This quest starts at the end [Villainess Quest]

[X] "I could win this battle, but I would not see my people suffer." You point at the door. "Tell him I refuse."


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[ ] Like a knife. Small, but sharp and just as deadly as the greatest blade.

[ ] Like a hammer. The opposition is left to pick up the pieces.

[ ] Like an arrow. Flying true, piercing through the heart of the matter.

###



Dear Diary---

My father once asked me a simple question.


I thought I found the answer today as I looked up at his painting in the office. He never liked them, but he made one for me so that I could remember him by more than the sound of his voice that grows ever distant in my ears.

I wonder, if he were in my position, would he have done the same?

Would he have chosen to fight, like a knight whose hands carried the hardness of a sword?

Or would he have chosen the coward's way like I did.

If he were here... would he let me know if he thought less of me?

###

They arrive just as you knew they would. In this case, a messenger from the prince. He looks nervous, dressed in those fine robes and adorned with the crests that announce his official capacity. You smile at him, offer him a seat, let Petra bring you some tea.

Regardless, he knows that he is to be the messenger of news that are not going to cause joy. You see it in those grey eyes, in that quivering lip, in the way he swallows every few seconds and keeps the door in his field of view at all times.

"Thank you for your... generous welcome, Duchess," the messenger says. You twitch. The title is not fresh, but few call you by it. Some out of your desire for normalcy, others out of disdain for the name your mother chose. You have never held much love for religious symbolism, especially not the one that can be bought with money. A generous donation to the church was needed to name a child after one of the three saints. Evangeline, Aldrin-- her.

You nod. "I assume that this is about Aldrin's latest announcement."

"Indeed, madam," the messenger says. The fact that his head is still attached to his shoulders despite your knowledge gives him reason to relax. "As you know, the situation of the empire has... deteriorated. The borders are under constant attack, as the nobles responsible for them are... unreasonable in their demands of the crown and cannot be supported."

You frown. "You mean the crown prince refuses to send men to fight an invasion, and the duchies at the borders are unwilling to accept the authority of a crown that would not protect them."

The man swallows, than nods. You nod back.

"You have nothing to fear from me, but know that I am not uneducated or new at this. I recognize your face, you were there when I met with the prince to tell him what needed to happen."

"Yet the price you ask for-"

"I ask," you say, truly annoyed for the first time. You tap the table, pointing at the documents. The one on top, prepared for this meeting, is older than the rest. "That your prince honors the agreement between my father and his, the Sun of the Empire. My hand in marriage, as empress, blessed by the church and whatever gods you believe in. Then all my riches, even the paint on these walls, can be sold and the bountiful coffers will feed an army for twenty years."

The messenger twitches, his neck vanishing under his chin as he flinches into the chair with a force that caused it to creak. "I understand, madam. Due to the... circumstances of his new betrothal, he has sent me to offer you a most... most generous alternative."

"Oh?" You tilt your head forward, braid moving over your shoulder. "And what is that?"

"Become queen, second wife to the emp-"

You stand. "No."

"You would go to war with the crown?"

"I could win this battle," you say, slapping the table. The man jumps up. "But I could not see my people suffer. I will not raise an army, I will not become some cheap consort."

You point at the door.

"Tell him I refuse."

You know, of course.

He had no intention to ever accept your demands.

He will find that seizing what is yours to pay off an army that has no respect for him will be harder than he thinks.

[ ]The Wolfkeeper to the North.

[ ] The Lionknight to the South.

[ ] The Dragonblood to the East.

[ ] The Eagleclaw to the West.

###

Dear Diary---

Betrayal is a funny thing. Could it truly be called such if one never had any loyalty to the one who you are betraying?

Is that not the same with Aldrin, who broke word of kin?

###

It feels strange, though not wrong, to sit on the marble table that your father used to head. You refused the seat beforehand, the head seat empty now and your place next to the others, as equals.

Two men and two women, whose faces and hands reveal scars that you will never be able to carve into your own body. Battles fought and unfought, sacrifices that you will never make.

"I do not understand," Idial says. The man sat taller than you can stand. Hair so short it might as well not exist, a beard so long it matches your own hair's length. Though as old as your father was when he passed, he shows no weakness, his eyes shine in that same light that your father's did just weeks before he passed.

"I do, but I do not like it," Esther says. She sits only slightly shorter than Idial, though her presence matches his quite well. "You have a right to declare war, and you know the church has already declared you a heretic. What reason do you have to hold back?"

You frown. "I assure you, it's not holding back. You know as well as I do, the inevitable fate of all empires. I don't want a civil war, I don't want bloodshed for my subjects, who live closest to the capital, who cannot flee when war will follow them everywhere."

"Even if they would die for you?" Fabian asks. The shortest and oldest of the four. Wise beyond his years, calmer than the others, and likely the one man with a body count that reaches four digits by his own hand. "Is this not what you grant them protection for, to fight for you when it is possible?"

"To fight and die for my father," you say. You stand up. "You fight at the borders, your people die a one-sided battle and starve as the prince has five banquets a day to celebrate the insult towards my family that is the Gemstone Princess and his engagement."

"You're too smart to be that spiteful," Sura says. Shoulder long hair, the youngest of the four. She taught you much you know about the sword and much more you know about the world. "You want to see it crumble, we will see it crumble. If the prince had inherited more than the looks of his father, perhaps this could have been avoided."

"If he had half the wisdom of the emperor, the prince would have slit his own throat before considering allying with the church against the pillars of his own empire," Idial says, growling. "And yet here we are, listening to a plan as insane as his must be. Someone of your age, willing to die for what?"

"Were you not my age when you first went to war?" you ask him. Idial scowls. "Perhaps the circumstances are different, but I am not my father, and I am not you. I have my own war, my own battle. I will give the prince one more chance, but I know he will stray further from good reason."

"You stand poised at his heart with a bow," Fabian muses. "Hand him a knife, and he has the choice to cut the string or your throat. You know which he will choose."

"I always knew that I have a part to play in this devilish game," you say, shrugging as you walk around the table. "And if there's that afterlife the church describes, if their word on this world is so strong that I will earn eternal damnation

"There must be another way. To avoid both war and your plan."

"If you can grant me a boon to turn time back before things escalated to this point, I will take it," you say. "But such things exist in fairy tales for those who wish to change their fate. I do not care for mine, it is the fate of all others that is more important."

"Which is why you must become empress," Sura says, slapping the table with a force that cracked the marble all the way to the other end. "A united front, the people love you, your plan will not work! They will see the prince is making things up to get rid of you, they will support you!"

"We cannot fight a war on five fronts when four are already causing us to claw at each other's throats."

You stand behind your father's seat. You don't sit down, but the implication is clear.

You will not accept any more objections.

Sura is the first to stand. Through grit teeth and furious shaking, she bows. She accepts not an order, but a request by her student.

Fabian stands next. He nods, rather than bows. He disapproves, but like a doting grandparent, he cannot say no to his favorite grandchild.

Idial grabs the sword he had laid against the chair. He, too, nods. Despite his own anger, you can see his eyes dull in resignation.

"Who was it?" Esther asks. You blink, watching as the other three leave the room, Idial stomping angrily through the hall on his way out. "The one who set your path."

"I chose this myself," you say. After a moment of hesitation-- "Though the sun has lightened that path for me."

Esther's face twists from inquisitive to pained. She understands. Of all people, she is the one who can. "Can you do me a favor, then. Not from a Duchess to a Duchess, but from an aunt to her niece."

"Anything," you say. She doesn't smile at your eagerness. You don't expect her to.

"When the time comes, and you have doubts," Esther says, "even a flicker of it, then say my name and I will cut them down myself. Smile, and I will stay my blade."

You don't know how to respond to that.

She doesn't expect you to.

###

I can see him already. That greedy prince. When I close my eyes I see that beautiful arrogance that I used to feel something for.



My father chose wrong for me, but I will be damned before I bend the knee to an oath breaker.