Chapter Six-- The Angel of Vengeance
Chapter Six - The Angel of Vengeance
The Solidor brothers reunited at the most forward camp. Vayne entered the largest tent like a storm, throwing aside the tent flap and striding forward to overturn a map table onto Royen. His sword was out and in his hand in an instant, but Leonalt was in his way with his own blade, turning aside the blow that was meant to thrust home, and riposting in the lowline.
“Brother?!” Royen exclaimed, finally getting a good look at who it was.
“How dare you be so foolish?” Vayne roared, parrying two and slashing out at Leonalt’s high line.
Leonalt parried three and croissez’ed, turning the flat of the blade up and planting his boot against it. Before Vayne could pull free, the older and larger brother hit him hard with an elbow to the face. Vayne reeled momentarily, but pulled away with his weapon in hand, rushing Leonalt and hacking away with more force than he ever thought he could muster. He caught Leonalt’s wild thrust to centre in an envelement, then expelled the opposing blade from the field of engagement with so much force that it sailed over Royen where he lay pinned by the wooden table, and slid across the tent floor. He put the sword to Leonalt’s neck as the older brothers stared in shock.
“At least tell me what it is that we’ve so foolishly done,” Royen demanded.
The request stayed Vayne’s hand, but he didn’t remove his eyes from Leonalt as he seethed his response. “Plotting a coup. Now.” Silence from the brothers gave him leave to elaborate. “As much as I detest the old man, to kill him now would be to destroy our house and Larsa.”
“Vayne,” Royen answered, voice flat, “why on Ivalice would we plot a coup d’etat in the middle of election season? Not to mention the fact that if any of us killed him now, the House Alexi would be elected and we’d all be proper fucked then, wouldn’t we?”
Vayne calmed a little, confused. “You know this?”
Royen rolled his eyes and pushed at the map table insistently. Finally, he sighed and looked over at his brothers for a long moment. “Doubtless our Lord Father sent you to kill us-make it look like we died in battle.”
He lowered his sword, much to the relief of Leonalt. The path to revenge open, Leonalt decked him. He went down like a sack of bricks.
“Sit on him,” Royen ordered.
“Right.” Leonalt pinned Vayne’s arms and sat on his chest.
“Now, I’m certain that you’re far too clever to just come here and expect to kill us,” Royen mused from the wrong side of the table. “He must have used something to get you all angry, am I correct.”
“Larsa,” Vayne gasped, struggling to dislodge his older brother. The scene was remarkably like what he remembered from their childhood, but the stakes were considerably higher. “He’s going to kill Larsa.”
A soft whistle of amazement. “That would do the trick, wouldn’t it? Threatening a brother like that. Even I didn’t think he was that low. Did you?”
“Nope,” Leonalt replied candidly. He shifted his seat to give his little brother more room to breathe. “So, we return alive, he hurts Larsa, is that it?”
Vayne nodded, ceasing his struggles.
“He’s twitchy about that legend, the one he’s always on about,” Royen continued, two notes more subdued than conversational. “He probably figures that you and Larsa will be the end of him, one day. And it’s the truth. You two have to be. Let him up, he’s calm. And get this desk off me, will you?”
Leonalt stood and offered his hand to Vayne, pulling him up easily, then went to lift the desk. Vayne stood back, in a minor state of shock.
The middle brother stood and dusted himself off, picking up the maps and organizing them. “Larsa is the key, if you haven’t already figured that out-and I assume you have- to Archadia’s secure future. I had hoped that perhaps it was you, but our strategy didn’t work. It was untested, of course, but worth a try; the gods have given us one more shot.” Royen righted his chair and sat down, setting his elbows on the map table and regarding Vayne with a physical attitude of lazy insolence, but radiating focus.
“What’s your plan?” Vayne asked, fascinated. He took a seat across from his brother. Leonalt stood behind him, hands on the back of his chair, and for the first time in his fifteen years they were acting as brothers. It was a pity the circumstances were as such.
“Originally, I had hoped to depose our Lord Father and install myself as emperor with the support of the military,” Royen explained. “I would prepare the way for a peacetime emperor, by completing all these meaningless wars the old fool has begun in the name of conquest. By the time I had finished with such a thing, you were to be ready to take my place.” His eyes narrowed on Vayne, measuring. “But we trained you wrong. We trained you to be tough. We antagonized you, tried to make you turn on us, so that we wouldn’t be a weakness when the time came to put you on the throne. We tried to break you so you couldn’t be broken later. It’s a military strategy, I should never have used it on a youngster like you, but the plan was as the plan demanded.”
“A peacetime emperor need not be as tough as a wartime emperor,” Vayne objected, trying to comprehend what he was being told. I was a puppet. And I’m not certain I feel too badly about it.
“Wrong.” Royen punctuated his answer by dropping his fist against the tabletop. “A peacetime emperor must be twice as tough as a wartime emperor. A peacetime emperor has to deal with politicians, avoid assassination attempts, maintain the peace, and prevent corruption. A peacetime emperor has to deal with domestic policy, and domestic policy, let me tell you, is a nightmare like nothing you’ve ever imagined. A peacetime emperor has to be sharp, quick, and fierce.” He smirked. “That’s why we wanted it to be you, and not one of us. You’re smarter than I’ll ever be.”
“Apparently not,” Vayne noted, stunned. They sat in silence for a few minutes. “We have to protect Larsa,” he said finally, having sorted out the enormity of what had just happened to him. “Above all.”
The other brothers nodded in agreement.
“As much as I hate to say it, the old man has got to live for awhile longer,” Royen muttered, running his hand through his hair. “The senate is none too fond of any of us, and will not accept our nominations. And you’re three weeks out from being eligible for nomination, anyhow.”
“The Alexis,” Leonalt fairly growled.
“They’re incompetent bastards,” Royen spat, “but they’re damnably popular. They would cause a lot of damage in the interest of their personal business. House Solidor depends mainly on the import of magicite and the development of magicite technologies, and you’ve got a handle on that, haven’t you, Vayne?”
Vayne thought of his work with Dr. Cid. “Was that part of your plan, as well?”
“No, I’m sorry to say it wasn’t,” he admitted. “It was a stroke of luck on your part and sheer genius on the part of Bunansa. You’ve made a lifelong friend, and a useful one, at that.”
“He was kind to me,” Vayne muttered. “I will repay the favour to him someday.”
“Make his son a judge,” Royen told him.
“Father will never do such a thing,” he scoffed. “He has no love for the House Bunansa. Especially now.”
The middle brother shook his head. “Not Father. You make his son a judge. We will need the House Bunansa.”
The younger brother thought for a moment. “To have the authority to do that, I would need to be commander of the Combined Judiciary and Armed Forces. You are closer to that than I am, I am merely a provisionary commander, and that’s only in times of direct need.” He furrowed his brows and closed his eyes for a moment. “Of course,” he whispered.
“What?” Leonalt demanded.
“Father doesn’t want you dead,” he explained. “He wants me dead.”
“Explain,” Royen ordered sharply.
“Why would he send me to kill you, and not a Judge, if the case were as he described it, he could have you quietly assassinated and no one would ask questions. Additionally, I am not as brilliant a swordsman as you, nor so strong as Leo. He expected you to kill me.”
The elder brother let out his breath in a hiss and shook his head.
“I agree,” Royen nodded to Leonalt. “We can’t have that at all. Especially if that’s what the old man wants. If we return alive without you, he can deal with us as time allows, and no one will be there to keep Larsa from him. If we return alive with you…”
“Larsa,” Leonalt growled.
“Right.” After a few moments of quiet, Royen finished the thought. “So, we don’t return.”
“Rozarria?” Leonalt suggested.
“For you perhaps,” Royen told him. “One noble body missing, and it looks like we weren’t recovered from the battlefield. Two noble bodies missing, and it looks like our brother hasn’t done his job.”
“You go then,” Leonalt ordered without pause. “Rozarria or Dalmasca can hide you.”
“No,” Royen chuckled bitterly. “The war will come to Dalmasca. Rozarria would use me against father. You have a chance to be safe there, because of Margrace.”
The eldest brother grimaced, pained at the idea of what was to come.
“We could find two soldiers of the enemy who are built like you,” Vayne suggested quickly, not eager to lose his brothers so soon after he had finally discovered them. “We could remove their faces, dress them in your armour. You could both go, you both could-Margrace?”
Leonalt grinned a little. “Al-Azir Margrace,” he explained. “Man of my dreams.”
“Oh. That’s got to be handy.” Vayne blinked. “And awkward.”
The eldest brother chuckled a little. “Well, it’s not like Archadian law would allow us to be together, even if we weren’t posturing for war.”
Vayne turned his attention back to Royen. “You don’t have to do this.”
Royen’s expression turned to stone, and his eyes fairly burnt. “Vayne, listen to me. I need you to trust me. The hell to come will burn you the worst, but you must protect Larsa. Larsa must become emperor. To achieve this, you must, must be what you’ll need to be. You’ll need to be strong, stronger than anyone you’ve ever known. You’ll need to keep your own council. Don’t trust anyone; with the exception of Bunansa. Don’t tell anyone what must happen or what you are going to do. Even Bunansa. Don’t leave yourself or Larsa open to attack from any angle, physically, mentally, or politically. You must be unshakeable. You must be. Do you understand?”
Vayne frowned deeply, but nodded. “I believe I do.”
“Who are your friends?”
“Only Doctor Bunansa,” he replied quietly.
“When you leave this tent, you don’t have any friends.” Royen massaged his temples with his fingers. “You’ll need to be commander of the combined forces inside of five years. Don’t trust the senate, they’ll try everything they can to get rid of you once they see that you won’t do what they want. Let them think you will, at first, it will buy you time. Time enough to control the military. The military and judiciary are forces that the senate cannot touch. Keep the military under your thumb, always. And the judges. Zaargabath might give you trouble, and keep an eye on Drace-her intentions will always be good, but she’s a little too bull-headed. As soon as you are commander, assign at least one judge to protect Larsa-you will not always be at his side, and he will be your one weakness. He must be your only weakness, do you understand?”
Vayne ground his teeth together and took a deep, shuddering breath. He desperately wanted to shoot himself in the face-at least then, his problem would be simple and easy to identify.
Leonalt set a hand on Vayne’s shoulder encouragingly. “I won’t be able to contact you from where I’m going,” he told him, “but if ever you need help, send a sealed letter to Al-Azir. He will understand.”
“Thank you, but that would put you in danger, would it not?” he asked, looking up at his eldest brother.
“Better me than Larsa,” he smiled sadly. “Better me than you.”
Royen appeared to be deep in thought. “There is no possible way I could prepare you for this,” he whispered. He looked up apologetically. “All the world is about to fall on your shoulders, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to help you but die.”
Vayne closed his eyes and laughed to himself quietly. “I have brothers. Real brothers who don’t hate me. You have already helped me more than you know.”
“No,” he insisted darkly. “We haven’t helped in this, only hurt. More than you know.”