Amelia Thornheart

Their first challenge came at the entrance. To Serena’s amusement, it was a challenge that she’d disarmed once before.

“Sayyid Bastet,” Secretary Maramba wheezed, his jowls moving with his words. “What is the meaning of bringing such a crowd before the council chambers?” The pudgy man looked at Serena, anger burning in his eyes. He shifted his posture. If Serena wasn’t mistaken, was he subtly hiding his remaining arm from her?

“We’ve come,” Menes exclaimed, strengthening his voice so that it carried across the crowd. “To petition the council to cease their bickering and give a mandate so that Captain Maranai may launch a search and rescue mission for our missing comrades!” The surrounding crowd murmured their agreement.

“Ah… yes…” Maramba’s expression darkened. “I thought it would be that. But we have procedures here, Sayyid Bastet. All petitions must be provided in writing before they are presented to the council. I cannot make an exception for you, regardless of your status.”

Should I just cut his remaining arm off? Serena thought, tapping the hilt of her sword.

“It is no problem, friend!” Menes declared, dramatically whipping out a collection of papers. “I have everything written here. Secretary Maramba, you’ll find everything in order.”

“Oh? Yes…” The pudgy man’s eyes widened with surprise. He took the papers in his hand. “I see… thank you…”

“Then we’ll head in!” Menes declared. He turned and faced the crowd. “We could do with many observers! This is an important petition! It is to save those who have kept you safe for so long! Come in with me, Ishaq, and let the council know of your support!”

The crowd cheered before surging forward. Menes passed Maramba, patting him on the shoulder. Kovus shoulder-barged his way past, and Serena simply gave him a cold stare.

Was that fear, or fury, she saw in the secretary’s eyes?

They entered the palace, their feet finding themselves no longer on the smooth sandstone of the plaza, but now on the polished jade floors. How much wealth was solidified in the floor alone? Even House Halen, with its appreciation of high art and bespoke ironwood furniture, wouldn’t be so extravagant as to line their floors with jade. Marble did just fine.

Just as Serena made a mental note as to where most of Ishaq’s wealth was going to, Secretary Maramba reappeared, jogging as best he could to intercept them one more time.

“Wait, wait!” he said, gasping for breath, sweat already running down his forehead from his brief exertion. “A petition needs to be sponsored! And you cannot sponsor each other! You must—”

“Dockmaster Tariq sponsors the petition!” Menes announced happily. The Arakian produced a letter, passing it to Maramba. “He wrote it for me only yesterday. See for yourself, everything is fine!”

Once again, they surged past the sweating secretary and proceeded towards the inner chambers. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

“Look at this wealth,” Korvus mumbled, gritting his teeth. “Is this where the South’s money went while the North struggled? Outrageous.” The demon squeezed his hands so tight his knuckles popped. “They’ve hoarded it like Centralis has.”

Their next obstacle came at the doors. Two guards intercepted them, carrying tall tahtibs. They both manifested red, raising their hands and demanding that they halt.

“The council is in recess,” one guard said.

“You will have to come back when they are done with their break,” the other said.

Menes folded his arms. “How long will that be?”

“No more than a few hours,” the guard responded, eyeing him warily. The guard's words produced a cacophony of boos from the crowd behind them. It seemed that the common citizen was more than aware of the tricks the council used to delay and deflect.

Korvus spat at the feet of the guard. “Houndshit,” he said. “I can hear them inside. They’re not doing anything, are they? They turned me away once before. Not again. Get out of my way.” The Northerner took a step forward, only for the two fighting sticks to block his way.

“No one may enter the hall!” the guard called.

Korvus paused, looking at the crossed weapons for a long time. “Do you know who I am?” He said quietly.

The guard paused. “I do, Speaker Maranai. But as respectable as your communion is, we cannot—”

“Do you know what I’ve done,” Korvus continued, “to my enemies?” The Northerner’s eyebrows narrowed, and he took another step towards the guards. The men swallowed, glancing at each other. “Are you my enemy?” Korvus asked coldly.

The guards hesitated for only a moment. Likely, that was the length of time for them to decide that they would rather die of old age than in the next few seconds. They stepped aside, muttering that they could pass.

“Thank you, friends!” Menes exclaimed, pushing the great doors open and stepping into the council chambers. The doors creaked, echoing into the vast hall that greeted them.

Serena followed, taking in the infamous council. The space was ringed by slender columns. At one end was an elevated semicircle of carved seats, on which were four of the five councillors, one of whom had a nasty expression on their face while the others looked merely shocked.

“Menes Bastet!” the angry councillor shouted. “Do you think your Cascadian Lordship allows you to violate council procedure! Do you think—” the man trailed off as he saw not only Serena and Korvus, but the dozens of Ishaqian citizens streaming into the hall. “What… what is the meaning of this invasion?” the councillor snapped. “We are in recess! We have important—”

“Time for recess to end,” Menes said. “The Ishaqian people are here, Councillor Nasr. You do still serve them, do you not?”

“I serve them every day,” Nasr snarled. He was an older man with little hair crowning his head and a thin beard. It looked as if a stiff breeze could push him over. Although he did seem a little authoritarian, sitting up there in his councillor's robes, lecturing at them.

He pissed Serena off. This was the man who sent Maramba to arrest her? She glared at him, but he avoided her gaze.

She held her tongue for now.

The centre of the chamber was spacious, with an empty floor space more than thirty metres wide. Serena, Menes, and Korvus took their positions in the centre, while the Ishaqians settled in around the edges and into what little seating there was.

“It is time, Nasr,” Menes said, “For a vote. You have a petition from I, Sayyid Bastet, and Speaker Maranai and Speaker Halen, who is also a sayyidah. It is vouched for by Dockmaster Tariq. You cannot keep ignoring this, Nasr!” Menes raised his arms, dramatically gesturing to the crowd. “This is for the people of Ishaq. Does their safety mean nothing to you!?”

“Always so dramatic,” Nasr mumbled. He exchanged looks with the other councillors before saying, “We do prioritise their safety, Menes Bastet. That is why the arcwhale is our focus, and we must focus our efforts on the construction of the funeral convoy to prevent Ishaq’s destruction at the hands of Rhaknam!”

Menes crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. “Rhaknam would have come for us already. This is not about him, or Ishaq. This is about you exaggerating the threat for your own benefit. Do not think that I am ignorant of what you and the other councillors are doing.”

“And what is that, exactly?” Nasr sighed, as if exhausted.

“Finding every excuse to funnel contracts for the solution into the hands of you and your allies!” Menes shouted, pulling out more papers. “This would have been solved already if you didn’t deny construction contracts based on nonsense!” Menes riffled through the papers, throwing them up individually. “Minor typos! Creased paper! Unreasonable response times! Wrong colour of ink! Oh, what’s this?” Menes brandished one paper, holding it high. “The contracts that do go through are all for companies that you, Councillor Samir, Councillor Karim, and Councillor Yasin have a stake in! You refuse to put council funds into searching the Passage, instead funnelling it into your own pockets!”

Another councillor spoke out, his voice angry. “Fund! What do you know about funds? Do you know how much it would cost to search the Passage? How many ships would we need? You know the chances of survival are low. This is a wasted endeavour when we have so many other priorities!”

“This should be a priority! Every day we delay is another day we could be too late!” Menes turned then to the crowd. “Listen to their excuses! Since I have returned, the council have refused to listen to me. I know the Passage, friends. I know Captain Matthews is alive!”

The councillor shook her head. “We cannot devote resources to a feeling! We have strict regulations that must be satisfied, Menes Bastet!”

“What’s the point of regulation if it stops the Ishaqian military from searching for its own? Explain that to me, Samir! When did the captain of our navy need your permission to launch a military operation?”

“Since the civil war!” Councillor Samir shouted. “Our ancestors fought and won the right to have the military answer to the people, not the other way around! And who are you to ask me for an explanation?” He snapped, derision dripping from his voice. “Look at you! You have barged in, breaking procedure! Things must be done properly, documented, and with records! Where is your written petition? Have you forgotten, Menes?”

“Haha!” Menes laughed, then he turned and pointed to an alcove at the edge. “Secretary Maramba! I see you trying to hide your girth! Step out into the light, snake!” There was silence for a moment as every pair of eyes looked at the alcove Menes pointed at. Slowly, Maramba appeared, looking rather uncomfortable at being the centre of attention.

“Please provide the councllors with the written copies I just gave you,” Menes said triumphantly.

“...I cannot,” Maramba replied, wringing his singular hand against his chest.

“What did you say?” Menes said, glaring at the sweating man. “Say that again.”

The secretary took out a cloth and wiped his forehead. “I cannot, Sayyid Bastet. While I was transporting them, I tripped and fell.”

“You fell?”

“Into a fountain. The papers were destroyed.” As he talked, Maramba’s voice got louder and more confident. “I’m afraid you’ll have to find more copies,” he said. “The council cannot hear a petition until they have a written copy in front of them!” Maramba glanced at Nasr, who gave him a subtle nod that Serena didn’t miss.

“What kind of houndshit…” Korvus growled.

“No matter!” Menes said loudly. “Lucky for us, I brought extra copies!” He reached inside his robe and produced another set of petitions. “I even have a copy of Dockmaster Tariq's sponsorship! Come, take it!”

How much paper is he hiding in there? Serena couldn’t help but wonder.

Anything Maramba might have argued in response was drowned out by the bellowing crowd, who began shouting their own mix of encouragement and insults.

“Take it! Take it!”

“What idiot falls into a fountain!?”

“You bastards! We know what you’re doing!

“They’re trying to protect themselves!”

In the end, Maramba had no choice but to shuffle shamelessly over to them. When he got close, he paused, reaching out his one good hand slowly, as if he were dealing with a coiled viper.

“Do not worry,” Menes said cheerfully, passing over the documents. “I will not bite.”

“I will,” Korvus growled.

Maramba made a surprisingly high-pitched squeak and scurried to the councillors, handing them each their copy of the petition. With great effort, the councillors glanced at it. While some of them read it, Nasr sighed and said to Menes. “We cannot have a vote, Menes Bastet.”

“Why not?”

“Because they need to be slotted into the timetable. This is not on our daily agenda. We can find time for it next week and—” Nasr ducked. Someone from the crowd had thrown a flowerpot at them. The crowd roared their approval, and within moments, many flowerpots and vases—probably worth more than the yearly earnings of most citizens—were thrown, shattering upon the general vicinity of the councillors.

“G-Guards!” one councillor yelled. “Deal with this rabble!”

The guards obediently stepped into the chamber, nervously gripping their staffs. Serena gripped the hilt of her sword, preparing to draw it. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, there was no need. One look from Korvus sent them backing out again.

“Wait, wait!” Menes raised a hand, his bellowing voice quieting the almost-rioting crowd. “This is not the way!” He turned to the council. “The people have shown their frustration. You cannot avoid the matter any longer, Nasr! You must hold a vote! Where is Councillor Idris?”

“Councillor Idris was called away,” Samir said, practically hissing. “There are four of us, Menes Bastet. Do you know what that means? If we can only vote with four, you will still need a majority! Or should you expect us to wait and delay our normal duties for him to return?”

“Called away?” Menes folded his arms. “Explain.”

“He has family in Hakim,” Nasr said, his mouth curling into a mean sneer. “Shortly before you arrived, he received word of an ill relative. He will be travelling the Golden Path as we speak. He will be due back in four days! So come back then, unless you want to take a vote now!”

“Hmm…” Menes rubbed his chin, frowning. He turned to Serena and Korvus and explained that without Idris, there was no chance of getting a majority. Nasr and Samir were a firm no, and the remaining two on the council, who were yet to speak, Karim and Yasin, were only a maybe.

“There’s no way he was coincidentally pulled away like that,” Serena said in a whisper. “Someone must have run ahead of us and warned them.” She was certain the council had prior warning. After all, how was Maramba there, ready to intercept them? “Is there no way to get the votes, Menes?” she asked.

The Arakian shook his head. “I do not know what to do. If Idris were here, we could convince Karim and Yasin. With the pressure of the crowd, I hoped it would be enough. I did not expect them to do this. It is sneaky.” He glanced back at the councillors. “Very sneaky.”

“Why do they hate you so much?” Korvus asked.

“Because I can bring a crowd like this”—Menes jerked his thumb at the surroundings—“and they cannot. I have the power of the people behind me. They only have wealth and connections. The people are stronger, I think.” His forehead furrowed. “I do not know how to win.”

“What happens if they vote two to two?” Serena asked.

“As head of the council. Speaker Asrar would make a deciding vote,” Menes said. “But he is not here. He resides outside the city and rarely comes. I sent him a letter, but he did not respond.”

“Who makes the deciding vote if Asrar isn’t here?”

“Counciller Nasr.”

“Ah.”

“That is why we need three votes.”

“Menes Bastet!” Nasr called. “Considering we are humouring your impropriety, kindly let us know if you wish to vote. Otherwise, you will have to wait four days.”

“That’s four more days Captain Matthews and his crew would need to survive,” Serena said quietly. “And that assumes they won’t delay it further due to pride. Now we’ve come this far, it seems unfair to leave with nothing.” She shook her head. “I could petition my Greatlord, but it would take time for a response.” She clicked her tongue. “I cannot force them,” she said. “Not in my position.” The diplomatic fallout that should happen if she tried to override the council's vote would not be pretty.

Technically, there was a case to be made. The law became quite loose when Speakers were facing darkblades. The argument that they forced the council with the justification that they were rescuing Matthews from a possible darkblade imprisonment might pass an Imperial court. But it wasn’t likely.

“Do a vote,” Korvus said.

“What?” Menes and Serena said in unison.

“Do a vote. Let’s get it done.”

“With no plan?”

“I have a plan. We can make arguments before they vote, yes?” Once Menes nodded, Korvus continued, “We will convince them then.” freēwēbnovel.com

“Are you… sure?” Serena asked.

“Don’t question me,” Korvus growled. “I’m sick of this place.”

Menes exchanged a look with Serena and shrugged. “Perhaps we will get lucky,” he said. He turned and told the council, “We will vote with four.”

“With four? Excellent,” Nasr said with a smile. He reached and produced a small ceremonial hammer, which he used to strike the table. “With the absence of High Councillor Asrar, I will lead the vote for the petition as presented by Menes Bastet and”—his expression darkened—“friends.” He cleared his throat and continued, “The council recognises the absence of Councillor Idris, and will proceed. The petition requires three votes to pass.” He tapped his hammer again and gestured to Menes. “You may make your arguments,” under his breath, he muttered so quietly no one but an aether user could hear, “so we can be done with this farce.”

“Did you hear that?” Korvus muttered as Menes stepped forward to make his arguments.

“Yes,” Serena replied.

“I hate this place,” the Northerner said.

“It has its charms,” Serena mused, looking around. “Not in here, though.”

“It’s too damn hot.”

“It is.”

Menes spoke passionately for his case. He did his best to settle the nerves of Ishaq regarding Rhaknam and talked about how much they owed to the brave sailors who patrolled the Passage. He talked of the food on their plates and the prices of everyday items that were imported from the East. The Arakian’s playful side slipped in a few times, and Menes told a small joke or two that made the surrounding crowd laugh. It was a speech that was both entertaining and moving.

“Not bad,” Korvus mumbled.

“No, but it’s a speech for the crowd, not for the Councillors,” Serena said. Throughout it all, the four councillors remained stony-faced, unrelenting to Menes’ charms.

“Why are you even here, anyway?” Korvus asked. “Don’t lie and tell me it's for a training mission. They wouldn’t waste the Vengeance on that. Not with your trained crew.”

“If you wanted to know that, you shouldn’t have mutinied.”

Korvus clicked his tongue. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“Just stating a fact.”

It was a bit funny, Serena thought.

Councillor Nasr banged his hammer. “Yes, thank you, Menes Bastet. Your words were very… moving. Now…” He bent down from his high position, glaring at Serena and Korvus. “Are there any more arguments?”

Serena glanced at Korvus.

“You go first,” he said. “I’m still thinking about what to say.”

With a nod, Serena took the stage. “Councillors,” she began. “I have only been in Ishaq a short time, but I have heard many a warm tale spoken in the East. Upon arriving in your city, I found it friendly, welcoming, and…” Serena continued to give a rather rosy picture of a foreigner's view of Ishaq, and why it was so important to protect. As much as she’d like to chastise the council for the rampant gambling and drug dens, she knew this wasn’t the place. She tried instead to emphasise the importance of trade through the Passage to maintaining their city, and how Centralis would look poorly upon them for not being more proactive.

She knew Nasr was connected to Charles Hornford, and that he was in turn connected to some level of corruption. Pirates, or even darkblades themselves. She tried to imply, while looking at Nasr directly, that a lack of action could bring down Imperial investigators. Whether he understood her words at all, let alone took them as a warning or threat, she wasn’t sure. She liked to think she saw some movement in Councillor Karim, some warming from him, but she couldn’t tell. She didn’t miss how the rest of them frequently looked to Nasr for assurances. Serena was under no illusion about who held the true power here.

She gave them a bow at the end, a last bit of etiquette that they probably didn’t deserve. The councillors gathered to discuss her words in hushed tones. Whether they were really considering what she said in good faith or putting on a performative piece for the surrounding citizens, she didn’t know.

“That was good, my sayyidah,” Menes said approvingly.

“I fear it won’t be enough,” she replied. “I don’t think they’re really listening.”

“Corruption,” Korvus muttered. “Of course, your speech wouldn’t be enough. They won’t vote for us.” He clicked his tongue. “This is a stupid way to govern a city.”

“What would you have me do, Korvus?” Serena snapped. “There’s only so much we can do.”

Korvus snorted. “There’s only so much you can do, Captain.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“They are ordinary men,” the Northerner said, gesturing to the chatting councillors. “Weak men. Shielded by a thin veneer of wealth and procedural confidence. Guarded by those with weak aura.” The demon looked at her. “You might be restricted in your actions, because you have your highborn family and reputation to consider. That is why you’ve forgotten the truth.”

“What truth?”

Councillor Nasr’s hammer banged, and he called for Korvus to step forward.

“I hate this heat,” he muttered as he passed Serena. “I was sent down here for doing what was right, for not holding back when others would. If I do the same again, I could return to the North.”

“What are you thinking about doing?” she asked the Northerner. Somewhere, deep in her mind, a warning aetherlight started emitting.

Korvus looked around. “It’s spacious in here, Captain. Sturdy building. The citizens are far away…”

“Korvus…” Serena said. “What truth?”

“Speaker Maranai, if you would,” Nasr said with an exasperated sigh, “we are waiting.”

“The primordial truth, Captain,” Korvus said, taking a few steps towards the councillors, a confident smile spreading across his face.

His aether convection accelerated.

“The truth of the battlefield,” the demon said, his breath misting with aether. “The truth of war.” He turned, looking at her. “I’ll get you your votes, Captain. See it as an… apology, if you want.”

Adrenaline surged through Serena’s body as she realised what he was doing.

“Korvus, wait—”

“The truth,” the demon muttered, clenching his fists, “that might makes right.”

“Menes, aura!” Serena shouted, pushing her own into yellow as quickly as she could. “He’s going to—”

“Bayle,” Spoke Korvus.

And the Mad Dog was unleashed.