Overlady: Attack of the Minions (Thread II)

"Let's be frank here. Why do we have the monarchy? It's essentially a coin-flip whenever a new one takes the throne as to whether they're a saint or a black-hearted tyrant. And their morals – or should I say the lack of them – are disgraceful! They're always marrying their siblings and taking demons and angels as consorts and having secret affairs with their shapeshifting dragon and other sort of things that decent folk don't do. I'm telling you, the Albionese have the right idea!"

– Eloise-Kathleen the Petite, Bourgeoisie Agitator






Spring rain hammered down upon the bleak landscape. Crashes of thunder and lightning cast the looming trunk-like shape of the base of the ancient tower into stark relief. Malicious and cruel creatures patrolled its top, huddling under stolen dead men's clothing and occasionally pushing each other off the side for a laugh.

Down in the depths, the overlady of this forsaken place was engaged in dark deeds. Before her lay a hulking granite coffin, roughly hewn from the rock. In the coffin was a crumbling skeleton. The bones lay all out of order, and the torchlight gleamed off the fanged skull. Her vile goblin-like servants gibbered and cackled as they manoeuvred a heavy bronze bowl into position at the head of the coffin.

"If any of you spill that blood, I'll have you flayed, resurrected, drowned, brought back again, and then have your loot confiscated!" the overlady ordered.

"Oi, you lot, you heard the overlady! She are well serious about all of this!" called out the brown goblin next to her, who wore armour largely made of skulls.

With a clanking and a clattering, the vessel was firmly placed in the cradle of levers and pulleys intended for it. The accursed villainess made a note on the parchment before her, adding another tick to the long list of sinister actions required for her latest diabolical scheme. "I do believe that's everything," she said.

"Yep, overlady!" chirped up a green goblin in a dress and a powdered wig.

"Then it is time to bring back a vampire!" the dark lady intoned.

There was a pause. The minions glanced at each other, wondering who was going to speak up first and risk loot confiscation.

"Uh, overlady?" asked Maxy. "Which vampire is you talking about?"

"Yeah," agreed Fettid, "cos we still got the ashes of the one you killed way back when in a pile somewhere. If you is wanting to bring them back, then we gotta go fetch them."

"And that are gonna take ages," Maggat said soundly. "Honestly we no are even sure where we left him. I think Talunt mighta snorted them. He got a problem. We is thinking about staging an inter-vent-shun."

Louise de la Vallière brought her hand up to her face, gauntlet hitting her helmet with a solid clank. "I mean Cattleya! The vampire we have right here! Who is my sister! And who I actually have reason to want to bring back!"

"Ah, well, you gotta be clearer about this sorta thing," Maggat said.

"This no are a con-struck-teeth place to be amb… ambi… not clear," Fettid said, picking her teeth with a knife.

"Why the heck would I want to bring that hesitant cretin back?" Louise fumed. Honestly, minions! They were stupider than… than a very stupid thing! Like a self-referential simile!

"You is the overlady. It no are our place to do the thinking," Maggat said. "We is here to obey."

"It no are in our contract," Char agreed. "We is working to rule 'ere."

"Except for Gnarl, of course."

"Well, duh. He are management, not part of the prole-eat-a-rat."

"But I'm not going to bring that other vampire back so this is an irrelevant distraction!" Louise snapped before they could say something about eating rats. "So everyone, just shut up and pour in the dang blood! Honestly! I'm trying to make it a little bit dramatic and you had to go ruin it!"

"Oh no, she has caught the melon drama," Scyl whispered a little too loudly. "Probably from all the blood 'cause watermelons is like blood inside."

Maggat thumped him. "Pour in the blood!" he hollered.

Machinery clanked and ropes crackled as the great bronze bowl tilted. A wave of steaming crimson blood spilled down into the coffin.

"Phew-ee!" said Scyl. "What are that smell?"

"It're blood."

"Oh yeah, so it are."

"You so stupid, Scyl."

Lord and Founder, Louise prayed in her head, couldn't the minions shut up for just once?

Thick white mist roiled and boiled, pouring up and out of the stone coffin and cascading down the sides. It crept across the floor, moving like a living thing. Wherever it touched, the blood disappeared. Wispy hands rose up out of the mist, snatching at the air. A rat happened to scamper too close to the sinister flowing fog, which surged out to envelop the creature. When it withdrew, all that was left was a desiccated corpse.

The mist turned scarlet and rose up, then spiralled inwards to form a pillar, sucked back into the coffin. In the silence, a death rattle sounded.

And the vampire rose from her tomb. She surfaced from the blood filling the coffin, grasping the stone sides, and levered herself upright. Cattleya de la Valliere opened her eyes, which burned a dull red, and ran her tongue over her prominent canines.

Her head rotated a little further than heads should as she focussed on her little sister.

"Um. Good evening, Catt," the dark lady said, rubbing the back of her neck. "How are you feeling?"

"How long?"

"I don't…"

"How. Long?" Cattleya demanded, baring her fangs.

"Uh. Just a month. Or two. Really three. And a half."

Cattleya twitched her head, bone creaking as she flexed her jaw. "Oh no, something awful must have happened!"

"I… excuse me?"

"Oh, so nothing bad happened?" Cattleya smiled, tilting her neck. There was still a lot of fang showing. "Well, then, why did you take that long to bring me back!"

"This wasn't easy! I lost most of your ash, which really increased how much life energy I needed. And I had some munitions depots belonging to the Council to blow up, and tax collectors to ambush. Plus, Jessica dug up some research papers for me that revealed that feeding minions to vampires was a 'very good thing to do' which led me to get her to work on purifying the life energy so you wouldn't wake up in a grump."

"In a grump? In a grump?" Cattleya threw her hands up. "Well, I'm awfully sorry – and do correct me if I remember things wrong – but at least as far as I can recall, you murdered me!"

"Nonsense." Louise felt on sounder ground here. "You're already dead, Catt. You can't murder the undead." She crossed her arms. "That's well established under both Church and Tristainian law."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," her sister said with brittle calm.

"Why are you making such a big deal about it anyway? I only did it because I knew I could bring you back, while the same didn't apply to Eleanore."

"You blew a giant hole in my chest!"

"It's not there anymore. No harm done." Louise cleared her throat. "And on that note, Catt, would you like a towel? And maybe a bathrobe? And then a bath. Because as it stands, you're not exactly wearing anything apart from, uh, a thin coating of blood." She picked up the towel she had brought along, and tossed it to her sister. "I did have your maids run you a bath. They've all been missing you." She nodded. Such devotion from servants was quite admirable.

Cattleya seemed to perk up at that. "Oh, of course, I can't believe I wasn't there for them for months and months! They were probably worried sick." She stooped down and started to towel herself off, fairly immediately soaking the cloth with cooling blood. "I'll go up and see them!"

And with that said, she collapsed into a creeping fog, flowing towards the door.

"Don't forget, we have book club tomorrow!" Louise called after her. "And don't trail blood through my halls!"






Spring light shone in through the high windows of the van Delft estate. The library smelled of old paper and a hint of mould. Over from next door, the sound of a discussion on a romantic novel that Magdalene had nothing but contempt for could be heard. For that reason and others, the cult priestess and the overlady were meeting privately.

"So how is it on the Regency Council?" Louise asked, cradling Magdalene's son in her arms. She smiled. "It hasn't gone to your head and left you bloated and conceited?"

"Support his head more," Magdalene ordered, before leaning back. The shadows clung to her, even if she was wearing a loose and brightly coloured maternity dress. "And honestly, I've just been rushed off my feet with everything that's going on in Amstrelredamme." She paused. "Your mother has been snooping around. As have Guiche de Gramont's little band."

Louise swallowed. "Is she associating with them?" she asked nervously.

"No." Both women sighed in relief. "She's very much keeping things on the down low. Meanwhile, de Gramont is blundering around. I've got him chasing dead ends and cleaning up rival cults, but they're distracted anyway."

"What is Kirche after?" Louise asked. The baby in her arms made a soft burbling noise, and her features softened. Despite her best efforts, she was softening to her… second cousin twice removed. Probably. Stupid gnarled up family tree. But his fingers were so tiny wrapped around her fingers!

She was very concerned that she might be experiencing maternal feelings. She didn't have time for that sort of thing! And if Gnarl found out, he'd probably give her a tiresome lecture about how they distracted from the cause of Evil, or some such rot.

"Not the von Zerbst," Magdalene said, with a slightly amused expression as she took in Louise. "The daughter of the Montmorency family is getting married."

"Oh." Louise shrugged. "I never liked her. So I don't care."

Magdalene rose, retrieving a collection of papers, and adjusted her reflective spectacles. "Mmm hmm. Now, the Council hasn't let me into their innermost councils. Jean-Jacques and Richelieu have their own private meetings and they're keeping me ignorant. In fact, they're offloading work onto me. But I can put some things together. I know Jean-Jacques too well for him to be able to hide everything."

She laid the papers down on the table in front of Louise. "The Regency Council is in contact with the Albionese revolutionaries and the Lord Protector. It's not a secure alliance — the Council is overtly acting to be prepared for an Albionese invasion. But they have contacts behind the scenes, and they're planning something big."

Adjusting the sit of the baby in her arms, Louise leaned forwards, pouring over the papers. She didn't like that sound of that. She'd been trying hard to stop Henrietta dragging her into some kind of Albionese fiasco. That wasn't why she was the overlady. The fact that nagging at the back of her mind was the idea that Henrietta might use black magic to bring the prince back from the dead and that'd leave Louise with no chance with her was not a contributing factor. At all. Really.

"I was initially worried about possibly the Albionese invading after we overthrow the Council," she said carefully. "But if they're allied, that's even more disturbing. The Albionese Commonwealth is anti-monarchist. Do you think Wardes and Richlieu are going to try to overthrow the monarchy?"

"Jean-Jacques, no. I don't think so. I think he's planning something else," Magdalene said thoughtfully, picking up one specific bit of paper and showing it to Louise. "But Richelieu. Maybe. I think he'd like the crown. Or at least the position of Lord Protector General-in-Chief for Life." She pursed her lips. "Rumour is that he was looking to assume the papacy, but the current pope is a young man. I think he's decided that there's no way to out-wait him, so he's settling for a 'lesser' prize."

Louise nodded, and tried to steeple her fingers. Unfortunately, Magdalene's baby was not cooperating with the proper evil posture. "I don't think that's enough to act on," she said, trying to cradle a baby sinisterly and failing. "We'll need to watch for that, but we want to get Princess Henrietta back on the throne before we do anything like that." She glowered, and mumbled, "No matter what she might want."

Magdalene unfortunately had very good hearing even if she was nearly blind without her glasses. "What is her desire?"

"Hmmph. She wants to go to make trouble in Albion. And," Louise said, wanting to ball her fists but having to settle for rocking the baby, "Princess Henrietta made some contacts with a group of Albionese dark elves."

"Trusting elves?"

"Exactly! It's a bad idea!"

"We are evil," Magdalene pointed out amiably.

Louise narrowed her eyes. "It's an ill-thought out idea! Please don't do that stupid evil pedantry thing." She sighed. "I'd appreciate any information you can get on the current state of affairs in Albion, though. If there are any would-be rebels, we might be able to support them. And that'd get Henrietta off my back."

"I'll see what I can do." Magdalene leaned in, scooping up her baby. "I don't think there'll be much, though. The Albionese have been very busy clearing out so-called 'Staytors'. Traitors to their cause."

"Wonderful," Louise said with a sigh. "Well, I'll take whatever you can get."

Magdalene nodded towards the papers. "Take those. They're copies. There might be something useful in them." Louise began to gather them up. "Now, on other matters… how have you been?"

Louise paused, looking away. "I… I mean, I've been getting used to being the overlady again. Been thinking a lot. About… various things." She swallowed, and tried not to give away that Henrietta had been one of the things she had been thinking on about.

Magdalene, in a display that reminded her that she was related to Eleanore, asked, "So, how is Princess Henrietta, then? You said she has been," Magdalene coughed, "on your back."

"Um. Well…"






Pale effervescent witchlights burned in the depths. They floated into the eye sockets of the skulls scattered around the morbid room, giving those long dead remains the semblance of life. Blood-red candles upon a black altar illuminated the dark liquid spilling out of the guts of the sacrificial rodent.

Princess Henrietta of Tristain pricked her left finger, and let the blood fall upon the dead rat. "Rise!" she intoned. "Rise and answer my call, oh spirit of..." She glanced at her family tree, which she had been methodically working her way through, "... Elisabeth, second consort of Charles XII. Answer my call!"

A thin mist rose up from the ground. Ectoplasm boiled and bubbled from the eyes of the rat — far more than its body could possibly have contained. Oozing and creeping, it took the form of a bust of the dead woman. The head took somewhat longer, but eventually it coalesced from the oozing green-grey substance.

"Who wakes me from my eternal slumber in the grey lands of the dead?" the dead queen-consort intoned in archaic Tristainian.

Henrietta crossed her arms and glared up at the spectral abomination. "If you start projectile-vomiting, I will be very unimpressed," she said clearly. "I've only just got the place cleaned up after the last one who did it. Who was your son, by the way." She cracked her knuckles. "And for your information, I have in place the triple-warding of Mortimer Osseous, the Fifth Pronouncement of Pope Necrach III, and I'm wearing a regal admonishment. If you try to possess me, you'll be painfully torn back to the Underworld, and I'll have drained the best part of your power."

"Oh, I wouldn't do such a thing," Elisabeth said, tilting her wobbling, jelly-like head.

"I'm just a little concerned, considering that you murdered your precursor, captured the king's mind inside a gem, and had your demonic lover puppet his flesh around."

The spectral apparition smiled. "Yes, and you are descended from me. Not yet twenty, and you're already an accomplished necromancer. What do you want me to do? Murder your father? A brother?"

Behind her skull mask, Henrietta's expression hardened. "I am the crown princess. Traitors have plotted against me, imprisoned me, and defamed me — claiming I am an adulteress. I want to see them dead. I want to see them harried with nightmares, to see all they love destroyed, to watch them suffer."

The spectre smiled from ear to ear. Literally. "Oh, look at you. It's nice to see that the family hasn't lost its killer instinct. Just a question — are you actually an adulteress?"

The already-freezing crypt grew several degrees colder. "No. I am a pure virgin as per Brimiric law, and-"

"Oh, don't take it personally — I don't have anything against adultery. My husband was nothing compared to my demon lover," Elisabeth said. "And you're the crown princess — and you'll be queen? Well, isn't that grand. Just one question."

"Go ahead."

"The Fifth Pronouncement, you say?"

"Yes."

"Oh, you poor sweet naive girl." Her ectoplasm was drawing in more solidity and colour. "You did your research, I must admit — but not enough. Your flesh will keep me warm."

"Please don't," Henrietta said, taking a step back.

"Oh, you can't stop me," Elisabeth cooed, reaching out with one too long arm. Ichor dripped from the end of one claw-like nail. "Don't feel scared. You can't change a thing."

She touched Henrietta's cheek, and burst like a popped tick. Ice-cold ectoplasm went everywhere.

"Urgh," Henrietta said, shaking off her hand. Long thin slimy trails of translucent goo dripped off her fingers, pooling on the floor. "Well, at least the glass eye-shields behind the skull mask worked this time. I'll need to thank Jessica for that. And this is more power gathered for my great working." She looked over the dripping room. "But seriously, can just one of my ancestors not try to betray me and possess me? Please?"

There was a little voice in her head that suggested maybe this wouldn't happen if she didn't tell them she was using the fundamentally flawed Fifth Pronouncement. Maybe, just maybe, she should tell them she was using the actually-functional First to Fourth Pronouncements.

But honestly, it was doing a good chance of weeding out the ghosts who would try to betray her at a moment's notice. Which, so far, was all of them. This was the problem with only summoning evil ancestors. She'd tried some good ones, but they just lectured her about being 'evil' and 'wicked' and 'a morally corrupt harlot of a necromancer who disturbed the sleep of the dead'.

So much for good! Ha!

One hand went to the little locket around her neck, and without thinking she flipped it open. A tiny portrait of her prince stared back at her; eyes so blue, hair so blond, skin so fair. Her vision began to blur.

"Oh, my love," Henrietta whispered to him, cradling the locket. "Death will have no domain over you. I will have you back. All the terrible power of the Underworld will bear us to the chapel, and the screams of the souls who did this to you will scream us to sleep on our marriage bed." She brushed her lips against the tiny painting. "Soon. Soon."






"... she's enthusiastic," Louise said. "Really, uh, looking forwards to clearing her name."

"Oh, that's good," Magdalene said. "And. Um. You and… her?"

Louise looked away, cheeks turning bright red. "I don't have to answer that!"

"Well, I didn't want to have to ask it, but as the only female relative you have access to who isn't one of the living dead, I feel a disgusting sense of obligation." Magdalene sighed and tried to scowl her sisterly expression away. "It's probably motherhood messing with my body and mind. It's revolting."

Hands pressed to her blazing cheeks, Louise glanced back. Magdalene was fortunately just as red, and deliberately looking down at her son. "Nothing has happened," Louise mumbled. "I nearly… nearly plucked up the courage to have a talk with her and. Um. Then she started talking about Prince Cearl and how she still loved him and plans to raise him from the dead. That put a stop to that."

"Ah. That's… that's awkward. It's always a problem when there's. Um. Someone else in the relationship. Especially if they're dead." Magdalene coughed. "I could make a comment about 'boning', but that might be treason."

Louise frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"Never mind that. You'll understand when you get married. Or not, as the case may be. Well, no progress there. And though I really, really hate to continue on with this line of discussion — really, I hate it, it's mortifying — but, Emperor Lee?"

With a faint noise that was vaguely like "Ghnee," Louise sunk down in her chair and hid behind the table.

"You're… going to have to use words. I don't know what that means."

"I don't know myself," the table grumbled. "Sometimes he blows hot. Sometimes he blows cold. We've been… we've been doing something every fortnight or so. And it seems half the time he really likes me, and half the time he hates seeing me and he's just doing it out of obligation. D-does he actually like me? Or d-does he just want me for my evil magical power?" Louise sniffled. "I don't know how to handle this! How do you handle someone who acts nice half the time and nasty the rest of the time? Who'd do this to someone else?"

"Ow!"

A pink-haired head poked above the table. "What happened? Are you all right?"

"No, just bit the inside of my mouth. Now it tastes all iron-y."

"You should be more careful," Louise said. She was barely paying attention, lost in her own romantic dilemmas. "I have another maybe-a-date with him tomorrow. I hope he'll apologise for being such a… such a cold jerk last time! Or I'll… I'll do the same to him!"

Magdalene exhaled. "Good. I think I've fulfilled my family duties here. Thank the Founder. Now let's not talk of it any more. There are more important things to speak of. Like, for example, whether you've read any good books recently!"

Louise pulled herself up from under the table, still definitely pink. "Yes! Yes! Books! Books that aren't at all related to my love life or lack thereof! Ha ha ha. And we probably shouldn't mention any romance novels for at least half an hour just to be on the safe side! Yes!"

For all the mortification, she did have to wonder; was this what it was like having a big sister? One who wasn't Eleanore. Or Catt.






The carriage rattled its way back along the remote road. The foul-smelling and suspiciously goblin-like driver whipped the equally suspiciously goblin-like horses.

"Oi, quit it Maxy!"

The driver just lashed them again.

There was little conversation going on inside the carriage. Louise scribbled away in her notebook, flicking through the reports that Magdalene had provided her with, while Cattleya dabbed at her mouth with a blood-splattered handkerchief.

"We stopped to get you a snack," Louise said acidly. "Maybe now you'll cheer up a little."

"And I do appreciate it! I really do! You were super nice and didn't let me starve to death. Even if it would probably have been more convenient to you. After all, I'm the expendable one here!"

Louise clenched her jaw. "Oh, for goodness sake."

"Aren't you meant to say 'oh, for the sake of evil'?"

"No. Because that sounds stupid." Louise sighed, curling a lock of hair in one finger. "I thought you'd be happy I took you out somewhere. To meet people. And talk about books."

Thunder boomed outside. "I wasn't too pleased to hear that they're being mean to my dear Maria," Cattleya said darkly.

Louise looked at her sister, eyes flat. "That would be the same Maria who tried to betray them to Baelogji?"

"She didn't mean it!" She got a hard look in her direction. "Dark angel-god things are really scary! Trying to bargain with them to survive is something I can understand. I mean, I always got on quite well with Athe! He liked my beetle collection!"

"Cattleya, she tried to sell them out for power."

"It's basically the same principle! You're an overlady! I don't see how you can get in other people's faces for consorting with the forces of darkness!"

Louise harrumphed. "Betraying your friends and doing a few things that are technically not entirely morally clean are totally different!" she said, crossing her arms. She tried not to show a flicker of emotion at the memory of those few beautiful hours when she'd felt so light and so free and able to just do things and say things without anything in the way. Being the heir to Brimir's twisted legacy was such hard work.

"Well, after we got some private time, she asked me to move in with her! So there!"

All the blood rushed from Louise's face. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Cattleya waved her bloodied handkerchief. "I have friends too!"

"I know you have friends. I made sure you could see them," Louise groaned, holding her face in her hands. "But Cattleya, holding a grudge that I wasn't prepared to let you kill Eleanore is not helpful."

"See, this is exactly why I might want some time away from you," Cattleya said, flashing fangs. "Because it's far from being about that, and you don't even understand why I might want some time away." She tilted her head back. "We are, as the Albionese say, 'gals being pals'."

"Catt, I already know you're her friend. You don't need to make such a point of it," Louise said, exasperation in her voice. "But she's not good for you. She's willing to sell out at a moment's notice!"

"Well, perhaps, perhaps," Cattleya said sweetly. "But at least she won't blow my chest open with a lightning bolt and then take months to bring me back."

And that was enough to silence the carriage. Louise returned to reading the notes, while Cattleya stared out the window. And if either had tears in their eyes, they weren't going to let the other one see.






"Are you feeling quite well, Louise-Françoise?" Henrietta asked as the overlady swept in to her briefing room.

"Fine. Just fine," Louise said shortly.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course!" Louise scooped up her white cat onto her lap, who had been occupying her chair, then slumped down. The red leather squeaked under her. "I'm just slightly irked at Cattleya."

"Oh dear. What did she do?"

"A minor thing that I don't care about because it doesn't matter!" Louise said firmly, stroking her cat. She looked over at Henrietta, who was wearing a long gown the colour of dried blood and whose necklace was made of tiny silver skulls. She had been meaning to talk to her about that, but right now she just didn't have the mental energy to do it after her fight with her older sister. "What was it you wanted to talk about?"

"So, I sorted the notes you left lying around on your desk. The ones about Albion. You were so thoughtful to think of that!"

Louise's blood ran cold. Drat. She really, really hadn't meant to let Henrietta see them. But of course, she was just being helpful. "Go on," she said, trying to cover up the urge she had to punch something.

Henrietta nodded seriously, shuffling her papers. "I have been keeping up to date with the state of the sky-island of Albion in the aftermath of the Civil War, but Magdalene's notes are much more comprehensive than the reports I've had access to." She shook her head. "Albion remains deeply, deeply divided. I hadn't realised how bad it was getting up there — which is just wonderful for us." She smiled, showing teeth. "I want to see those murderous lords and ladies suffer for what they tricked the country into doing."

Louise chuckled nervously — entirely aware of how intense Henrietta could be about these matters — and leaned back in her chair. "I have to admit, I really haven't been paying much attention to the Albionese Civil War things. I mean, I was at school for most of it, and then I've," she sighed, "sort of been distracted with other things. But the entire thing seems… stupid."

The door opened, and Gnarl ambled in, chewing on cockroaches from a bowl. Without a word, he shuffled up into one of the seats, crossing his legs. "Don't mind me," he said. "For some reason, my invitation to this conference must have got lost. Probably got eaten by the minion you sent."

No, because I didn't invite you, Louise didn't say. "Probably."

Henrietta glanced at Gnarl, then turned her attention back to Louise. "So, the core reason for the Albionese Civil War was because the nobles were all disgusting traitors who didn't want to pay taxes," she said.

"Not to mention the rumours that the king had engaged in marital relations with a barnyard animal," Gnarl added, grinning happily.

Henrietta glared at him. "I don't put any credit in those rumours," she said tersely.

"I do!"

"Gnarl," Louise warned.

"Just providing the fullness of information, your wickedness."

"Ahem!" Henrietta said sharply. "But beyond the taxation and the… the scurrilous rumours, there was also a branch of the Albionese nobility who felt that Albion was too friendly to the continental powers." She blushed. "There were whispers at court that, uh, my sweet Cearl was going to marry me and there would be a union of Albion and Tristain."

Louise paused. "Wasn't that true?" she asked hesitantly.

"Not at the time the rumours started," Henrietta said hotly. "I was only twelve at the time! It's just a coincidence we later fell in love!" Gnarl made a gagging sound, which she ignored. "Now, yes, I must concede that fears of foreign entanglement were a real worry. The last personal union between Albion and Germania nearly bankrupted Albion as it was dragged into war against Gallia," she said, with a deep breath. "But then they went crazy."

"Crazy?"

"Well, the rebels started talking about moving floating Albion away from the continent. Dragging it up north, if you can believe it."

The overlady stare at her trusted advisor/kidnapping victim in disbelief. " Excuse me? They want to do what?"

Henrietta cleared her throat, playing with the bracelet of rat skulls around her right hand. "They want to attach giant chains to Albion and pull it north away from the continent using dragons. It's part of a great project they call 'Albigone'."

"But... why?"

"No one is entirely sure, to be honest. Cearl said that no one could really explain it to him either. Advocates would just shout 'Sovereignty!' and 'Freedom!' and talk about how everyone would be better off when they could export freely to the rest of the world."

"What rest of the world? The elves? The mysterious lands across the Great Western Ocean? The... the bears in the Northern Ice?"

"I don't know either. When pressed too hard, he said they'd just call the person a 'Staytor'."

Louise considered the situation. "That's stupid. They're stupid. They'll starve! Dragging Albion up north means..."

"They'll all starve when the crops fail," Gnarl said happily. "Maybe it's the Iron Lady again, looking to get more corpse-slaves. I never did hear what happened to her. Hard to get the latest information when you're stuck in a cage."

Henrietta shook her head. "No, I don't believe so. They broke her phylactery thirty years ago."

"Shame, shame. That was a woman you could look up to, when she was callously and brutally crushing innocent lives."

Louise tickled Pallas under the chin. "That's all well," she said, "but from what you're telling me, the Albionese government is not only traitorous dogs, but they're also insane. Or at least committed to a course of action which anyone with the slightest lick of sense knows is stupid."

Henrietta nodded. "Yes."

"And from the notes, they know their course of action is stupid, but they're either ideologically committed to it, or too afraid of being stabbed in the back by the frothing lunatics who do believe?"

"It would seem so. Oh, seeing those idiots caught in a trap of their own making just gives me a frisson of pleasure, my dear Louise-Françoise!"

"So," she tried, "we don't really have to get involved, do we? We can just let them bankrupt themselves and starve."

That earned her a judgemental stare from Henrietta. "Albion has always been a good ally to Tristain!"

"Apart from when you've been at war!" Gnarl chuckled. "Which is, oh, a good forty years out of every century."

"We can't let my love's subjects starve! The only moral thing to do is to brutally murder everyone involved in their treasonous pl—"

"There are more important things, like clearing your name," Louise said, before Henrietta could say anything more. "What time is it Gnarl?"

"Just past noon."

Louise paled. "That late? I thought I'd have… oh no!"

"What is it?" Henrietta demanded.

"I have another date with Lee this evening! I need to get ready!"

Henrietta took Louise by the arm. "Well, come on then! Come with me, to the baths! We need to get you cleaned up, because you've clearly been in the dusty library again! And have you even thought about what to wear?"

"Well, not exactl—"

"Louise-Françoise!"

"I've been busy!"

"Well, we're getting you cleaned up and then I'm going to grab Jessica to make sure you look properly fitting for your swain! I'm going to scrub you clean! You're my subject and we can't have some Cathayan emperor looking down on you because you have dirt on your neck!"

"Stop embarrassing me," Louise wailed, blushing pinkly.

"Never! It's for your own good! To the baths with you!"






An unnatural spectrum of kaleidoscopic lights from infernal machines played across the walls. Their mechanistic chimes and hums were unlike anything of the living world. The foul braying creatures of the Abyss took their merriment in this place of horrors. In one room, a starving demon was unleashed in a maze to seek food while fleeing a quartet of murderous ghosts. In another, gawky incubi hunted each other with enchanted crossbows that fired bolts of malignant light. In the far corner, younger demons operated vicious clawed cranes seeking to pull screaming prey from pits.

"This is something that is… popular?" Louise enquired, adjusting her translation glasses. She glanced over at the huddle of a horned pink-haired girl with red tattoos covering her arms, a boy with turquoise hair and golden skin, and a red-eyed albino with feathered wings. What was it that they saw in feeding coins into a machine to make two demons fight on a narrow stage above spikes?

Emperor Lee nodded. "My spies have told me so," he said. Louise thought she could hear a certain degree of puzzlement in his voice too. Today he was wearing black armour with gold overlays. His open-faced helmet was shaped to look like a dragon's head.

The two of them stood at the entrance way. Louise could feel her stomach churning, and unconsciously patted her chest to remind her that she had layers of steel there. Stab-proof armour was wonderful for one's self-confidence.

"Let us work towards making this go better than last time," said Emperor Lee.

Beneath her helmet, Louise blushed. For a moment she wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or anger, but then the reddish-pink mist parted and she realised it was both. That jerk! He was the one who'd been all cold and distant and totally different last time!

Rather than look at him, she stared around for something — anything — that wouldn't involve potentially causing a diplomatic crisis. Something involving a mallet and captive goblins poking their heads out of holes caught her attention. "Let's give this a go!" she said, marching off without waiting for him. She picked up one of the mallets, and hefted it speculatively.

Emperor Lee caught up with her, and tried one of the mallets. His arms shook somewhat. Hah! Clearly his armour was enchanted to be as light as cloth! She couldn't exactly afford that, but marching around in actual armour did help build endurance. "What's the point of this?" he asked.

Louise grinned. "It's a chance to smash goblin skulls," she said. "On the count of three…"

By the time the bell rang, Emperor Lee was wheezing. Louise had a manic light in her eyes. Yes, she was tired too — and somewhat annoyed that the mallets were rubber-headed — but it had been cathartic to imagine that the goblins were minions. And also Wardeses. There had been some Lees among them too. And also a Cattleya and a Henrietta.

Honestly, she had anger to spare.

She glanced over at Lee, who limped over to one of the seats and slumped down. She put one hand on her hip. "Tired already?"

"I have people to do my sword-fighting for me," he muttered.

Something about that rung false to Louise. "Wait. Last time you were talking about how you'd collapsed an entire mountain pass on northern barbarians and then cut down the survivors."

Lee froze up. "Well, I… I might have exaggerated," he said, looking away. "Sword-fighting is an uncivilised endeavour that involves putting yourself at risk for little gain."

She pursed her lips. With what he was wearing, he did look skinnier than she'd thought. Instead, she crossed her arms and tried for her best haughty tone. "I can't believe you'd lie to me about something like that."

He tilted his head. "I'm the Dark Dragon Emperor," he said. "Of course I'd lie to you about a lot of things."

"Those are matters of state," Louise said, flapping her hand at him dismissively. "They don't count in the same way. Look at me. I'm not exactly some hulking muscle-bound barbarian princess," an image of Henrietta in the baths flashed into her head and wouldn't go away, "... and… and I still have more stamina than you," she finished lamely.

He scowled. "Putting too much effort into such physical traits is unwise. Manual dexterity is all you need, for magic. I'm not my sister."

Louise tilted her head. "You have a sister?"

"Had. She… she liked fighting too much. More than a lady 'should'. While I was terrible at being a 'proper man'." He paused. "But she is dead and I am not," he added quickly.

Brushing down the strange red material of the seat, Louise sat herself down beside him. She wasn't sure what to say. Part of her wanted to say that she was sorry. Part of her wanted to call bullshit on his blatant ploy for sympathy, because how stupid did he think she was to trust him on an apparent emotional revelation, honestly? "That's sad," she said. She wracked her brain for something else to add. "I don't think you're not a 'proper man' just because you're an evil wizard rather than some swaggering brute."

That earned her a surprisingly warm smile. "That's good to hear," he said.

He looked entirely different when he smiled like that. Louise rather wanted to see more of that smile. "So, how have you been?" she asked.

He shrugged, with a clanking of armour. "Could have been worse. Things have been proceeding in the South East. It's been easier without those three troublesome lords around."

Louise nodded, acutely aware of how she had one of then locked in her dungeon very much alive. "That's good to hear."

"Mmm. You?"

She considered what to say. "What do you know of Albion?"

"That strange floating island in the West? Not much." He leaned back in his seat. "Their government has been talking to me. Trade and similar things."

"Trade?" She frowned. "All the way from Cathay?"

He shook his head. "I don't understand what they're thinking of. They wanted to buy a lot of rare alchemical metals and gemstones."

She pursed her lips. "Are you going to sell?"

"I already have. They were clearly desperate — my trade negotiators gouged those proud men who thought they were so clever." He chuckled humourlessly. "They are not very clever, and that stupid blond man leading the delegation was insulting."

Inside, Louise's mind was whirring. Why would the Albionese go to Cathay to buy rare metals? Yes, their flying island was short of them, but there were places in Halkeginia they could find them. The only reason they could have to go to Cathay was… that they didn't want the kings of Halkeginia and the pope finding out what they were doing. "What kind of metals?" she asked with false idleness.

From the look on Lee's face, it hadn't worked. "It all depends. What is it worth to you?"

Louise froze up. Oh Founder. What should she do? What would her mother do? Wait, she'd murder such a potent lord of darkness. What about Cattleya… no, no, that'd involve drinking his blood. Louise's mind grasped for a voice of female advice that didn't involve murder, and came up with Jessica, who'd tell her to use her feminine wiles. Well, actually she wouldn't, but Louise mentally substituted that for what Jessica would actually say which would probably involve rather more knowing stares and rib nudges.

She swallowed. "Well," she said, quite aware that her voice was higher than usual, "if you'd just help out a bit, I'd be really very grateful."

"Oh." Emperor Lee swallowed. "How grateful?"

Louise wasn't entirely sure herself. "Very," she said, trying not to squeak.

The dark emperor paused where he was. "Well, I suppose if I didn't mention specifics…" He left the sentence hanging.

"I'd be a little less grateful," Louise said, throat dry. Part of her was very glad to have a way to back out. "But still a bit grateful."

The only noise for a while was the backdrop of the demonic entertainment place and the gibbering of the inhabitants of the Abyss. Claxons sounded and creatures wailed. Then; "The Albionese wanted to buy two main categories of metal," Emperor Lee said. "They wanted meteoric iron — that iron which falls from the sky. They wanted certain Cathayan steels that are very, very light and strong. And they also wanted certain kinds of gemstone that are used for the binding of spirits."

Louise's mind whirred. "I see. Thank you," she said curtly.

"You have an idea what they wanted them for."

"Not yet," she said, in response to his not-question.

"Hah. I am not sure what they wanted to do. With a floating island like that, I would build a death fortress that could fly over the lands of my enemies — or rebels — and crush them from an aerial position. If you broke it apart, you could get countless invincible sky-skips."

"Yes." Louise swallowed, and turned fully to face him. Her throat felt parched. Lord, why was she having to handle both conspiracies of evil Albionese traitors and her feelings for Emperor Lee at the same time? It just wasn't fair! And on top of that, she had to discharge her gratitude before he started getting ideas. "I am grateful," she began, reaching out. Her metal gauntlet brushed his, and he flinched back as if she'd cast lightning at him.

Strangely that made her feel better. As a dark overlady of wicked darkness, she had learned about the power of fear. Maybe it was good for a boy to be a little bit scared of you. Not too scared. But just scared enough.

Carried on a wave of worry and nerves, Louise reached out, and placed both hands on the side of his head. And then she leaned in, pressing her lips against his and barely avoiding losing an eye to the ornamental dragon-skull on his brow.

The Dark Dragon Emperor of Cathay turned pale, and let out an unmanly squeak. He didn't pull away, though. She felt strangely proud of that.

Louise let go, and leapt to her feet. "I said I'd be grateful!" she blurted out. "Um. I… I need to go to the bathroom." She rushed off without waiting for a response.






The bathroom was grimy and the floor was tacky. A teenage succubus was in here, adjusting her make-up in the mirror. Louise kept well away from her and her excessive amounts of eau de brimstone, and splashed cold water on her face.

With trembling fingers, she touched her lips. That… that hadn't been awful. He'd been warm, and soft. She dug around in a pouch to recover her purse, and from that retrieved the universal antidote lip balm that Jessica had provided her with. She didn't trust him to not have poisoned his lips.

"Stop it," she hissed to her shaking hands. "You've kissed men before." Only on the cheek in greeting, she could add, but didn't. "That's… that's no different."

She applied the lip balm to her lips as well as some of the surrounding area of her face — which probably made it more effective, right? — and couldn't help but touch them again. Would Henrietta's lips feel like that? Would they be softer? Warmer? Taste gritty because she'd been rubbing grave ash into her face again? Romance novels seemed to have the idea that kissing was wonderful and magical and captured your heart and… well, she felt somewhat mis-sold. What it had felt like was pressing her lips to someone else's. It hadn't been much different from kissing someone on the cheek, apart from the frisson of this being something good girls didn't do. You know, kiss evil emperors.

Then why was she shaking?

Maybe it was one of those things that got better with practice. The blush hit like a tsunami as she imagined trying again with an individual who alternated between wearing Henrietta's and Lee's faces.

"Like, if you're going to do that, could you, like, do it in private?" the succubus said, shooting a filthy glance in her direction.

"Do what?"

"Go and feel so lusty. Duh."

Louise spluttered, glared, and barely managed to resist the urge to scorch that annoying whiny pain in the butt. And only then because it might cause a diplomatic incident or something that she just didn't need on top of everything else. Rather than meet the other girl's eyes, she locked herself in one of the stalls and tried to think of something else. Like what Emperor Lee had said.

Wait.

Giant mobile dragon-pulled sky island fortress. The Albionese having no sensible reason to drag their sky island up north. The Albionese government being acknowledged as a bunch of inept morons who have problems deciding what to serve at their councils, let alone make meaningful decisions.

Louise could feel a yawning chasm in her logic. It would take a leap to clear it — and she had such a leap.

Someone knew about the future she'd seen. The one where the world tore itself apart leaving only sky islands above the Abyss. Someone was pushing the Albionese to do this, using them as patsies so there'd be a mobile fortress island that could survive the catastrophe. She didn't think it was someone Albionese. They had too much to lose. But someone else was going to profit from this.

Well, sugar. Stupid stupid world. She was going to have to do something she'd been trying to avoid.






The iron door bounced off the stone wall with a loud clang.

"You know, you could've just knocked," Jessica said with a sigh, looking up from her jeweller's table. "Use your hands for opening doors, not your stylish-and-fashionable metal boots."

Louise slumped down on the reinforced chair set aside for her. It was a replacement for the previous chair, which had not been rated for a small girl in a lot of armour flopping onto it. "I'm going to have to go to Albion," she said bitterly.

"If you want to kiss and tell about what Henrietta offered you, I'm all ears," Jessica said, her expression shifting to a smirk.

"Urgh, no." Louise flapped an armoured hand in the direction of the annoyingly smug half-incubus. "It was something that came up on the date with Emperor Lee. He had information about what's happening there. They've been buying magical gems and metal from Cathay, and, um," she blushed, "I managed to coax him into telling me."

Jessica rose, fetching a bottle of something dark brown and fizzy. "Well, I can tell you didn't go all the way — incubus, remember? — but from the blush you went some of the way. Did he have to help you put your armour back on?"

"I… you… no! Of course not!" Louise crossed her arms. "All my armour stayed on!"

Jessica grinned, and poured the drinks. "Oooh, you got to the second circle."

"No, I…" Louise blinked. "What does that mean?"

"Second circle? Feeling through the clothes?"

"What, Lord, no! We were both wearing plate armour. We just kissed, which-"

"First circle, niiiiiiiiice. Did you use any tongue?"

".. tongue?"

"OK, we're going to have to talk about how to kiss boys properly. Or girls, as it may be in your case."

"Shut up, Jessica," Louise said, glaring at her. "I am talking about things that matter here!" She ignored the muttered comment, which was probably something about how being a good kisser mattered, and picked up her drink. "The Albionese are probably turning the whole country into a giant dragon-pulled death fortress of flying doom," she said, just as Jessica took a swig from the bottle.

The snort and the sight of the drink coming out of Jessica's nose was excellent payback. "Oh… ow!" Jessica spluttered, dripping Hellish beverage. "Oh dark gods, it's all over me. They're doing what?"

"Turning all of Albion into a weapon," Louise said flatly. "And that means I have to get involved. Because Tristain is the easiest target." She wasn't going to mention her vision of the future to Jessica, because she didn't trust her to not think it was a good idea and then try to make it come true. "I wanted to leave them alone, but now they've made myself my problem."

Jessica nodded. "Yeah. Makes sense. We don't want them ruining our plans to take over the country and put your would-be girlfriend in charge."

"She's not my… that's… yes. Yes."

"Plus, we could take it! The Academy loves a superweapon plan!"

"You'll need to upgrade the ship to get us up to Albion without being intercepted by their navy." Her words tasted sour. "And then we have to trust elves."

Jessica gave up trying to dry herself down. "I'm going to have to come with you," she said, hands on her hips. "I know the dark elves, and you'll need someone who knows how giant magical doomsday weapons work. I took a semester on them at college."

"Oh no. No, no, no." Louise waved her hands in front of her. "No way. Not a chance. Out of the question. I don't want to be eternally tortured by your father, so trust me when I say there is absolutely no possibility I'm taking you to Albion with me!"

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Look, we both know you'll have given in by the time it actually comes to the departure. So can we just skip that bit and just accept I'm coming? It'll give me more time to get things done if I don't have to argue you down. Plus, I'm a princess of the Abyss, so we can use diplomatic plates and get into the hellgate fastlane if I'm there."

Louise opened her mouth. Louise closed her mouth. "Can't you at least let me feel like I have a say?" she muttered.

Reaching out, Jessica squeezed her arm. "Tell you what," she said kindly. "As far as everyone else is concerned, we had a screaming argument and it took me a week to persuade you. 'Kay?"

"Mmm hmm." It helped. A bit.