TMarkos
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98 - No Good Men Shall Die
🕑 Added 2023-02-15 15:26:50 +0000 UTCIt surprised me, because I had never thought I would make that mistake - I, who have always been small enough to scramble under the machine. Having touched real power I was unprepared for its complexity. From the soul flows strength, yes, but it is only one piece of the puzzle.
I worried about the evil inherent in souls from the moment I first gained mine - one piece of that larger problem, in retrospect. The soul slipped into my flesh from Claude, and as the last gasp of life departed his body I gained the sight to know what you did to him, and to the doctor. Even with their betrayal of me so fresh, I was horrified; I swore to never use my soul.
Then came Sever’s camp, and the soul showed me the deaths of my friends. I don’t know if I could have saved them, but I did not try - too afraid of what you had shown me to do anything but watch them fall. When you came I dared to hope, and tried just once to save a man dying in front of me; it saddled me with another soul, and the knowledge of how irrevocably I was bound to you.
In Mendian the sting felt less present. Under Unai I learned healing correctly, safely. He was the first one who ever kindled hope rather than fear in me. I helped soldiers in the first days of the expedition, but when I healed a Safid - I assume you remember that day.
I did not let it deter me. With Unai’s encouragement I kept healing, and it helped. I did so much good; I thought I had grown to a place where I could take my stand against the world. I dared to believe I was enough to make a difference. I assume you remember that day as well.
- Annals of the Seventeenth Star, 693.
—
It was not hard to locate Carolus, as it happened; the Altenbach office was located in another venerable wing of the Assembly, presumably hard-won through some deal. Michael knew that the Altenbachs were a relatively recent ascension to power, as Ardan families went, so it was unlikely that the office had been in their possession for very many generations-
Michael shook his head, calming his thoughts, and sent his sight past the heavy wooden door in front of them; a moment later he withdrew it. “He’s here,” Michael sighed.
“You don’t sound happy about that.” Sobriquet gave him an annoyed look. “Why? What’s he done?”
“Nothing surprising,” Michael said, pushing the door open. The office was cluttered, crowded; where Karl Baumgart’s office was a room for meetings and deals, Carolus clearly viewed it as a working space. There was a large desk at one end, and a few smaller writing desks along one side of the room. Every surface was covered in papers.
He walked around to the far side of the desk, looking down at where Carolus was sleeping on the floor, soft snores coming from his open mouth. He still gripped his empty flask in one hand.
“Ghar’s bones,” Sobriquet muttered. “I don’t suppose Unai ever taught you that trick of his?”
“I never thought I’d have this much use for it.” Michael walked to stand behind the desk, cocking his head. “Shows how much I know. Is there anything you can do?”
She bent down, touching her fingers to the snoring man’s brow; a moment later Carolus sat bolt upright. His eyes were wide, darting around.
“What in Ghar’s bloody-” he sputtered, his face shading to an unhealthy red. His eyes settled on Sobriquet; a moment later they managed to focus on her. “Oh, it’s you. You two.” He paused. “You’re in my office.”
“Yes, well,” Michael said. “It seemed like the best place to find you, considering that you didn’t seek us out.”
“Oh, she isn’t going to like that,” Carolus muttered. He reached up to grip the edge of his desk. Wincing, he stood, wavering unsteadily on his feet. “You probably shouldn’t have come here.”
Sobriquet gave him a flat look. “Where else should we have met?” she asked. “You didn’t have the courtesy to fall into a stupor somewhere more convenient.”
“It wasn’t necessary before - oh, damn.” Carolus winced. “I’ve overdone it, haven’t I? It’s Stonesday?”
“The last time I checked, yes.” Michael gave him a reproachful look. “Weren’t you meant to be stirring up support for our cause? Talking to allies? Because I have been, results notwithstanding. Will we have any support at all in the chamber when it’s called to order?”
“They’ll fall in line,” Carolus slurred, shaking his head. “I didn’t neglect anything important, I just - I had to sleep.”
Sobriquet snorted. “I’d say you managed.”
“It’s not as though it’s my preference,” Carolus said, looking nettled. “The others, they looked, they died. Not all of them, but the ones that are strong enough to see-” He paled. “To see…” His fingers twitched, he dove down for his flask; a moment later he tossed it disgustedly to the side. He tore open one drawer of his desk after another, sending papers fluttering down until at last he came away with a small bottle of murky brown spirits. He flung the cork aside and took a lengthy pull, then another.
Michael and Sobriquet watched with mild concern as he lowered the bottle to wipe his lips. Carolus took a slow breath, then another; he opened his eyes. His lips pulled into a pitiful smile.
“I know,” he said. “The dignity of an Assemblyman indeed. It’s just so - so narrow.” He glanced at the empty neck of the bottle, looking around for the discarded cork; a moment later he sighed and drank the last swallow of liquor. As he set the bottle on his desk, he met Michael’s eyes. “I spent all of the afternoon watching futures wither away. I’d look, and see, and then it would be gone. You talked to Friedrich, and a handful died. You talked to your father-” He shook his head. “Our options are very limited now.”
“The Mendiko sent Lekubarri,” Michael said. “He wanted to talk with you, but you were - indisposed. There’s likely still time to coordinate in advance of the session.”
“Lekubarri,” Carolus rumbled. A moment later, he shook his head. “Oh, no. No no no, that wasn’t the right one. Damn me, no wonder-” He trailed off, turning away to rifle through a cabinet.
“Not the right one?” Sobriquet shot back. “The man is a terror. I don’t like him much, but I’m damn sure they’ve got nobody better on their side for this kind of knife work.”
Carolus gave a derisive snort, stooping to search another drawer. “That’s the problem,” he said. “Terrifying man like that, even the dullards in the chamber will remember why they’re scared of Mendian.” His fingers closed around another bottle, this one larger and nearly full; he pulled it from the drawer with palpable relief. “I do need to talk to him. I doubt he’ll be able to restrain himself. He’s violence, and violence is counter-” Carolus frowned, enunciating clearly. “Counter. Productive.”
Michael and Sobriquet exchanged a glance. “I can direct him to you,” Sobriquet said. “Let me see if I can-”
She cut off as the door burst open, revealing two burly guardsmen; they rushed into the room, followed by two more. Michael moved to stand in front of Sobriquet, though he had no doubt that she had vanished. The guards glowered at him, standing ready - and parting to reveal Isolde’s furious face.
“You!” she spat, glaring at Michael. Her eyes flicked to Carolus in the next moment; Michael caught the flicker of her soul at work, no doubt taking in the man’s decrepit state. “What did you do to him?”
“I woke him up,” Michael said wryly. “He was late for an appointment, and I was concerned.”
Isolde’s face grew indignant. “You don’t have business with him,” she said. “How did you even get in here? You’re not a member of the Assembly, you’re not even - guards! Take him out of here, get him out of the building.”
The closest guard took a step towards him; Michael didn’t move. “I’m going to speak at the Assembly,” he said, keeping his eyes on Isolde. “Carolus sought me out, to help him save Ardalt from the disastrous peace talks that you facilitated. He’s like this because he’s been staring too hard at what happens when we fail, from what I gather.” Michael nodded at Carolus. “Ask him.”
Isolde flushed, then paled; she took a half step back from Michael. “You know as well as I that he’s compromised,” she said. “Alone in a room with you-”
“That’s rich,” Michael snorted, feeling the color rise to his face. There was a flare of warning in the back of his mind, fresh from losing his temper with his father; he decided a moment later that his relationship with Isolde couldn’t degrade much further. “What did I catch you doing back in Daressa? You and Vera? Of the two of us, I’m not the one guilty of that particular insult.”
He lifted his chin. “I didn’t touch him, with my soul or otherwise. Carolus is an ally, one that I’m trying very hard to help so that our whole shitty country doesn’t fly to pieces. I’m trying to save him, and Sofia, and you, believe it or not.” He felt a ripple of consternation and lifted his head to look out the door to the hallway beyond. “Have I lied, just now?”
Sofia stepped into the room, her face unreadable. “You did not,” she said. “But deception is more than lies, as you well know. With you, I might not be able to tell.”
“Ghar’s fucking bones,” Michael muttered, exasperated. “I’m not your enemy, as much as you try to make it so.”
“He’s not,” Carolus said, overly loud. “I wanted him to - to talk to people. Talk to you.” He looked at Sofia. “You know what’s at stake. How close we are to losing everything.”
“Papa, it’s not-” Sofia’s cheeks flushed. “You didn’t have to go to him.”
Carolus straightened up, wavering with one hand clamped firmly to his desk. “I did. He doesn’t have sight, he can’t - there’s no concern of a feedback loop. It’s not as muddy.” He waved his hand frustratedly. “You know what I mean. Sight seeing itself act makes reflections-”
“You could have told me. We have other resources, we could have-” Sofia’s brows knit together, she turned towards a corner of the room. “You’ve been using her to hide from me?”
Sobriquet sighed, suddenly present where Sofia was looking. “It wasn’t my first choice either, but he was quite insistent,” she said. “I’d just as soon let the lot of you burn-”
“Less helpful, Sera,” Michael noted, spreading his hands. “Look, there is a threat here, but it’s not from me. It’s Luc. He’s everything you fear I might be, and he needs to be stopped. We can stop him, the people here in this room, if we use our power and influence to do so.” He paused, looking at each person in turn. Slowly, he let his hands drop. “And the first step of that is to help Carolus sway the Assembly against peace. I hate war, I know you do too, but compared to what Luc could do it is the better choice.”
There was silence in the room after he finished speaking, though the air fairly crackled with tension. The guards shifted uncertainly. Sofia’s eyes, normally dull and unfocused, shifted deliberately to her father, then to Michael. “I can agree to help my father,” she said. “And I will listen to you - after the Assembly meets, after I have determined there was no malicious influence from you, and after I have had the chance to arrange adequate security measures.”
“Gladly,” Michael said. “Name your location and time, and I will be there. I’ll bring Vera, too.”
“It’ll be almost like dinner at Sofia’s,” Isolde said, glaring at Michael. “Almost.”
“Isolde,” Sofia said. “Enough. We’ll have our meeting after the Assembly concludes its session.” Her eyes remained fixed on Michael, unblinking. “He isn’t wrong, even if his sight is limited. Your arrival brings much danger to Ardalt, to Calmharbor - and to all of us here. Whatever your stated intentions, your every step blots away the future. It’s alarming, unprecedented. I would be a fool to ignore the threat you pose.”
“Then watch me,” Michael said. “I have nothing to hide. I’m here for Luc, and have found little reason to stay here once my business is done.”
She nodded slowly. “All right,” she said. “I shall.” She gestured to the guards, who filed out of the room somewhat bemusedly; Isolde looked indignant, but held her tongue.
Michael returned the nod, then looked to Carolus. “He should meet with Lekubarri,” he said. “Of the Mendiko delegation. It’s important.”
“I’ll arrange it.” Sofia stepped to the side, clearing a path for Michael to leave. He looked at Carolus, but the man was half-asleep on his feet once more; Michael sighed and moved to stand beside Sobriquet. Arm-in-arm, they left the office.
“That went well,” Michael said. “I can almost believe she doesn’t want to kill us.”
Sobriquet raised her eyebrows. “You know I’m not veiling us,” she said. “You said you had nothing to hide, just now, and it seemed like it would be somewhat hypocritical-”
Michael waved his hand. “Yes, it’s fine, I don’t care if she listens. We probably haven’t done ourselves any favors by going about veiled the whole time, to be honest. It makes us seem suspicious.”
“We are suspicious,” she sighed. “But point taken.” She turned to look back towards the men still milling about in the office. “So, where next?”
“The Assembly chambers,” Michael said, beginning to walk in that direction. “If I’m as infamous as my father said, I should find some members willing to talk.”
“And listen, one hopes,” Sobriquet muttered. “I worry that you have too high an opinion of the average Assemblyman.”
Michael laughed. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ll have much luck. If I gleaned one item of importance from my father, it’s that most of them want peace for financial reasons. They’re all wealthy men, invested in land and business. The sudden conflict and snow are wreaking havoc on their fortunes.”
“How devastating. My heart bleeds for them.” Sobriquet rolled her eyes. “And I suppose you have a way to convince these men that there’s something more important at stake than money?”
“Not in the least,” Michael admitted. He turned as they reached the building’s main foyer once more, angling for the mammoth wooden doors that currently hung open to show the Assembly chambers beyond. “But we’ll have a hard time convincing anyone if we don’t at least try-”
He broke off as Sobriquet gripped his arm, hard; she stopped in her tracks. “He’s here,” she murmured. “Just inside.”
Michael felt a shivering chill spread through his gut; his sight flew forward to the interior of the chamber. It was largely empty. Rows of chairs spread before the central dais, where there were a few raised seats for the parliamentarian and officers. Knots of well-dressed men were scattered sparsely through the room, conversing in low tones, but by far the largest group was near the door.
“Luc,” he murmured.
Luc looked away from the young Assemblyman currently speaking with him, turning his head towards Michael; he smiled. Michael saw him make a quick excuse and begin to walk out of the chamber. He had found a suit somewhere, though it was plain garb by the standards of the Assembly - a hasty retailoring of a uniform jacket. It lent him a somber air, at odds with the cheerful expression he wore.
“Michael,” Luc said, spreading his hands as he crossed the polished stone tile of the foyer. “I had heard you were in town, I’m glad to see you. I had hoped these surroundings might lead to a calmer discussion than the last few we’ve enjoyed.”
Michael stood very still, adrenaline flooding his body. Sobriquet released her grip on his arm; he knew without checking that she had disappeared. His full attention focused on the man walking towards him, he took a step forward, rising to the balls of his feet. Michael stood ready to move, his eyes locked on Luc.
Luc’s smile faded. “I’m not here to fight,” he said. “The opposite, yes? The conflict has served its purpose, and should end.” He paused, looking back at the men he had been talking to; a small crowd was curiously watching their conversation. “They had questions about you, you know. I think they’re more interested in hearing about our travels together than anything about the Institute, despite the circumstances. You could talk with them too.”
“What are you doing?” Michael hissed. “Walking around in the city, in the Assembly? Unprotected? You say you’re not here to fight, but you’re risking everyone’s lives with your presence.”
“The Mendiko understood the risks very well,” Luc said. “But I’m not Leire. I have resources she didn’t. I’m confident that I won’t harm anything unintentionally.”
“Confident,” Michael retorted. “And if you’re wrong? You’re suddenly so comfortable with risking the lives of innocents? You? What happened to the man who used to worry about the temptation of power, about the corrupting whisper of a soul guiding a person to harm?”
“He woke up,” Luc said. “It was the same lesson you had to learn, yes? That doing nothing with your power could inflict harm just as surely as pursuing evil. That sometimes there would be missteps, but that we had to try even so.”
“Is that the lesson I learned?” Michael said. “Then I suppose I should put it into practice.” He raised his hands, tensing-
Luc spread his arms. “If you must,” he said. “But I may find it hard to maintain my concentration, and the building is growing quite crowded.”
“You really don’t care.” Michael paused taking in Luc’s untroubled stance, then let his arms fall to his sides. “You’d let all of them die, wouldn’t you?”
“In my defense, I know you,” Luc said, letting his own posture relax. “And I know you do care. I’m glad I was right. This would all fall apart if I couldn’t trust you.”
Michael looked at him incredulously. “What would all fall apart?” he asked, his voice rising in volume. “You can’t pretend this is just another of our talks, Luc - you’re killing people! You’re destroying lives, setting nations ablaze, putting the fate of millions in jeopardy! If you trust me, then trust that you need to stop this.”
“It was already going to fall apart,” Luc said. “None of it could survive you.” He swept an arm out, indicating the crowd still watching from the doorway. They stared back, whispering among themselves at Michael’s outburst. “Do you think Saleh will watch Mendian ascend from behind his new borders, shrug his shoulders and turn to a life of peace? Do you think Amira will content herself with tranquility? Will - any of them?” His eyes flicked to the watching crowd for a long moment.
He rounded on Michael. “These men crave struggle, they have to fight. If you deny them any chance of victory, they will turn to someone they can win against. The war inside them will find its way out into the world in whatever desperate, horrible way is left open.”
“So you’re offering war?” Michael asked. “Do you realize how insane that sounds?”
Luc shook his head. “War is inevitable; I’m offering a choice,” he said. “The one you’re intent on denying them. Not borne of panic, but of purpose. No more outbreaks of violence, no civil wars or invasions.” He stepped forward, all traces of his smile gone. “You and I, we killed the Safid the moment we claimed our first souls. The only question left is how many good men they’ll drag down with them.”
“I suppose you’ve arrived at a number,” Michael said tersely. “Because such a conflict will have a cost in lives. If you truly care about these ‘good men,’ then-”
“Zero,” Luc murmured, his eyes once again turning to the growing mob of Ardan spectators straining to hear their conversation. “No good men shall die.” His eyes slid back to Michael, burning bright. “Not unless you drag them into a war that does not concern them.”
Michael blinked, staring at Luc as a slow, awful realization bloomed within him. “You’re mad,” he rasped. “You mean to use-”
“I am going to repay Ardalt for all that they’ve given me,” Luc said, raising his voice so that it carried across the crowd. “I was raised by your hand, and I have not forgotten it for an instant. How could I deny such a people my strength? The strength to stand against the Safid?”
A smattering of applause came from the spectators; Michael felt a complex flare of emotion from Luc. Exhilaration and fear rode bright and high atop a twisting sea of darker things. Luc spread his hands, and Michael saw the tremor in his fingers.
“I do not believe it is Ardalt’s fate to end in meek submission,” Luc said. “No matter if the cause seems hopeless and dire, yes?” He raised his arms at the affirmation from the crowd, more enthusiastic than before. “No matter the odds! Do you want to live under another land’s rule?”
The crowd shouted back their jeers. Slowly, Luc let his arms drop and turned back to Michael, a sad smile on his face - one rapidly eclipsed by shock as Luc’s eyes looked past him, to the side.
Michael turned and saw the Mendiko delegation arriving, escorted by Carolus, Sofia and Isolde. Unai and Zabala stood by Lekubarri; they stepped forward to stand in front of him when they saw Luc.
“Unai,” Luc murmured. Michael felt a twist of the other man’s soul and took a rapid step back, but it was only the familiar brush of an anatomens reaching out to Unai, lingering on his burnt skin and withered arm, his skeletal frame. Luc flinched back almost in the same moment, his eyes widening.
What confidence he had injected into his posture bled away; he hunched forward, shrinking in upon himself. “How did this happen?” he rasped.
“How do you think?” Unai asked coldly. “You should remember, you were there.”
Luc stepped back, shaking his head. “No, that’s not-” He fell silent, his soul darting out once more to probe Unai, tracing across the other man’s body in slow, hesitant strokes. Finally, Luc looked up.
“Why haven’t you fixed it?” he asked, his voice so quiet that Michael could barely hear.
Unai sighed, and his face softened fractionally. “Because I cannot,” he said, his eyes fixed on Luc. “Nobody can.”
Luc’s breath quickened, his eyes defocusing. “You weren’t supposed to be there,” he mumbled. “It was just supposed to be-” He broke off, shaking his head again, violently, like a horse trying to shed a fly. His hands came up to grasp his hair, white-knuckled; his head shuddered upward to stare at Michael. “He wasn’t supposed to be there.”
Michael didn’t need Spark to see the twisting panic rising in Luc’s eyes; he looked around briefly at the great many people who had gathered near to them. “Luc,” he said, raising his hands. “You’re-”
“Why did you bring him?” Luc rasped. “He’s one of yours, he would have been fine, he would have been safe.” He clenched his jaw, letting his fists drop to the sides; Luc’s head came up to stare at Michael. His eyes were wet and red-rimmed, bloodshot, echoing with the same hot-metal stench of rage that pulsed from him in waves.
“Every time,” he grated. “Every time I try, you have to come in and - what is the point if you’re not going to protect them?” He took a halting, spasmodic step forward. “You can, so why?” Luc’s eyes widened, then slowly narrowed. There was a glint there that Michael had not seen before, something hard and raw and blood-red.
A soft choking sound came from behind Michael, followed by the clatter of metal on stone; Michael turned to see Carolus standing stock-still, his eyes wide, his flask spilling a slow stream of liquid onto the floor.
“Papa!” Sofia cried, dashing towards him. Carolus did not react; his eyes were dilated, fixed on something only he could see. His jaw worked soundlessly.
Wide eyes focused on Luc. A moment later, they found Michael. A low, guttural keening issued from the man as he dropped to his knees, his arm outstretched; Michael took a step forward-
The soul of Carolus Altenbach burst around him; a storm of twisted glass and half-seen shadows stopped Michael’s breath in his throat. Radiance cascaded through a thousand imperfect lenses, shifting, swirling.
“You,” Carolus croaked. His arm came up, trembling, outstretched towards Michael. “It’s - you. When it - it-” He coughed; blood speckled the stone floor, welled from his eyes and nose; Sofia bent down frantically to cup his face in her hands, her fingers smearing crimson on his cheeks, but Carolus never looked away from Michael.
“Ever seeking,” he gasped. “Searching. Finding. To their-” His voice cut off in a strangled yell, wet and guttural; his back arched.
“Anatomens!” Sofia screamed, jerking her head around. Isolde was backing away, her eyes fearful. She turned to Unai, who wore a grim expression. “Please! He’s - there’s bleeding, I can show you, I can show you, please, papa-”
“Shining,” Carolus said, his voice drawing dust from the stones of the hall. His soul snapped into place around him, the light bathing him in otherworldly radiance. Michael stood, transfixed, there were footsteps behind him-
“Scouring. Breaking.” The air itself heaved under the words; Michael felt it deep in his chest. Eyes snapped wide amid a sea of blood, staring through him.
“ENDING.”
The last word tore from Carolus like gunfire; he dropped limp to the ground in a pool of blood. Luc had started moving already, though, and was kneeling beside the fallen man almost before he had stopped moving.
Bare, scarred fingers touched gently against his neck. A moment later, they withdrew.
“I’m sorry,” Luc said, dazedly standing up. “There was-” He paused, his eyes widening.
“There was nothing I could have done,” he whispered.
Michael clenched his fist against the ache in his hand, stalking towards Luc, only for Sofia to stand in his path.
“You,” she seethed, her eyes bright with rage; Michael was momentarily overwhelmed as she turned it on him. She was incandescent, flaring so brightly that all else seemed to disappear. Her hands came up to grab his lapels; Michael felt the press of her soul clawing at his mind.
By instinct he flared his low souls, feeling the warmth surge through him as the response came from Leire, Clair, Vincent-
Sofia gasped and lurched away from him as though burned, collapsing into the pool of her father’s blood; Isolde rushed to her side.
“What did you do?” Isolde yelled, staring daggers at him. “Fucking murderer! Leave us alone!”
She didn’t give Michael the space to make a denial, storming to her feet and standing between him and Sofia with her arms spread. “He pointed at you!” she growled. “He said it was you!”
There was silence in the grand hall, broken only by the soft noise of Sofia’s weeping - and the gentle creaking of wheels across the stone.
Michael looked to the side and saw an attendant slowly pushing an ornate bath chair; in the chair, with a blanket across his legs, was Karl Baumgart. He sat back, his eyes glittering in their sunken hollows, and surveyed the crowd.
He glanced at the Mendiko, huddled together, then at Luc standing motionless, his eyes fixed on some far-off point. Karl’s head came down towards Sofia, and Carolus - and Michael, standing over them with bloody handprints marring his lapels.
Michael felt cold wheels turning behind his father’s visage as a frown spread across it, one that did not reach his glittering eyes. “Oh, Michael,” Karl said quietly. “What have you done?”
Comments
TMarkos
Regrettably, he has an acute diagnosis of being a protagonist.
PoeticSaint
Mike just can't catch a break....
TMarkos
Haha, that makes two of us. I have - a rough idea. But my error bars are still pretty wide, so I refrain from giving out too many numbers.
Doctor Zero
I have no vibe for how long this book will be. Feels like it could be over in a couple pages or go on for another thousand. Don't tell me. I'm just gonna see what happens.
