An entire army of half-men, half-beast creatures. Soldiers who had the intelligence of humans, but the sensory perception of wild predators. They wouldn’t fight by expected and predictable means of warfare, but rather by the basest instincts of hunting and survival to terrorize and pillage and devour their enemies.
The thought gave Levana a chill all along her spine, and not in a bad way. The temptation to control the sort of animalistic strength these soldiers would have made her mouth water. With that sort of power she could forever quiet the mockery that followed her in the palace corridors, the ongoing rumors about the pathetic, ugly little princess.
“Fine, fine,” said Channary through a yawn, interrupting the thaumaturge mid-sentence. “Whatever you think is best. Are we almost finished?”
Joshua Haddon didn’t seem at all put off by the queen’s lack of interest in public policy and her country’s welfare, though it took all of Levana’s efforts to keep from rolling her eyes. Despite the occasional distracted thoughts, she legitimately wanted to know what was going on in the outer sectors. She wanted to hear the court’s ideas for improvement. Perhaps they could simply send Channary off for her afternoon nap and allow Levana to handle the rest.
Though everyone would have laughed her to shreds if she’d suggested such a thing.
“Only one more issue to discuss, My Queen, before we adjourn.”
Channary sighed.
“As I’m sure you are aware, My Queen, our previous rulers, may they rest ever in divine luxury, were in the process of developing a biochemical weapon that we have reason to believe could be quite effective in any negotiation efforts with Earth, especially given our ongoing antagonistic relationship and the possibility that it could someday dissolve into violence.”
“Oh, stars above,” said Channary, throwing her head back with an overwrought groan. “Is all this jargon necessary? Out with it, Joshua. What is your point?”
The members of the court sniggered behind their dainty hands.
Thaumaturge Haddon stood a little straighter. “One of our laboratories has concocted a contagious disease that we believe—though are yet unable to test—would be fatal to Earthens. As our relationship with Earth has been growing increasingly hostile and may continue to worsen if we’re not able to enter into an alliance and reinstate open trade agreements within the next decade, King Marrok thought this disease could be a means of weakening any Earthen opposition, both in numbers and resources.”
“And I’m sure my father was entirely correct. You may proceed with your … research. Adjourned.”
“I must ask for one more moment of your valuable time, My Queen.”
Huffing, Channary sank back into her seat. “What?”
“There is still the issue of an antidote.”
When he didn’t offer further explanation, Channary shrugged at him.
“As tempting as it may be to one day release this disease on Earth with no concerns for repercussions,” explained Haddon, “some strategists, myself included, feel that an even stronger statement would be to let Earth believe the disease is an act of fate, even punishment. And that should we then offer them an antidote as a means to rid themselves of the disease, it could be the factor that ensures any future alliance discussions being swayed in our direction.”
“You want to make them sick,” Channary said, slowly and tiredly, “and then you want to make them better? That is the stupidest war tactic I’ve ever heard.”
“No, it isn’t,” said Levana. The attention of a hundred members of the royal court turned to her, along with the sudden burning gaze of her sister, peering down from her throne. Levana squared her shoulders and refused to be intimidated. “They wouldn’t need to know that the disease had come from us. It would be the best type of warfare—the type that no one thinks is warfare at all. We could weaken Earth without risking any retaliation.” Tearing her focus from the thaumaturge, she looked up at Channary to find that her sister was spilling venom from her eyes. It didn’t bother Levana, though. She had seen the potential where Channary had not. “And then, once they are so downtrodden as to pose no threat to us in the event of full-on war, we open peaceful negotiations. We make our demands, and we offer the one thing they want more than anything else—an antidote to the disease that has crippled them. It would be seen as the ultimate show of goodwill, not only that we have been using our own resources to develop the antidote, but that we would offer to manufacture and distribute it to them, our previous enemies. How could they say no to any of our requests?”
“That is precisely the strategy we suggest,” said Thaumaturge Haddon. “The young princess stated it very clearly, thank you.”
Despite the kindness of his words, something in his tone made Levana feel chastised. Like her presence in these meetings was barely tolerated as it was, and certainly no one had invited her to contribute to them.
“I suppose I see the potential,” said Channary, toying with a lock of hair. “You may continue with developing this antidote.”
“That is precisely the conundrum we’ve crossed, My Queen.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Of course there’s a conundrum, isn’t there?”
“We have already found a means of developing an antidote, and its effectiveness against the infected microbes has been successfully proven through multiple tests. However, that antidote is developed using the blood cells of ungifted Lunars.”
“Shells?”
“Yes, My Queen. Shells contain the necessary antibodies for the antidote production. Unfortunately, it has proven both timely and costly to obtain blood samples from shells when their population is so widely scattered throughout the outer sectors, and artificial duplication has thus far not been successful.”
“Well then, why don’t you cage them up like the animals they are? We’ll call it retribution for the assassinations of my parents.” A new glint entered Channary’s eyes. “That’s quite brilliant, actually. Let everyone know how dangerous shells are, and that the crown will no longer tolerate the leniency we’ve given them over the years. We can enact a new law if that will help.”
Thaumaturge Haddon nodded. “I think this is a wise course of action, My Queen. To date, Thaumaturge Sybil Mira has been the court’s ambassador with the biochemical research team. Perhaps she is a good candidate to begin drawing up a procedure for the best means of obtaining the blood samples.”
A young woman stepped out of the line of thaumaturges, dressed in a maroon-red coat, with glossy raven’s-wing hair falling down her back. She was beautiful in the way that all members of the queen’s entourage were beautiful, but there was also something admirable in the way she held herself. A confidence that glimmered. Though her station was beneath the head thaumaturge, her posture and faint smile seemed to indicate that she didn’t much believe herself to be beneath anyone at all.
Levana liked her immediately.
“Agreed. I deem Thaumaturge … er…”
“Sybil Mira, My Queen,” she said.
“Mira as the official royal representative of … oh, I don’t know.” Channary sighed. “Ungifted affairs. You have my permission, by royal decree, to do what needs to be done for the betterment of … everyone.” Channary’s fingers danced whimsically through the air as she strung the words together, more like she was composing a pretty-sounding poem than issuing a decree that could impact the lives of hundreds of citizens—thousands, once their families were taken into account.