NONE SO VILE

26: Heavy is the Crown

Albedo, Rennaire, 1809.

“An entire country populated and ruled by short-sighted fools.” Leon closed his eyes, the relief in his tired face almost painful as his muscles relaxed. He’d been back in Albedo for less than thirty hours, and had slept for none of them. Alabaster had done well to keep appearances up while he was gone, but he had done little more than keep the tide at bay. Now that Leon was back, he had a mountain of pressing matters that all required his direct attention.

But right now, all he wanted was a moment of quiet with his lover. Being apart from his dragon for so long had only made Leon’s heart ache more.

“Am I to take it that the Queen refused you then?” Alabaster asked. The dragon was lounging on the bed, dressed only in loose trousers. This was the first moment they’d gotten alone since Leon had returned, and he found the gravelly timbre of Alabaster’s voice a welcome comfort. 

“The Queen…” Leon paused, swirling his brandy beneath his nose and drinking in the fumes. “The Queen did not refuse me, but nor did she allow me. In actuality the Queen did fuck all.” 

“I thought it was an open secret that Benicia makes most of the decisions in the Yaravan court? The King must be a subtle man.” 

Leon choked out a laugh. “Oh, Aurelio is subtle, so subtle he might as well not exist! He all but stood by while another man fucked his wife for all to see. It was pathetic. Never before have I seen such a feeble display of power flaunted so openly. They don’t deserve it. They’re practically asking to have it taken away.”  

“Then who did you meet with?” 

“This one they call the Royal Tanner.” Leon spat the name like it would burn him. “An embarrassment of a man with too much money, too many titles, not enough sense. Thinks he can hide what he really is behind a wall of different names. I’d heard of him, but always assumed he was a kind of concubine the Queen kept around to toy with, but it’s far more than that. The Tanner is a parasitic worm who wriggled his way into power, and now that he’s had a taste of it he only wants more.” Leon’s fingers tightened around his glass, and for a moment he thought it might crack in his paw there and then. He forced himself to relax, blowing hot air through his teeth. “He agreed to let my armies through, but only under the condition that I give him Felise once I destroy it.” 

“Wait,” Alabaster stood from the bed, padding over to Leon. The jaguar watched him come, the warm afternoon sun glittering over his lover’s ivory scales.

“You truly are a beautiful creature, such that it makes my heart ache… do you know that?” He tried to wrap Alabaster in his arms, leaning for a kiss. He didn’t want to argue about this now, he wanted to make love. 

“I…” The dragon pulled from his grip, shaking his head. “Forget that for a moment. I was never aware you meant to destroy Felise. Please tell me that you didn’t agree to that kind of demand?” 

“There was no other choice, so I made the best call I could.” Leon shrugged, tactfully side-stepping around the fact that he had always intended to destroy Felise. They would become an example of what defying Rennaire looked like, maybe that would make Kiberland reconsider their relentless aggression. 

“Leon… I know you want to punish Felise for disobeying you, but that is a price too high to be worth paying. If you give what’s left of Felise to Yaravania, they could grow to rival the other great powers. Between ourselves and Kiberland, the continent is already choking under the weight of two warring titan-states, it won’t survive a third!” 

Leon couldn’t help but snort. Alabaster trying to lecture him on continental politics was akin to a master blacksmith being lectured by a journeyman farrier. Play acting for two-weeks did not an Emperor make. 

“That is why I have no intention of giving Felise to him.” He shook his head, trying not to let it show how little he thought of such childish assumptions.

“‘Him’, ‘I’, Leon, you talk about these countries like they are people. How will the other nations take it when they see you renege on this deal? Please, love. Tell me you won’t start another war because of petty personal grievances.” 

The accusation stung. Did Alabaster really think he liked sending his people into war? Did he truly think Leon was some petty dictator who was towed by the nose at the behest of his own emotions? 

“Do you still see me as the brash fool I was when we first met?” Leon asked, swallowing the sour taste in his mouth. “Sometimes I wonder if you ever stopped. The old Alabaster would not have cared a whit for some dead foreign kings, yet you can change and I cannot? My deal with the Tanner is a secret accord. We will march our armies through the Yaravan lands and bring Felise back into line, and by the time he realises what I mean to do, it will be too late, my army will already be at his doorstop.” 

Alabaster stepped closer. “What you ‘mean to do’? Speak plainly, Leon. You mean going to war with Yaravania, you mean stabbing them in the back after they help you take Felise. The war with Kiberland is bleeding us all dry, and you want to go out and conquer two more nations? Are you insane? Why would you agree to that kind of deal knowing this was the only way out of it? Why not simply pay them, and deal with the Tanner later?”

Leon sniffed, for a moment he was so angry it was all he could do to stare right ahead. He expected this kind of attitude from others, but from Alabaster? Surely, if anyone knew what he was capable of, it was this man.

“The Tanner, he…. got the better of me,” he finally admitted. His cheeks burned with the shame of it. “Does that make you feel better? I am sure someone as capable and infallible as you would never make a mistake, Alabaster, but we are not all so perfect. The other doors closed, and this is the only way forward now.”

“You had every advantage over him! What place does Yaravania have to make demands of you?” 

“You weren’t there!” Leon snapped, hackles flaring up across his neck. “Negotiating with that… cheat of a man is like trying to stab at the sea, it is an exercise in futility and frustration! So I made a better call. I let him think he won. The crown is weak in Yaravania, Ezio admitted as much to me himself. Their people will not complain when I give it to another.” 

“I don’t accept that. You’re better than that, you’ve negotiated far harsher terms with far less leverage before.” 

Damn it all, what did Alabaster want from him? 

The dragon stepped closer, his voice dropping, a claw brushing onto Leon’s arm. “What happened there, Leon? What are you not telling me?” 

The jaguar breathed in deep. There was no point denying it. Staring straight out the window, he recounted his trip to Sanlóna in full, leaving nothing out. He recounted the strange masquerade ball, the drink, the smoke, the seduction and sex, all the way to the Tanner’s final triumph over him. 

When he was done, he was shaking with rage. He should have taken him by the throat. He should have pinned that eelish curr to the wall and forced him to give it over. Ezio wasn’t a soldier, he wasn’t even an aristocrat, he was a fucking tanner, a trumped-up peasant playing kingmaker.

And they same the same about me, he thought, teeth grinding in his jaw. 

“So you see,” he said eventually, voice barely kept in check.

If Alabaster cared for the fact Leon had fucked two other men, he made no bones of it. Instead he pushed in closer, forcing the jaguar to look at him. Those red eyes were like nails that pinned Leon to the wall. 

“I’ll tell you what happened. You were overconfident. You knew you had all the leverage, and you went there assuming that the Tanner, the Queen, and everyone else would be as terrified of you as you think they should be! You assumed that because you’re the fucking Emperor of Rennaire, they would simply give you whatever you demanded, and then you foolishly agreed to the Tanner’s terms before he’d even given them! No, the Tanner didn’t get the better of you, Leon, you did that yourself. Now what, you’re going to invade Yaravania in search of healing your wounded pride? What if Audanne gets involved? What if Gerlachia decides to help, or Tar revolts? We have the greatest army in the world but even we do not have enough to take on that many powerful nations at once. Give up on Felise, Leon, you backed yourself into a corner and now the only way to win is not to play.” 

“Alabaster… watch yourself.” 

The dragon snarled. “Don’t tell me to stop, I’m not a sycophant of yours to order around. Don’t forget I’ve been you now, I see how they treat you! Too many years have gone by without anyone slowing you down. Joachim might have been a self-serving bastard but at least he was never afraid to say no to you.” 

“Is that it, is it?” Leon asked, cocking his head. “Fear? Are you afraid of me too?” 

Alabaster recoiled as if he’d been slapped. “Never.”

A moment passed between them, the air crackling as if it were electrified. Leon wasn’t sure if he wanted to fight or fuck the dragon. Both, he decided.

Is this the sword you want to fall on? He thought, breathing heavy. Give him the victory today. He’s right. I failed completely in my negotiations, and Rennaire can’t take on that many enemies alone. But then again, Leon did not intend to be alone in that fight.  

Finally, he nodded, letting his anger slip away like sand between his fingers. “You’re right. But not in all things. I am the Emperor of Rennaire, my love, and right now I am the most powerful man in the world. With that comes responsibility, both to the people of Midland, and to their future children. I have a grand design, a vision for my legacy… but I was naive in assuming the other nations would simply go along with my dream. This situation is the same as when I returned to find King Phillipe starving the city, only on a much larger stage.” He paused, reaching up to caress Alabaster’s stark white jaw, feeling the smooth scales pass beneath his fingerpad. “The Tanner’s demands are a complication, I agree, but all he has done is accelerate the timeline. Felise will fall, and then I will see that Émeric wears the Yaravanian crown.” 

“...Émeric?” Alabaster blinked in surprise, caught off guard. There was something in his voice that picked at Leon, some odd twang. It made Leon narrow his eyes, cocking his head.

“Yes. I think it’s time we discuss my nephew,” he said. “Ever since I returned, people keep saying how glad they are that he is well. Prefect Guillaume even asked me if I had made a decision about the Church’s fate, and I had to pretend I was still mulling it over. Pray tell, what am I mulling, Alabaster? What happened while I was gone?” 

The dragon sighed, stepping away from the window and sitting on a nearby chair. He suddenly looked weary, and Leon noticed for the first time that one of his claws was wrapped in bandage. Alabaster held it between his knees, rubbing at the wound. 

“Why haven’t you healed that yet?” Leon asked, a pang of guilt spearing through his chest. A part of him wanted to rush to his dragon, to kneel by him and kiss him, and rub at his claw and make sure everything was alright. But another part of him worried that would undermine the conversation they’d just had when he’d finally gotten the upper paw. So instead, he only scowled. “Well? Why keep it that way?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe as a reminder,” Alabaster said softly, looking up. 

Now it was his turn to explain.

He told Leon about Cosette and her ‘bad dreams’. Told him how Alabaster and his veiled apprentice had gone days without sleep as they alternated between running the country and watching Cosette’s estate.

Alabaster told him all of it. The Imperators. The fighting. That thing Alabaster had made out of the dead priests, and finally how Émeric had saved his life. 

“You went to face down four Imperators by yourself?” Leon asked. 

“I had the grotesquerie.” 

“And while you were still injured, all to save my nephew? Why not call for soldiers?” 

“There wasn’t time. And he’s my nephew too,” Alabaster said, almost bashful as he looked away. “I only wanted to protect the boy, I didn’t dream he would protect me as well. I’m grateful for that… but I fear what such a change may represent.” 

Leon wasn’t sure what Alabaster meant by that. As far as he could tell, there was only good news. The sooner that Émeric could wield his Angel powers, the better. The Royal Tanner had been right – Rennaire was strong thanks to Alabaster’s sorcery, but they needed an Angel of their own if they were going to truly contend with the Church’s full agenda.

Especially once they catch wind of my intentions, Leon thought.

Alabaster must have seen the confusion on his face, because he smirked. “Leon, you must understand the nature of sorcery. It is not some miracle wherein something is pulled out of nothing. For myself, I manipulate a primordial force we know as the other. The other bleeds through to our world from another realm, and it weaves all things together the same way gravity keeps us on the ground. It is invisible, unless you know how to look. The one who taught me these secrets, my old master Fayez, lost his mind to the other realm. That’s what raw sorcery does, an expert in the trade was exposed for less than a minute, and he smashed his face to pieces the very moment he looked back. It is too much for the mortal mind to comprehend, too big for us to hold onto.” 

“You think Émeric might do the same? Look into that world and go mad?” 

“I believe he already sees it,” Alabaster said. “Something changed when he used his ability. I do not pretend to fully understand the Angels, but I am sure that there is some reason nearly all of them are half-mad. Their power comes from somewhere else, but they see the world as it truly is, with the physical, the other, and hell knows what else interwoven together. A great lattice of magic. Seeing that does things to a mind, and the Imperator’s leader, Malachi, confirmed as much to me. Regardless of how we feel about the Church, and the Angels, this is not a problem that will go away.” 

“I am not inclined to trust anything that comes from the mouth of those snakes,” Leon said. “For all we know, it is the Church’s practice that drives them to insanity.” 

Alabaster shrugged. “I considered the possibility, but all the history is in agreement, doctrine or not. I am open to exploring options, but we should begin thinking up what we might do if Émeric ever loses control, and levels a city block.” 

Leon poured himself another brandy, falling into a nearby chair with a huff. He heard a clerk or a runner knocking at his door. The country needed him already. It always needed him. I came here to be with him alone, and all we did was argue.

For once, Rennaire could wait.

Alabaster sniffed. “Eventually the question is going to be asked for us.” 

Leon nodded. A part of him had always known it – anyone who’d fought near an Angel knew it too. They were inherently unstable, usually separated from the greater military force and staffed by a team of priests and Imperators. Ordinary soldiers were not permitted to speak to Angels, nor were the generals and commanders permitted to issue orders directly. 

When he’d first signed up, Leon had even heard stories of Angels murdering allied soldiers for no good reason, even outside the heat of battle. There was no punishment, no penalty, and everyone simply looked away from it. The family was paid, and life moved on. 

He knew it was ridiculous to think that Émeric would somehow be an exception to that, and yet Leon couldn't imagine his little jaguar nephew ever becoming something evil. 

For a moment, a single heartbeat, he felt the full weight of his responsibilities crushing him. Rennaire, Kiberland, Yaravania, the wars, the Angels, the Church, Alabaster, the Tanner, Deuxmoise, Émeric, the people, the money, the blood. It was all too much, and he wished someone else could just take it away. 

But this is the real world, he thought. These problems must be confronted, and there is nobody but me who can do it. 

“And this decision that I am supposed to be making. What of that?” Leon took another sip of brandy. He vowed never to leave Albedo with so much secrecy again, far too much had happened while he was gone.

Alabaster turned his injured claw around, examining it. “After Malachi took Émeric, I sent Cosette back here and told her to order every known supporter of the Church arrested. Not practising citizens, just the visiting missionaries and the pilgrims, along with anything else in between. They’ve been held for about a week now, a few hundred people in total.”

Leon pinched the bridge of his snout. “Did they know that they were sheltering Imperators?” 

“Hard to say. Some definitely did, some suspected, some had no clue.”

“Treason, then.” 

Alabaster shook his head. “I doubt any of them knew that they’d come for Émeric. Remember, to them an Imperator is simply an ordained soldier, someone who can offer safety and protection from Angels.” 

“Regardless, they still aided a foreign enemy, an enemy who attacked the royal family.” Leon’s anger came back suddenly, rupturing like a geyser in his chest. It burned through him, muscles shaking, teeth grinding as he thought about it. 

I wasn’t here. I wasn’t here and they tried to take my family. 

“I can’t be weak on this, Alabaster.” He stood suddenly, if only to do something.

“Alright, I agree, but remember it was the Supreme Pontiff who ordered this… not the pilgrims that came to spread their faith.” 

“I knew I should never have let them back in,” Leon said, shaking his head. “I thought it would show the other powers I can be reasonable, convince Kiberland that maybe negotiation was better than endless fucking wars! But no, there is no reasoning with people like this.” 

People like this. The Church. Kiberland. Even Felise, flaunting the trade embargo and openly dealing with the enemy. The Royal Tanner too, trying to use him to bolster his own power. 

“I’m tired of it. A message has to be sent.” A message to all his enemies. “That this kind of action cannot be tolerated!”

“The Supreme Pontiff is in Audanne, we can’t reach him without–” 

“Fuck the Pontiff!” Leon exclaimed, showing his teeth. The Supreme Pontiff. The Tanner. The King of Kiberland. The King of Felise. All these people that he couldn’t reach. They were laughing at him, no doubt. He was the most powerful man alive, maybe the most powerful of all time, and yet these few individuals thought they could elude his wrath? “I cannot attack him directly… he knows it would start a war with Audanne, and unite the western block against Rennaire. Of course the bastard knows that, he’s counting on it.” He laughed, staring out at the city. “But I can hurt his people.”

“Leon, slow down, this is not a good–”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Leon said, cutting him off. “I appreciate that you’ve discovered the value of mortal life, Alabaster, but the reality of war still exists. The Church wants to hide itself behind these people, then fine, I’ll let them.” He raised his voice, calling to the clerk at the door. “Boy, come in already!” 

The handle turned and the door swung inward, a boy of about sixteen poking his head inside. He was a young fox, nervous, dressed up in a brand new navy-blue uniform. 

“Y-yes, sire?” 

Leon glanced at Alabaster, almost daring the dragon to try and stop him. When he didn’t, the jaguar cleared his throat, turning back to the clerk. “Gather the prefects for an announcement!” 

“Leon…” Alabaster whispered. “Please, don’t do it.” 

“What other choice is there?” He shook his head. People had forgotten what he was capable of. They thought they could just take what they wanted and get away with it. 

He had responsibilities. To his people, and to his family. 

There had to be consequences. 

“I’m the Emperor,” Leon said softly, turning to go. “And the Emperor does what must be done.” 

It wasn’t like last time.

The last time Albedo saw mass execution, the smell of blood was overpowered by the smell of victory. It was revenge, it was justice, and great men and small alike agreed upon that. 

Not this time. 

The rain poured down on the procession of doomed prisoners, their heads lowered, chains clinking as they were ushered up to the wooden platform where the guillotine loomed. The crowds were thin compared to last time, but they watched on stoically. Leon wondered if they, like him, felt an obligation to do so, for nobody cheered, or threw things, or even protested the treatment. They just watched. 

Leon had not sent all of the imprisoned missionaries and faithful to the guillotine, but he had sent enough. The vast majority were in fact sentenced to penal colonies – six years being the median sentence. It was only the visiting cardinals, the high-profile pilgrims, and the missionary leaders that would be losing their heads. The ringleaders, or anyone that Leon’s police could determine had actively known about the presence of the Imperators.

Like many in Rennaire, Leon was used to war. He was comfortable hearing the large numbers that came out of battles, of being told that ten, twelve, fifteen, twenty thousand men had been injured or killed. Compared to that, the two-dozen losing their heads today were nothing. Two-dozen deaths on a battlefield would be considered a perfect victory, any general expects to lose that to accident and sickness anyway.

Yet when he imagined those two-dozen headless bodies piled by the guillotine, nothing about this felt perfect.

Was this a mistake? He tried to quash the thought from his mind. Tried to ask himself what other choice there was? Should he allow the Church to get away with it? Should he continue accepting their missionaries when he knew it put his family in danger? Émeric could have been killed, or Cosette, or even Alabaster. If the Imperators had decided to come into his sister’s home and stab Émeric right in his bed nothing could have been done to stop it. No, Leon would not allow that kind of risk. He would not. 

They were non-combatants, and no doubt the Church would label him a ruthless murderer. But they would also think twice about trying this again. He would not be pushed, and he owed it to his family and the people of Rennaire to make that clear. 

“We got lucky this time,” he whispered, watching the first prisoner sink to his knees, his fur flattened by the rain, his neck slotting into the wooden lunette as the pillory closed. 

Someone had to hold the Supreme Pontiff accountable, even if it was unpleasant.

“This is lucky?” Leon looked aside, surprised to see Gaspar leaning on the rail beside him. The crocodile quickly caught the jaguar’s look and winced. “I mean… begging your pardon, your majesty.” 

Leon sighed, sagging down next to him. Nobody else was looking, surely he could afford to let his guard down for a moment. “We may be past that kind of formality now, my friend.” 

Gaspar chuckled, shaking his head. The two had not spoken about what happened inside the Tanner’s bedroom since they left Yaravania. Frankly, Leon thought there was no need. It too had been unpleasant, but there had also been an element of… desire, at least in the moment. Let Gaspar label that as the drink, or the smoke, and move on.

The crocodile cleared his throat. “If that’s true, your majesty, may I ask something plain of you?” 

Leon watched as the guillotine fell, separating the first missionary's head from his body with a shunk. He had thought this would feel right, or at least fair. Instead, it just felt mean. 

“How could I deny you?” He asked, forcing himself to continue watching as the body was hauled off to the side, and the next prisoner was welcomed up on stage. 

“As I understand things, you have a certain vision for how the continent should operate. A future goal that the war with Kiberland, and soon Felise, works towards.” 

“That’s right,” Leon replied warily. 

Gaspar hesitated, then decided to push through the awkwardness. “What is to become of the Church of the One God, in the end? Especially now, with… with this.” He gestured to the execution below, another neck locking into the rain-soaked pillory. “I am struggling to imagine a future where we are not at odds with the Church. To what end is this killing taking us, Emperor?”

Leon licked his lips. He could smell the rain, and in his mind, the blood. “That is not for me to decide, Gaspar. I opened our borders to the Pontiff in good faith, and he spat in my face. What would you have me do? Many a man today has called this response drastic, but what alternative is there? Should I let it go?” 

“The Imperators were the ones responsible, and they’re dead now. Isn’t that justice enough?”

Leon scoffed. “I don’t blame the individual any more than you would blame a soldier for his king’s crimes. But I will still take that soldier’s life in the pursuit of bringing his king to justice, that’s what war means. Perhaps after Yaravania there will be army enough to spare that I can continue our march south into Audanne, and deliver my justice to the Supreme Pontiff personally. But that is more than a year away, and there must be consequences now, please try to see that.” 

Gaspar stared at him aghast, and Leon realised he’d said too much. He was too damn tired. “After… Yaravania? Your majesty, please tell me you misspoke, I understand we are invading Felise, not Yaravania, and certainly not Audanne. What about your deal with the Tanner?” 

“You think he’d honour that?” Leon snapped, whirling on the soldier. He was sick of people constantly criticising him, especially those that should know better. Oh, he expected it from the parliament, but Gaspar? Alabaster? One was a soldier, and the other his lover.

Yet they doubt me at every turn. Don’t they consider the toll that takes? To constantly doubt myself? They offer critiques and problems and never any solutions.  

Well. If they had wanted to make those decisions, they should have become Emperor themselves. 

“The Tanner is a spineless, conniving son of a whore,” Leon growled at the crocodile. “You saw what a mockery he made of the Yaravan Court, turning the King and Queen into his own private playthings! The incompetence of it enrages me, and I cannot abide that kind of man in a position of significant power, especially considering how he expects me to simply give Felise over to him!”

“I may not know about such matters, but I know our armies, and they can’t survive being stretched so thin,” Gaspar said. “To fight Kiberland and Felise, and then to fight Yaravania and then possibly Audanne? Please, sire, I–” 

“Am not the Emperor, and therefore do not know better,” Leon said, straightening up. “At least, I can only assume that’s what you were going to say?” 

Beside him, Gaspar hesitated, then deflated. A small flame of familiarity had kindled between them, but too late Leon realised he had just snuffed it out.  

“Yes, that’s right, your majesty.” 

Why do you do this? He blew air from his cheeks, slumping against the rail as another missionary lost his head, the scarlet puddles of blood and rainwater swirling on the cobblestones before the guillotine stage. This was what lost everyone to him. This was why Jacques had died a stranger to him, and not the friend he’d once been. Only Alabaster and Cosette still treated him like a real person, and even then they had their moments.

This is what it means to be a movement, he thought. Leon was a symbol, not a man. An Emperor transcended ordinary mortals. Does anyone really see me? He glanced at Gaspar, now standing at attention, and thought of Alabaster. Will I lose you the same way, my love? 

It was a terrifying thought. Leon had thought that leading a country would connect him more to others, not less. Instead, he continued to feel more lonely than ever before in his life. He was untethered, floating through the world, always near to other people but never truly a part of them. Somewhere deep he yearned desperately to feel something real, to connect with other people and understand the world in the same way they did. But becoming Emperor had changed nothing, he was still the same person he always was.

Do we live in the same world, my friend? He wondered, watching Gaspar wince as the latest body was dragged out of the pillory. In times like this Leon wondered if he really was a person in the same way other people were. Yes, you could cut him and he would bleed, but blood alone did not make a man. What does? When you and I look down on a scene like this, are we truly seeing the same sight before us, and understanding it together? I am not so sure. 

Years ago, Alabaster would have sneered at such a sight like this. Now even he thought this was too much. 

“But what other choice is there?” Again Leon came back to that question. Nobody else could answer that, only him. What else could be done to show the Supreme Pontiff that this kind of interference would not be tolerated? Destiny had brought Leon to this place, to this moment, and he would be a fool to ignore it after coming so far.

When my work is done, he thought. When the wars are finished and Rennaire can put down the sword, this will not happen again. He swore it to himself, knuckles going white beneath his fur as he throttled the guardrail, eyes pulled wide as he watched the next man lose his head. This will be a dark chapter in our past. Never to be repeated. There will be peace on the continent, in every city, and in every town. I will bring peace, to Kiberland, to Rennaire, to everyone. 

“I swear I will.” He straightened up, still watching the procession below them. “Whatever the cost.” 

Six hours later Leon sat in the war room, watching his map of Midland. He still hadn’t slept a full night, and all the brandy and exhaustion was finally beginning to catch up with him. Alabaster sat to his right, carefully listening as Leon’s generals outlined their proposals for the incursion into Felise. By all accounts it was not proper for the dragon to be present, but the leadership of Rennaire had long given up fighting Leon on what was ‘proper’. Alabaster was a key part of his government, and they all accepted that. 

“It is all very good to have Yaravania’s word allowing us permission through their lands,” General Auric was saying. His tiny wooden pointer looked ridiculous in the wolf’s gigantic grey paw. He was motioning towards a coastal path on their massive map, which most of the generals were in favour of following. “But what will their position be if the Kiber navy decides to harry us on our way? Will Benicia’s ships be satisfied working as our shield? See north of this estuary,” the pointer clicked as he tapped the paper for emphasis. “There is a bay deep enough to hold a bombardier frigate. Our armies could be shelled without any infantry conflict.”

“Redouble our efforts in the Thornish conflicts,” Alabaster added, pointing. “We must draw the Kiber focus away from Felise.” 

“Pointless,” Leon added. He could feel the slur in his words. His body felt so heavy, and still everyone else seemed to be moving so slowly. “The moment Kiberland realises we are invading Felise, they will pounce on it like a whore on a franc. They’ll be playing catch up regardless. As for the estuary, keep the army away from shelling range, I don’t care if it adds another week to the journey.” 

General Auric nodded. He was a large, middle aged wolf wrapped in both muscle and fat, and Leon suddenly found he hated the man. Stand up for yourself, damn it, must I do everything myself? He thought. 

“Felise is a wreck,” Leon continued. “They are weak and pathetic, far too comfortable being coddled by the Kiber’s promises. They signed my continental embargo agreement with full intent to defy it. They thought Yaravania would protect them, they will not. They think that the Kiber will save them, they cannot. I’ve half a mind that if we take them fast enough, Kiberland may give up on it entirely. So you see… speed is of the essence, gentlemen.” 

“Be that as it may, I have concerns about proper supply lines once our boys are established in enemy territory,” Auric added, the other commanders nodding along with him. 

“And Angels,” Alabaster added warily. “The Seventy-Fifth and Eighty-First are known to be sworn to Felise.” He lowered his voice, shrugging. “And I am sure the Supreme Pontiff will not have any reservations about sending more to support our enemies now.” 

“Bah,” Leon waved him away. This was a pointless discussion, the plan was set, and he needed to sleep. “Keep from the coasts in our travels. Give the anti-Angel units whatever they need. Yaravania will support us to an extent, and the corps can forage to make up the deficit from slower supply chains.” 

“With all respect, my Emperor,” Auric began. “We are talking about a force of nearly half a million men, foraging is not a viable option, it will strip Felise’s people of everything they have.”

“They should have thought about that before they lied to my face,” Leon snapped back. He pushed to his feet, his entire face throbbing from the tiredness. Barely four days had passed since he returned from Yaravania, and he’d had maybe ten hours of sleep in total since then. “Felise’s forces are a joke. They are laughably disorganised; their men do not have uniforms, some don’t even have guns, let alone the training to fire them. I am tired of fighting, tired of arguing. I need peace on my continent. This war has to be started and finished fast, understand me?” 

“The Felisians may have a poor excuse for an army,” Auric continued. “But it is their land, and they know it well. Kiberland may be slow to react but they will come to support them eventually.” 

“Then we win the war before Kiberland can arrive on their shores,” Leon said dismissively. Auric was a good general in the field, but he often lacked sight of the bigger picture. Leon wished he would just be quiet, and do as he was told. 

“There might be reason to reconsider this approach,” Alabaster added. 

Not you too, not again. Leon sighed, waving his paw across as if swiping away their concerns. 

“Listen to me. This is what will happen. Auric shall lead a smaller force ahead, scouting out the Felisian position. The rest of the army will follow in tow, foraging where they must to make up what our supply chains cannot deliver. There will still be supply chains, they will simply be sparser rations than our men are used to.” He narrowed his eyes at the war cabinet, meeting each of their gazes. “Felise’s only hope is that the Kiber come to bail them out of the sinking ship they all boarded. Kiberland will not reach them. Admiral Raditz–” Leon pointed to the ferret who headed up the Rennairan navy. “How long for Kiberland to pull their forces out of Thorn and Northern Rennaire, and direct them down to Felise for a full-scale assault? Assuming you do not harass them at every opportunity?” 

“Well, er, that is…” The ferret shuffled his papers. He had an exceptional mind for logistics, but ironically, was famous for being terribly disorganised. “They may move smaller forces earlier, but I would estimate roughly three months for a full-commitment move on Felise.” 

Leon threw his paws at the other generals. “General Auric, there you have it! Take Felise, you have three whole months!”

The commanders all shifted in their seats, glancing at one another. Auric himself looked aghast, the white fur around his eyes stretched wide. Even Alabaster seemed confused, and Leon already knew why. 

“But where will you be, sire?” Admiral Raditz finally asked. “I imagined you would take command personally.”

“Not this time, not for something as trifling as Felise.” Leon left them with that question burning in their mind, turning to leave. “I trust Auric will have it all in paw. Angels won’t matter if they lose the capital.”

And while our army goes west, I will go east. To visit Losaile, and the King-I-Made Deuxmoise. Invading Felise was already something the greater paw-wringers of the continent would frown upon, and even Leon knew he couldn’t simply turn on his supposed ally the moment the fighting stopped. But that didn’t mean he’d give up on his dream.

No, if he wanted to invade Yaravania, and finally take that crown off the undeserving heads of Queen Benicia and the Royal Tanner, he would need to create just cause. That should be easy enough, a man as impulsive and indulgent as the Tanner should be rather easy to goad into an act of official aggression. 

After that, if the conflict went well, Leon would consider pushing south, into Audanne – towards the heart of the One God’s Church.

One thing at a time, he reminded himself. Invading Yaravania – with just cause or not – would be no easy feat. They were far stronger than when he last beat them, and Kiberland would no doubt rush to their aid, not to mention the risk of a western alliance forming under Leon’s heels. And all that without even considering Angels.

Half a million won’t be enough, especially after the fight to take Felise. To crush Yaravania I will need Losaile. I will need Deuxmoise. But Leon had made Deuxmoise a king, the jackal would not deny him. Their two countries were already allies anyway, all Leon needed was an official assurance of support. 

What a trifling thing it would be to have the Losailan armies augment his own. Maybe Deuxmoise could even bring in the old Emperor of Danegard in with him, then all the western nations could unite and it still wouldn’t matter. 

Imagine that, Leon thought, grinning to himself. Even Kazmar the Great could not have dreamed of commanding such a force.

It was not an easy move to consider. There were many moving parts, and he would have been shortsighted to think that anyone, even Alabaster, would have supported the plan if they knew the full breadth of it.

But this was what it meant to be an Emperor. This was the weight of his crown, and he would wear it, for the good of all.

He paused as he made to leave the war room, glancing back at his cabinet of generals. They all had impressive credentials, and still they all had such small visions of the future. Alabaster was the same, in many ways. Leon loved the dragon with all his being, but he still thought only of survival, not legacy. Survival was a question of days, weeks, maybe years. Legacy was forever. 

That was why he was the Emperor, and they were his servants. They thought only of Rennaire. Leon thought of everything, because nobody else would. 

Broaden your horizons, my brothers, and consider the grand design. Midland at peace. The world finally at rest. Rennaire’s soul, preserved forever. 

With or without anyone’s permission, Leon would do what he’d always done – whatever he thought best. Some may come to hate him, but the future sons and daughters of Midland would worship his memory as a hero. That was the price of leadership, of absolute power. Leon accepted that withering responsibility, he owned it, it was his. 

For heavy is the head that wears the crown.