Ep. 50- A Refusal of the Future
Hello there, it’s me, the writer! We skipped a week so I thought I’d drop by for an update, not as a storyteller but as a person.
A week ago I was in a car accident. A city bus crunched the front end of my car. Physically, I was okay, but emotionally I was pretty shook up. Ironically, this happened as I was on the way to pick up a Covid test. So I’ve been sick this past week on top of all else. Although I tested negative it was still a nasty viral infection that left me pretty drained. I’m doing better now but to say this has been a tough week would be an understatement!
So Alice took a week off just ahead of its 50th episode. The following episode will also likely be a bit short. We’re in the thick of the Queen’s arc. Her story is a huge slice of content spanning almost 40 written pages. This doesn’t include what I may add as I continue writing. If my current progress is any indication then it would seem likely that the Queen’s arc will run even longer. I’ve already added a substantial amount of extra content!
I hope you’re enjoying this arc. It employs flashbacks to tell us more about the mysterious Queen of Swords. Not every character’s story will be told like the Queen’s, because every character has different needs. But the Queen carries the burden of going first. This means she must also help set up the world of Arcana as a whole. During her story we’ll learn more about the factions, villains and territories of Arcana, not to mention the simmering tensions that will boil over as we return to Alice. Arcana is a world on the verge of great change and the Queen’s coming of age takes place on the cusp of this great change.
As the summer continues my time with Alice will fluctuate greatly. Regardless of what content I release, I hope you’ll all enjoy this arc as it continues.
ext. fortress ramparts night
Flashback continued.
The Old Queen of Swords and the Young Queen of Swords walk the stony outer ramparts of the Fortress of Swords. Guards and knights file to and fro, their patrols dotted by burning torches. The Queens stand upon the top of the gatehouse, in process of closing up for the night. The Young Queen holds a crest of swords in her palm, which she flips over and over between her fingers.
OLD QUEEN
I’m pleased with your progress, Child of Swords. I’m told there was zero opposition to your knighthood.
The Young Queen continues to fiddle with her crest, her face contorting bashfully from the content.
YOUNG QUEEN
I’m still getting used to it. Doesn’t feel real. One day you’re an orphan. No home, no friends. Nothing but nasty looks wherever you go. The next day-
OLD QUEEN
The next day, you’re a knight. But…you were never an orphan, really.
YOUNG QUEEN
(stops fiddling, but does not look up)
I may as well have been.
OLD QUEEN
(quietly)
Your old…teacher…has asked another audience with you.
YOUNG QUEEN
And she’ll have the same answer- I’m not interested.
OLD QUEEN
I assumed you wouldn’t. But still-
YOUNG QUEEN
(pockets her medallion)
I have nothing to learn from Strength. This is my home. You- and all the other knights- are my teachers. Whatever meager power Strength imagines I have, Arcane or otherwise- is just a bonus. I trust my sword, first and foremost.
OLD QUEEN
(sighs)
Your adherence to our teachings is admirable. But our reliance on the blade is of necessity. Few here are gifted in Arcane arts. But you are different-
YOUNG QUEEN
(snaps back)
I never asked to be. And I have no interest in learning more.
OLD QUEEN
(slyly)
Yet, you still use Arcane powers in your training, your mock battles.
YOUNG QUEEN
(quietly)
I don’t want to. I try to fight it but it just…comes out. If I could seal this power away for good, I would. The others resent it, resent me, for advantages I never asked for.
The Old Queen gently takes the Young Queens shoulders and peers into her eyes.
OLD QUEEN
Never be ashamed of your strength.
The Young Queen turns, and takes a few steps to the edge of the rampart, looking out over the dark, barren landscape.
YOUNG QUEEN
I’ve been thinking of the Tourney of the Successor.
OLD QUEEN
(joining her at the rampart’s edge)
You wouldn’t be of the House of Swords if the crown hadn’t crossed your mind. It crosses everyone’s at some point.
YOUNG QUEEN
(quietly)
I believe I am going to win.
OLD QUEEN
You sound so certain.
YOUNG QUEEN
(quiet, troubled)
I don’t know how to explain it but…I feel a certainty.
OLD QUEEN
(uneasily)
It’ll be a fine bout. I don’t envy the winner.
YOUNG QUEEN
Even if it’s me?
OLD QUEEN
Especially if it is you. Now then, enough of this- a task was set for you tonight and I believe you will find it must instructive.
The Old Queen bends over the rampart, peering at a guard standing at the head of the gatehouse.
OLD QUEEN
It is time! OPEN THE GATES! OPEN THE GATES!
The Guard salutes at the hollering of the Old Queen and mans the crank, slowing opening the heavy iron gates of the fortress. A clamor can be heard within the ramparts as knights and guards rush to the gatehouse. A clank of metal and straining chains as the gates rise. The Old and Young Queens remain at the ramparts. Before them, still nothing but darkness beyond the reaches of the walls.
YOUNG QUEEN
I don’t understand. Who are we receiving at this hour? I see no one.
OLD QUEEN
And that is as it was intended. But watch closely-
The Young Queen returns her gaze out toward the dark. Before the walls the long grass begins to move and part- emerging from the brush are humanoid figures of inky black, shadows seemingly come to life. As the first of these shambling figures emerges from the grass into the torchlight of the gatehouse, the light reveals them for what they are- haggard, utterly drained- and human.
