Luce VIII: With Blinded Eyes

“And there we go,” Luce muttered with a smile, wiping grease from his hands with an already filthy rag, then switching to a cleaner one to mop up the sweat from his face.

The Ferrous Ram’s engine room had survived the explosion Luce had rigged up, technically, in the sense that it remained a room. Many of the brass pipes had only been dented and bent rather than fully split open, too. Most of the remaining equipment was a loss, though.

Always making things harder for myself, aren’t I?

Still, the sabotage had done its job, trapping Anya Stewart in the city long enough for order to be reasserted. If Luce hadn’t done it, she’d be roaming free right now instead of exiled in disgrace.

And I wouldn’t have this beauty at my disposal.

It might have taken many days, much of his workshop equipment, and enough of Sidney Hauvent’s time that even the Chief Engineer had begun to lose patience with him, but the Ferrous Ram’s engine could run once more.

Rather than serving the whims of a murderous bully, now this ship could allow travel to Avalon and back, ferrying supplies and information and returning with more advanced technical components Luce had no access to here. If half of what Harold said about the situation in Avalon was true, they were in dire need of help, and thanks to the spirits, he was in a position to truly give it. Thanks to Camille, ultimately, though Cya and Fenouille deserved no less credit.

And it will work better than it ever did, better than anything Avalon’s ever made. Never had his research into spiritual energy felt so worthwhile. To be sure, there were many improvements to be made once the equipment could be upgraded and the damaged components replaced, but now the possibilities were truly endless.

As a safety precaution, Luce left the engine running while disconnected from the propellers, with Hauvent present to shut it down in case anything went wrong. But it had already been several hours, all the little issues worked out, so it wouldn’t be long before it could set off with the full confidence of any passengers and crew.

Feeling the dull hum fade as he left the engine room, Luce made his way to the deck for a bit of fresh air. The dark skies greeted him when he emerged, countless stars stretching into the infinite space beyond, but they were not alone in that.

Cya was standing on the water as if it were land, her dead leg casting ripples across the surface while the living one did not. “Trailblazer,” she greeted, cold wind whistling through her branches. “I see that you are covered in the sweat of palm fruit.”

“It’s just lubricant for the engine, making sure all the parts run together smoothly.” Luce took a second to get his bearings, making sure that no one else was here to witness them. “You caught me in a good mood, Cya. I just finished the Mark One design of this new propulsion generator. It’s running right now under our feet… Well, under my feet. You’re welcome to come aboard if you’d like.”

“I do not fancy the thought of iron beneath me.”

“No, don’t worry. It floats just fine. The air inside the ship is lighter than the water; even taking the weight of the iron into account, the average density is still lower than—”

“That is not the nature of my objection, nor do I entirely understand what it is that you are speaking of, so I shall simply move past it.”

“Well, hold on. This concerns you, actually. This lets us spread supplies to the world, even with the seas so otherwise impassible. It’ll finally let me get those artifacts to the spirits they were promised to, too. And instead of running on coal that there’s less of every day, cut off at the source and whittled away to keep the world warm in darkness, it uses spiritual energy. Well, weeds specifically. Whatever sprang up between the crops we can actually eat in the fields Fenouille imbued was just set aside to burn, but now it can do so much more.”

Cya turned away slightly, showing him the dead side of her face. “It brings you joy to burn blessed strands of nature to fuel your artifice. Perhaps the sheep is not so white, after all.”

“No, it’s about efficiency. Plant matter in that volume would pale in comparison to coal, but whatever Fenouille did made it so much stronger, and it’s just a byproduct! This is what I’ve spent all this time working out with Camille, and now it’s finally coming to fruition. A fusion of nature and technology.”

“The blight of my forest was much the same, human ingenuity integrated with natural phenomena to devastating effect. If you thought it would please me to hear you following this path, you were sorely mistaken.”

Perhaps that was true. I always thought of the blight as just another weapon, but it was developed on the first floor just like all the other botanical research. Seeing its devastation in person hadn’t done much to dispel that impression, when the eerie dead forest seemed even more brutally destroyed than the shattered remnants of Malin’s walls, annihilated by cannon fire.

But that doesn’t mean we should just give up.

“Technology is just a tool, inherently neutral; it doesn’t have any universal morality. Some, like the blight or the pistol, are developed as weapons that can only be turned to destructive ends, but this is just power! It’s a way to save people, just like we’re doing with the crops.” He sighed wistfully, looking at the stars above. “This is our future, and Avalon’s been ignoring it for so long. No, worse. Actively standing in the way. I just keep imagining what could have happened if someone had run these experiments five years ago, or fifty. There was no reason they couldn’t have been conducted then save hostility and lack of interest. Why save the world and usher in the future when you can build better weapons that keep doing what they’ve always done, only on a larger scale?”

Cya remained impassive, which maybe meant that Luce had let that get away from him a little bit.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you have every reason to be cautious about this, and I promise I’m not leaping into anything. I wouldn’t even think about involving any of the husks in Refuge without your permission first, or anything I thought you wouldn’t approve of. But spiritual energy works by its own rules, even while it interacts with our own. Burning organic matter means the same to a generator alive or dead, but spirits can tell it still lives and gain more power from it. There’s ways to exploit this, and if we do it right, it could mean practically infinite energy for everyone.” That wasn’t even getting into the Nocturne Gate, which could prove to be an even freer source. “This is just the start, but if all goes well, your home could return to its former glory in a decade. In two, self-sustaining floating habitats could soar across the sky. Once the sun returns, even more opportunities are at our disposal. And I want to make sure we do it right. I want you to be that moderating voice, if you’re willing, to make sure we’re repairing the damage we’ve done without recklessly inflicting more. I promised to revive Refuge, Cya, and this is a key part of it.”

“I will continue to hear your proposals,” she said, a breathy weariness in the wind of her voice. “Change was forced upon me and my charges, and so I was forced to adapt. I understand it as a necessity, if not a goal in and of itself. But much remains necessary to return Refuge to its proper state, and measures this drastic might indeed be required. I certainly could not do it all on my own.”

“That’s all I ask. In the meantime, this project is using products from the deal with Fenouille, totally separate from ours, and Camille even said he wouldn’t mind. After all, either way they’re helping humans, and he already agreed to that.” As did you, Luce thought but did not say. There was no need to force this, since he had plenty of time for her to come more completely around.

In the meantime, though, this iteration of the project was complete. As nice as it would be to dive right back in once better materials were available, now Luce had to stop and take a breath. There were other things to deal with, too, even if it wasn’t nearly so pleasant to think about. “Did you manage to look into that matter I asked you about?” Spirit visions could only be trusted so much, but the same was true for Jethro, Father, and, as unfortunate as it was to even think about it, Harold. His narrative about Avalon fit with the facts, but it never hurt to get another perspective. If Cya confirmed his words, that only helped exterminate all doubt.

“Far outside Cambria’s walls, humans prod fruitlessly at Terramonde’s hardened skin. Their crops do not grow; their fellow humans unable or unwilling to help. Some few remain sequestered and provided for enough not to notice, most concentrated in the city of your birth. Elsewhere, even the humans fortunate enough to possess shelter from the cold cannot escape their need to consume. Some, already, have begun eating each other.”

“...Fuck.” Sounds like Harold was right about that, then. They need me all the more. “And Sir Julius Arion?”

“I saw the Lieutenant in Cambria, but he was not ruling in your brother’s stead, far from the throne, sequestered away in that same tower of yours.”

“What?” Shit, is he dealing with a coup of his own? “Who is, then? With Harold here, someone’s going to be sitting the throne and overseeing everything. He told me it was Sir Julius, but…”

“Your brother, the Prince of Pantera.”

Luce stifled the urge to sigh. “I’m talking about right now. Who did Harold really leave in charge?”

“Himself, Prince Grimoire. Even as we speak right now, I see him sipping the blood of grapes as he slouches on the throne, speaking with his supplicants.”

Luce blinked. “How can you be sure that it isn't just old? I have no doubt that’d be accurate a few weeks ago, and Julius too, but it doesn’t make any sense right now..”

“I know my craft, Prince of Darkness. I have spent the better part of a century with naught to do but observe, and I understand the difference between the past and the present all too well.”

“Well… I don’t know then.” He blinked. I wasn’t really hoping for a contradiction like this. Hopefully she’s just wrong. It wasn’t hard to imagine darkness clouding her sight, or something, messing up the timing even when she’d done it so much before. Too, some forgotten artifact from the Grimoire archives could be blocking, delaying, or distorting it, and Cya might never know. It was probably, hopefully, almost certainly because of something like that.

Right?

Harold certainly hadn’t seemed like an imposter, the revelations about his attitude towards Avalon aside. And Father. But it was still him.

Wasn’t it?

“Alright,” Luce said at last, since his thoughts weren’t going anywhere productive. “Thank you for looking into this for me. I don’t want to gainsay your ability, but I’m honestly not sure what to make of it. I’ll be visiting Cambria again soon, so it won’t be hard to find the truth, no matter what it is. That should resolve all of this.”

Cya lifted her living arm, green tendrils slowly extending from her fingers, barely illuminated by the lamps on the deck. “Do not blind yourself to the truth, lest your grand ambitions all end in failure, your promises unfulfilled.”

“I won’t,” he insisted, vowing to make it true. “That’s the heart of science: you follow the truth wherever it takes you, regardless of your own beliefs.” Even if the evidence seems contradictory and strange, that just means you need to investigate further. “I’d like to talk to you again once I get back. There should be a lot more options on the table by that point. Until then?”

“Farewell.”

Luce barely had a moment to collect himself before he saw a rowboat approach the Ferrous Ram, a sealed lantern illuminating large muscular arms at the oars.

I suppose in a way this is convenient. I do need to deal with this, and Charlotte is the best person for the job.

Even if it meant no reprieve at all.

“Your Highness,” she said as she reached the deck. A large bruise was visible on her forehead, along with tears in her coat. Which was inside out, upon close look.

“Are you alright, Charlotte?”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just a personal… thing… That’s not why I’m here. It’s Leclaire, she’s moving against you.”

“Well, even she admitted to that. But as long as the sun remains gone, she can’t try to oust me without breaking her word. That would mean her soul being taken and passed around between the spirits.”

Charlotte frowned. “She’s been holding meetings with the disbanded Forresters, and the guardians as well. It’s nothing explicit, but she’s pitting them against you. I managed to hear her full pitch to the guardians when I snuck in, and something big is happening tonight.”

“Why did you have to sneak in? You weren’t invited?”

She scoffed. “I wasn’t a guardian anymore.”

“Khali’s curse, Charlotte, what happened to you?”

She tilted her head back, letting the stars fill her eyes. “Leclaire let out that I reported those guardians that were stealing supplies. But guardians don’t report on guardians. It’s supposed to be a brotherhood. So once they found out…” She grabbed her sleeve and pulled her coat off, flipping it in one smooth motion.

On the other side, written in what looked like blood, was the word “RAT” in thick, blocky letters. It wasn’t hard to guess that the other damage to her person was related to that.

“I was dismissed from my position. I suppose technically I’m not authorized to be aboard this ship anymore.”

“Fucking Whitbey,” Luce muttered. “Even dead he’s still commanding their hearts.” He let out a short exhale. “Alright, so, obviously, that will not stand. Who specifically dismissed you? Who do you suspect were the vandals? As soon as you’re officially reinstated, tracking them down will be your next assignment. And if anyone has a problem with that, their names are next on the list.” I can’t deal with this shit anymore.

“I’m not sure, Your Highness. This might be irreparable.” She twisted her lip. “You can’t outrun a reputation as a rat. I saw the same thing happen to a Guardian a few years ago. Guy ended up stabbed in some hovel in the north end when he started asking too many questions. Others ended up on the noose, and no one seemed all that disappointed to see them go. ‘You don’t turn on your brothers, because there’s nothing worse than a rat.’ Unless you get rid of every last one of them, I’m poison.”

“You don’t want to live out your days as a target. I understand.”

“I just—”

“Charlotte, you don’t need to justify anything to me. Would you consider moving to Cambria? Ortus Tower is in dire need of trustworthy guards, lest the wrong people get their hands on the world’s most important technologies. I’m sure you could help make our lockup procedure even more secure.”

“That’s generous…” She rubbed her hand across her face, wincing when it touched the bruise. “But are you listening to me, Your Highness? Camille Leclaire is moving against you right now. And… Your brother was at those meetings too. He wasn’t exactly contradicting her, either. I know it’s hard to hear.”

That’s a second blow against you, Harold. Cya’s sight could have just been distorted, but there was still a contradiction there. And now he’s dining with the pricks that tried to overthrow me, too. “Fuck.” Luce began pacing, trying to warm himself up. “Camille is limited in what she can do. After Lillian Perimont’s coup, the Acolytes are the only armed force in the city I can count on to avoid that kind of evil, however distasteful their origins.”

“Is Leclaire truly so limited? Did it occur to you that she just knows you well enough to see that you’d never condemn her to eternal spiritual servitude? She’s betting that you’d rather give up power than sentence anyone to that.”

Could that be? “I’m not sure that it works that way, me having to call her out on it. It’s possible that Fenouille swoops in the moment she breaks her word. Damn it, I just had Cya here. She would probably have known. I think she used to have sages.”

“And the Prince of Pantera? What possible reason could he have for even attending those meetings, let alone supporting her during them? He’s your brother, and you know him best, but… Is there any reason he would want you out of the way?”

“None,” Luce said confidently. But is it really him? He looked like him; he acted like him; he even liked the same wine as him. Those little details were all perfect, but the bigger picture was cloudier. He schemed to get Father captured. His spy almost got me killed. He cursed out Avalon’s traditions more vehemently than I’ve ever seen him show feelings about anything. And he wasn’t wrong to do it, even if it represented something new.

“Harold is my brother. He showed up just in time to save the day during that coup; he got everyone to stand down and agreed to execute Lillian Perimont. He’s been working with me on so many things. I can’t—”

“You can’t just do nothing and hope for the best. You need to act now, Your Highness. I’ll row you back to Malin immediately, and we can take stock from there.”

Luce grimaced, but he understood what he had to do. “Yes. We need to get to the bottom of this. I’ll speak with them as soon as we get back.”

“You’ll want to talk to them individually, so they don’t have time to craft a story together. I recommend speaking with Prince Harold first, then Leclaire. That’s the best way to be sure you get what you want.”

“Sure,” Luce said, though his heart sank with every step he took towards the rowboat below. Follow the truth wherever it takes you, regardless of your own beliefs. No matter how painful the result.