Act Five, Scene One
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Act Five, Scene One
June 21st, 5:05 AM
“Indeed. But while I don’t mean to mock your sorrow…”
The survivors of Livia’s army were gathered in and around Ilderia’s old headquarters. Before Bloody Lizzy’s return from the stasis chamber, the epithet “Ten Thousand Perfect Rifles” had been a gross understatement. Now it would be generous; the Rifles would rather die than flee without orders, and by and large they had. They were still the greatest human fighting force in the city.
Junia had insisted on being there to finish her and she was hurrying back now; she’d sent Jacket to join the rest of the knights at Ilderia’s court under the guard of the Rifles, inside the chamber from which Ilderia was remotely piloting the Nicator armor. Morgan and Banisher had already come back from their mission, but it wasn’t the same.
The first Ilderia’s court had been a place of laughter and camaraderie. Twelve knights and their retinues had filled her castle to bursting; they had come from all across Novapest, from docks and gutters and palaces, American adventurers and Yoruba refugees and shiploads of people from Haiti or Venezuela or Myanmar or wherever else war was making indistinguishable from Hell. They were chosen because they were, like her, heroes, competing for glory and honor in her eyes, and the palace had resounded with the echoes of their contests, in strength and cunning and temperance and courtesy and balancing-on-one-foot and anything else they thought to compete in. When they went to war it had been a game… at first.
Firesteel, Acerbus, and Starwalker had been cut down by Bloody Lizzy before Ilderia could reach them. Devastator had murdered Allagi. Akritos had tried to fight Solaris and been killed for his folly; the Gorgon Queen had ordered the invincible Yenalmos to lower his shields, then snapped his neck, Were had tackled Starbright out of the sky and tore her heart out. Dieulene had been caught in the purge, and then Chrona had stayed behind and had died so that someone else could be Luminosa. And the Tyrant’s assassins had caught up to the first Ilderia until all that was left was her heir, the second Ilderia, who’d only become a hero to impress a girl.
Now the three surviving knights were too seasoned for games, aged more in less than a year of war than in the long years that some of them had served as knights. They weren’t monsters, Ilderia didn’t know of any crimes they’d committed against civilians, but they’d taken food and taken weapons and shot enemies who never knew they were there, and there had always been collateral damage - and, of course, they’d stood beside people with fewer moral scruples, Zero’s knights and Zero’s mad surgeon, and they had tolerated that.
There were no laughter, no games, now. Three knights stood with Skullcracker the robber and Banisher the mercenary and one of Livia’s grim riflemen, and waited for orders from their queen. Most of Century’s bodies were helping the Rifles’ medics provide first aid for those who’d been injured by the robots but not killed, but one remained here, to relay information on to Ilderia.
Through Nicator’s eyes Ilderia watched Solaris dead. Saw Whisper’s eyes turn to the throne. With her husband newly dead, she was still calculating. “The chair is empty,” said Whisper. “We should… discuss this.”
“Someplace less bloody,” suggested Nicator. There was one place everyone would gravitate to, and she’d rigged it with extradimensional explosives.
“The Counts’ room,” said Fuzion, on cue.
Most of Ilderia’s attention was given to piloting Nicator, but she could listen to the conversation behind her. It was a quiet, light conversation between Jim and the three knights as to what had happened in the wider world while they were gone; words to pass the time, nothing more.
Ilderia watched the other counts, the other knights. Alea Iacta Est. She’d used electrokinesis in public; she wore her true face instead of Victoria’s. She had had to stake everything on the dice when Lizzy returned, when all her choices narrowed down to a single possibility if she wanted to win.
The first Ilderia had never been able to do what she needed to do to win, and the second could. That was why she was Ilderia.
The counts filed into the room. Nicator sat, with the others, then Ilderia unplugged herself, unstrapped herself from the projection suit.
“There is only one candidate for the throne,” said Prudence, her voice fading away.
Ilderia looked at Mayfield. “The counts are all in the room you rigged. Do it.”
He adjusted his spectacles.
“All of them?”
“Yes, Mayfield. All of my enemies, in one room.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
Four heads turned to look at him.
Ilderia smiled slightly. “We had a deal, Mayfield.”
“Our employment contract did not include murdering Prudence Cartwright,” said the little man. “I do not know how carefully you read the contract, Mz. Ward, but you will note the exemption for actions which will trigger a bounty of at least -”
Ilderia pointed a finger at his head, and a ball of electricity gathered at the tip.
“Any court will say that you have no legal responsibility when a known maniac has a lethal weapon pointed at your head.”
“Very well,” said Banisher. He snapped his fingers.
“Done.”
Ilderia turned back to the eyeholes of the suit, through which she saw the armor she’d spent too much money on burning and boiling away before the camera shut out.
“Excellent.”
“That’s… it?” Sunder asked. He scratched his head. “I mean, that’s all? We spend months fighting so the war will end when you flip a switch?”
“Essentially,” Ilderia admitted. She raised an eyebrow. “I know. This wasn’t the way I was expecting the war to end either when I started it.”
“But it’s over,” said Morgan.
“Almost,” said Ilderia. “Once we take the palace, I can recruit the best security experts in the city to crack the protection on the royal army. Any code can, given enough time, be broken, and when I control the royal army, I will control all Novapest. Until then, we may have a last few glorious, desperate battles to hold the royal palace.” She smiled. “Just like old times.”
They and their forces - Century’s army, the Perfect Rifles - were assembling on the street outside when Junia arrived, escorted by Jacket. Her two surviving tribunes, Decimus and Veneti, headed to her side.
“Your majesty!” She saluted. “Anything exciting happen while I was gone?”
“Well,” said Skullcracker, “we killed all the counts.”
Junia’s mouth opened, and she stared at them. “What?”
“That was my endgame,” said Ilderia. “I stole a force field generator from thieves who stole it from Steelstorm, and I used that to project a field around the counts’ chamber in the royal palace. Then when they assembled to debate the details of the succession, I filled it with the most deadly substance I could easily acquire, chlorine trifluoride.”
“Repeat that,” said Junia.
“I trapped the counts in a force-field and then killed them and those of their knights with them.”
“All of them?”
“Of course.”
“And the entire world outside Novapest doesn’t matter to you?”
“Prudence Cartwright had made too many enemies to live forever,” Ilderia said. “There would inevitably be someone who ended her life, and the sooner it happened the less time she would have to continue laying traps that would end more lives.” There was no way for this to end well, so she’d have to walk the path that led to it ending only moderately badly.
“And, yet, you just killed millions of people. Right now.” Junia looked around. “Century, Sunder… Morgan? Didn’t you all sign on with Ilderia because she was the closest thing to a good guy in this crazy city?”
Victoria didn’t dare let her eyes turn to them, but in the reflection off of Decimus’s rifle she could see Sunder look away.
“She’s Ilderia,” Century said finally.
“And you think that’s an answer to this?” Junia snarled. “I can see what just happened. Almost every other cape in town is dead so you want my army so you can take over. Screw that!” A pair of swords appeared in her hands, and the legates drew.
Century’s bodies drew their own guns only a hair slower, Sunder started raising his fists and Morgan raised her sphere.
“Stop!”
For a long moment they all froze at Ilderia’s command.
“Stop. We don’t need to risk any other lives.”
She offered a hand to Junia.
“Yes, I wanted you as my knight. And it wasn’t just for your skills. But I don’t want war between our armies. No matter what happens, we both lose.” She shook her head. “Trial by combat. This is between you and me. Let your men stand down, let mine stand down, and we handle this the old-fashioned way. If you win, my men will stand down and hand the country over to Catherine or anyone else you choose. I swear that they will let you go unharmed. Without Ilderia, we have no claim.”
Sunder looked proud, and Morgan looked horrified.
“And if you win?” Junia’s hands still held swords.
“If I win the deal we made still holds. Your soldiers will support me, and your officers can keep your county until they’re ready to go home. I’ll leave Mercy and her family and anyone else who’s willing to lay down their arms free to go in peace, but it will be the Ten Thousand Perfect Rifles who enforce the peace.”
Junia’s eyes flicked to her officers. She could order her troops to fire, and they had the advantage on numbers, but she’d be dead and everyone else with her -
“Unless, of course, you’re scared to fight me,” Ilderia said. It was a pleasant taunt, but a taunt nonetheless, and Decimus’s eyes were filled with horror. He spoke - “You can’t do this, Junia -”
Junia shrugged him off, the swords disappearing from her hands, and stepped forwards. “Deal. A full-out fight on the conditions you named.”
“Of course,” said Ilderia.
She stretched her left hand under her right sleeve, came out with a copper chain. Drew her sword from its scabbard.
“Clear the field,” said Ilderia, and the knights and soldiers all backed off, leaving a clear area in the middle of the street. “Farther.” They did so. “Farther. Farther.” The street was almost entirely clear, now, as most of them were inside nearby buildings.
Junia turned to her tribunes. “You know the deal. Keep it.”
Decimus nodded grimly; Veneti smiled and said “Yes, ma’am,” softly. They, too, withdrew.
Ilderia smiled, nodded and turned back to her knights. “For the sake of my honor if nothing else,” she said. “If Junia wins, you throw yourselves on Catherine’s mercy.”
The two faced off in the cleared circle. Some distance off, they could hear traffic; above the shield above Ilderia’s head, the sky was unseasonably grey as if it were holding its breath.
Lightning ran down her sword. She much preferred it to all of Nicator’s weapons, for all that they had a use outside of duels and Ilderia’s steel never had. Junia flourished her empty hands and then they held, facing her, two swords, both slightly curved one-handed blades. They were grey and gold and glistened blue as no real sword ever did, and Ilderia suspected that they were deliberately made not to conduct electricity, the inverse of her sword and chain.
The crowd watched with baited breath, and Ilderia and Junia nodded to each other. There was no other signal - one nod, and then two blurs of motion.
The swords vanished from Junia’s hands; Ilderia’s lips twitched, surprised. Junia swept her right hand through the air between them; a fence of spears, all blue-tinted, sank into the earth between them in a wall. Junia ran past it, letting it elongate and vanish behind her, and hurled a flurry of knives left-handed through gaps in the fence.
Ilderia saw the path of the knives, sidestepped and charged Junia with the sword in her hand. Junia manifested a spear between them, blocked a wave of lightning with a wall of nonconducting spears in its path, and leaped over Ilderia’s head to land behind her, drawing a bow and firing a barrage of arrows. A cannon-blast of ball lightning caught them and blasted them aside; then Ilderia could close with Junia.
After a few moments they disengaged; Ilderia was bleeding from three small wounds. Junia leaped up and manifested a cluster of spears below her feet moments before a ring of lightning could close in to electrocute her, then leaped away, manifesting her bow and shooting in midair before landing -
Ilderia was there where she landed. Junia traded the bow for swords; parried, stepped back again. Ilderia lunged and Junia stepped back out of her sword’s range; and a bolt of lightning extended from the blade, catching her as she tried to dodge, Ilderia blasting lightning and then more lightning and more until Junia finally stopped moving.
Ilderia took her head off, then saluted the body with the bloody sword. There was silence, and she looked at the Ten Thousand Perfect Rifles.
Decimus looked sick, Veneti looked calm.
“You will support us in our quest for home?” he asked.
Ilderia nodded.
“Your majesty,” Veneti said, and saluted. Decimus slowly followed.
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