NONE SO VILE

21: For Glory

Albedo, Rennaire, 1805.

One Year Later.

“I demand to know the meaning of this!" The orange wolf stumbled forwards, and Gabriel swiftly yanked the hood from his head, exposing him to the gloomy cellar. The wolf blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light, first seeing Alabaster, and then the body on the slab between them. 

“Evil God, man!" The wolf cried, scuttling back. Gabriel stopped his retreat with a paw, and when the wolf glanced around to see him he again jumped in shock. With the badger's nearly-solid veil, there was next to no worry of the former-prince being recognised, though Alabaster still couldn't shake the feeling of exposure it brought to have him around.

He needs to feel useful. He wanted Gabriel to have a stake in Leon's government. If he could ever fully trust the boy, then he had to be sure that Gabriel was as supportive of Leon as Alabaster himself. 

“Citizen Alabaster," the wolf blustered, glancing around nervously, as if searching for possible exits. “You have… I say, exactly one moment to give me an explanation, and it'd better be a damned good one! I am good friends with Joachim La Valette, and I will go to him about this, I swear it!" 

Alabaster gave him a smile, the kind of dragon-grin that he knew so often unnerved the mammals. Gabriel went to steady the wolf again and Alabaster waved him away. “Please, allow the councillor a chance to collect himself." His claws formed a small bridge, and he bowed slightly to the wolf. “My apologies for the cloak-and-dagger efforts, Monsieur Estienne, but you understand my work must be kept a secret." Alabaster gestured to the corpse, then grinned even deeper. “For my safety, and yours." 

Estienne took a moment to consider where he was, and who he was with. Wisely, he then decided against being difficult. The spinelessness of politicians never ceases to amaze. Like frogs left in slowly-boiling water, your adherence to proper appearance continually makes you weak. 

The wolf cleared his throat. “Yes, well… I only mean, you should really consider your approach, Alabaster. Some men might take… the wrong way." He sniffed sharply, scowling back towards Gabriel. “Your thug here hardly made it a pleasant experience, you should simply have asked of my company. Were I a rasher man… who knows? Be thankful I am so level-headed." 

“Of course, Councillor, my apologies," Alabaster replied. It tickled him to imagine Estienne's reaction if he knew that that 'thug' was the former heir to the throne. Gabriel, for his part, stepped back to the door, crossing his arms and waiting silently.

Alabaster had to admit, draped in his leather armour and riddled with tiny knives and vials of poison, the boy cut an imposing figure. He'd gone through the last of his growth spurts recently too now, and was taller even than Leon. Training in the Undercity had given him a sharp physique and quick, darting movements. Could he be less similar to a princeling from the old regime? 

“For the last time. I will ask," Estienne said, making a show of how patient he was. What a saint. The steel in his voice was unconvincing, but Alabaster let him have it. “What is this charade all about?" 

“You know some of my art, through gossip and speculation I am sure," Alabaster explained, circling closer to the corpse. He had taken great care to dress it well, carefully concealing any blood or bone, but a corpse was a corpse – no matter how much you dolled it up. When the body was still a man, he'd been a stocky bull, but like all living things in death he became meat. And if Alabaster was a painter, that meat was his canvas, that blood his ink. 

“This man is the last in a line of conspirators," Alabaster continued. He drew a claw over the front of the bull's face, gathering the invisible threads of sorcery in his fingers. The crackling energy from the other realm danced up his nervous system, shivering down his neck. “The master pulling his strings knows of my ability, and so he has made sure that even the dead cannot answer my questions." 

“W-what is this?" Estienne stammered, eyes wide as dinner plates.

“The truth, councillor." Alabaster hissed, curling his sorcery as the incantations carved into the corpse's back lit up. The ancient magic reanimated the flesh, electricity coursing through it as the spine arched, a sandpaper rasp crawling from his throat. “Dead body after dead boy, I have chased them through the city. They cut out their brothers' tongues, they behead them, they tell their minions nothing of the true goals. Obfuscation and smoke, all to stop me extracting what I must. Estienne, I ask only that you appreciate the difficulty of what I am showing you now." 

“What are you showing me?" The wolf was breathing hard, and he took a shaking step back. 

“Look, and despair," Alabaster said. He made a quick sigil with his claw, and the bull's eyes shot open. The fluid inside had already disintegrated, and his empty sockets stared up at the ceiling. Jittering like a broken puppet, the corpse turned his head to the side, staring straight at Estienne with those empty red pits. 

If only you knew the artistry I display now, Alabaster thought. This body had been so meticulously crafted for this piece of theatre, so many layered spells and rituals placed upon it, to avoid the more grotesque nature of Alabaster's ability. Leon had been insistent that while Estienne and the others must hear the truth, they could not accept it if they were terrified of his necromancy. 

If Fayez saw me now. Alabaster grinned wickedly. Reanimation without the butchery… he would weep. 

“Stop this!" Estienne cried, raising an arm as if to shield himself from the body. “I do not like this, it is… it is heretical! You will invoke God's attention upon us both, you fool!" 

“There is no God here," Alabaster replied. “One year ago, men conspired to murder First Director Leon and his family. You have been told that it was our enemies abroad." He directed his attention to the corpse, shuddering on the iron slab. “Meat. Tell me, who is your master?" 

The response came slowly, a thin hiss of air that slowly formed into the shape of words. “Jjjjjjoaaachim…." The bull shuddered, buckling against Alabaster's will. This meat had no soul, and it wished to be free. 

Alabaster shot a glare at Estienne, who could only move his mouth wordlessly up and down, shaking his head. “Estienne, I know your allegiances lie closely with that of Director Joachim, that is why I knew I must show you the unaltered truth. Corpses cannot lie, they have no soul, and no true will of their own." 

“S-stop, p-please, stop," Estienne whispered, shaking his head. He begged quietly, but he did not look away. 

“Your master," Alabaster said to the corpse. “He built a bomb, did he not?" 

“Yessssss…" The bull spasmed again, jerking on the slab. “No right… no right to rule. No right to rule! No right!" 

“Do you recognise that?" Alabaster asked Estienne. 

The wolf nodded. “That's what they said. The damage they caused the… Joachim… he told me it was the Speaker."

“NO RIGHT TO RULE!" The bull cried suddenly, throwing his body upwards as he tried to break free. Alabaster caught Estienne's expression, and knew he'd had enough. With a quick tug, he released the body, allowing it to fall limply back to the slab. 

Silence rushed into the room, broken only by the short pants of breath coming from Councillor Estienne. 

“How…" The wolf began slowly, pinching his eyes closed with a paw. “How can I be sure this isn't some charade?" His fear quickly soured, turning to anger. “You say the dead don't lie, but clearly they obey you. How can I know this isn't just your unholy puppet?" 

“I suppose you don't," Alabaster replied. “But think about all you know of Joachim. You know he's ambitious. You know he'd do anything for power – he already tried to overthrow one ruler, what would stop him trying for another?"

“Director Joachim wants what is best for Rennaire." The words came sharp from Estienne's lips, but Alabaster could tell he didn't believe them. 

He took a step closer towards the councillor. “This is not working. Our home is at war, and Leon cannot defeat the enemies of Rennaire if his home is a nest to vipers. If Kiberland defeats us they will make our people their slaves."

“Of that I've no doubt," Estienne said, nodding along. “Absolutely. This kind of infighting is what poisoned Phillipe's rule. We cannot let Rennaire be weak!" 

“Absolutely right, Councillor." Alabaster got even closer. “The people have already voted to make Leon First Director for life. The Council of State already supports the forming of an empire, what is one more step?"

“This is about the vote," Estienne shook his head. He was resistant, but Alabaster could feel he was close to breaking. 

Come now, just one more step deeper… A nervous quake pulsed through him. He could see that Estienne was teetering on the edge. Leon hadn't been lying when he said he needed Alabaster to achieve this. Making another monarch… Suddenly the thought made him sick. For the first time in his life he wanted to do the right thing, but now he couldn't be sure what it was. 

Leon has earned this. He isn't some fat aristocrat born to rule, he has fought for that position on merit alone, and the people support it. If Joachim proved anything to us all, it's that they won't stop trying to tear him down until he consolidates his power entirely. 

No. Alabaster quashed his own doubts once more. There was no room for half-measure. This was the only way forward.

“Joachim told me this would come. I didn't believe him." He met Alabaster's gaze with sudden steel. “Leon ended the monarchy, now he truly seeks to restore it? And with himself on the throne, no less? Is there truly to be a vote on making him emperor?" 

“It is the only way," Alabaster said. “Leon would be a true leader, a monarch to the people instead of the place. Gone are the days of feudal serfs who own nothing and live as slaves in all but name! Think, Estienne, of everything Leon has sacrificed for this country, of everything we have all sacrificed to come here. What do men like Joachim La Valette know of suffering and blood? He was born a noble, do not forget that he slipped through the purges! Would you really be content to turn around and just give the country back to men like that?" 

“I…" Estienne hesitated, and Alabaster knew he was swayed. “I suppose not. I thought he wanted what was best for this country, but I see that noble blood is a poison down to the very roots." The wolf swallowed a lump. “If a vote is called, Leon has my assent. For the glory of Rennaire." 

“First Director!" The secretary stood up as she caught sight of Leon, the shock plain on her face. “The… the councillor has asked not to be disturbed!" 

Leon grinned, he admired her bravery. “Surely he can make time for me?" 

She tried to protest further, but Gaspar stepped between them, silencing her argument with a shake of his head. Leon brushed through into the councillor's office. It was sizable and tastefully decorated, while lacking the offensive opulence of the old regime. 

“M-monsieur," said Councillor Alphonse. The deer stood quickly, almost knocking over the glass of brandy he'd been busy mulling over. “I mean… First Director, what brings you here?" 

Alphonse shot a dirty look over Leon's shoulder, but the jaguar quickly shut the door, blocking his chance at admonishing the secretary. 

“What would the Speaker say?" Leon asked, cocking an eyebrow. “Knowing that you have a secretary? Not very chaste and dutiful of you, Alphonse." 

“If you have come for my vote, you cannot have it, Director Leon," the deer said firmly. He put on a brave face, but Leon saw the quivering beneath it. “I've heard the rumours, and I know what you mean to do! I will say only once that Alphonse Curiette is not for sale!"

They're all frightened of me. Good. Since the attack on his life last year, Leon had been on a warpath. Thorn and Cielwen were practically vassal states. Danegard had retreated gracefully from the war, and Losaile was agonisingly close to surrender. Yaravania had been beaten to submission, and soon Kiberland would stand alone. He had won battle after battle after battle. The enemy soldiers spoke of him like a vengeful god, whose mere presence on a battlefield could entirely turn the tide simply by virtue of being present. Even the enemy generals were scared to deploy their Angels, terrified of losing the one thing that might make Leon reconsider invasion.

Now he had one more victory to fight for; Emperor of the Rennairan people. 

“I don't want to buy you, Alphonse, Leon said firmly. “I want you to share my dream for a unified Rennaire, and a unified Midland." 

“All unified beneath you, you mean," Alphonse spat. “Your station and victories do not intimidate me, Leon." It was a brave lie. 

Leon leaned onto Alphonse's desk, his face betraying nothing. “I can see the future, Councillor. I see a path forward where we do away with the cruelty and neglect of old kings, the stagnation and decay of the old world. A unified Midland could usher in an era of so much peace and modernity, don't you want that?"

“You are devious," Alphonse said, shaking his head. “The Speaker warned me you would try to seize power. We men of good conscience cannot allow it. True democracy cannot be smothered!" 

Leon smiled, trying to mask his anger. The government was fracturing, he could feel it. If he did not centralise power now it would fall apart completely. The factional in-fighting between Joachim and the Speaker was tearing Rennaire apart, and he had been caught in the middle, bailing out the ship while they sank. 

“The Speaker is to be arrested," Leon said plainly. Alphonse gasped – he was a supporter of the radicals, but he was not a fanatic. “I tell you this truth in good faith. We have already arrested Marshal Pierre, and he will be executed promptly." 

“Why Marshal Pierre?" Alphonse asked. “Is this the way it is to be then, align with your new empire or face the guillotine? Do you really think you can murder your way to the top again?" 

“On the Speaker's orders, Marshal Pierre has continually undermined our military efforts," Leon explained. “He has walked squads into traps, engaged in battles with Angels, and he attempted to have me murdered by the Angel Leutgard, one year ago in Yaravania."

“No…" Alphonse shook his head. “You cannot be serious. This allegation must have proof!" 

“We have Pierre's confession," Leon replied. It was half-true. Alabaster would have it soon enough. “You are a smart man, Alphonse, I know you want the best for Rennaire. You want the people to have a real voice." 

The deer puffed his chest. “As would any patriot." 

“Exactly. And the people voted me as First Director for life. They voted in favour of restoring a monarchy. They want me to lead this nation, and I can… but not if I have the likes of Joachim and the Speaker nipping at my heels every turn. Do you understand?" 

“I…" Alphonse considered that. 

“The Speaker is a traitor. Joachim is a traitor. They serve only their own interests. I will be in this position until I die, the people have decreed it. By naming me emperor, all that changes is I can finally silence the incessant baying of these dogs." 

“Then what was all we fought for?" Alphonse asked. Leon could feel him wavering, like a building ready to topple. 

This vote will be close. I need you Alphonse. He tried not to let his desperation show.

“The world is changing," Leon said. “Growing into something new. Midland needs a guiding paw, help me make Rennaire that guide. A connected world, with the same standards of treatment between nations. A world where someone can earn his place, rather than pray he was born into it." 

“You sound like the Church of the One God," Alphonse warned him. “They say the One God should be that guiding force." 

“God failed," Leon hissed. “So now they get me." He reached forward and clasped the deer's forearm, squeezing hard. “I need your help, Alphonse, help me. Only I can stop this spiral. Remember; I was the one to kill Phillipe. I was the one to defeat Danegard, I stopped Prince Jules, and I killed Lazare Toussaint. What more can I do to prove myself? True to his name the Speaker does nothing but talk, while Joachim does nothing but scheme. Tell me you hear me!"

Damn it, listen to me!

“I…" Alphonse hesitated. 

“Do I have your vote, Alphonse?" 

“You're talking about a coup," the deer whispered. “Another one." 

“What this is, Councillor," Leon began, smiling softly. “Is necessary." 

“Ritual holds importance," Alabaster warned him. “There is power in repetition, and old symbols, don't discard that." 

“I cannot wear a crown worn by a Rennairan king," Leon insisted. He brushed the jeweller away, stepping out from the mirrored triptych. “I am not sure a crown is a good idea at all. They need to see that this time, things will be different." 

Alabaster sighed. He was growing tired of Leon's indecisiveness. 

Do you want this position, or not? 

“Emperors wear crowns," he said flatly. To the side, the jeweller nodded astutely. 

“Yes but…" Leon threw his paws up. “They cannot see me as a dominator. I am a conqueror and patriot, I am going to lead them, not subjugate them. I should wear a sword, to show that I earned my place here."

“First Director, if I might interject…" The jeweller began. He was a wiry little squirrel, a pair of glass spectacles resting on his snout. “Perhaps a piece modelled after Kazmar the Great's own regalia? Many have been known to compare your career to his, after all, and he is a folk hero to many Rennairan families." 

Leon seemed taken with the idea. Alabaster didn't think it mattered all that much, but he knew how obsessed the jaguar was with the old ruler. 

“Just make a damned decision," he growled. “Or let me get back to my work. I don't see why you need me for this."

“Because I value your input, my love," Leon replied, plainly ignoring the jeweller's discomfort. He examined himself in the mirror, draped in his mock-cloak, pinned all over to indicate tightenings and extensions. “Some of the old ways must return. But we must make it clear, the Empire of Rennaire will not be a lumbering regime based on bloodline and birth. It will be a meritocracy first, based on ability." 

Alabaster stood, stepping up behind Leon and bracing his claws on the jaguar's shoulders. He felt Leon relax beneath his grip, sighing. 

A part of Alabaster panged. He wished he could allay the man's fears. Every night he tossed and turned, sometimes even whimpering in his sleep. When Alabaster woke him, Leon came-to with his body tensed and agitated. He still heard the mob outside his door, no matter how much Alabaster assured him those days were over. 

“It already is," he whispered. “You do not need to fear the people, Leon. They love you. They adore you. They voted for you, nearly a hundred-percent-agreement." 

“Well…" 

“No," Alabaster silenced him, squeezing his shoulders. Kind words did not come naturally to him, but he knew it was what the jaguar needed. “If you are going to do this, then do it. Don't shy away from reality. The spectacle, the titles, the ritual, all of this is important to people, that is why the kings and churches of old used them. Rennaire was raised to serve the crown, let them take up a role they know how to play. And if you cannot trust them, then trust me. I know the value of rituals, profane or otherwise."

“And if the vote doesn't pass? All this will be for nothing." Leon reached a paw up, gently touching Alabaster's claw. It made the dragon's chest tighten. Here was, arguably, the most powerful man in Midland. The greatest tactical mind in generations, a regicide, a leader and if the vote went through – Rennaire's next emperor. Leon feared nothing, and would fight anyone. He had beaten down entire nations seemingly by himself. 

And yet he needs me to steady him. The knowledge filled Alabaster with a sensation he was rarely accustomed to in his life. Pride.

“We told them the truth," Alabaster said. “Everyone can see what Joachim and the Speaker are doing to the country. Everyone knows what will happen if this doesn't pass. They will do the right thing." Or at least, enough would.

“We are asking them to vote away their own power. If you were in their position," Leon asked. “Would you do it?" 

“I do, you know that." 

“But if you knew that you were the deciding vote." 

Alabaster hesitated, and Leon glanced back, sensing the trepidation. He needs you now. 

“Yes," he lied. The truth wasn't sinister, just uncertain. Alabaster had made peace with the fact that he could not often tell what was good. He had chosen to put his faith in Leon instead, and tried to be better where he could. It was hard. A life of self-service and survival had atrophied his sympathies, and he had to make a conscious effort to care. But he wanted to try. Joachim and the Speaker were clearly not good for Rennaire, but that did not mean the idea of a Triumvirate had failed entirely. Alabaster knew Leon was right, but a tiny part of him very far away still whispered, what if. If it was truly all up to him, he didn't know what he would choose.

And thankfully I will never have to be the one to decide that. 

“Alright." Alabaster felt Leon suck in a deep breath, and he met the jaguar's eyes through the mirror. “The people desire spectacle. Kazmar's crown it is then." 

Leon leaned back in his seat. The ambassador for Losaile sat across from him, practically shivering. 

He has nothing to come back at me with, Leon thought. And he knows it. 

“Your nation stayed in this war for too long," he said. “It is natural for men to fight in a lost cause, thinking they can somehow reap back the investment they've already squandered. Now you know better." 

Seated at the end of a long table in a giant Albedo hall, the rat looked tiny in his single seat. He was a pathetic, spineless man, and Losaile had sent him alone. Leon had no idea why they would send someone so meek, unless they were hoping he would take pity on them, and refrain from crushing their entire country.

I could. Leon toyed with the idea. I could march the western army right in and dismantle every inch of Losaile. Danegard could watch, it could be a message to them of what comes if they decide to fight again.

But he was not a monster, nor a tyrant. 

“All we desire is an end to the fighting, and the balance of power restored," the rat said. He made Leon think of Jacques. This man was nothing compared to his shrewd friend.

What would he say, if he knew his death would be the catalyst to me becoming emperor? Leon tried to forget that the vote was happening now. His leg would not stop twitching, his paws couldn't be still. He wished Alabaster was here. 

What if they vote no? What then?

“Rennaire will decide where the balance of power goes," Leon said to the rat, who sunk lower into his seat. “If Losaile wanted a better say, you should have come to the table from a stronger position. You have nothing to bargain with, and you know it." 

He passed a scroll of parchment to Gaspar, who carried it down the table and laid it before the ambassador. The rat looked almost afraid to touch it, but finally reached out, gingerly smoothing it down to read.

“I have outlined how the de-escalation will progress," Leon explained, watching the rat's eyes scour the page. “Your military will naturally surrender, and be reduced in standing number by twenty-percent. Rennaire's border will be extended to its natural conclusion at the Zolfreun river. Losaile will also accept the Rennairan standards in economic expectation." 

“What?" The rat stammered. “I am here to talk about military surrender, not economic standards." 

“Would you prefer to keep fighting?" Leon cocked his head. “I remember when I smashed the Losailan military against the cliffs in Hueric. I remember your generals waiting for Danegard to come to your rescue but… the Emperor never did, did he?" 

“I… No, I suppose not."

Leon smiled. The rat had clearly been told to make peace whatever the cost. Losaile knew it would be high. 

But perhaps they could not expect the true price of their surrender. 

“The king will also abdicate," Leon added, almost conversationally. The rat's jaw dropped, but he did not stop. “General Euran Deuxmoise will step into his place."

“What?" The rat hissed the words, disbelieving. “You cannot seriously expect the royal family to just step down?" 

“Absolutely I can," Leon added. “You can send word back to them. These are my terms. They will be allowed to live in exile, and are welcome to Koringrad, or perhaps Thorn, I believe they have family there. But Deuxmoise will wear the crown of Losaile. If your monarch disagrees, tell them that is fine. I will join my army, in person once more, you remember that. I will march them up to your capital. I will defile your churches. I will kill every Angel you have, every royal child. Your coffers will be emptied, your people slaughtered. Remember now, I have murdered kings before, I am not afraid to do so again. So go, scurry along, tell them what you need to. But Deuxmoise will wear the Losailan crown, and Losaile will join my new empire, it is only a matter of how much blood they'd like to spill for it." 

“I…" The rat shook his head. He knew he couldn't say no. Leon had been on campaign only three months earlier, and he had annihilated the Losailan forces. Once they'd been separated from Danegard, they stood almost no chance. Every encounter had been so viciously one-sided he almost felt bad. 

Almost. 

“Tell. Them." Leon pushed back in his chair, standing as he fixed his cuffs. The vote would be nearly complete now. He was either a failure, or an emperor. The thought sent a shudder through his body. If he failed, Joachim and the Speaker would finally find unity in the goal of destroying him. 

Always been a gambler.

“Tell them that I welcome Losaile to the new Midland." 

The clean corridors, absent servants, and lack of packed bags did not fool Alabaster. He stepped through the door, trying not to let Joachim's faux-surprise get a rise from him. 

The crane swirled his brandy nonchalantly, but it would take more than that to hide his true intentions. Joachim had always had wet fingers, he knew the way the wind was blowing. 

And he was preparing to flee. 

“Too good for the coronation?" Alabaster asked, letting the door to Joachim's office shut behind him. They were on the sixth floor, and through the open window Alabaster caught sight of the Prime Cathedral, surrounded by a sea of people. While he was here, they waited to catch a glimpse of Leon as he was crowned. 

“Oh… I'd only get in the way," Joachim replied tartly. His eyes darted about, as if he were considering possible exits.

The only way out is through me. Anger flashed through him like scalding water. The memories were inescapable. Waking up, poisoned in the dirt. Finding Bellamy dead. Being forced to kiss Joachim's ring in front of everyone. Learning of the truth, and being forced to watch as Leon assuaged his fears, and named Joachim the third-most powerful man in the country. I have stood by while you thrived, for far too long.

All the while, Alabaster dreamed of murder. He may be a different man now, but one can only change so much. 

“The last thing our new God-given ruler wants is a reminder of the old ways," Joachim continued, circling Alabaster like a wolf. “That little experiment we did, giving freedom a chance. Funny. The more things change the more they stay the same." 

“The people chose him, not God." 

“The people would choose wine over water if you let them," Joachim snapped back. “Leon has made his decisions clear enough. Fall in line, or fall to his sword. Make no mistake, Alabaster, I care about the future of Rennaire more than anyone, but I don't imagine our new glorious leader sees me as a part of it. Every usurper in history has murdered his rivals the moment he took power. Exile or death, a poor man's choice." 

“So you're fleeing." Alabaster showed his teeth. “You're a coward." 

Leon inhaled deeply, his paw resting on the carriage door. Outside, he heard the roar of the crowd. The mob. 

They're here for me. They waved flags, chanted slogans, had paint smeared on their faces. When things became this extreme, was joy truly that different to wrath? It seemed every man, woman, and child in Albedo had come to the Prime Cathedral, now restored to glory, in order for a chance to bear witness to this monumental day. 

Everyone except the one person I want. Leon glanced back into the empty seat across from him. He wished Alabaster was there. The higher I go, the more lonely I become. He felt foolish. He was about to be crowned emperor, he was going further than King Phillipe dared and yet… it all felt pointless if he couldn't have his dragon. 

He has his role to play. I have mine. 

The Speaker was incandescent with rage, no doubt already trying to build another revolution – but that didn't matter anymore. The moment Leon entered the cathedral the Speaker would be arrested and charged with sedition. He had conspired with the enemy monarchs to undermine Leon's position. No amount of reason and rhetoric would save him then, and finally, Albert Fournier would be sent to the guillotine where he belonged. Leon would be glad to be done calling him by a fucking idiotic title. 

He pictured Jacques. A good friend for so long, one that Leon had lost twice. You were there from the very beginning my friend. By my side. I thought we had something close to love, at one point. What would you say, if you could see me now? Probably something blunt and obvious.  

He opened the carriage door. The sound of the people flooded in like a wave, drowning him, tumbling him over and over as he descended the steps. He caught a glimpse of them, the sea of jubilant bodies packed into the streets surrounding the cathedral, kept back by a wall of soldiers. They wrapped around everything, running long out of sight, leaning out of windows to pump fists and clap their approval. 

From killing a king to crowning an emperor. He wondered if any other single man in history had ever had this much impact in so few years. Kazmar, Etrudian, Ildöta, only they came close.

When Leon put on that crown, and was named ruler, he would be a student of Kazmar's history no longer. That would mark a change, a moment where he became the great general's equal. Kazmar's legacy, along with all the other leaders of history had led him to this point, their courage and achievements had continued to reinforce in Leon that what he sought could be done. 

I have stood on the shoulders of giants to reach here, he thought, ascending the steps of the Prime Cathedral. Now it is my turn to become one. 

“He is a tyrant in the making," Joachim said. “And you are a child unable to let go of petty grievances!"

“You murdered me, Joachim," Alabaster growled back. “And you did not stop there! Your men murdered my friend, Bellamy, an innocent bird. Then you created a fake insurrection, and somehow spun that to your advantage! You are a sickness I have longed to cut out."

“I did what had to be done! What none other has the stomach for."

“You discovered the Speaker's treachery and instead of uniting against him you tried to leverage it for your own gain!" 

The crane looked taken aback. He had not known his plot was uncovered. “Alabaster… be careful you mean what you say. You cannot take every accusation back." 

Alabaster revelled in the exposing of his enemy. “I know you tried to assassinate Leon. He knows it too. Half the damn Council of State knows it by now, why do you think your own servants turned on you in the vote?" 

“You bastards," Joachim said, his voice choking. “You don't understand a damn of what I've done for this country. You are giving him too much power, Alabaster, please listen to me, I am begging. You are the only one he might listen to, the only person who could hope to stop his ambition, you must use that for the good of the nation!" 

“I am," Alabaster snarled back. “You can't worm your way out of this, Joachim." Since he awoke in that grave, Alabaster had longed for this moment. A true chance to get his claws hooked into the bird, and rip him apart. 

“Who does he answer to?" Joachim insisted. He was terrified, he saw the raw murder coiled in Alabaster's eyes. “Who?! Not God. Not the state, not even you! Leon is a mad tyrant, I know you can see it coming Alabaster, you saw Phillipe yourself! Mark my words, as emperor, that man will embroil us in war, after war, after war, no conquest will ever be good enough for him, and you will never be good enough for him!"

That struck a nerve, and Alabaster froze. He hesitated, fighting to resist Joachim's words. 

He's a manipulator. Do not allow him under your scales. 

“Let me leave," Joachim said, softly now. “I will go to Kiberland, I will convince them not to antagonise him further. I will help bring balance back to Midland and end these ridiculous wars!" He raised his arms, as if he could calm Alabaster down.

“I have let you walk away too many times," Alabaster said. His voice was ice. His dagger sat in its sheath but he would not need it. 

“NO!" A voice cried from behind, and Alabaster spun just in time for Bartolomé to crash into him. He saw the flash of a blade and then felt something punch into his gut, splitting the scales as pain exploded through him. The dragon twisted, his claw catching the goat's chin as Bartolomé sought to drive the knife deeper. “Die, heretic!"

“No." The word came from Alabaster's lips like fire, fury shooting down each of his limbs and taking hold. They had tried to take everything from him once already, and if Joachim got away they would take Leon too. 

Never again. 

Leon walked slowly down the centre of the cathedral pews. His long, flowing golden cloak dragged behind him, the ceremonial sword bouncing at his hip, the staff of Kazmar held in one loose paw. General Deuxmoise – soon to be King Deuxmoise – stood in attendance dressed in his best parade uniform. Leon caught the proud stares of his sister Cosette, and even the solemn face of his three-year-old nephew, Émeric. 

He passed by the councillors who had voted for him, and those who had not. The Speaker was not in attendance, nor was Joachim. 

Leon remained stoic. The whole thing felt like a dream, almost unreal. It was so loud in the cathedral and yet deathly silent. His heart ached for Alabaster. Leon didn't care for the approval of these people, he only cared about one. 

I am doing this for Rennaire, and for you. The dragon was tight-lipped about his childhood, but Leon had teased out small moments over the last few years. People had hated Alabaster since the moment he hatched. Never had the dragon experienced true safety and real love. Even now, he was so scarred by his life that at every affectation he pulled away, unsure how to take it. Leon had a guess that Alabaster was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the trick that would come. There is no trick. I will free these people from fear. And you as well, my love. 

Outside the cheering of the people only increased in fervour. Inside, the liturgical, semi-religious hymns continued on methodically. They did not praise a God, but they were still far more spiritual than the Speaker would have tolerated. 

Fuck him. Fuck them all. 

Leon sucked in a breath, approaching the dais at the front. The Supreme Judge of Rennaire stood there, a crown sitting on a stand between him and Leon. The judge was a lion, and he would validate the legal movement to make Leon emperor in front of everyone who mattered. 

I am so close, Leon thought, his body trembling from the sheer weight of the awe pulsing through him. So close to greatness. 

“Cold-blood vermin!" Bartolomé bleated. Joachim didn't waste time, bolting for the door. 

“You…" Alabaster hissed up at the goat. One claw was around the bastard's neck, the other trying to gain control of the knife buried in his gut. “Wrote the manifest! You don't care about freedom! Just yourself!" 

“Just… Die!" Bartolomé begged him. “I care about a stable future!" 

Behind him, Joachim tore open the door, meaning to run. Gabriel stood there donned in his armour, and he delivered a swift punch to the crane's throat. Joachim stumbled back, rasping as he fell onto his ass. Gabriel stepped through the doorway, the veil covering his face swaying with each step. 

“Joachim!" Bartolomé cried, and Alabaster seized the momentary distraction. He shoved the knife away from his belly, slicing it back across the goat's hip. Bartolomé cried out and Alabaster released the knife, throwing his weight forward. Bartolomé stumbled back and they went down together. Alabaster slammed his weight on top of the goat. Bartolomé drove the knife up again into Alabaster's side; once, twice, before the dragon finally seized hold of the goat's fingers, twisting hard until he heard several tiny cracks, accompanied by Bartolomé's screams. The knife flew from his grip, spinning as it slid across the ground. 

“Mongrel!" Joachim chittered, scrambling towards the knife. 

Alabaster got his claws up, squeezing both around the goat's neck and crushing him hard.

“Don't try it," Gabriel said to Joachim, planting his boot on the knife, a small crossbow aimed at the crane's head. 

“Alabaster, don't do this!" Joachim cried hoarsely, rubbing at his neck, backing away on his elbows and knees. “It's not too late to do what is best for Rennaire!" 

Bartolomé kicked and struggled beneath him, trying to pry Alabaster's fingers away from his windpipe. Blood continued to soak his cloak, dripping down between them. Bartolomé kicked, and kicked, eyes bulging as he fought furiously. 

“How does it feel?" Alabaster hissed. 

A deep spasm went through the goat, and slowly but surely, the strength in his fingers began to fail. 

“Do you swear to stand here a just and true man?" The Supreme Judge asked, his eyes holding Leon's gaze. 

“I do, your honour," Leon replied, one paw held over his heart. 

“Then in all good conscience and by the letter of the law, I hereby consecrate this document now, before all free men of Rennaire!" He slammed his stamp into the hot wax on the scroll.

The cathedral cheered all around him. 

It was all Leon could do to stare at his crown. It was ceremonial, but no less glorious for that. Made of rich purple velvet to represent Rennaire, accented by an intertwined mesh of silver and gold, with sparkling jewels embedded all along it. The circlet worn by Kazmar himself had been fastened into the design, the rest of the crown built around that centrepiece. It must be heavy, and he could only imagine picking it up. 

“Citizen Leon Valoisier," the Judge said, addressing him. “Do you swear by all laws and all people, to uphold the righteousness of Rennaire?" 

Leon sucked in a breath. His bronze fur felt electrified, his tongue too big for his mouth. So much ambition, so much sacrifice had brought him to this moment. The beginning of a new future. A better world. 

“I swear it," he said. 

“And do you swear to obey the people, and enforce their will as it is seen?" 

“I swear it." 

“And do you swear to offer all free men and women a fair chance in the eyes of the law?"

“I swear it."

“Get. Up." Alabaster huffed in short breaths, the wounds stinging through his body, blood dripping down his leg.

“You can't kill me, Alabaster!" Joachim pleaded, scrambling to his feet and backing away. “Imagine the news! The day Leon is crowned, his greatest opponent is murdered in cold blood, you cannot be serious!" 

“You're right, much as I hate it," Alabaster agreed. He glanced over to Gabriel. “Get Bartolomé's body out of here, Gabriel, we need to clear up the blood." 

“Ga… briel…" Joachim backed away even more as he connected the name. Alabaster grinned as he saw the crane found it. “Alabaster, you are truly a maniac, you are as insane as Leon is!" He turned to the badger, who was now dragging the goat's body out by his feet. “Gabriel, please, you are the true heir to this nation! Kill this madman and restore the rightful lineage!" 

If Gabriel heard Joachim, he did not show it. 

“I have been waiting to kill you for so very long," Alabaster replied. Each step sent a sharp needle of pain into his side, but he would be damned if he let that stop him from finally getting his revenge.  

“You can't!" Joachim cawed. “Unless you want to invalidate Leon before he is crowned, you cannot hurt me!" 

“Not myself, no." Alabaster invoked sorcery, pulling on the other as he stared deep into Joachim's eyes. “We have done this once before, shame you do not remember it." 

“I…" The crane blinked, tried to look away, but Alabaster's sorcery pulled him back. “What… No…" 

The dragon pointed to the open window, showing a view of the Prime Cathedral and the great crowd that surrounded it in the distance. “Get on the ledge." 

“I… I…" Joachim tried to fight the hypnosis, but he obeyed slowly, gingerly climbing up onto the precipice. “P-please… You can't kill me…" 

“Ah," Alabaster said. He was elated. “But I am not going to." 

The Supreme Judge reached for the crown, but Leon raised a paw, stopping him.

“No," he said. “No." The lion paused, but stepped back as Leon himself reached down and hefted the great ornament, the onlookers gasping. It was heavy, and his chest swelled in pride as he lifted it high. 

I brought myself here. Not destiny, nor fate, nor God. Through my own paws and my own belief did I come to take this moment. 

He turned, holding the crown before himself to address the crowd. 

“I found the crown of Rennaire in the gutter!" He declared loudly, drawing all to silence. “And I picked it up on the end of my sword!"

“"Don't… please…" Joachim begged, but his body was not obeying him, it merely stood. “I can serve!"

“Monsieur Joachim was so ashamed of losing control," Alabaster said softly. He pushed his claw against the blood-soaked cloth of his robe, trying to will the wound to clot up. “So ashamed of his plot to kill Leon being exposed… No wonder he took his own life. He could not bear to live with his own failure." 

The crane fought the hypnosis hard, but all he could manage was a twitch. This kind of control was fierce, but Alabaster knew he could not make Joachim kill himself. 

But I can bring him close enough. 

“Ask him," Joachim hissed through his beak. “Ask him to give up power, ask him to step back… and then you will see. You will see the monster you helped create!"

The crane made his fingers into fists, the hate pushing him just outside Alabaster's control. “Are there none in this whole fucking country more vile than you two? A necromancer and a thief! Fuck yourselves, may God look on you for the rest of your miserable days!"

Leon raised the crown to the sound of thunderous applause, placing it atop his head. Crowning himself Emperor of Rennaire. It was heavy, the metal biting into his scalp. 

“Glory to the empire!" Cheered Deuxmoise. 

“Glory to the emperor!" Cheered the others. 

“Glory," Leon whispered. 

To me.

Alabaster did not reconsider. He reached out and pushed Joachim from the window. The crane tumbled backwards, screaming as he toppled head over tail. His arms flailed in ancient instinct, but he was not capable of flight. 

He hit the street, folding in two as his body burst blood outwards like a squished berry. 

Alabaster stood at the window for a long moment, staring down at the red smear left by Joachim.. A scar from so long finally healed.

Still the bird's words echoed in Alabaster's mind, a last laugh. 

“Ask him to give up power, and then you will see the monster you created."

He swallowed, trying to push the questions and fears away from himself. He trusted Leon; he loved Leon and he knew the jaguar loved him in return.

And yet. 

“Ask him to give up power. He is a tyrant." 

There was one more question that Alabaster could barely stomach to even contemplate. It came unbidden, pushing up through his mind like vomit from a poisoned stomach. He hated it. But it was there, nonetheless.

Did you help make a new owner?