RE: Monarch

The bulk of the regiment remained posted by the sewers, while I led a smaller group of volunteers with experience in woodcraft into the outskirts of the forest that, miles away, became the Everwood. It was tamer here, closer to the capital, thanks to the concerted efforts of Whitefall's rangers.

That didn't mean it was safe. Even this far north, people still disappeared regularly into the forest, consumed by its shadows, leaving no trace.

With that in mind I divided the volunteers into pairs. They were experienced and seasoned, but anyone could make a mistake.

After a brief search I located a long green shoot. At first glance it appeared similar to premature barley, but on closer inspection the head was speckled with tiny cotton-like growths that could have passed for cobwebs. I plucked it and turned, presenting it to the gathered volunteers. "Everyone recognize this?"

There was a scattered affirmative.

"Pretty sure it's what ya mix with mead to keep the party going," Mari grinned.

I feigned applause. "Correct. I'd wager at least a few of you have had some boisterous evenings that stretched into nauseous mornings under your belt courtesy of this very plant. And naturally, too much mead."

Many of the gathered volunteers laughed, but I spotted enough pained expressions to confirm they knew exactly what I was talking about.

Towards the back, a balding man with a permanent scowl raised his hand. "This is what we're gathering? Fresh Vurseng?"

I nodded. "As I told the regiment at large, the Lithid will strike at the consciousness of mind first. Only after we are sleep-addled, or gods forbid, in the depths of slumber, will it reach the apex of its influence. My intention is to prevent that from happening altogether. Hence, Vurseng." I pointed at him. "But there was more to the question, yes?"

The bald man shifted uncomfortably as more attention turned towards him. "Apologies my lord. I understand the intent, but not the method. Vurseng is common. Easily found on any plot of green touched by the fingers of the cursed wood. There are countless apothecaries and alchemists within the city walls that would be happy to sell such an ingredient in bulk at discounted prices. Would it not be easier to simply purchase what we need, than spend hours gathering it?"

"It would certainly be easier." It was nostalgic, in a way. I'd once asked Lillian much the same. I scanned the soldiers. "Does anyone wish to hazard a guess why we're taking a more difficult path?"

Several voices rang out, echoing into the forest.

"Less bickering with merchants."

"—Reserve our purse for more important resources."

"Efficacy."

Immediately, I pointed toward the last answer. "Who said that?"

A boy with porcelain skin and a helmet forged to accommodate pointed ears raised a hesitant hand. "Me, my lord."

"Name?"

"Vicant, your grace."

"The one who chokes," Mari murmured under her breath.

I let the comment go, noting it for later and approached the boy. He was small of stature, for a soldier. Almost half an arm span shorter than me. "Were you apprenticed before your stint in the armies?" 𝘳ÄΝ𝘖𐌱ЕṤ

"Nothing official. My father taught me, when he could spare the time," Vicant said, head low, seeming to regret that he'd spoken at all.

"Then your father taught you well." I smiled encouragingly at him and returned my attention to the group at large. "It is true that for vendors with relevant wares, Vurseng is a staple commodity. For good reason. It produces the same effect as more expensive potions and poultices at a fraction of the cost. Demand is always high, and thanks to its commonality, it is never scarce to find at a reasonable price. Why then, are we out here wasting time marauding nature when it would be simpler to just procure what we need, Vicant?"

"Uh. Because... some ingredients—"

"Louder, for the group." I gestured for him to come forward. Vicant stood beside me, pale as a sheet. "Speak from your chest," I murmured in his ear. "Stare between them if you cannot bear to look at them individually, but do them the courtesy of direct address."

Vicant drew a deep breath and tried again. This time his voice carried. "With any bulk purchase of medicinal or alchemical ingredients, efficacy is a point of concern. A stalk of Vurseng harvested a month prior will look much the same as a stalk obtained the previous day. However it appears, the older stalk's potency will be severely degraded. It is widespread practice to mix in old with new when fulfilling a large-scale purchase."

"Excellent." I thumped his shoulder, signaling for him to return to the group, which he did with clear relief. "This mercantile practice is less of a problem for alchemists, who can use magic and various mechanical means to derive the maximum potency from ingredients in practically any state, be it too young, or just shy of rotting off the vine. For our purposes, freshness and potency is critical. That is why we turn to nature for our yield."

"Do we need to take any special measures while gathering, your grace?" someone asked.

"Keep the roots intact if you can. They're earthy, but sweet, and do much to offset the bitterness."

"We'll be preparing them in the traditional way? As pipe mash?"

I nearly rattled off the answer before noticing that Vicant was anxiously fidgeting and realized there was an opportunity to test his knowledge. "A composite of Vurseng and tobacco has always worked best in my experience. If there is a better method, I'm not aware of it."

"Tea," Vicant clamped a hand over his mouth, horrified that he'd brought attention to himself again.

Several people laughed. Some went further.

"Elphion's balls. The elf wants tea. Who could have seen that coming."

I paid them no mind, focusing on Vicant again. "Why tea instead of the composite?"

Vicant cleared his throat. "Both constituents stimulate the mind, my lord, so it is not the worst way. However, where Vurseng clears, tobacco clouds. If the intention is to guarantee every soldier in the regiment receives similar dose that does not cloud the minds of those unaccustomed to tobacco, we should brew it as tea, prepared in large batches at a low boil. It will be far stronger than hash, especially if we use—"

"—A large kettle. Preferably cast iron with a wide mouth. Holds the heat better and allows for rigorous stirring," Maya cut in smoothly. She played the fool, cocking her head and staring up at the sky. "There are many like that in the Enclave, but I'm not sure where one would source such a thing in the human cities."

At first I wasn't sure why she'd interrupted until I pictured what she was describing.

Ah.

"I... can get one," Vicant confirmed, suddenly uncomfortable. He paused, waiting for her to say more, and when she didn't, looked to me. "If that is the direction you'd like to take?"

"One less set of hands won't set us back much." Somehow I kept a cheery demeanor, though it was a struggle to maintain it. "I assume you have some experience, brewing in this manner?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Then take a horse and wagon for transportation. When you return, adjust the fire and kettle to your liking."

/////

I crouched down beneath the shadow of a massive tree, yanking a cluster of Vurseng out by the root. Maya did the same a short distance away, watching me out of the corner of her eye.

"There I am, playing the role of the Good Commander, delighted to find a kindred spirit among the not-yet-familiar faces—" I groused, rambling more to myself than the company.

"—A role you played well," Maya noted.

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

"—Only to discover the awkward soldier I assumed to be apothecary adjacent isn't at all. Instead, he's a Nychta-damned warlock—"

"And what, pray tell, is the problem with a soldier in your regiment being a Warlock? Or a witch for that matter?" Maya sat back on her knees and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, nothing." I breathed out a hiss. "It's just the whole living in isolation, capitalizing on desperate people by charging horrific costs for your services that lends a degree of pause."

"That is a hag, Cairn."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure all hags started as witches."

"Yet not all witches become hags." Maya shook her head, rays of the descending sun flittering through the curtain of her hair. "The chances are about as likely as a mage ascending to lichdom."

That's not so bad. There's only ever been what, three? That we know about, anyway.

I paused, puzzled. "What would you even call a male hag? A codger?"

"Idiot," she rolled her eyes.

"Well, that's just rude to male hags."

"You—" Maya stopped, retying her bundle of Vurseng and centering herself. "Based on what I know, which is admittedly not very much given the shortage of information on the topic, only witches can become hags. They sometimes take warlocks as retainers to act as servants and perform other... less palatable... duties, but I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark and say that role is probably not something many warlocks aspire to."

"So... you're saying we have nothing to worry about," I said dryly.

"I'm saying, you should wait until there is a cause for concern to assume the worst. For now, it would likely be best to avoid unnecessary offense, and calling attention to him in public as you did today." In a motion so subtle it would have been difficult to notice if it wasn't occurring right in front of me, Maya drew something out of her pocket and stilled.

I finished tying off my own bounty and hefted it under my arm, approaching her from the side. The dark mirror in her hand caught the light, reflecting a troubled expression.

"Are you pleased to see it returned?" I murmured.

She slid a thumb down its tinted surface. "It is undeniably a boon to any life mage. An invaluable asset received at little cost. If one must suffer the company of demons, there is no better recompense."

"And yet."

Maya drew a deep breath. "Yet, its history cannot be overlooked. It was an instrument of my fury, in the sanctum. In different circumstances I would have treasured such a rarity. Used it sparingly, only in the most dire circumstances. But instead, I drained it dry, exploited it ruthlessly, until there was nothing left. When it turned to dust, that was a relief. Because its time had passed, and my fury with it. There are many practical uses. I should be grateful. But I cannot forget what it—what I did. Nor carry on without questioning the intentions of the devil that returned it to me." She turned it over in disgust, holding it away from her. "Perhaps it would be better to simply cast it into the sea."

Within the fog of my mind, an idea struggled to surface. "If it burdens you that much, give it to me instead."

"You?" She snorted. "Did I somehow miss yet another awakening?"

"No. But I'm in need of a hand mirror, and it will be more flattering to my complexion than most."

"Take it, then." She held the mirror out to me, lips half-quirked in amusement, waiting for the other shoe to fall. I kept my face neutral as I plucked it from her fingertips and stuffed it unceremoniously into my satchel. Maya's gaze lingered on my pack until she forcefully looked away. "We should be getting back."

"Just a moment. I received something recently, and I'd like your opinion."

"So we're exchanging eccentricities now?" Maya's smile broke the surface of the malaise that'd overcome her, disappearing as I drew the mirror back out of my bag. "Cairn—"

"Just... listen." I grasped for the words. Verbosity typically came more easily, to the point my problem was more often the opposite—speaking too much without saying enough. Ever since the fog had settled over my mind after discovering what happened to Lillian, connecting thought to spoken word had been a constant struggle, carving every syllable from stone.

Maya stood in the clearing, waiting. Too disciplined these days to fidget, but I knew her well enough to read the signs. A twitch in her jaw that implied the grinding of teeth behind her passive lips, the way her tail darted up towards her arm yet never wrapped around it. She was anxious.

And here I was making her wait.

I closed my eyes, pushing everything that proliferated in the darkness away, before focusing on her again.

When I spoke, my voice was serious. Intent. "Diplomat Maya. I find myself in possession of a dangerous artifact."

"Do you?" Maya played along, a tremor of fear undercutting the words.

"An item that could be leveraged for great good, or terrible evil."

"How worrisome. And what do you intend to do with such a thing?"

"That is the question." I tossed it up in the air and caught it, regarding it with disdain. "It lends no benefit to me. And while it would, perhaps, be wiser to dispose of it, I must remember that it is a tool. An implement. And implements hold no allegiance beyond their bearer. If I choose to place it in the hands of another, I must do so carefully." I stroked my chin. "And of the many magicians I've encountered in my travels, there is only one that is worthy."

"This is ridiculous." Maya looked away.

I took several steps forward, closing the distance between us. She glanced towards me, then down at the mirror and looked away. I held it tighter in my grip. "What happened to you in the Sanctum should not have happened. I cannot change it, much as I wish I could. And what occurred during that lapse in judgement caused you to doubt yourself."

Maya straightened, her posture perfect, almost regal. "As I've said before. My actions were mine alone. Don't laud me for my successes and credit yourself only for my failures."

"That's not my intention. What I mean to say, is the doubt you feel? I do not share it." I reached down and slid my fingers between hers. "Nor do I fear the monsters that haunt you. From this life or the last."

"You did not see, Cairn." Her mouth tightened.

"No. But I've listened. And what I've imagined is likely far worse than what actually occurred. Yet there is not a single person in this life nor any other that has held even a fragment of the trust I hold for you. And that trust has never wavered. You don't have to bear it. As it's in my possession, you are absolved of that responsibility." I chuckled. "Hells. If you'd like, instead of Kholis, we can travel down to the coast. Spend the sabbatical lounging on the beaches of the Sapphire Sea, and you can dismiss the mirror to its depths at your leisure."

Maya giggled momentarily, reining in the lapse with a quick bite of her lip. "You're such a fool."

"Perpetually." I released her hand and presented the mirror between my palms, as a knight proffers a sword. "Leave it with me, cast it away, or take it and use it. No matter the choice, I trust you to make it. But if you choose the latter, I'd ask for an oath."

Maya hesitated. "What sort of oath?"

"That you'll use it wisely. Sparingly. That it—" My voice broke, and I looked away, waiting for the surge of emotion to fade. "It will never become an instrument of your torment again. That you'll leave it with a kinder legacy. One of pride, rather than shame."

"Just that?" Maya smiled a little, turning away to wipe her eyes. "No specific parameters, rules of use?"

"Just that." There was no point in getting into particulars. That wasn't the purpose of this exchange. The lithid would spare no kindness for our doubts. Of that, Ozra was clear. Any crack in mental fortitude was a potential weakness for the monster to exploit. Maya was the only reason I was still standing. And if there was any way I could help her prepare, I needed to do it.

"Then I suppose... you have my oath, Ni'lend." Maya's fingers closed over the mirror. She leaned in to whisper in my ear. "Kholis cannot come quickly enough." There was pressure, and a pinch that burned like fire as her teeth left my jaw.

I stepped back reflexively, completely off-balance, uttering a nervous laugh I'd be kicking myself for later

As she watched me impassively. "Right. Yes. Kholis. Reconnecting with, will be a pleasure. And it's candied fruit season again! Plenty to look forward to." I picked up the bundle of Vurseng.

"Yes." Maya replied. "I expect to be fed."

In the moment it took me to process her words, I tripped, nearly dropping the bundle altogether. Maya chortled as she hefted her own bundle beneath her arm and carried it alongside me, devolving into fits of outright laughter the deeper my scowl grew.

"Mock while you can. I won't always be out of practice," I groused.

"It's quite fun to tease, knowing exactly what strings to pluck," Maya decided.

"Uh-huh."

She leaned over towards me conspiratorially. "It will be even more fun—"

"—If the gods planted a glimmer of kindness in your heart, please. Spare me. This armor's snug as it is and it will be difficult to address the regiment half-bent over," I glared at her over my shoulder.

"Fine, fine." Maya pressed her lips together in amusement. "You know, the fault is entirely yours."

"The hells did I do? As suitors go, I've been nothing but chaste."

"With me." Maya smirked. "But your memories have been quite informative. Educational, rather. And I'm nothing if not a quick study."

"Elphion give me strength."

"Cairn." She stopped, the playfulness leaving her voice. "We haven't talked about it."

"The lithid," I intuited, after a moment.

"Yes."

"We'll search from the outside in until we find its corporeal form. The tea will rouse the men enough that only a few of them will fall asleep, if any. The arch-fiend said it himself, its physical form poses little threat."

"The wellbeing of the regiment is important. But that is not my immediate concern." Maya stared at me hard. "You bear the greatest danger. Vurseng builds up in the body for years. The tea will not affect you as strongly as the rest. If the lithid turns you—"

"It won't."

"That is an assumption we can't afford to make. It is not a question of if you fall asleep, but when." Maya stated flatly, leaving little room for argument. "Given the risk, would it not be better to play the role of war-room commander for this engagement?"

After a brief consideration, I shook my head. "Send the men who chose to follow into a situation where they may have to confront their greatest fears while I hide from mine? No. I... can't."

"Can't, or won't?" Maya asked unhappily, accent carrying through more heavily than normal. When there was no reply, she huffed, but didn't offer further argument. "Fine. The last thing I want to do is cause pain, but I need to be sure. You understand what's coming? The vector from which it will press its offensive? Because if any part of you remains in denial, it will not be just your undoing. We will all pay the price."

When I answered, my mouth was dry. "I understand."