Ep. 59- The Advancing Dawn of Change

Hello, readers. I’m here as the author again. I’m very sorry I’ve kept you waiting.

Life has been busy and stressful lately. I’ve dedicated myself to several different projects. I’ve also committed to helping several friends with work of their own. It has been very rewarding but sometimes leaves me a bit lacking for energy with Alice. While I wish I could say that this has left me without freetime, the truth is I have plenty of freetime but just keep devoting it elsewhere. I hope you’ll understand.

It’s been a weird year, hasn’t it?

int. fortress of swords balcony night

The balcony outside the Queen’s chambers within the Fortress of Swords. It is spartan in its decoration, clean and functional. Standing at the railing is the Old Queen of Swords- she is yet further aged than we’d seen her before. Behind her is the Young Queen, also further aged, her face betraying the weathered scars of battle and training. She impatiently leans on her giant buster- her dusty leather armor betraying days on the road and nights spent sleeping on the ground, a distinct contrast to the Old Queen’s ceremonial robes and relatively clean appearance.

The Old Queen scan the night horizon- utter darkness beyond her own lit walls. In the dim chamber light her jaw is set, tense and tight. When she speaks it is quiet, guarded- the voice of someone who is tethered to an weight that implores her consideration before all things.

OLD QUEEN
The Sun marches under diplomatic colors.

YOUNG QUEEN
Like the House of Swords would be dumb enough to fall for that.

QUEEN OF SWORDS
You’d meet a flag of treaty with your sword?

YOUNG QUEEN
I’d strike before we let them within a mile of our walls. We know the purpose of the Sun, how they conquered the House of Cups and Pentacles- he will demand our subjugation or lay waste to us. And the Tower will stand by and do nothing. For the sake of our people-

The Old Queen turns, her eyes flashing anger.

OLD QUEEN
Are our people so eager as you to shed blood? Be it miles from here or within our own walls, it is their blood that is shed.

YOUNG QUEEN
It doesn’t matter what they want. What matters is what you want. You command us to fight and we will go fight.

OLD QUEEN
Is that what you think?

The Old Queen sadly shakes her head and crosses the balcony. She withdraws a steaming kettle from a tea cart and pours a steaming glass of tea into a gleaming copper cup. She meditates on the rising steam for a moment before taking a drink. The Young Queen, though accustomed to these long pauses, can only lean forward further, her sharpened incisors gleaming just behind her stretched lips, like those of a predator in dire thirst. The Old Queen finally takes a sip of the black tea.

OLD QUEEN
Even Queens have their limits.

YOUNG QUEEN
Then give me the crown.

There is a silence. This subject goes beyond taboo- it is a tired, overtrodden discussion- one they do not agree on.

OLD QUEEN
You think so little of my ability to lead?

YOUNG QUEEN
You do not want this decision. I do.

OLD QUEEN
You would lead us into a war we could not win.

YOUNG QUEEN
If we choose a path of weakness…I would not want to live to see its end.

OLD QUEEN
And what of your people? The house who took you in?

YOUNG QUEEN
It would be for their own good- better to die free than live as slaves.

The Old Queen waves the Young Queen away as she crosses back out toward the balcony, tea in hand. This time, her eyes fall on the small thatched tops of dozens of small dwellings within the castle walls, their golden facades winking under the flickering torchlight of streetlamps.

OLD QUEEN
A platitude does not justify the genocide of one’s own people.

YOUNG QUEEN
I love this House. I will not see it fall to the Sun, or anyone else.

OLD QUEEN
I cannot dispute your right to wear this crown. Someday, you will. But it will not be tonight.

YOUNG QUEEN
I will fight. Alone, if need be. I do not care if the people want it-

OLD QUEEN
Or if I agree with you?

YOUNG QUEEN
I will not serve the Sun. Or anyone else.

OLD QUEEN
Then I release you from your duty as my successor. Leave this fortress. Tonight. And wear your shame the rest of your days as a retainer who has failed their duty and left the debts to their lord unpaid. I have no need for a card that refuses its purpose.

YOUNG QUEEN
My purpose is the way of the sword-

The Old Queen throws down her teacup in consternation.

OLD QUEEN
Your purpose is a falsehood, a selfish impulse. Do NOT conflate it with the way of our House. I would call you shortsighted if I was not horrified at your impulse to discount the lives of your people. That you would take up the blade and drive us so quickly into conflict with the gods of this world paints you as a fool at best and a sociopath at worst. Be thankful your words do not leave this room- if the people heard you speak as you do they would rightly call you a monster.

A quiet passes between the pair. The sound of the breeze rustling through the upper ramparts of the fortress, disturbing the balcony curtains. On the distant hills small beads of light can be seen. Both queens allow their eyes to fall on these advancing lights before the Young Queen, hurt, but not contrite, breaks the silence.

YOUNG QUEEN
You say I think so little of you- yet you’re so quick to wound me when I challenge you. If my words, temper and…power…frighten people so…why did you ever admit me into the fortress? Why take me in? Why accept me as Successor?

QUEEN OF SWORDS
Because when I first met you I believed you were a young woman of great potential.

The Young Queen sighs deeply.

YOUNG QUEEN
And now?

OLD QUEEN
(fixing her gaze on the advancing lights)
A new future marches on our walls. Those lights, the Sun’s advancing parties, will reach us by dawn. As long as I wear this crown, the course of our House is set. But you will have to choose your own path- do not say your path is as mine. I see now that can’t be true- I was naïve to think I could tame the nature that even Strength herself failed to bend. Wherever you go, whatever you do- my initial judgment remains correct- you will have great potential. But to what end- who’s benefit? That eludes me. I hope that it does not elude you for long.

YOUNG QUEEN
(bowing)
Mother of Swords, I…

The Old Queen places both hands on the shoulders of her ward.

OLD QUEEN
I will find the strength to play my part in history. And you…just…remember it took a House to raise you- not a single woman, certainly not a Queen. Do not be so quick to cast us aside.

The Young Queen cannot help but tear up at this, ashamed.

YOUNG QUEEN
I will never forget. I never have- but I never will.

With this the Young Queen turns and leaves. The Old Queen quietly bends down to pick up her teacup, rises and returns to watch the gathering lights on the hills which have swelled to a sea of golden dots. A small tear wells up in her eye and rolls down her cheek.