“People of Bastion, members of the four Great Houses, students and instructors of the Academy, and all others who have gathered to witness this moment: be welcome. I, Nova, known as the White Queen, have asked that you all gather to witness the signing of the Queen’s Accord, a new compact between the Council of Bastion and the Celestial Consortium which will codify the changes I believe are necessary to ensure peace and prosperity for all.”
Though she spoke succinctly and without elaboration, it still took the Charnel Duchess almost half a cycle to review the causes for the changes, the content of the Accord, and how it would complement the updated charter of the Celestial Consortium itself. Scorio’s fatigue and malaise made it hard for him to focus, but when she reached the part detailing her own departure he sharpened his attention.
“For almost a decade I have maintained preeminence over the Fiery Shoals, the Rascor Plains, and made myself available to aid in any emergencies that might overtake Bastion. With my departure, there will no longer be a Great Soul of my rank at hand to assist you all. For that reason, you must each put forth your better natures, and set aside old animosities, rivalries, and all selfish ambitions. You must be each other’s keeper, and in times of danger or travail it is to your fellow citizens and Great Souls that you must turn. I will be proceeding into the depths of Hell, and cannot easily return without much effort and time. As such, the Council and the Celestial Consortium will shoulder the mantle that I have worn all these years, and to them, I entrust the sanctity of our peace.”
Her words hung in the air.
Nobody stirred.
Scorio glanced about the crowd. Everywhere he saw doubt and fear.
Nobody was cheered by her words, for everyone understood that her departure was a grave shift in the order of their world.
“Now I will summon each Autocrator to swear a Heart Oath to obey and fulfill every aspect of the Queen’s Charter. They shall do so publicly and in so doing make it clear to one and all that they are now the stewards of all of you. Listen closely and bear witness. I can assure you, my friends, that these moments come but once in a lifetime.”
“There’s no Council member from the people up there,” whispered Leonis hoarsely.
“They’ve not yet been chosen,” replied Lianshi.
One by one the White Queen called forth the Autocrators to place their hands upon a tome in which the Queen’s Charter had been inscribed and repeat their Heart Oath for all to hear.
Scorio leaned forward, reaching with his Heart’s senses, and at the culmination of each declaration he caught, even at this distance, a faint pulse of power. To his meager sense, it felt a deep and virulent crimson, startling and blood red.
Each Autocrator swore the oath with a loud, clear voice. Even Eira seemed focused and subdued. They swore to uphold the new tenets of the Council, to not set their resources against each other, and to place past grudges behind them. Scorio was no scholar but the provisions seemed comprehensive. Praximar was the last to swear, but he did so with a forthright voice, looking for all the world as if he were honored and proud to do so.
When the final pulse of power sealed his Heart Oath the entire crowd let out a sigh of wonderment, as if only now did they dare believe that this change had come to pass.
Each Autocrator gave a speech. Raugr was curt and assertive, declaring House Chimera’s intent to uphold the White Queen’s vision and to do all within their power to safeguard the Plains. Octavia was a stirring orator, her voice golden and rich, and despite his heartache and skepticism, even Scorio found himself moved by her sincerity and earnest desire for mutual goodwill. Eira spoke briefly, cryptically, and seemed to lose her train of thought several times before finishing with a wild grin and fist pumped into the air.
Finally, Praximar stepped forth, and for a long, aching moment he simply looked out over the crowd. Gray-bearded, handsome, sober, and solemn, he waited until you could hear the crowd stirring before launching into his speech.
Scorio had heard enough of them already in the Academy, and this one did not disappoint. Praximar’s rhetoric was soaring, grandiose, and filled with allusions to the heroes of the past and those yet to be reborn.
“For that is why we safeguard Bastion,” he said, voice dropping to almost a whisper. “Out of a wild and bold hope that our best are yet to rejoin us. The future lies within the Academy, where our savior may one day appear. Be it Iulius the Golden, Moravius the Black, or even the mad power of Vassavia of the Final Hour, we protect that power which courses through the Archspire so that our savior may rise and lead us all to victory against the perfidy of the Pit. What else matters?” He smiled and looked back and forth, eyes wide. “Wealth? Prestige? Power? All is as nothing before that hope. And for that reason, I take my duty as Chancellor as my most sacred, and will balk at nothing—absolutely nothing—to safeguard the Academy, ensure each new class has the resources it needs to thrive, and give all of us a fighting chance at defeating our foes.”
The crowd remained silent, watching, wondering.
Praximar smiled and raised both arms. “Which is why I hail the White Queen, her sagacity, and the Queen’s Accords. In this new era of peace and cooperation, we shall bring forth our greatest heroes. All hail the White Queen! Let us show her how we poor citizens of Bastion do so appreciate and love her for the incredible generosity she has shown us every step of the way!”
Praximar gestured to the White Queen and retreated, beaming as he led the applause.
The huge crowd roared its approval.
Nova looked briefly nonplussed; then she inclined her head graciously and waited out the applause.
Finally, she raised both hands. When the applause died down she moved to the front of the stage once more.
“It is with a heavy heart that I say goodbye. I will leave now along with those bound for the Fiery Shoals, and soon thereafter shall depart from that grim fortress forevermore. From the bottom of my spirit, I wish you all wisdom, caution, and every success. Goodbye, Bastion, until I am reborn once more.”
Again the applause broke out, but it faltered as the White Queen summoned her portal and grew quiet when she stepped into it, disappearing. One by one a stream of people followed her, such that when the portal winked closed the stage was half empty and appeared diminished for it.
An important House Hydra official moved forward to declare the rest of the day a holiday and make other announcements, but the Autocrators were congratulating each other, minor officials climbing onto the stage for a chance at being beheld by the masses, and the crowd already breaking up, voices rising in discussion, the press of bodies moving everyone gradually toward the side streets.
“Well!” Dameon beamed at them all. “What an honor to witness such a momentous occasion! I dare say our little crew will have to work hard to uphold the White Queen’s vision as well. It will fall to all of us to maintain the peace and keep the fiends at bay.”
“It’s hard to believe,” said Simeon softly, his voice almost lost in the clamor. “Hard to believe that she’s really leaving.”
“Don’t blame her,” said Evelyn. “She’s too strong to remain in this backwater forever. It’s a miracle she stayed this long.”
“Regardless.” Dameon ran his fingers through his shock of blond hair and fairly bounced on the balls of his feet. “Time for us to leave as well. You all ready? Ydrielle’s got The Sloop waiting for us at the Wall. And from there? We’re heading directly to the Chasm itself to begin your training.”
“We’ve already had training!” protested Leonis.
“Not like this you haven’t.” Dameon’s grin turned predatory. “Trust me.”
Chapter 31