speak, never mind argue. Even Lady Raydrinn was subdued, though it was she who first demanded proof that it was not Karla's own people who had done this. The look of stunned disbelief on the rest of the Queens' face was heartening, even as she gave the Queens free rein to search in the minds of any of the Blood or Fandomites they wished. What they found in those memories was enough to condemn Hobart in their minds, even those who would not stand against him. When it was over, Lady Raydrinn sat back and nodded, as if that was what she'd expected all along, several of the younger Queens openly wept, and Zlata's eyes burned with a cold fire and left frost in her wake.
It was almost dusk when they were done and Karla led them one last time to the Queen's home. Her army was already there, standing a slight distance away, ready to pay their final respects. There, the fourteen Queens called down witchfire to burn the building and the bodies within; cleansing the bodies and sending them on to the Darkness. Every victim of the witchblood cloud, save Jono's team, was sent to their final rest by the combined powers of the most powerful Queens in Glacia.
Ludmilla's absence was almost palpable.
"Go home and think about this," Karla commanded them. "Think about a man who would pervert the Old Ways, who would sow fear and dissension among us, turning sister against sister--" she heard a quickly indrawn breath and recognized Fetya "--and caste against caste. Think about the man who would ignore the law, send assassins against me in Sidra, and would turn the people he was supposed to protect into a grotesque fear maneuver. Go home and think about who you will serve and what it says about you."
She locked eyes with the southern Queen she knew was most loyal to Ludmilla. "Tell Hobart we are coming. Tell him everything I've told you today. Shout it from the walls and rooftops. Because I am done waiting. I'm coming to Sidra and I will take back what is mine. I will do it before all of Glacia is turned over to abandoned villages and burning pyres for the dead."
[NFB, NFI, OOC is always delightful.]
It was still nothing compared to what the army had felt and to what Jono's people had gone through, but looking at their pale faces and withdrawn expressions, Karla figured it was enough.
It wasn't a tour, per se. She let them explore at their leisure, not that anyone seemed inclined to meander. They remained clumped together as best they could, noting the state of the city, how parts seem to have been burned, even melted. Zlata, Queen of the Province that Yllestad belonged to, wore an expression of personal grief. She had known people here, visited here for fun and business both, might even have been distantly related to the Queen. Up north, many of the aristo families shared blood in some measure or another.
Her people had done their best to clean the city as much as possible, but there was no way to deny that something dreadful had happened here. Blood stained the road, the wood of the porches, the snow. The remains of a huge bonfire stood in the square; when someone asked what it had burned, Karla quietly explained that the sheer number of dead animals that littered the city had required disposal, too. One of the southern Queens knelt to examine a small gold birdcage half melted in the ashes.
When asked what they had done with the bodies, Karla led them to the Queen's home. It was a good-sized building, both her private home and the center of Court business, and it was the only place where everyone could be kept. They bodies had been cleaned as best they could, at least removing the blood, though they had not attempted to change the expressions nor hide the horrible ways they had died. Karla wanted the bodies treated with respect, but could not countenance anything that would lessen the blow when the Province Queens looked upon them. The bitter cold had been helpful for that; preserving the bodies in almost pristine condition. Those who made to turn away were faced with Karla, grim and implacable, and they turned back to look their full measure.
"You say Hobart did this," Zlata said when they returned outside. Most of the other Queens were pausing to take in deep breaths of the burning air, trying to cleanse their lungs of the stink of death. "How?"
"Witchblood," Karla said. "There's a large field, not far from here, where the bodies of hundreds of Black Widows are assumed to be buried. It's mostly ash now, though anyone who wishes can feel free to pass through the ground and search for bones. They won't be hard to find." Her smile was almost ghastly as they collectively shook their heads. "The only Wind near that field is the Green," she added, watching the calculating eyes of the Queens as they remembered that the strongest male in Glacia had been Hobart's, until Julian had descended to the Sapphire during his Offering. And that male? Wore the Green.
After they had returned to the camp, Karla sat them in her tent (newly cleaned and repaired, thank the Darkness) and let them sip mulled wine as they talked. She had expected them to be angrier and more obstinate, at least the ladies from the south, but it seemed that the sights of the day had robbed most of them of their ability to speak, never mind argue. Even Lady Raydrinn was subdued, though it was she who first demanded proof that it was not Karla's own people who had done this. The look of stunned disbelief on the rest of the Queens' face was heartening, even as she gave the Queens free rein to search in the minds of any of the Blood or Fandomites they wished. What they found in those memories was enough to condemn Hobart in their minds, even those who would not stand against him. When it was over, Lady Raydrinn sat back and nodded, as if that was what she'd expected all along, several of the younger Queens openly wept, and Zlata's eyes burned with a cold fire and left frost in her wake.
It was almost dusk when they were done and Karla led them one last time to the Queen's home. Her army was already there, standing a slight distance away, ready to pay their final respects. There, the fourteen Queens called down witchfire to burn the building and the bodies within; cleansing the bodies and sending them on to the Darkness. Every victim of the witchblood cloud, save Jono's team, was sent to their final rest by the combined powers of the most powerful Queens in Glacia.
Ludmilla's absence was almost palpable.
"Go home and think about this," Karla commanded them. "Think about a man who would pervert the Old Ways, who would sow fear and dissension among us, turning sister against sister--" she heard a quickly indrawn breath and recognized Fetya "--and caste against caste. Think about the man who would ignore the law, send assassins against me in Sidra, and would turn the people he was supposed to protect into a grotesque fear maneuver. Go home and think about who you will serve and what it says about you."
She locked eyes with the southern Queen she knew was most loyal to Ludmilla. "Tell Hobart we are coming. Tell him everything I've told you today. Shout it from the walls and rooftops. Because I am done waiting. I'm coming to Sidra and I will take back what is mine. I will do it before all of Glacia is turned over to abandoned villages and burning pyres for the dead."
[NFB, NFI, OOC is always delightful.]