2412, Iclis 12, Briss
The Heiress' tent was close to becoming Marin's dreaded place. Every time she went inside, she'd come out with a brand new job, and there would be a time when the task she's handed would weigh on her shoulders like a cloud of impending doom. What the High Queen said was right. Ilya was right. Cardovia was not an ally. It's a master, and she had no choice but to bend to its will, even if everyone told her not to.
Kymalin was right too. All of them were eager to have something they needed fulfilled, but the path to it was one of blood and deception. Pidmena would have a feast on the judgment day of Marin's soul, and of everyone else's in this space.
Was that really the fate she wanted for herself?
Still, Marin ducked inside the Heiress' tent and approached her desk as per the custom. "You called, Peredeira?" she said, tucking her hands behind her like the obedient cub she was.
"I have thought about it," the Heiress said, turning a quill here and there. Her eyes were glassy to the point of paling in comparison to the amused flickers they contained before. "Your plan of subduing the eastern half of the island. Let's do it."
It was an innocent suggestion—one Marin made a few days ago to boost her approval from the Heiress. She analyzed the efforts the Heiress had exerted so far, the treaties she handed out to various heads of territories, and realized they would have most of the eastern territories under their control should it come to fruition. That left out Dwanzeig, the nature fairy territory.
The Heiress told Marin she'd think about it, so this meeting must have been in response to that. Instead, the Heiress peeled off her desk and walked towards a clutter of objects Marin had never taken the time to peruse before. With a strong swipe, she uncovered the cloth covering a map rack. At least twenty sheets hung on the horizontal pole, showing them images of the other territories as the Heiress flipped through them.
Finally, with the last crinkle of dusty parchment, the Heiress flipped to a depiction of the entire island, complete with labels pointing where the Sea of Umazure and the Sea of Sirens were. The Heiress tapped a finger on the territory Marin knew to be Dwanzeig. "This is the only territory we lack before focusing our efforts in taking over Lanteglos. The Sovereign has taken over Alkara, and with it, Penleth. There's rumors of sieges in Carleon, and from my sources, Synketros is gearing to attack Narfalk."
"And the Sovereign recently destroyed the Peltran fortresses and took over two of its major cities," Marin said. "She's controlling the western part completely."
"If we don't hurry, we could lose our advantage and let Dwanzeig slip," the Heiress circled her finger around the blob of land she decided to turn her attention on. "I need you to go there and subdue them. But...as you can see, I'm at my wits end."
The Heiress, stumped? Well, that's new. "What seems to be the problem?" Marin ventured, stalking towards the spot beside the Heiress while keeping a respectable distance from the head of the organization. "I don't see what issue we can face if we continue the way we do."
"You certainly don't understand how the Dwanzeig government works," the Heiress said. "It's worse than the Lantegian counterpart in terms of the number of spheres we have to break through. Cardovia doesn't have enough time and resources for that. We're already spread too thin. And there's also the issue with those things..."
Marin figured she wasn't supposed to hear about that last bit, so she edged away to give the Heiress some privacy. Instead, she trained her eyes on the maps. Too many spheres? Since when was breaking stuff out of the Heiress' capacity? Why couldn't she show up there and do it herself?
Spheres...
An idea popped into her head. "Why don't we head for the biggest sphere there was?" she said, drawing closer to the map and flipping to the one highlighting a closer look at their target territory. "What if we don't need to expend more resources than we needed, and instead...focus on bluffing?"
The Heiress narrowed her eyes. Oh, she hated the idea, but with Marin's track record, she's willing to at least lend an ear. "I don't see why we should resort to underhanded tricks that will leave us as laughing stocks should it fail."
"That's why it won't fail," Marin said. "They will believe what we have to say because of a number of things."
The Heiress cocked an eyebrow. "Such as?"
"How is the Virtakios these days?" Marin asked. Xanthy was the only one who could provide some sort of hope for salvation apart from the Heiress and the Sovereign. With her out of the picture, they'd have better chances.
"Out of the radar as far as my spies are concerned," the Heiress said. "But I can feel her. She's heading east as of the moment."
Marin jerked her chin at the map. "What are the chances she'd end up in Dwanzeig?" she asked. "And what are the chances she would get approached by the royal family?"
The gears in the Heiress' head were turning now. "A lot," she muttered, extrapolating from what she knew and the things she wasn't telling Marin. It's fine. Marin was here as fodder, as something to poke through the Heiress' ideas to get them flowing. "That's...actually a good plan."
"We push the royal family to get Xanthy's help by feeding their espionage network of an oncoming attack," Marin said. "We'll then see if she agrees. If she does, it minimizes the Sovereign's chances of taking over and beating us there. And since we're closer..."
"We can camp out at the borders, ready to march," the Heiress mused.
Marin crossed her arms over her chest. "And if Xanthy refused, then, we're ready to swoop in," she said. "But we don't necessarily need to attack. We just need to take away the one thing they care about."
"The forests," the Heiress breathed, eyes widening at the sudden realization. She whirled to Marin, a visible sheet of hysteria peeling her features apart. "That is a good plan, Marin. A brilliant, brilliant plan."
This was also the first time the Heiress called her by her name. It elicited a warmth in her chest, something she couldn't place any time soon.
"And it coincides with another front I have been dealing with," the Heiress said. One glance at the timeteller on her desk ignited a sort of urgency in her stance. She jerked her chin at Marin. "I need you to step out for a minute. I have another audience. She should be coming inside the markers now. I'll call you back when we have reached an accord."
Marin could only follow. On her way out, though, the Heiress had one last thing to say. "You'd make a great leader one day, and I can give you Cardovia if you want."
Instead of replying, Marin stepped out of the tent and stood in front of it. Her, lead this circus crapshow? Not a chance. She'd rather set herself on fire. Without her wish, she wouldn't waste her life chasing after territory leaders and begging them for their aid. She'd be living her life, free from any masters who tell her what to do.
With a sigh, she craned her neck at the simulated sky. That's some impressive spatial magic—one she should learn in her spare time. But with the Heiress working her like a damned dagrine in the prairie, it'd continue to remain in her wildest dreams.
A hearty flap of wings stirred the grass licking her boots as a shadow fell over her. A woman edged into Marin's periphery, looking a lot like...Nevrin. Only it wasn't the deceased High Queen. Rather, a...miniature copy of her. It was rude, referring to someone by their height, but it's the first thing Marin noticed when the woman landed and started walking towards the Heiress' tent as if she's supposed to be here. But as they brushed against one another, Marin couldn't stop herself from checking if they're the same height without the stick-like heels of her boots. To her surprise, they were.
The trail of feathery wings disappeared into the tent, their owner never once glancing in Marin's way. It's as if her clothes have developed magic of their own and likened her presence to mere air. Or shadows.
Rude.
A few minutes crawled by, and it took everything in Marin to not lean in and eavesdrop through the thin canvases of the colorful tent. The words were muffled, and if not for the bustle and noisy clatters of metal around her, she would have gleaned more than a few snippets. Finally, a sharp voice tore from the inside.
"Enter."
Marin zipped back to where she came from and regarded the Heiress and the newcomer air sprite in the same position Marin had been in all those months ago. "Meet Marin Draswist," the Heiress gestured at her as she approached and ducked her head at the newcomer. "And Marin, this is April Sylkrana."
Ah, no wonder the woman was here. How many air sprites would be willing to lug their heavy wings from their floating island? April wasn't here because she wanted to. It has something to do with her mother's death and those responsible for it, whoever they might be.
A stringent clap snapped Marin's attention back to the Heiress. "You will work together for the next leg of our plan," she said.
"What will that be, Peredeira?" Marin asked. Their talk hasn't quite elaborated on the end product nor the finer steps of what she proposed.
The same malicious glint shone in the Heiress' eyes. "Dwanzeig's fall," she said. April flinched, a visible disapproval twisting her features. She opened her mouth, but the Heiress beat her to it. "As promised—a sword hewn out of Dwarven metal. I expect you two to be able to give me results. Dismissed."
April looked like she wanted to argue, but in a huff, she turned and trudged out of the room. Marin had no choice but to follow. If they were to work together, they needed to know each other first. The air sprite was almost to the rim of the residential tents, no doubt without an aim in mind, when Marin closed the distance between them. She reached out and clamped a hand on the air sprite's shoulder.
"Hey," Marin said. "What's the rush? You just got here."
The air sprite hissed, tearing Marin's hand off her. "Mind your own business, kid," she said with her teeth bared. It's surprising they weren't fangs. "I'm not going to be here long."
"At least tell me what you're going to do in Dwanzeig," Marin said. She wanted testy? Well, Marin could give her testy. "I can't work with someone I don't know."
April whirled towards Marin with a smirk. "Good, because we are not working together," she said with her arms crossed over her chest. "Despite what that witch says, I'm not under her authority. I just need her assistance with a prey of mine, someone I can't let out of sight at all cost."
"Let me guess—it's connected to the High Queen's murder?" Marin fired. "Seeing as you're not preparing for a coronation, the Seelie Court put you up to the task, didn't they?"
A sore topic—judging from the seething rage twisting April's features. "You know nothing about me, brat," she said. "Let's keep it at that."
Marin scoffed. "Fine," she said. "I wish you luck on your endeavors, then."
April's only answer was an angry huff and a light flap of her wings as she prevented herself from hitting who's to her was still a child. If Marin had a sword like what's promised to April, would Marin succeed in keeping her cool and hold herself back from plunging it deep into April's gut?
Because a serious doubt lounged at the back of her head—a doubt that told her as long as she could kill someone without the threats of bad things going back at her. She wouldn't hesitate, as long as she could get away with it without any punishment and without eyes watching.
And it's time to admit it, even to herself—it scared her.