NONE SO VILE

20: The Right to Rule

Albedo, Rennaire, 1804. 

Leon flinched as knuckles rapped on his bedroom door. 

“Just a minute," he growled, blinking back into focus. Vest. He was buttoning his vest, of course. He shot a glance back at the wall of his room, letting out a breath as his fingers quickly looped the buttons into their catches. Nothing there.

“Director, the carriages are waiting." Jacques's voice was muted through the door, but the rat's insistency was plain. Leon grinned. It felt good to actually hear Jacques come through, and not the strangely distant servant he had become of late. Jacques had never been tardy in his life – Leon probably could have delayed them another full hour and still made the Council of State address with time to spare. 

“Director, we are expected to mingle during the pre-empt," Jacques explained, as if Leon didn't know.

Let them wait, he thought, finally pushing his last button through its loop. He missed his military uniform; simple layers, built practically for warmth and ease of movement. Compared to the pre-revolutionary decadence, Leon's double-breasted navy coat and vest was hardly ostentatious, but it was still more restrictive than he would have liked. 

Is it gone? He gave one more suspicious glance to the bare walls of his room, before shaking his head and making for the door. 

“Oh. What? Where is he?" A second voice had joined the rat's outside now, that of Leon's sister, Cosette Valoisier. “Yes, hello, Jacques, dear. Oh, why are you waiting outside? He's not a princess." Cosette had none of the gentle politeness of the rat, and slammed her fist onto Leon's door. “OPEN UP!" 

He drew the latch and yanked his door open, shooting them both a sharp glance. “What? What is the sudden urgency?" 

“You've spent twice as long in here as it took me to prepare, and I've got twice the clothes and three times the makeup as you!" Cosette gestured to herself, indicating the layered gown she was wearing. Like Leon's own attire it wasn't much compared to the outlandish dresses of the pre-revolution, but it was still more than men like the Speaker would be happy to see. 

Opulence is the trapping of oppression, seek not augments of vanity, for tools and education will liberate the people of body and mind. Let them eat cake, so the owners said. Leon scowled, trying to rid his mind of the man's nagging voice. 

“Come now," Cosette said, brushing past him and grabbing the small badges and pins he'd forgotten on the vanity table. She turned Leon about promptly, fixing the badges to their proper place on his own suit.

“I am one of the most powerful people in this country, you know," he added, giving her a wry grin. 

“And yet you still struggle to properly dress yourself." Cosette tutted, glancing around the room as she affixed the pins. “Do you still live like this? God in his heaven, Leon, if I didn't know better I'd think you were still on campaign."

“It's a normal room," he protested. He wasn't sure what the problem was – he had a bed for sleep, armoires for his clothing, and a wide working desk stacked high with bills and papers and proposed legislation.

“It's bloody barren is what it is," Cosette jabbed. “Feels like a prison."

“Madame Valoisier," Jacques interjected, poking his head up between them. “The carriages are waiting and the assembly expects–"

“Yes, yes, stop worrying so much!" She snapped at him, brushing him away. She admired her work on Leon's chest, nodding succinctly. “There. Now you are prepared for polite company." 

“They're just badges." 

Cosette leaned in. “You are the Director of this country's Triumvirate, Leon. The First Director. Part of that means acting the role they expect." 

“I think–"

“No," she silenced him with a chop of her paw. “War is your profession. I have been a lady of Albedo for some years now, and if that teaches you one thing it is the importance of appearance and presentation. Tonight, you address the Council of State, tomorrow, their wives will talk about in the salons and from there the city's opinions will flow. May God not listen when I say, men are useful for killing and building things, but they are useless at actually thinking." 

Leon pursed his lips, huffing. “God doesn't live in Rennaire anymore, Cosette." 

She rolled her eyes. “Come, if we don't hurry now Jacques might explode."

“Thankyoumadame," Jacques gasped, his entire body finally relaxing.

The three of them made for the door when Leon paused, looking back to his armament rack. Several swords and pistols hung there on pegs. “Should I wear a sword?" 

“It's only a speech," Jacques said. “I don't think it will be dangerous."

Cosette scoffed. “Didn't you resign from the military when you took office? You're not a soldier anymore, Leon."

“I'm still a General in all the ways that count," Leon replied. “They need to see that I'm strong."

Cosette whirled back, bracing a paw on his shoulder. “My dear brother, the revolution is truly over now. Rennaire must move on. Don't seek to remind them of how you came to power; put away the guns and guillotines and turn their minds to the future. You're a statesman now." 

He sighed, moving to follow her. “Very well." 

Cosette impressed Leon, he couldn't deny it. When he'd first returned to Albedo after the war with Danegard, she'd been a wreck. Being a new mother, a grieving widow, and then learning your child was an Angel was more than enough to break most people. For a while, Leon hadn't expected her to make it. But after he took power, and assured her that Émeric would be staying with his family instead of being shipped off to some monastery of the One God, his sister had truly found her feet. In the two years since, she had become the queen of salons. She hosted gossip parties, cultivated favour, and established herself as one of the foremost women in the new Rennaire social scene.

I must find a good husband for her, Leon considered. Someone important, but not someone stupid enough to smother her brilliance.  

The trio made their way downstairs and out into the courtyard, where two large black carriages stood waiting for them, guards stationed all around. Émeric was waiting with his minders, tottering around on fat, two-year-old-legs as he giggled and spat. Cosette quickly scooped him up, wiping at his mouth as she turned back to Leon. 

“Hello young man, how are you?" He asked, giving the boy a small bow. 

Émeric clapped his fat little cub paws together, grinning toothily. “Unca-Leon!" He exclaimed. “Cawwige?" He squirmed away from Cosette's grip, pointing to the carriages. Above his tiny jaguar head, that flat white halo moved in perfect sync with his scalp, impossible to ignore. 

“That's right, we'll be going in the carriages," Leon confirmed. He had always believed in taking children seriously, and giving them the same respect he would give adults. “I'll be in the one ahead, and you'll look after your Mama in the one behind, can you do that, soldier?"

The tiny jaguar raised a shaking salute, causing his mother to tsk in disapproval. 

“Bold future for this one," Leon added, grinning at her. “I'll see you two at the address, alright. Be well." He moved to join his own carriage with Jacques, when the baby cried out again, paws reaching. 

“Jacques! Jacques!" 

Leon raised an eyebrow, glancing between his sister and the rat. “Jacques?" 

Cosette sighed, hefting Émeric up on her shoulder again. “Yes, he adores Jacques for whatever reason." 

“And… does Jacques adore him?" Leon eyed the rat.

Jacques shrugged. “The boy appears nice enough, yes."

Leon could sense the edge of a tantrum in the jaguar cub, and decided to skip around it. “Alright, alright, take Jacques with you. I'll see you all at the assembly."

Leon left them all to it, stepping up to his own carriage. One of the guards held the door and he gave him a nod, clapping him on the shoulder as he climbed the steps. 

It was important that the men felt seen, even if they were assigned to a task as banal as escorting the First Director to a political gala. Every soldier in the Rennairan army knew they mattered to Leon, they all knew he respected them and they gave him their best for it in turn. 

That is why we have the greatest military in the world, he thought, closing the door behind him. Our soldiers know who they're fighting for, and they want to be there. 

“You took your time." 

Leon jumped at the sudden crispness of Alabaster's voice, only now seeing the cloaked necromancer lounging in the corner of the carriage. He was like a spider nesting in the corner of a box. 

“God in his heaven, man!" Leon exclaimed, shaking his head. “I'd no idea you were here." 

Great, he thought. Even I'm saying it again now. 

“Oh? Am I truly so terrifying?" 

Leon snorted. “My love, you are as white as the ghost, forgive me for mistaking you for some kind of vengeful spectre." 

Alabaster shifted uncomfortably, and it only made Leon's heart tighten more. The dragon was so awkward when it came to any sort of affection, even something as simple as my love. He squirmed away from it, turned it into a joke, or deflected entirely every single time. 

He grinned at the dragon. But this is a battle I am certain to win, your defences can't withstand me forever. 

The carriage lurched as they began the journey towards the assembly, the horse's shoes clacking loudly on the cobblestones outside. 

For a moment they only travelled in silence.

“I wish you would come inside," Leon said eventually. “It's a good speech. Cosette is bringing Émeric, surely an Angel baby is worse than a dragon." 

“I have no desire to suffer their little looks and sneers," Alabaster replied, snorting. “You can give me the speech later. They'd much rather imagine a future without someone like me in it, so let them. I prefer the shadows."

“Sometimes I wonder how much we've really changed. So much destruction, for what?" 

“Nothing changes overnight, Leon. Especially not people." An awkward moment passed between them, and Alabaster shifted in his seat. “Are you… alright? Doesn't seem like you to be nervous about giving a speech to politicians." 

Leon sighed, letting his head fall into his paws. For a moment he considered lying, but he had pledged himself to love Alabaster. He trusted the dragon. If I can't be honest with you, then who could I ever be honest with?

“ I feel like a fraud. I'm going to stand up there and tell them about Rennairan endurance. Congratulate our victory over Kiberland and claim our nation is utterly immortal, and shall remain free for all eternity. No more kings, and all that." 

“But?" The dragon leaned forward. 

Leon found it difficult to choose his words. He was so used to being the strong one, the person in charge, the pillar that everyone else could rally behind. When they threatened to take Émeric he had been there, when the country had collapsed around his shoulders he had been there. 

Alabaster is strong too, he told himself. He can take it. That was the best thing about the dragon – he knew nobody was perfect, and accepted the good with the bad.

“We received several missives today, all at once," Leon explained. Even just saying it aloud exhausted him. “Firstly, General Deuxmoise is struggling in the east. Danegard have always been stalwart, and while they aren't winning, they've slowed the army's progress. Kiberland also reconfirmed their commitment to correcting our dynasty. There might not be any heirs of Phillipe left, but he'd plenty of cousins and half-brothers scattered over Midland." He fell back against the carriage bench, all the energy deflating out of him in one sudden go. “I don't know what to do. They will never let up, no matter how many battles I win or how many of their men I kill. What more must I do to prove our legitimacy?"

“It's bravado," Alabaster promised. “Press them. Press them again and again and just when you think they cannot take any more, you press again. You must maintain perspective, Leon, you sound as if we've already lost this war when you're winning every engagement." 

“The whole world wants to destroy us," Leon whispered. He turned away, staring out the window as the darkened streets of Albedo rolled by. “I can't shake the feeling that they will never let us be free." He sucked his teeth. “And…that's not everything."

Alabaster was quiet, letting him speak when he was ready. Leon took in a deep breath, clearing his mind. It was the sort of thing he would typically never admit, but Alabaster wasn't typical. If anyone could take it, it was him. 

“I still hear the mob," Leon admitted softly. To say the words aloud was as painful as peeling back a fresh scab. “I hear them outside my home. I hear them banging on the walls of my bedroom. They clamour to get in, to drag me down, to take me, and you, and Cosette and Émeric and Jacques and everyone else. To the guillotine." 

“The revolution is over, Leon." 

“Not for me," he snapped. “It will never end. This entire nation rests on my shoulders, and anyone who denies that is a fool." He laughed dryly. “The people expect me to deliver them a future. If it happened once, it can happen again. Joachim, Laurent, the other marshals… they've grown complacent, languishing in the new status quo, and already I can see them jostling for more power. The situation is tennous, and Rennaire cannot afford to have our own government squabbling amongst itself for power. All that death, the executions, the violence, the war? I did it all for the people, I cannot lose them now. I won't." 

“You have no need of a guilty conscience. You only did what had to be done."

“You think I feel guilt?" Leon hissed, before drawing his anger back. “No. I feel no guilt. The former aristocracy was bloated and sick, festering with putrid cysts in the place of men. I make no qualms about the blood we spilled for a better Rennaire. But I remember the rage of that mob. If I hadn't executed Phillipe when I did they would have torn all of us apart then and there. Madness." 

Alabaster was very quiet. A spike of worry needled at Leon as he began to doubt if telling the dragon was the right thing to do. What if sees me as weak? What if he realises I'm not fully in control? 

“What?" He demanded. “Out with it." 

“I don't want to add to your worries," Alabaster said. “But I have some… troubling discoveries."

Leon hurried him along with a wave of his paw.

“The treachery we faced in Yaravania – the murder of the Endo prisoners, Leutgard's attack on the baggage train… I always suspected it was the doing of one of your marshals. It goes deeper than that." 

“Spit it out." 

“Joachim came to me," Alabaster said. He sounded surprised himself. “He blames the Speaker. There was talk of a shadow government, a state within our state perpetrated by those most loyal to the Speaker. Joachim claims he is more radical than we know, and that he means to steal more influence – even if that means killing you."

“Do you believe him?" Joachim had tried to tip the balance towards himself before – namely in attempting to have his servant Bartolomé added to the Triumvirate. It was a blatant move and one Leon had easily shot down, but that did not mean the crane would simply give up his ambitions.

“I don't know. It's believable, we certainly know the Speaker is radical… but it also reeks of the kind of plan Joachim is known for. The man is scum, Leon, and he killed me once already. I will not allow him to do it again. But… if he's right, he is right." 

It doesn't matter, Leon thought, staring once more out the window. Whichever of them I pick, whichever is jostling for more power, I lose out. Choose either one and empower the other. The Triumvirate was delicate, carefully balanced to allow Leon maximum freedom over their decisions. But if the Speaker was able to put his own man in to replace Joachim, or vice-versa… that balance would be gone. I could lose this country without even realising it. 

“Politicians fighting for control," Leon mused. “And the rest of the world refusing to even look at us without a fucking legitimate ruler… It's all falling apart, Alabaster. Not two years into this system and already the cracks begin to show. It took the way of kings a thousand years to crumble, what hope do we have?" 

“Melancholy doesn't suit you," Alabaster said. 

“I feel the future is beginning to…" Leon trailed off, squinting out into the dark. The moon was high tonight, casting light across the buildings. On top of the rooftops, he saw something move. 

“Leon?" Alabaster asked, not bothering to hide his irritation. “Is this conversation boring you?" 

“No… is that a person?" Leon cocked his head as the figure stood up, silhouetted against the night sky. His eye was then drawn back down as a young boy, a teenager, suddenly went sprinting past the side of his carriage, heading back in the opposite direction. “What is going on?" He opened the latch on his window, sticking his head out to watch the boy. Behind Leon's carriage the second followed along. As he watched, the teenager bolted to a small wagon dumped near the side of the road. It was situated almost perfectly halfway between Leon's carriage and the other. 

They don't know which I'm in. 

The boy pulled something from his pocket and Leon saw a spark, and then he saw the barrels.

“NO!" He cried out, too late. 

The barrels exploded into a massive fireball a moment after the boy sparked the fuse. The teenager was instantly evaporated as fire blew out in every direction like the unfurling of a great flower. Ball bearings had been packed inside with the black powder, and they were shot out in every direction, causing Leon to lurch as his carriage was hit by the shockwave.

It all happened in one big blur; the carriage flipped, a horse died screaming, and a thousand splinters suddenly filled the air. Blood sprayed across the inside of his carriage as they rolled, the windows and glass of every building in the street shattering as they were hit by the combined shockwave and shrapnel attack. 

It was noise and carnage and blood. Something ripped along the side of Leon's head, hitting near to his damaged ear and spraying red into his eyes. 

When he blinked back to awareness, he was folded painfully onto his shoulders, vision blurred. Alabaster groaned next to him, moving slowly. Panting to catch his breath, Leon tried to right himself. The carriage had toppled, and the horse that lived had bolted. Sliding down onto his back, Leon winced as something twinged within him. Outside he heard screams of grief and panic, as the people in their homes began to react to the sudden carnage. 

“Alabaster," he croaked, every sound muffled by the blast's aftereffects. “Alabaster, are you… alright?" 

“I'm… alive," the necromancer growled. “What happened?" 

Leon got his feet beneath himself, pushing up towards the left-side door, which was now above his head. The glass was gone, and he cautiously stuck his head through, glancing about. 

The street was annihilated. The bearings had done incredible damage, ripping apart the facade of every building and chewing up the face of the street. Behind his own carriage, the other was at least still the right-way-up, though its horses were both dead before it, and one of the axles had split completely. Leon prayed to the God he didn't believe in that his family was unhurt. 

This is a residential area! He thought, blood boiling inside him. Do they have no care for anything? He doubted that the boy knew what he was igniting either. Bastards. Fucking bastards.

He then turned and saw the half-dozen or so figures standing up on the rooftops. They were silhouetted against the light of the moon, but had the unmistakable shape of muskets hefted in their arms. 

“NO RIGHT TO RULE!" Somebody bellowed. Leon threw himself back into the carriage as a poorly-synchronised volley of fire went off. Bullets pelted against the carriage roof and underbody, bouncing and ricocheting outside over the cobbles. 

“Gunshots?" Alabaster asked. 

“Someone's killing me," Leon replied.

“No right to rule…" Alabaster cried. Outside, Leon heard a shout to reload. “Are they royalists? Again?" 

“Either that, or that's who they want us to blame," Leon replied. “It doesn't matter. What matters is–" he paused as another pathetically-timed volley sounded off. Worse than fresh recruits. “–they want us dead. We need to get away from the carriage, into the buildings." 

Alabaster nodded, wiping blood from his face. He quickly turned to the roof of the carriage, which had become their wall, drawing out lines and symbols across the velvet lining with a finger. 

“Wait for another volley," Leon cautioned. 

“I'm not stupid," the dragon snapped back. 

“NO RIGHT!" Someone screamed outside, and another volley went off. 

“Now!" Leon cried, and Alabaster pulled his claws apart. Smoke sizzled and a wide, square chunk of roof suddenly fell forwards. Leon wasted no time, kicking it out and scrambling into the street, ignoring the twinges of pain that lanced through his joints. “MOVE! GO!" He screamed, hauling himself to his feet. His knee twinged painfully and he stumbled, but he grit his teeth and pushed onwards, barrelling towards the first apartment block he saw. He slammed into the door and tumbled inside the lobby, Alabaster quickly heading up behind him. 

“GET DOWN! GET DOWN!" The killers outside were yelling to one another. “GET THE DIRECTOR! HE'S IN THERE!"

Panting, Leon shoved his back against a wall. He risked a glance through the jagged window frame, checking for any signs of life in the second carriage. His mind showed him an image of everyone inside dead, their bodies ripped apart by the ball bearings. 

No. They're alive until you know better. 

“Cosette," he gasped at Alabaster, fingers squeezing hard on the dragon's thigh. “Émeric, and Jacques. We have to get to them." 

“More problems," the dragon replied, pointing up. Above them, footsteps were sounding. Someone had come in through the top, and they were searching. All throughout the apartment block people were crying out, wailing over dead family members and begging for help Leon knew wasn't coming soon.

“This an abomination," Leon growled. “To put so many at risk!" He looked to Alabaster. “What can you do?" 

The necromancer shrugged. “I'm a sangoma, not an Angel, Leon. Can't do much without getting close." 

“What good are you?" Leon cried. He pushed back up to the shattered window, but there'd been no signs of life from the carriage carrying his sister. The axle had snapped but the carriage was at least upright, but another set of attackers were shooting down at it from the rooftops. Leon's stomach knotted, a thin spike of fear shooting up his spine and raising his hackles. 

“I have to go to them," he said, already rising. Alabaster seized him and dragged him back to his knees. 

“Stay down, you fool!" He snarled. “It's you they want." 

“That's my family, Alabaster! I won't just let them die." 

“Be quiet and let me work," the dragon replied. He was doing something with his claws, making sigils and motions with him before himself. “There's dead inside this building." 

“HEY!" Leon looked up the stairs as a man suddenly appeared at their top. He was a bullish white dog carrying a musket in his arms. His face was pocked with old scars, he looked more like a cutpurse than a soldier.

“He's here, I found him!" The dog cried out, at the same time Alabaster whispered something in that infernal language. “Stay right there, Director!"

As the attacker took his first step down towards them, something burst out at him through the wall. It punched right through the cheap wood, flesh stripping off to expose muscle and bone, a skeletal paw that swiped for his face. 

“God in his heaven…" Leon whispered, as a second desiccated paw seized the dog's head from behind, yanking him back. The undead fingers burrowed into the killer's eye sockets, drawing out a blood-curdling scream as he collapsed to his knees, red running down his face, musket dropped and forgotten. 

Outside, more volleys sounded, again and again. Leon glanced back, still no movement from the other carriage. All he could think about was his sister, nephew, his friend trapped and alone with nobody coming to save them. They'd be terrified, they'd be wondering where he was. 

“Shit on this, I will not leave them to die for me!" He declared, pushing to his feet. 

“Leon, wait!" Alabaster scrambled after him, but the jaguar was quick. He yanked open the front door, meaning to rush out and save them. 

However, just as he was about to leave the shelter of the apartment block, a mess of flowing green tendrils burst from the side of the carriage. They flowed like snakes along the ground, rapidly rushing towards the edge of the building that the attackers shot down from. Leon was frozen in shock as he watched the sickly green vines hit the building wall and burst apart like a wild moss, shooting up the sides of the bricks, digging deep as it squeezed the old bricks. Pink flowers bloomed all across it, and an acrid scent suddenly filled the air. 

The attackers above began to back away from the edge, crying out, paralysed by fear. Some tried to shoot, others begged for mercy. As Leon watched, the entire building simply crumbled. It was like it came apart at the seams, collapsing in on itself with a great expulsion of dust and debris, the attackers swallowed up instantly by the collapse. 

“That's an Angel," Alabaster whispered from behind. “Come, we need to go this way." 

Leon allowed himself to be pulled back, catching a glimpse of Cosette and the others shoving out the opposite side of the carriage, Émeric clutched in Jacques's arms. 

They're alive. At least for now. 

Leon dashed up the steps and scooped up the musket dropped by the dead dog, checking it. Loaded. 

“We're going to the roof," he told Alabaster. He pointed to the dog's corpse. “Can you find out who sent him?" 

“Not without time." 

“Then leave it." He raised the musket, pushing further up the stairs. 

Alabaster drew his dagger, sticking close behind him. “Did you know that Émeric could do that?" 

“No," Leon said back, circling around the stairway as he went to climb the next landing, his musket barrel leading the way. “But it was inevitable. My question is about these men. If what you said is true, they either serve Joachim or the Speaker."

“Don't jump to conclusions," Alabaster said, as they reached another landing. Boots could be heard above, but it was impossible to tell if it was more attackers, or injured civilians. As the two ascended the block, people passed by, rushing to try and escape the damaged structure. 

“It could be them," Alabaster added. “But they could be sent by another monarch too, we cannot act until we know more." 

“Damn it all." 

Leon spun around a corner and saw another cutpurse. He instantly fired, taking off most of the man's head. Two others then rushed out into the hall, raising their own muskets. Leon threw his musket forward and scooped up the dead man's gun, shooting the first badger in the belly and taking cover in an open apartment. The second attacker – a wolf – fired his shot impotently into the wall, cursing loudly. Leon ducked to draw the bayonet from the dead badger's belt, leaving his empty musket and throwing himself back out into the hall. The wolf cried out and turned to run, but Leon caught hold of his tail, tugging him back and slamming the bayonet tip deep into the back of his neck. Blood bubbled up as he twisted the blade and the wolf collapsed, spasming violently on the ground. 

“Keep going," he told Alabaster. “Up, up!" He took a sword off the wolf's belt, leading Alabaster up two more flights of stairs, heading against the stream of injured and panicked civilians, yelling at them to move. Finally Leon found the door, slamming down the handle and pushing out onto the rooftop.

Cool, clear air greeted Leon and he sucked in a breath. Two shooters on the edge of the roof spun in confusion, and without missing a beat Leon ran for them. He leapt forward feet-first, and slammed both boots into the first man, drop-kicking him in the chest and sending his body flying off the roof in a wailing lump. The ground silenced him with a crunch, and Leon – still on his back – slashed with his stolen sword at the next man's ankles. He severed ligaments and the fox fell forward, where Alabaster finished him off with his dagger. 

“Did you see which building Cosette went into?" Alabaster asked, raising his head. 

“Third down, I think," Leon said, accepting a claw and hauling to his feet. Panic pulsed through him, but also a kind of calm. He was used to it, the focus of war. They were fools to come after him with inexperienced men. He was a soldier, damn it. 

But there'd been no more signs of Émeric's Angel sorcery, and for all that potential the jaguar was still a babe.

All it takes is one stray bullet, one wrong turn, and it can all go bad. Please be alright, I'm coming. 

They reached the third building and Leon heard gunfire below, accompanied by barking orders. 

“COSETTE!" Leon roared, throwing himself through the door and rushing down the stairs like a spirit of vengeance. He caught two attackers from behind, beheading the first and impaling the second. He collected a musket with his off-paw, sword in his right and gun in his left. Another flight down and he shot another man, replacing his spent gun with another. 

I will not leave them to die, I will not have them fall because of me! He would find out who did this. The Speaker. Joachim. The King of fucking Kiberland, it mattered not, he would find them and they would die – horribly. 

Leon rounded the base of the steps and saw Cosette. She was clutching an arm to her chest, and it looked broken. She was alone, and glanced up as he approached, relief spreading over her features as she recognised her brother. 

“Leon, Leon, Leon-Leon," she said again and again, trying to grab at him. 

“No, not yet," he said, pushing her back with the base of his sword. “The others?" 

“Jacques…" Her mouth worked more than the sounds coming out. She was battle-fatigued already, exhausted and bewildered. 

But still standing. My sister. Strongest fighter in the city. 

“Jacques took the baby," she exclaimed, blinking. She turned, pointing to an open door at the end of the hall. Two dead civilians were piled in the doorway. “He… he ran in there."

“Stay," Leon told Cosette, struggling to keep the anger and fear from his voice. They'd kill his nephew? What good could that do? He turned to Alabaster. “Take her now, and get her out of here." 

The dragon nodded, and Leon returned to the apartment, creeping. He moved slowly, musket raised as he peered into each room as he went forward. The apartment was tight, subdivided several times over in an effort to fit as many families as possible. 

The ball bearings from the bomb had wreaked havoc in here. Anything glass or ceramic laid in pieces, the walls all peppered with holes, blood smeared across the floor. One room had a small family, whimpering in fear as they cowered together. Leon told them to stay and kept moving deeper. 

Finally he came to the room at the very end. Two shooters stood with their backs to him, muskets probably spent, but raised up anyway at a makeshift barricade – a dresser Jacques had overturned. 

“Give us the boy!" One of them cried. 

“Leon Valoisier has no right to this nation!" Said the other, a lion. “I'll die before I see a tyrant on the throne!" 

Leon couldn't help the grin. He pushed the barrel right up behind that lion's head. 

Yes, you will. 

The shot decorated the room with his face, and the sound deafened the goat next to him. He winced, putting a paw to his ear while trying to spin in place at the same time, fumbling with the sword at his belt. The goat got two inches of steel out before Leon caught his neck with the blade, dragging the steel across and opening up his veins. Blood poured down and the goat collapsed, loosely grabbing at his opened throat as he fell to his knees. 

“Jacques?!" Leon cried, tossing his musket aside and lowering his sword. He quickly scanned the room, but there seemed to be no more attackers left. “Jacques, are you alright?!" 

Leon pushed forward, heart slamming painfully hard inside him. He dragged the overturned drawers back with a heave, revealing the spindly rat pressed up against the wall. He was soaked in blood, and had an unconscious Émeric clutched in his trembling arms. 

Leon fell to his knees. “Jacques, Émeric…" 

The rat blinked awake, mouth working slow. He struggled to focus, but finally he found Leon, nodding. 

“The boy… is alive," he said plainly. “He collapsed after… after what he did." 

“Thank you," Leon said, embracing them both. His paw quickly ran over Émeric's chest, feeling for wounds and finding none. “Thank you, Jacques, you saved my nephew, my family." 

He pulled back, and the rat smiled. “Why? Why… wouldn't I?" 

“You're a good friend. I am… sorry we have been so distant as of late." 

Jacques coughed, glancing down at his stomach. “I think… you mean, I was a good friend." 

Leon saw the deep red spreading there. A gut wound, deadly at the best of times. 

“Surgeons are coming," Leon said quickly, as if he couldn't get the words out fast enough. He took the limp Émeric, bracing the sleeping boy against his shoulder. “The explosion was massive, soldiers will be here any moment, I swear it. Just hold on." 

“Surgeons," Jacques said dully. One of his thin paws fumbled up, grabbing Leon's collar and holding it tight. “You were. A good friend… too, Leon." 

“No, don't, Jacques," Leon begged, tears welling in his eyes. “I command you to stay awake! Damn it, you keep your fucking eyes open!" He felt the tears running down his face. All he could think about was how little time he'd given Jacques over the last few months. All those wasted days. He should have made more effort to see him, to fix the strange divide they had. Now it might never be made right. 

“I need you!"

“You don't," Jacques replied. “You need Rennaire." 

“I…" Leon tried to find the words, but the right one never came. “I'm sorry, my friend, I'm sorry." 

Jacques coughed once. “Why?" 

Leon grabbed him, but the rat was gone. His expression slackened, body slumping against the wall as blood continued to trickle out into his lap. He blinked through the tears, misery and grief swirling around to reform into anger. 

Kiberland, Yaravania, Danegard, Losaile, Joachim, the Speaker, the marshal that betrayed them. Did it never fucking end? 

No right to rule? They think I have no right to rule? He had made his right when he took the country by force. The sheer fucking arrogance of the kings was a white-hot light inside Leon's chest, eclipsing everything he'd ever felt. The politicians like Joachim and the Speaker, responsible for this tragedy or not, were cracking the foundation of the country beneath him. Their constant grabs at power, influence, was ruining everything. We have to centralise. We have to be strong, one sword, one people, one rule. 

When Leon finally stood, he was calm, almost cold. The wrath had overtaken all feeling, growing to a kind of numbness deep inside. 

When he stepped out of the apartment block, Émeric in his arms, he found a brigade of soldiers rushing into the street. Cosette sobbed as he laid his nephew down with a medical officer, turning to Alabaster, who had been found by the crocodile Gaspar. 

“First Director," Gaspar exclaimed, saluting quickly. “Are you alright?" 

“Fine," Leon said icily. “I need a horse. The assembly will begin soon." 

“Assembly?" Alabaster frowned. “We were about to send a messenger." The dragon stepped forward and in an uncharacteristic display of intimacy, gently touched Leon's arm. “It'll be cancelled. This is a tragedy and Leon… you're hurt, let me look at your wounds." 

“No. Don't cancel it," Leon growled, shaking free. “I'm fine. Bring me a horse. We're going." 

“Director," Gaspar started. “You are covered in blood. It's no way to appear to the Council of–"

“Let them see," Leon snarled at him. “I have fought, bled, and killed for Rennaire. I am Rennaire! It seems some people have already begun to forget that. So shut your insubordinate mouth, Gaspar, and bring me a fucking horse."

Twenty minutes later, Leon was marching through the Council of State assembly hall, Alabaster at his heels. Word of the attack had come ahead of him, and everyone was paused in their evening-best, waiting to hear any news. 

They whispered and marvelled as he passed; Is he alright? Did he stop them all himself. This is all for show. Typical. What kind of attack was it? Are we being invaded? Who is responsible? Why is he here now, is he alright? Why did that blasted advisor come with him? 

Leon ignored them all. He marched right through the lobby and pushed inside the assembly hall. Slowly, the councilmen trickled in after him. Leon went right to the front of the room, circling around the back of the stage. 

Alabaster grabbed his arm a moment before he stopped up to the podium, halting him in place. 

“Are you certain you are alright?" The dragon asked. “You don't have to go up there, everybody would understand calling it off." 

“No," Leon replied. “I do have to go up there. They need to hear this." 

He accepted a cloth, and wiped the worst of the blood and soot from his face before ascending the steps. When he took his place at the podium, the members of parliament had nearly finished gathering. 

For a moment Leon only stared. He saw small men. Former lower gentry, like himself, who now viewed their own station akin to that of the former nobles. There was no more nobility class, and there never would be. These people disgusted him, he realised. Just like before, they had no real vision for the future of the country. Their eyes were hungry only for themselves, and although they could be useful, without a central guiding paw they never would be. 

“Equality! Fraternity! And liberty!" Leon began, casting his voice out wide, meeting their eyes. “Those are the founding principles we have chosen to build our future upon! We threw off our chains of oppression, we remember what it cost! They tried to stop this tonight by stopping me, but it will take more than that! Our enemies must learn! Never again will Rennaire suffer under the yolk of a tyrant, or starve for the gluttony of the self-proclaimed great!

“Beyond our borders, our armies fight the combined forces of Losaile, Danegard, Yaravania, and Kiberland! These nations are aided in secret by the likes of other enemies too frightened to confront us directly, of Thorn, of Tar! They cannot stand our free nation, they cannot tolerate it! Tonight that was proven to me. My enemies conspire to destroy me! They go after my family, my friends, my allies! They fear what I know needs to be done!"

People were nodding, and Leon let the fire rage within him. 

“Citizens are we all! The Rennairan people, in order to be free, had kings to combat. To obtain a constitution founded on reason, we had the prejudices of eighteen centuries to overcome! Priestcraft, feudalism, Angels, despotism, all have successively ruled Midland for two thousand years but no longer!" He slammed his fist down. “We have fought thus far to defend ourselves from our enemies, but clearly this is not enough. There is nothing we can do to legitimise ourselves in their eyes, we will always be a nation of feudal slaves!"

“DEATH TO KINGS!" Cried someone up the back, and the crowd cheered their agreement. 

“YES!" Leon declared, pointing. “Death to injustice! Tonight, I fought to defend the sanctity of this country, I fought to keep it whole with my own two paws, my own blood! There is violence and terror in the present, yes, but a great era of lasting peace is on the horizon, my friends! Tonight I will tell you Rennaire's future.

“In the coming months, the people will vote for what they want! They will decide, as is their inalienable right. We will make all of Midland into a home for the just and the righteous! We will bring true peace to the world! Our nation, our people, is a single warrior! It must have one spine, one heart, and one mind! Every man shall live free by the sweat of his own brow! Rennaire forever! Death to tyranny!" 

“DEATH TO TYRANNY!" The crowd echoed. They were all politicians, but nobody was immune to the infection of the mob. 

Leon grinned, raising his fist in time with the people. 

They broke out into applause, and Leon turned away, exhaustion finding him as the adrenalin faded. He stepped off the podium, exiting into a backroom with Alabaster close on his heels. 

“Are you alright?" The dragon asked. 

Leon fell into a chair, sighing and nodding slowly. “A… a lot has happened. Jacques is dead." 

“Did you mean what you said out there?" Alabaster asked. “About bringing Rennairan equality to other countries?" 

“Yes," Leon replied. “I have a vision. Not just of Rennaire, but all of Midland. A uniting of nations, all with common laws and common goals. We will end the constant warring, and come together for an era of true peace. They can keep their kings, but I will remake their laws and choose the heads for their crowns. The monarchs of Midland will never respect me, not unless I force them, just like I forced Phillipe." 

“I see." Alabaster paused. “And the vote? What vote? This is the first I'm hearing of it." 

“It has been on my mind for some time," Leon admitted, eyes falling shut. He was so tired, his entire body ached with pain. Already he missed Jacques, the rat's loss like a lonely chord strumming in his chest. Every time his mind wandered, he saw him there again. “What happened tonight has galvanised me. The people must have a voice. It will solidify my government as just and chosen." 

“What if they vote you out?" 

Leon laughed, cracking his eyes to watch Alabaster. “That will not happen. But we need to prove to the other great powers that we are legitimate. The people will vote to create their own imperial line; something those bastards will finally understand." He yawned, eyes shutting once more. “There were high hopes for our Triumvirate, but the current government is too unstable. I have to solidify the foundation before I can build. First, the people will vote me in as First Director – for life. Then, the state consulate will ratify the appointment." 

“I see…" Alabaster sounded wary, but Leon was beyond caring. He knew it had to be done, or the peace he'd promised would never come. 

They say I have no right to rule. I will make my right to rule, and crush my enemies. 

“And then?" 

Leon breathed deep. “Another vote. The votes will be counted. The announcements made." He swallowed. “And I will crown myself Emperor of Rennaire."