Ep. 63- Vanguard of the Rising Sun

int. throne room morning

The massive doors of the throne room creak open, blinding light spilling through the widening gap- any who were not on bended knee are compelled to do so, shielding their eyes from the sudden radiance.

Entering first through the doors are two figures we have seen before- Justice, now closer to what we have seen in present times, fully blindfolded and armed with a massive blade that stands in direct comparison to the Young Queen’s own choice of arms. Beside him in a notably lighter stride is Temperance, an exuberant grin playing across his lips like a child on a vacation. Behind them both is JUDGMENT, a skin and bones man with gaunt features and stretched, sharp angles- one might mistake him for a living skeleton. A gold trumpet dangles from a red sash around his neck. He walks with an unsteady gait, his wild eyes darting hungrily about the room.

They each make their way to the front of the throne room and then halt, turning to face the entrance to the throne room as their master and commander, The Sun, enters. The Sun is as we have always seem him, a shining, unmoving placid face whose featureless visage cannot be pierced beyond its searching saucer surface.

YOUNG KNIGHT
He…looks like a god.

YOUNG QUEEN OF SWORDS
(scoff)
He’s no such thing.

As the Sun reaches the front of the room he simply stops, beaming up at the Old Queen of Swords on her throne. He addresses her directly.

THE SUN
Queen of Swords, the Vanguard of the Rising Sun has arrived. A new dawn is upon your house. I trust you understand the situation.

OLD QUEEN OF SWORDS
Is this the entirety of your…delegation?

THE SUN
It is enough. My retainers- Temperance, Judgment, and of course- you’ll remember Justice.

Whereas Temperance and Judgment both make plays at exaggerated bows, Justice pays no such homage.

THE SUN
It seems he remembers his queen.

JUSTICE
She is no queen of mine, lord.

OLD QUEEN OF SWORDS
And you are no Major Arcana. Merely a former knight of my own house, regardless of what your new house might say.

THE SUN
How can you be so sure? That’s the trouble, naturally, with the House of Swords- so busy looking to the next battle that you often fail the recognize the raw power that stumbles through your own doors.

OLD QUEEN OF SWORDS
I would recognize the talent of a Major Arcana in my own midst. I do not recognize…his.

THE SUN
Even so, the Tower has agreed to recognize him amongst our ranks.

OLD QUEEN OF SWORDS
Then the Tower must miss him greatly- as it must for all these powerful cards assembled before me. A terrible loss for the Magician and Priestess.

THE SUN
Oh, no loss- no one here has been lost. Simply borrowed. Their…favor…is guarded information. We appreciate your discretion.

OLD QUEEN OF SWORDS
Your “secret” coup of the houses is not so secret- only the inexplicable blind eye of the Tower permits it continue. We know full well how you laid waste to the House of Cups. So get to your point- what would you have of my proud house here.

The Sun raises his arms, his face beaming even brighter. His body rises and he drifts through the air landing directly in front of the Old Queen. Standing over the seated monarch, he leans in.

THE SUN
We will talk terms.

OLD QUEEN OF SWORDS
You will talk. I will consider.

THE SUN
Your crown- forfeit. And your house’s allegiance- mine.

OLD QUEEN OF SWORDS
Hard terms. What have we to gain.

THE SUN
Survival.

OLD QUEEN OF SWORDS
Do you believe your retinue to be so unassailable as to demand the surrender of a martial house? We are no collection of starry eyed artists and lovers like the Cups. We are warriors. We are proud men and women born to carry out the way and will of the sword. What gives you the right to chance such terms against us when we have not even begun to mount a defense?

THE SUN
I cannot help but reach for the heavens. My brilliance is self-evident- not disagreeable- merely fact. I merely had to step within miles of the borders of the House of Pentacles for them to swiftly agree to terms- reasonable people- wise, even.

OLD QUEEN OF SWORDS
The House of Pentacles has no scruples, no honor. They would sell every last shred of dignity if they felt it would give them advantage.

THE SUN
All is laid bare before my rays- I cannot help those who stand without shame when their ambitions are shown to be nakedly transparent. The house of coins is exactly what you say they are- and I find that admirable- if not useful- in its own way. As for the House of Cups…they made their choice- a simple one, really. Like night…and day. And now not a single retainer of that foolish house remains. Their King- dead, after mounting an insane attack upon the Tower. The Queen- lost. Their knights- cut down to the last man. Their castle, their keeps, their lands- dismantled, torched, ruined. They are both past and a prophecy- a vision of your own future, should you choose futility.

He withdraws from the throne and folks his arms, his face beaming out brightly upon the assembled knights of Swords. None can meet his gaze- except for the Young Queen of Swords.

The Old Queen of Swords stands, as doing so, the Sun’s own hue turns from bright yellow to a dangerous shade of crimson. A drop of sweat rolls from the Old Queen’s forehead, dripping down to her chin. The drop of sweat falls to the floor, striking the stone and disappearing into a hiss of steam as it hits. The Queen looks over her own assembled knights- all shift uncomfortably, the heat distorting the air and tangling their faces- in the funhouse view of her own house the Old Queen sees naught but death- a future of desolation for her own house. The Old Queen returns her gaze to the brilliant Sun. Leveling her jaw, a visage of stone that does not betray the impossibility of her next words, she speaks-

OLD QUEEN OF SWORDS
I accep-

YOUNG QUEEN OF SWORDS
I challenge your right to demand terms. I will face any champion you have in single combat. If I lose, our house is forfeit- and if I win- you withdraw. For good.

OLD QUEEN OF SWORDS
(quickly)
She has no authority to make such a decision-

YOUNG QUEEN OF SWORDS
And you have no right to forfeit our lives to servitude. I will personally do what you cannot- I will bring this to a swift ending. Here. Now. Or I will die trying.