The Zombie Knight Saga: Volume Three - Reigning Warriors

Concerning the Setting

The story takes place in a modern fantasy world called Eleg, which is culturally and technologically similar to present day Earth in many ways, yet also divergent in many others. It's not an alternate timeline, as Eleg has its own geography and political systems, but there are still some historical parallels.

Often, the story will contain very dark subject matter. Similarly often, there will be very strong language. It gets super violent, too.

Map of Atreya

Area: ~183,000 sq. km.

Population: ~44 million

Capital city: Sescoria

Map of Sair

Area: ~612,000 sq. km.

Population: ~91 million

Capital city: Aguarey

Servant Abilities Chart

Fair warning

This volume introduces a lot of new characters, particularly in the Ninth Oath. To help alleviate some of the confusion this might cause you folks, I’ve added two character lists to the end of this ebook. They do contain very minor spoilers, so beware if you’d rather learn everything through the text alone, but if you’re having trouble keeping all the names and blood relations in order, then these two lists might help.

There is also a more extensive and in-depth character list online at (http://thezombieknight.blogspot.com), but that one will contain many more spoilers than the one in this ebook.

---=Seventh Oath=---

Lord and Castle

~Ch. 68~

‘Of measured worth...’

Hector’s mouth hung open as he looked at the Queen. He wasn’t sure he heard her right. He couldn’t have.

‘Whoa, whoa,’ said Voreese. ‘You’re giving away castles? Can we have one, too?’

Voreese, no, said Roman. "Hector’s one thing, but we definitely don’t need or want anything from the Queen."

Are you certain? said Helen. I have no qualms about granting you lordship over lands of your own.

Roman bowed his head forward a little. That’s very generous, but it’d be problematic for me if people found out that I was working with the government. In the circles I frequent, that kind of information is liable to ruin a man’s reputation.

I see, she said. Am I to expect lobbying requests for favors from you, then?

Roman leaned back in his chair and shook his head. "It’s not like I have leverage over you or anything. I’d just appreciate if you and I could maintain a certain amicability moving forward. Having a friend in your position would be nice for me, and likewise, having a friend in my position would be nice for you."

The Queen gave a nod.

‘Fuck that, I want a castle!’ said Voreese.

Roman rolled his eyes. Voreese, shut up.

‘No, you idiot! If she’s just giving shit away, then I want Warrenhold!’

Now Roman just seemed confused. Why? And what is that, even?

‘Ugh! Because--!’ She cut herself off and looked at Mehlsanz and Garovel. ‘Wait, am I the only one who knows?’

The other two reapers exchanged shrugs.

Warrenhold? said the Queen. Are you referring to the Gray Warren?

‘Yeah! The fortress in Gray Rock! No one’s lived there in ages, right? So it currently belongs to the Crown, right?’

Yes, that is correct.

‘Great! Then we’ll take it!’

No, we won’t, Voreese! I can’t accept land from the Queen! It’ll ruin everything! Why do you even care so much?!

Voreese grumbled and looked around the table. Her hollow eyes fell upon Hector. ‘Hector. Sweetie. And Garovel. You handsome devil. Choose Warrenhold. So we can visit you. It’ll be delightful.’

‘Perhaps you could explain what is so special about this Warrenhold place before we decide,’ said Garovel.

Voreese looked over her audience. ‘Well, it’s old as shit! In a good way! Lots of history, very defensible, and tons of space underground.’ She leveled a stare at Garovel. ‘Trust me on this one. You’ll thank me.’

A silent pause followed, and Hector was left to wonder what the non-servants at the table must be thinking of this conversation, watching the Queen and Roman talk to their imaginary friends. However, Hector noticed that most of them weren’t even watching, really, instead taken to enjoying the feast laid before them. He realized he hadn’t even started eating yet, despite being utterly famished, so he decided to dig in as well.

‘Okay,’ said Garovel. ‘We’ll take Warrenhold. If Her Majesty is actually offering it to us, that is.’

The Queen tilted her head. Are you certain? Perhaps you should visit it before deciding. Unless my memory is mistaken, the Gray Warren was forced to endure an earthquake some years ago. You may not come to find it in the most desirable state.

‘Eh, we’ll make do,’ said Garovel. ‘No need to draw things out. We’ll take up less of your time this way.’

Helen eyed the two reapers a moment, perhaps skeptical, but then said, Very well. You will have the papers by the week’s end. She turned to Hector. Do you find that agreeable?

Oh, um, sure... but, uh... He faltered again under everyone’s gaze.

Yes? said the Queen, as they all waited for him.

S-sorry, it’s just... maybe I’m missing something, but, uh... His fists clenched under the table as he forced the rest of the words out. "Wouldn’t it be a problem for, uh, Your Highness, if you give such an incredible gift to... well, me? I mean, I’m pretty hated by... ah, everyone..."

Once the public knows the truth, that will not be a problem, said Helen. I intend to address the matter of your innocence in front of the press very soon. In fact, I was hoping you might accompany me when I do.

‘Pfft, are you kidding?’ said Garovel. ‘You want Hector to appear on television? I thought you wanted to reward him, not torture him.’

He has done it before, has he not? said Helen. He threatened the town of Harold to facilitate its evacuation, no?

‘That was a recording, and it still required about fifty takes.’

Ah--Garovel’s right, said Hector. I really don’t--please don’t ask me to--I just--agh...

Very well, said the Queen. I understand. Regardless, it will require time. I can order the police and the military to stop hunting you easily enough, but I would ask that you take a well-deserved respite while we attempt to win the public over.

‘Mm, dunno about that,’ said Garovel. ‘Hector’s pretty gung-ho when it comes to protecting innocent people.’

Hector gave the reaper a look. ‘You say that like you’re any different.’

‘He can be so stubborn,’ Garovel went on. ‘I don’t think an inconvenience of reputation would be enough to stop him from going out and looking for trouble.’

Her Highness smiled warmly and nodded. Yes, well, protecting people would not be a problem, but it would be helpful if you could avoid taking the blame for crimes you did not commit.

‘There go my plans for the weekend,’ said Garovel.

‘How do you intend to tell the public, exactly?’ asked Voreese.

‘Carefully,’ said Mehlsanz. ‘Most of the blame will fall upon Luther as the orchestrator of everything. Unfortunately, we can’t really name Abolish as the instigator unless we want to give them more reason to return and silence us.’

They may try to do that, anyway, said Harper, who’d thus far only listened quietly as he ate.

‘We’re aware,’ said Mehlsanz. ‘We were hoping you would stay here in Atreya for a while longer.’

That’s fine with me, said Harper. I don’t have any pressing business elsewhere at the moment, but you should know, I could be called away at any time. Out there in the world, if something big enough happens, my superiors might well contact me. And that’s not going to be the kind of thing that I can just ignore.

I understand and thank you for all your help, said the Queen. If there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to ask.

Harper laughed. Oh, do I get a castle, too?

If you desire one, yes.

Ha, that’s okay. My whole reason for being here is to protect you, so I’d rather stay wherever you do, if you don’t mind.

Of course. You are more than welcome here.

King William took the opportunity to break into the conversation. Where are you from, Mr. Norez?

Oh, nowhere, said Harper. Or everywhere, depending on how you look at it. I don’t really identify with any particular place anymore. I travel too much for that. This is my first time in Atreya, though. I’m liking it so far.

Now that the genocidal maniacs are gone, you mean, said Roman.

That is definitely a step up, yes, said Harper. He looked at the King again. Ah, but my apologies, Your Highness. I suppose that’s not a very satisfying answer to your question, is it? I can at least say that I was born in Jesbol, though I don’t have many memories from there. My parents escaped when the Jungle Wars began spreading.

The Jungle Wars? said William. That was some sixty years ago, and yet you do not look a day over thirty.

I moisturize.

The Queen laughed faintly and turned to her husband. Reapers may choose to prevent their servants from aging, dear.

There’s that, too, said Harper. But I’m pretty sure it’s the moisturizing. I mean, just look at my skin.

-+-+-+-+-

It was raining, but that was no rare thing, nor was it even that heavy. Already at the age of twelve, Marcos Elroy was accustomed to much more than this meager drizzle. There wasn’t even any flooding; he could still see the grass beneath the playground, or more accurately, beneath the platform on which the playground stood, on which the entire city stood.

Sometimes, the rain was so strong, it was like living on the sea. Or at least, he thought it was. He’d never been to the sea.

Playing basketball in his bulky blue raincoat wasn’t the easiest thing, but he knew that his mother would get mad at him again if she found out he took it off, and he didn’t want her to forbid him from coming out here to play. After all, his school had an indoor court and so did the youth club near the estate. But he didn’t have any friends in those places.

The past few times, he’d felt stupid for being the only one wearing a raincoat, so this time, he’d brought enough for everyone. Now the court bustled with a group of flailing, child-shaped blueberries.

For some reason, they tried to return the coats to him after the game was over, and Marcos had to refuse them. He thought it was obvious that they were gifts, so he didn’t understand why his friends seemed so reluctant. He ended up just running away before they could put up any more of a fuss. Besides, he didn’t want to carry them all the way back home. Carrying them all the way here had been a big enough pain, already.

The journey back required a good bit of legwork, and Marcos had always been taught not to run when the ground was so wet, so he resorted to a brisk walk as soon as he was out of sight.

It was sometimes easy to forget that Aguarey stood on a platform. It had asphalt roads and concrete walkways and grassy parks. The only real reminders were the perforated drains that riddled the ground and the madega trees, which all had their own holes to stand in. They were already massive things to look at with their sprawling canopies of wispy teal leaves, but to then realize that below the platform, the madegas all had another five meters of trunk, made them seem all the more impressive. But of course, they were older than Aguarey itself, so perhaps that was only to be expected.

When Marcos arrived at the gatehouse, the pair of guards made him pull back his hood before smiling and welcoming him home. Nico and Jorem were their names, and they didn’t look very friendly, but that was probably the whole idea. They were always nice to him, at least.

Marcos proceeded up to the Main House, stopping briefly under the overhang to wipe his feet and shake some of the water off his coat. He pushed through the tall doors, hung his coat up, and pulled his boots off. Dinner was soon to arrive, he knew, but until then, he had time to kill.

He found Cisco in the center hall--or rather, Cisco found him, slipping up behind him and pinning both his arms behind his back, holding him in place. Hey, brat. Can you get out of this yet?

Stop!

Come on. Get out of it.

Marcos thrashed fruitlessly. I can’t!

Yes, you can. I showed you how.

I can’t! Just let me go!

No.

If you don’t let me go, I’ll yell!

Cisco released him with a shove, and Marcos nearly fell over. You’re pathetic.

And you’re an ass!

Whatever. Go cry to Ma if you want. Cisco walked away.

Marcos scowled and rubbed his sore shoulders. He had four siblings, and he definitely hated Cisco the most. Cisco was the second-oldest, having four years on him, but Gema was never around anymore, so Cisco still got to play the role of eldest.

He decided to head up to his corner room on the third floor, but he encountered his father on the stairwell first. Marcos had never known a sterner face than that of his father. The man’s jawline and cheek bones were harsh enough to cut with. The stone gray irises and bushy black eyebrows were both traits that he had passed on to all of his children, even the girls.

This man, Zeff Elroy, was a Rainlord of Sair, and by extension, so too were all of his kin. Admittedly, Marcos didn’t know what all that entailed, but he knew that it meant his father was important to the government in some way and that it was an honor to bear his name.

When Zeff’s cool gaze fell upon his son, he offered the boy an acknowledging nod. Marcos.

Pa. He wished he could deliver such a simple greeting with as much gravitas. One day, maybe.

Did you have fun with your friends? his father asked.

"Yes, ensir," said Marcos.

Good. Go get cleaned up before dinner.

Yes, ensir.

Wait. Have you wished your sister a happy birthday?

Marcos averted his gaze. Ah...

That comes first, then.

He tried not to groan. Do I have to?

Yes.

But she hates me.

Why do you think that?

Because she said so to my face.

And did you perhaps do something to provoke her before she said that?

No, ensir, he lied.

Zeff knelt down to look his son in the eye. Your sister does not hate you. She is merely different from you and the others. You should show your support for her, especially when she is having a difficult time. Understood?

Yes, ensir.

Remember this, Marcos: an effective means of measuring a man’s character is by observing how he treats his loved ones. See to it that you may not be measured as such and found lacking.

Someone should’ve told that to Cisco, Marcos thought. He held his tongue, however, and simply nodded. He watched his father walk away and then proceeded up the stairs.

Emy’s room was on the third floor as well, across the hall from his own. Marcos knocked on the door.

What is it? came her voice.

Uh, I was just wondering how you’re doing.

There was a pause as footsteps stomped toward the door. She cracked the door open and looked through. What? As of today, she was still only two years older than him, but she looked like more than that. It was so unfair that girls got to mature more quickly than boys.

Listen, I’m sorry about the frog. And the mouse.

"Mice," she corrected.

Mice.

And the roaches, she went on. And the snake.

Yeah, those too. Sorry.

She just eyed him doubtfully.

And, uh--happy birthday? Not a question, but he offered it like one.

Thanks, she said flatly.

But you know, the snake wasn’t dangerous. You didn’t have to freak out as much as--

She slammed the door in his face.

He shrugged and moved on to his room.

There’d been a stint in the past where part of the estate had been destroyed, which resulted in him having to bunk with Cisco temporarily. Needless to say, Marcos now fully appreciated his good fortune in having a room all to himself.

He washed his hands, dried his hair with a towel, and then made his way back downstairs.

Dinner was tenser than usual. For as long as Marcos could remember, their lord father had made a point of ensuring that the family always sat down and ate together, going so far as to ground any child who was late for the meal without good reason. It was a sacred time, often reserved for parental inquiries, but today was different. Emy’s fourteenth birthday meant something special, something that everyone knew she was not looking forward to.

You should just relax, said Cisco. It’s not even going to hurt.

Emy kept her eyes down at her plate as she said, I don’t expect you to understand.

Annoyance flashed across Cisco’s face. "You’re the one who doesn’t understand. This is a good thing, you idiot."

Francisco, said their mother, do not speak to your sister that way. And Emiliana, do not scorn your brother’s attempt to comfort you.

"Yes, enma’am," they both said.

Rare as it was, Marcos found himself in agreement with Cisco on this one. If he were in Emy’s position, he would’ve been excited to finally be receiving a reaper. Even if it did mean dying.

~Ch. 69~

‘Thy bonds in blood...’

With the helium tank in hand, Zeff entered the center courtyard where the rest of his family was waiting for him. They all stood together on the small bridge over the pool as rain continued to fall, filling in the silence with a kind of pattering static. His wife held Emiliana’s hand, who just looked pale as Zeff drew close. The other children stood nearby, but there was no one else around, as he had dismissed all of the family’s attendants for the remainder of the evening. Excepting, of course, the four reapers who were also present.

For Zeff, the reapers took on the appearance of overlarge bats--as big as hyenas and with similar faces but also bearing wings and glowing white eyes. They had a curious habit of hanging upside down just as normal bats might, only these ones didn’t need to hang from anything, so they simply floated there in midair.

Among the four reapers here, there was one each for Zeff, his wife Mariana, and Francisco. The last would be the one to resurrect Emiliana.

As Zeff reached out to her, pressing the transparent gas mask toward her face, Emiliana suddenly began to tremble. Mama, Papa, please! she said. I can’t--! Please! Please don’t make me do this! She was already on the verge of tears and trying to pull away, but her mother held her firm.

A part of him wanted to chastise the girl. She didn’t know how good she had it. Drowning was the original tradition, but having experienced it personally, Zeff decided to spare his own children that agony. He remembered his passing all too vividly. Panicked and terrible. In this very pool. Helium gas was nothing like that. Just as Francisco’s had been, Emiliana’s death would be peaceful and painless, like drifting off to sleep.

He wanted to tell her these things--things she already knew, had been told--but as he looked at her face, at the terrified expression of his baby girl, he found his heart slowly leaving him. He lowered the mask.

Everyone looked at him, the same silent question being asked. It was his own reaper who posed it.

‘Zeff, what are you doing?’ said Axiolis.

We will wait a bit longer, said Zeff. He patted Emiliana on the head.

His wife did not look pleased. Zeff, was all she said, and Zeff knew she would have said more if the children weren’t present. Fortunately for her, Axiolis was more than happy to fill in.

‘You shouldn’t delay without good reason,’ the reaper said. ‘You’re not doing the girl any favors by postponing things.’

Zeff chose to ignore him and instead eyed the reaper meant for Emiliana. I apologize for the inconvenience.

‘No hurry,’ said the other reaper. ‘I’m plenty patient.’ This one’s name was Chergoa.

Zeff gave a grateful nod.

Marcos stepped up next to his sister. Hey, if Emy doesn’t want her reaper, then I’ll take it.

Zeff exhaled an amused breath. No, Marcos. Emiliana will still be receiving her reaper. Just not tonight.

The relief on Emiliana’s face seemed to lessen at that, but she nodded all the same. Thank you, Papa...

Francisco, see that everyone gets ready for bed, said Mariana.

Yes, enma’am.

After returning indoors, they parted ways with their children. The long corridor with ribbed arches in the ceiling gave them plenty of time to speak as they walked toward the Main House’s master bedroom, all four of the reapers following.

You do know that it is not because she is merely scared, don’t you? said Mariana.

Yes, said Zeff.

She’s not like her sisters. Gema and Ramira are both tomboys, but Emiliana is about as girly as girls come.

Zeff threw his wife an odd look--curious and amused by the way she put it.

She wants to marry young and live quietly as a mother, Mariana went on. She wants a different kind of life for herself--one without all the commotion that the name Elroy brings with it.

He took a deep breath. I know.

Then why are you humoring her? It would be better to just get it over with and disillusion her now.

Because I am wondering if that is necessary.

They arrived at their room, and Zeff entered first while Mariana stopped in the doorway. What are you saying?

Zeff looked to Chergoa. I know this is not what you bargained for, but would you allow Emiliana to live quietly if she were your servant?

Chergoa unfurled her black wings. ‘Uh. I suppose I could do that. But what do you think, Axiolis? You’re the one who recruited me into this Vanguard business.’

All eyes turned to Axiolis, and for a while, the reaper just stared at Zeff. ‘Frankly, I’m not pleased by the idea. Nor will the General be.’

The General is not Emiliana’s father, said Zeff. And neither are you.

‘Yes,’ said Axiolis, ‘but I think the argument here is that you would be taking a reaper away from the Vanguard for personal reasons.’

Chergoa has not joined the Vanguard yet, said Zeff.

‘That may not matter.’

‘Is it necessary for her to have a reaper at all?’ asked Chergoa. ‘If she is only going to live quietly, then why even bother with all this?’

‘Because she is an Elroy,’ said Axiolis in Zeff’s stead. ‘Even if she changes her name and moves far away from here, trouble might still find her one day.’

‘Ah. So I would be her backup plan, then.’

I would ask you to prepare her, said Zeff. If she is forced to fight, I want her capable of protecting herself.

‘I can do that,’ said Chergoa.

‘And what does the Lady Elroy think of this?’ asked Axiolis. ‘Do you agree with your husband?’

I think the heart of a teenager is fickle and uncertain, said Mariana. She may desire a quiet life now, but what will she want in five years? Or ten?

I don’t know, but I don’t want us to decide for her.

We decided for Francisco, she said.

His expression darkened. We also decided for Gema.

Mariana’s face tightened, eyes narrowing a moment before looking away. Gema made her own choices.

Only after we took away the one she wanted.

The woman shook her head and sat down on their bed. When did you become so indulgent? she said, still not looking at him. I thought I married a Rainlord.

‘Rain isn’t always cold,’ said Axiolis, and Zeff was a bit surprised to find the reaper defending him.

So was Mariana, apparently. I thought you were on my side.

‘As a Vanguardian, I am. But as this man’s reaper, and as someone who considers your family my own, I do find your husband’s words convincing.’

Mariana sighed. All this, because you can’t bear to see your daughter a bit frightened.

Zeff merely folded his arms.

Oh, very well, Mariana conceded. If that is your decision, then I will stand by you.

Thank you, said Zeff.

‘So when would you like to perform the ceremony, then?’ asked Chergoa.

Tomorrow night, said Zeff. That should allow more than enough time to explain the change in plans to her.

‘Okay. I’ll just haunt your neighborhood in the meantime.’

-+-+-+-+-

David descended the long steps into the underbelly of the sterile white prison. As far as dungeons went, it didn’t quite have the same medieval menace to it that he’d had in mind, but he supposed the eerie calm and cleanliness offered a different kind of discomfort.

Two guardsmen escorted him in silence, and he soon arrived in front of the designated cell with a transparent wall and a speaker box in the center. David hit the button on the right side to let his voice carry through. Hello, Luther.

Luther sat up and tilted his head. David. I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me down here.

Oh, you will be getting plenty of attention soon enough.

Ah. Am I to be executed, then? Given a farce trial, perhaps?

A trial, yes, but not for your execution. I’m told the prosecution will be seeking life imprisonment.

"Life imprisonment. Ha. That is an execution, too. Instead of a needle or a chair or an axe, it is simply a box and patience. In a way, it is much crueler--killing someone with time. Boring a person to death, taken literally."

Shall I tell the prosecution you feel that way?

Luther scowled and turned away.

I thought not, said David.

Why are you here? said Luther. To gloat?

Well... David grinned. "Yes. That is exactly why I am here."

Ugh. Luther shook his head in disgust. I suppose this is what I get for acting so impulsively. I thought I saw a golden opportunity to eliminate all rivals. I should have known better.

Indeed. It almost makes one wonder how you could be so foolhardy.

Luther stared at him for a long moment. "Oh, you liar. You did come down here for another reason."

Did I?

You came to observe my mood, said Luther.

David smirked. I am interested in your mood, am I? Dear brother, perhaps I should find you a larger cell. Your ego must be taking up so much room in this one.

Heh, I would not refuse the offer. He stood and approached the clear wall, inspecting David’s face more closely. "But no, you are most certainly here to see how miserable I am. Because if I am not miserable, then you would begin to wonder why that is."

I would wonder that, yes. Are you miserable, then? Is there anything I can do to make you more so?

Knowing you, I am sure there is. Luther pulled away and walked toward the other end of his cell. What of our esteemed sister? She has not graced me with her presence.

I’m certain she will visit you eventually, but she has been rather busy of late. Cleaning up your mess, you understand. There was a pause, and David almost expected Luther to crack some misogynistic joke about cleaning, but instead, the man merely asked a different question.

And what about Meriwether?

"What about him?" said David.

He has yet to visit me, but if what you say is true about my stay of execution, then it would seem he has at least kept his promise to me.

Briefly, David wasn’t sure what promise he was talking about, but then he remembered how Meri had managed to invoke Luther’s surrender. Meri is a man of his word, was all David said.

I suppose I can no longer call him a fool.

Not without being the bigger fool, no. As David expected, Luther was still unaware that their previous encounter had been a series of wild accidents. David was more than content with not correcting him.

Luther sat back down. So what is your verdict, then? Am I hiding something?

David was almost certain that he was. But instead of answering, he asked, Are you not curious about your wife or your children?

Luther paused. Are they dead?

No, of course not.

Damn.

David squinted. You hate them that much? Why?

Ask me that again after you have been married for seventeen years.

David could almost understand the man’s hatred for his wife; that woman was a relentless ladder-climber, and to Luther, she probably embodied everything he despised about nobility. But still. Your wife is one thing, but you even resent your own children?

I resent all insufferable nuisances.

David felt his irritation flare up, becoming true anger for a moment, and he couldn’t keep himself from glowering.

Oh, does that bother you? said Luther. Hmm. That is right, isn’t it? You were always the affectionate uncle.

David breathed and wiped his expression clean again. At least I can take solace in the fact that you are no longer part of their lives.

On that, we can agree.

There is hope for us yet.

That made Luther laugh outright, longer and more loudly than David had perhaps ever heard from him. Admittedly, that wasn’t saying much, but it was surprising just the same. When Luther’s voice settled again, a small period of silence elapsed. And Luther looked suddenly hollow, as if that laugh had gouged a hole into him. I genuinely wanted to trust you, you know. You were the only one I liked.

David had nothing for him. Four dead brothers. Countless innocent lives lost at the hands of Abolish. For this man here, David could hold no pity.

Why did you have to side with Helen? said Luther. When I think of what you and I could have built, I feel like weeping for this country.

David couldn’t even bring himself to humor the man. You are mad.

And there it was again, that look in Luther’s eyes. The cold, flat stare. After a moment, however, it was gone once more. Enough, he said. Let us continue our game. Am I hiding something, or am I not?

Of course you are, said David.

Correct. Would you like to know what it is?

Sure.

Wonderful. Then I will give you a hint. If you give me something first, of course.

Well, I have two candy bars on me. I am willing to part with half of one, but only if you promise to tell the truth.

That is not quite what I had in mind, said Luther.

"Well, okay. I’ll give you a whole bar--but only if you really promise to tell the truth."

I wonder if you will still be so funny once you figure it out.

I hope so, said David. I like to think that an unbreaking sense of humor is the pinnacle of human integrity. Or at least useful for annoying one’s opponents.

I want a television, said Luther.

David almost said no immediately. The most dangerous thing about Luther was his political mind, so granting him access to a news source would be a mistake. But after debating it in his head a little more, David decided that he could work around that problem. With a deliberate bit of reluctance, he said, I can do that.

Luther eyed him a moment, probably skeptical of how easy that was. Television first. And a written agreement of exchange.

Of course. I will speak to your lawyer and have everything sorted.

~Ch. 70~

‘O, abiding blade...’

Following Her Highness around all day long was more exhausting than she thought it would be. It also didn’t help that she still wasn’t feeling her best, what with her ribcage throbbing whenever she took too large a breath. She tried not to let it show, though, and as far as she could tell, she succeeded.

The promotion to being the Queen’s personal bodyguard had taken Lynnette by surprise. Moreover, Her Highness wanted her to continue wearing the white cloak as a symbol of the position, as the media had already latched onto it when she and Hector kidnapped King William--an act now known to the public as one of liberation. They’d taken to calling her the White Sword. Lynnette wasn’t really sure what to make of it, but seeing as the Queen had already spun it to their advantage, there wasn’t much left to do but just accept it. She wondered if it had felt this weird for Hector when people started calling him the Darksteel Soldier. She’d have to ask him whenever he woke up again.

Over the course of the week, the Queen held a large press conference every single day, inviting a different batch of reporters each time. Lynnette attended all of them, as Her Highness wanted her to be a constant presence in the background. A few times, the media directed questions at Lynnette, but she decided to remain quiet and let Her Highness do all the talking.

The topic of Hector Goffe proved to be one of the most difficult. The Queen explained, repeatedly, that he was no longer a fugitive, that she considered him a national hero. Instead of trying to explain how the people Hector was accused of killing had been dead already, the Queen chose a simplified version of the truth: that their deaths were not his doing. Furthermore, she went on to flat out lie, saying that the people who falsely accused Hector were trying to prevent him from aiding her. And as the conferences continued and more detailed questions were asked, the Queen’s tale grew rather elaborate. By the end, Lynnette wasn’t sure she understood it all anymore, but apparently, Hector had been working under the Queen the whole time. The public never knew, of course, because it was a state secret, a matter of internal security.

I gave him a mission, Helen was saying, to discover who the architect of the plot against me was. He was unfortunately a bit too successful. They attempted to frame, imprison, and subsequently silence him. But obviously, they underestimated young Mr. Goffe. In spite of his age, he is not only strong--as you all well know--but also, intelligent and courageous, which is of course why I hired him in the first place. And after all that he has done for his countrymen, all that he has sacrificed, I want his true nature to now be made clear to all. I hope every single one of you--

This would go on for a while. If nothing else, Lynnette had to appreciate the woman’s ability to weave a tale.

Some journalists ate the story up. A horrid villain secretly being a noble hero certainly made for an exciting headline. Others were rather understandably more skeptical.

Lynnette noticed that the Queen never mentioned anything about Hector’s whereabouts or the fact that she was giving him the Gray Warren. Whenever someone asked where he was now, she would plainly refuse to answer, saying instead that he was well and would no doubt return to keeping people safe very soon. Hector would probably appreciate that, Lynnette thought.

The omissions didn’t stop there, however. There were several things that the Queen never told the press. She said nothing of her own powers as a servant, attributing all her success in the past conflict to her subordinates. She never even brought up the existence of reapers in the first place--nor that of aberrations, Abolish, or the Vanguard. No doubt, the Queen felt these things would not only complicate the public narrative but also prove dangerous.

As for the origins of the Darksteel Soldier’s superhuman abilities, that was actually not much of an issue for the press. Everyone already knew that powerful individuals existed in the world, so the Queen could get away with saying that Hector was simply born with his gifts. Even before Hector and Abolish had started making waves in Atreya, everyone had heard the ominous stories from abroad about terrible wars among the international superpowers, about their soldiers of insurmountable strength. It was always a kind of muted, distant tale, one that people told each other with an awful sense of hopeful doubt and weary helplessness. It was an unassailable constant, one that people simply learned to live with. Because there was no other choice. The world was big and frightening. There was no changing that.

Lynnette knew that she couldn’t claim to be much different, herself. And after everything that had happened over these past few months, it seemed obvious to her that Atreya was still in immense danger. The immediate threat might have been gone, but the country was still in a state of flux, and the bigger perils out there now seemed even more imposing.

And behind closed doors, Lynnette could tell that Her Highness thought so, too.

Since returning, Helen had not met with her council even once. Prince David had convinced her very quickly to dismantle it and rebuild from the ground up. Instead of doing it herself, however, she delegated the responsibility to him. David didn’t seem particularly thrilled with the job but accepted it gracefully, and after he was gone, Lynnette saw the Queen putting the reapers to the very same task. They, of course, would be able to spy on everyone and report back to Her Highness with any candidates they deemed suitable for the positions.

It struck Lynnette as a bit odd--and a little devious--that the Queen did not inform Prince David of what the reapers were doing, but she supposed it never hurt to be cautious. Or maybe the Queen just wanted two independent lists to compare against each other. Whatever the case, it wasn’t Lynnette’s job to worry about such things. It was, however, her job to observe everyone closely, and Prince David had become someone who met with the Queen more frequently than anyone else.

And to Lynnette’s eye, this was a good thing. Despite recent circumstances, terrible as they’d been, the good prince seemed to have a clear head about it all, and oftentimes, he brought a smile to Helen’s face.

And how is my beautiful sister on this fine evening? said Prince David.

I am well, she said from her desk. And what about my intrepid brother? How are you?

I have certainly been worse, thank you for asking. Ah, and I see your bodyguard is still looking as stalwart and intimidating as ever.

Lynnette wasn’t sure what made him say that. Maybe it was the