Victor of Tucson

Victor walked through the remnants of his impromptu, celebratory get-together, idly counting the empty liquor bottles on his way to the balcony doors. He stopped at thirteen, shaking his head and chuckling. Foster, Bryn, and her two friends from the palace guard were all above tier eight, and they hadn’t struggled in the least to clean out Victor’s liquor cabinet. He pulled the doors wide, letting in the fresh, late-morning air, then stepped out, turning his face to the sun, soaking it up. He felt remarkably good.

Bryn hadn’t been lying about the “Elemental Therapist.” The fellow had used water and fire affinities to do incredible things to Victor’s muscles. Besides his ability to chill and warm his tendons and muscles from the inside out, the man had been a skilled masseur, something Victor couldn’t remember ever experiencing, at least not for a long, dedicated session like that.

He stretched, arching his back, then patted his stomach, not surprised to find it still satisfied after the food and drink he’d consumed late into the night. Bryn had arranged quite a feast, and though Victor could recall enjoying the company of her friends, he honestly couldn’t remember much about the conversations they’d had. “Now, though, it’s time to get to work.” With a sigh, he turned away from the sun and walked to his door. When he opened it, he didn’t find Bryn, but one of her comrades.

“Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning. Will you advise the queen that I’d like to meet with her at her earliest convenience?”

“Right away, sir!” The young man slammed his fist to his chest and took off at a jog, his plate armor clanking with each stride. Victor closed the door and spent the next few minutes getting ready for the day—showering, shaving, cleaning his teeth, and putting on the perfectly clean clothes that he wore almost every day.

While he waited for word from the queen, Victor pulled some of his study materials out of his storage ring and stacked them on the small round table in the central parlor of his suite. He planned to do a little more research into Elder magic, and along with it, he intended to mess around with one or two of his older, lesser-utilized spells. It had been many months—years?—since he’d figured out how to create weaves of his affinities that produced justice-attuned Energy. He’d even discovered a powerful spell to use with it, The Inevitable Huntsman, but he'd so rarely had occasion to invoke the magic that he wondered if he couldn’t improve or alter it somehow.

He had beautiful, large, thick sheets of paper that he’d gotten from Dar for writing out spell patterns, and he’d just taken one out and begun to delicately sketch the pattern for the huntsman spell when there was a tap on his door. “Come in,” he called.

He had his back to the door, but he heard it open, gliding near silently on its well-oiled hinges, and then a strident voice startled him into nearly dropping his pen, “Her Majesty, Queen Kynna Dar!”

Victor spun in his chair to see Kynna gliding into his quarters, the jewels sewn into her dazzling pale gray and blue gown glittering in the light from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her crown nearly brushed the lintel, but the palace had been designed with massive statures in mind, and it missed it by an inch or so. Mortified by the state of his quarters and ill-prepared state, Victor jumped to his feet and sketched out a hasty bow.

The queen smiled at him, then turned to the man holding the door. “Thank you, Seneschal Lovalle. Please wait without.” The slender, neatly coiffed man stooped into a low bow and swept out of the room, closing the door behind him. “Good morning, Champion.”

“Um, good morning, My Queen.” Victor straightened and gestured to the empty seat to the right of his own. “Would you care to sit?” The truth was, he was trying to get her to look his way before her gaze lingered on the mess in the sitting area near the windows.

It seemed it was too late, in any case. As she glided into the suite and approached the table where Victor was working, the queen said, “I’ll have Thorn speak to your housekeeping staff. This is no fit state for a royal champion’s chambers.”

“Um, no, Your Majesty, please don’t. I asked them to come back later. I, uh, didn’t know I’d have a guest.”

Kynna froze halfway to the table, staring at him with a blank expression. Her eyes weren’t particularly bright, generally, not like Dar’s, but at that moment, they were hardly glowing—almost like they were veiled by mist. It made Victor wonder about the nature of the eyes themselves. Were there actual fires burning in the sockets? Were the flames inside a transparent shell of something…keratin? “Did you not summon me?”

“I, uh, sent my guard to let you know that I wanted you to summon me whenever it was convenient.”

Kynna started forward again, shaking her head and tsking. “Perhaps the young man was overzealous. No matter. I’m here. What can I help you with, Victor?” She sat down, gracefully folding one leg over the other as she turned the chair to look at him more easily.

“Um, do you want a refreshment?” Victor prayed she’d say no. He had no idea what was appropriate to serve a queen.

“No, thank you.”

“Right, well, I wanted to talk to you about our strategy moving forward. I mean, now that your immediate threat has been dealt with, we’ll need to start implementing Dar’s plans.”

“Ranish Dar? What further plans are there? I assumed you’d linger here a while, ensuring no further encroachments, but I have a new cadre of champions now that we’ve conquered Xan and Frostmarch; I don’t think you should feel bound to further service.” She spoke plainly and seemed so oblivious that Victor had to lean back in his chair and think for a moment. Hadn’t he said he was there to help Gloria rise to…glory? He strained his brain, trying to think of his words when he’d first met the queen.

“My Queen, has Ranish Dar not conveyed his further wishes for my, uh, service to you? Didn’t I make it clear why I was here when I presented you with my spear?”

“You said that the time had come for my house to ascend to its rightful place of prominence on Ruhn.” She spread her hands and gave a slight, elegant shrug. “Both Xan and Frostmarch had recently conquered one of our other neighbors. With your two victories, we now sit at the head of a five-kingdom hegemony—more power than Gloria has held in twelve centuries.”

“Yes.” Victor nodded. “It’s a good start.”

“Start?” Kynna raised a delicately feathered black brow, and Victor thought he saw the fire in her eyes grow brighter.

“Yeah. Ranish Dar believes it’s time for a new empire to rule Ruhn, and, naturally, he wants his descendants to be in charge.”

Both of Kynna’s brows shot up, and her eyes widened further as she leaned forward and hissed, “He wants me to initiate a war of succession?”

“Yeah—initiate and win.”

She reached up to her crown and tapped a nail against the crystal. A chime rang out, reverberating as a pale blue dome of Energy surrounded Victor, Kynna, and the table where they sat. “Such words will bring imperial assassins!”

“You think spies are listening?” Victor scowled and looked around his room.

“When such words are spoken, one must always assume! Victor, what you suggest is insanity. Do you understand what such an action entails?”

“I have some idea, yeah. Your ancestor schooled me a bit before he sent me here. Still, let’s review. What do you think it entails?”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Even at the head of five nations, Gloria amounts to less than a tenth of the power of one of the great houses, of which there are seven. They all rule hegemonies of at least five major nations on the eastern continent. Consider that Khaliday, the imperial seat, is equal to any three of the great houses. Now, consider that, in order to challenge Khaliday, we’d need to conquer one of the great houses and to challenge a great house, we’d need to fight our way through dozens of lesser kingdoms here, on the western continent.”

“Hmm, actually, that sounds a little better than I’d feared. So, we’d snap up five or more nations by beating a great house? On top of that, once you rule a great house, you can challenge the emperor directly?”

Kynna stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Victor, the champions of Frostmarch and Xan were formidable by the standards of far-flung western kingdoms, but they were children compared to the veritable demigods who fight for the great houses.”

Victor nodded slowly. “I know. I know we’ve got a ways to go before we challenge a great house, too, but we need to start making moves that way. We need to start strategizing about which kingdoms here, on the Western continent, will most easily be bullied or tricked into a duel. Which kingdoms will bend the knee? We need to build momentum quickly to make it harder for the great houses to prepare and to minimize the time they have to try things like assassination.”

The queen stared at him for a long time, and he could only imagine the wheels turning in her head. If Victor left, she’d have a very real chance to spend centuries in peace, ruler of a powerful mini-empire. If she went along with Dar’s idea that she should try to conquer the entire planet, in her mind, she would be walking a path where defeat wasn’t just possible but likely, especially considering what she thought she knew of Victor’s capabilities. “Are you in contact with my ancestor?”

“I am.”

“Then I must choose my words carefully, mustn’t I?” She shook her head; whether it was at Victor or her own words, he couldn’t tell. “I didn’t bargain for this when I appealed to Ranish Dar for help. You speak blithely, but there will be no peaceful resolution for a nation that instigates a succession war—either we win, or the emperor will wipe out my bloodline. Of course, you bear the same risk as a champion, at least personally, but tell me, are you also putting your loved ones at risk?”

Victor had to admit she made a good point. It was one thing to risk yourself, but to risk your entire family, from your children to your distant cousins, was another matter. “I understand your concern.”

“I must think on this. I know I risk my ancestor’s wrath, but…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I must seek the counsel of people I trust, Victor. Tell me one thing: did you truly hold back so much against Obert and Qi Pot, or are you mad? I do not lie when I say that Obert would never dream of challenging one of the champions of the great houses.”

“I might be crazy, Queen Kynna, but I’m not here for any reason other than I need some tough pendejos to fight. If Dar just wanted to beat the guys putting pressure on your family, he could have found someone in Sojourn to do the job. I’m here for the guys no one else wants to fight.” Victor shrugged as if that was all he had to say.

She tsked. “Such pride! Do you not fear death?”

Victor sighed and leaned back, drumming his fingers on the arms of his chair while he thought about how to answer the question. “I have a Spirit Core. You know that, right?”

“Yes, I can discern that much.”

“Well, I’ve seen the other side. I’ve seen spirits and even spoken to a loved one after she passed. I’ve had my ancestors talk to me while I fight. They’ve even offered me boons. I don’t view death as the end anymore. I might once have worried about dying, worried I’d leave things unfinished in this world, but that worry has changed. Now, I worry I won’t do enough in this life to earn a proper place among my ancestors.

“I’m a fighter, Queen Kynna—it’s pretty much the only damn thing I have a hope of being excellent at. I won’t earn glory for my ancestors by choosing easy battles.” Victor leaned forward, his eyes intense beneath the glower of his dark, heavy brow. “I need you to start this war because I don’t see another easy way to get a fight with those pendejos on the eastern continent.” For the first time, Victor let his aura slip a little in the queen’s presence, giving her a taste of the heat and weight of it, the bloody taste and sharp edge, the hunger for glory tinged with the stomach-turning scent of fear and the blood-boiling fury of the mountain.

She leaned back, and her pale gray skin paled further as she visibly swallowed. She glanced toward the door as though weighing her odds at making a hasty retreat. Victor only let his aura ripple out for a second, though, and when it passed, it was like the room grew brighter. Kynna cleared her throat and nodded. “I have much to think on. Please delay your next message to my ancestor until we’ve spoken again.”

“I will.” As she stood and started for the door, Victor stood. “My Queen?” When she turned, he held his massive black spear in his hands. To her credit, Kynna didn’t flinch. “I promised you this spear and swore to use it to vanquish the hounds on your borders. Will you take it now?” Victor fell to a knee and held the spear out.

Kynna took a quick breath, and he could tell she’d had words on her tongue that she halted just before they escaped. After a moment’s consideration, she reached out, rested her fingertips on the sturdy weapon, and nodded. “I will. My thanks, Champion of Gloria.” As she finished the words, the spear disappeared, summoned into a storage container, no doubt. “I look forward to your award ceremony this evening, Victor. Will you wear a proper uniform if I have one sent here?”

“Sure.” Victor nodded as he stood, then walked over to the door, pulling it open for her. “Thank you for coming to see me so quickly. I didn’t expect such a courtesy.”

Kynna seemed to appreciate the chance to retake the upper hand. She smiled crookedly and glanced toward the mess in the sitting area. “I can see that.” Victor wanted to deny having drunk all those bottles of alcohol, but he just nodded with a slightly chagrined smile. And Kynna stepped through the door. Over her shoulder, as her entourage formed around her, she said, “I’ll have that uniform sent over soon. See you tonight, Champion Victor.”

“Tonight, Your Majesty.” Victor watched the group of guards, ladies in waiting, and officials make their way down the hallway, wondering what they all did while they waited outside a door for their queen. Returning to his chambers, he retrieved Arona’s phylactery from his storage ring.

Her spirit rapidly materialized as he moved over to his sitting area to gather up the many empty bottles, dirty plates, and soiled linen napkins. He stacked them on the oversized ottoman that ran the length of the central couch, and Arona drifted over. “I see you survived your duel.”

“Yeah. Sorry I didn’t summon you right away, but I had to…entertain last night.” He gestured to the mess. “I was just going to leave it for the cleaning staff, but now I feel guilty; I had a pop-in visit from the queen.”

“Oh?” Arona moved to “sit” on the couch, even though she didn’t really touch it.

“Yeah. She was slightly more clueless about Dar’s plans for Gloria than I expected. I suppose I should be irritated with Dar for leaving me to break the news, but I guess it’s on me, too, for assuming. Anyway, how’d it go with Trobban? When I got back, your phylactery was on the table, but I didn’t see any notes or anything.”

“I’m sorry I missed you. I was exhausted—keeping myself outside the phylactery takes much effort. As for Trobban, he’s quite knowledgeable, but for each idea he has, he insists he’s seen another dozen in texts he’s read, so he wanted to do some research before devising a final plan for the components of my vessel.”

“And you? I didn’t get to speak to you without him listening. How do you feel about everything?” Victor couldn’t help imagining a robot or a Frankenstein’s monster when he thought of a “vessel” being created for her. He hoped it wouldn’t be like that, but what did he know?

“I’m excited but apprehensive. Trobban believes there are natural treasures that can be used to form a Core, one that will absorb the Energy I’ve built up in this phylactery so that it will gain ranks nearly equivalent to what I had in life. He insists that he’s read accounts of people’s affinities changing when they adopted such a Core. In his opinion, it won’t be difficult to change my affinity, but rather a byproduct that would be more difficult to avoid.”

Victor plopped down on the couch. “I mean, that’s good news, right?”

Arona’s ghostly face brightened as she smiled, and her raspy voice smoothed out slightly as she replied, “It’s wonderful news. Wouldn’t it be grand to grow strong enough to face the likes of Vesavo? I’d so love to confront him about the torture he put me through—about the horrors he’s committed on various worlds.”

Victor nodded, smiling grimly. He could relate to the sentiment. “I know what it’s like to want to force powerful people to confront their bullshit, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. Even Dar is leery of insulting Vesavo.”

“True. Still, if I could drink, I’d toast to our future goals. I’m glad I met you, Victor. I wonder where I’d be right now if I hadn’t—serving Ronkerz? No, I don’t think that foolish mission into the Iron Prison would have happened if you weren’t around. I’d be slaving away on some horrid project for Vesavo, likely dreading his next summons.” She surprised him by visibly shuddering. It made Victor chuckle as he tilted his head, looking at her sideways.

“It’s crazy how your spirit-form mimics how you were in life. Even your voice—raspy and low. Do you think your new body will change you much?”

She smiled, exposing her sharp canines. “It depends on how talented Trobban is. I’ve seen constructs that looked just like living, breathing people. The artifacts and natural treasures he’s researching will play a part. I’m excited, Victor!” She leaned forward as the truth of her emotions came out.

Victor laughed and nodded, smacking his fist into his hand. “Me too, Arona. I mean for you, but also me. When I look down the road ahead, the various crossroads and one-way turns, I see some that lead to victory and some that lead to death, but almost all of them lead to glory.”