\hypertarget{chapter-36-malice}{%
\chapter{Malice}\label{chapter-36-malice}}



\epigraph{``It is impossible for the Empire to make an appreciable gain so
long as this gain is a loss to every other nation on Calernia. To remedy
this, we must discard the traditional lines of allying only to Evil
polities and make it so that it is in the interest of other powers for
us to rise.''}{Extract from `The Death of the Age of Wonders', a treatise by Dread
Empress Malicia}



``When beginning a scheme, one must first consider the desired
outcome,'' the Empress said. ``All other practicalities are derived from
this, and determining whether that outcome is feasible at all is the
most important part of the process.''

I'd lit candles, tired of the gloom inside my tent even if I could see
through it. Malicia had taken one of my folding chairs and somehow
managed to make it feel like a throne just by the way she held herself
-- through another woman's body, no less -- while I'd dropped into the
seat forcefully borrowed from the Count of Old Oak. `Looted' was such an
ugly word. I'd used one of the candles to light up my pipe and propped
up my feet against a low stool. Black had never insisted on a formal
setting for his lectures and the Empress seemed inclined to continue
along the same lines. I'd lain off the wine for the night, deciding the
wakeleaf would be indulgence enough. At this rate I was going to run out
of satchels of the stuff, though now that Ratface had the Smugglers
under him getting my hands on more shouldn't be too troublesome. Still
costly, though. Letting out a stream of smoke to the side, I drummed
fingers against the ornate chair arm. I knew what I wanted, I was just
pondering the right phrasing.

``I want the fae out of Callow and their influence removed,'' I said.

Malicia smiled. It wasn't breath-taking, not the way I knew she was in
person, but just looking at it made me feel at ease. Comfortable. Like I
was sitting across from an old friend and not one of the most dangerous
women alive. It was the smile of someone who had studied the image that
best brought out those feelings and crafted a flawless replica to wear.
The Empress was made up of smoke and mirrors in arrangements that had
been refined for decades, an illusion masterful enough that it remained
effective even while I knew what she was doing. She was everything Akua
Sahelian wanted to be, and wasn't that a terrifying thought?

``You are using an absolute, Catherine,'' she chided. ``Avoid these, for
they leave no room for compromise. You should be aware, by now, that
there is no such thing as an absolute victory. The Empire conquered
Callow through overwhelming military victory, but did this remove the
realities of its occupation? Compromise, much as you dislike it, is a
necessity. Without something to offer as boon, your enemy has nothing to
lose. This ensures from the beginning that your opposition will be
entrenched.''

``The Imperial governorships don't feel like a compromise, from where I
stand,'' I pointed out.

``Because they were not a compromise with Callow, whose perspective you
still espouse in large part,'' Malicia replied. ``They were the boon
granted to the High Lords after they were denied the direct subjection
they believed their due.''

I grimaced. Praesi aristocrats ruling over Callowan cities would have
been\ldots{} bad. The way the histories said the Proceran occupation had
been, and probably even worse. When Callow had been divided into a
handful of principalities under royals that displaced the old
aristocracy, the entire kingdom had been in state of constant simmering
rebellion. The knightly orders turned bandit against the foreigners,
Principate dignitaries were knifed in dark alleys by everyone from
thieves to merchants and fields went untilled as farmers disappeared
into the countryside rather than toil for the invader. It hadn't been
great battles that saw the Principate withdraw but the constant grind of
attrition on every facet of the occupation.

``That would have been disastrous,'' I said.

``Very much so,'' Malicia agreed. ``That is not to say the governorships
were not designed to quell unrest, of course. It is not happenstance
that Imperial governors were only granted four year mandates, or that
Amadeus was given authority to oversee them.''

I drew on my pipe, looking for the meaning in that. Four year mandates.
From where I stood, what did they mean? The sweet smoke hung in the air
before my eyes for a while, until I dug far enough back in my childhood
I could get a handle on what she'd meant.

``Mazus was hated,'' I said. ``But every four years, there was hope he
wouldn't be given another mandate. That his abuses would come to the
attention of the Tower and that he'd be recalled.''

``Impermanence,'' the Empress said. ``That was the key. The belief that
the enemy could be removed, if they were patient. And who did you look
to for salvation, in this matter?''

``The Tower,'' I said. ``Black.''

I kept my breathing steady, but my blood ran cold. Every time I thought
I understood the breadth of the plans they'd made to keep Callow part of
the Empire, I found another hidden knife. It was deceptively simple,
wasn't it? If the heroes that popped up failed and failed visibly, then
relief had to come from another source and the only one available was
the Tower. Imperial governors had been allowed relatively minor abuses
that filled their pockets and kept their families happy in the
Wasteland, while my people were taught to look for deliverance in Ater
one mandate at a time.

``To conclude this matter,'' Malicia said, ``that is why your
abolishment of this system is not offensive to me. I no longer need to
appease the High Lords, for as an internal threat they are ended for the
foreseeable future. The remaining objective is to stabilize Callow as
part of the Empire, and you represent a valid alternative in this.''

I dimly realized, in that moment, that this exchange had not occurred
naturally. She had, even before first mentioning the occupation, known
how I would react to that mention. The Empress had then used what I'd
say to lead into what was both a lesson about what I'd come to her for
help and a gentle reminder of the political currents I'd have to deal
with when getting Callow back on its feet after all this. Gods. It was
such a little thing, but such a telling one. That a woman I'd barely
spoken to a handful of times could predict me this easily and fold that
into a broader intent without missing a step. I cleared my throat.

``No absolutes,'' I conceded. ``I want the fae physically gone from
Callow and any harmful influence removed.''

``Good,'' Malicia smiled, and for a fleeting moment I was reminded of
sunny days on the docks and the first girl I'd ever kissed.

There'd been seemingly genuine joy on her face and for a heartbeat I'd
believed it. She wasn't using sorcery, I knew that. There was no
artefact or Speaking at work. She could spin me around with just words
and body language. I wondered if it was more effective because I was
Named -- I'd not been able to study people so closely or accurately,
before becoming the Squire. I'd become more sensitive to details, and
that sensitivity would feed straight into her game: I'd grown used to
listening to my instincts, and my instincts told me what I saw was true.
Gods, if that was true then she'd managed to turn one of the basic
advantages every Named took for granted into an edge for her alone
without exerting so much as a speck of power. I reached for the bundle
of Winter inside me, let the freezing cold flow through my veins. I was
careful not to let the bleed affect the temperature, since it would be
as good as sending up a written notice of what I was doing. The icy
sensation spreading through me brought some much-needed clarity with it.
I pulled at my pipe to hide the vapour that would have come out of my
mouth amidst the wakeleaf smoke.

``Then let us speak of the entities that would stand in your way, should
you seek to achieve this,'' the Empress said.

``The Winter Court,'' I said. ``The Summer Court. Possibly the
Diabolist, if she goes full opportunist.''

``These are entities that will actively oppose you,'' she said. ``Extend
your perspective, my dear, to those who do not want you to fail but may
withhold assistance for their own interests.''

I frowned.

``The Dark Guilds,'' I said. ``Some of the upper echelons of the Legions
of Terror. I'd say the High Lords, but you seem to have them in hand.''

``Those of them that would invest in seeing you defeated have already
done so through the Diabolist,'' Malicia said. ``You may consider the
aristocracy of the Wasteland as no longer in play. Let us begin with the
lesser liabilities. How can you clear them away?''

``I have no leverage on the Guild of Assassins,'' I admitted. ``Haven't
found a real way to affect them aside from threats. The Smugglers have
been scared into cooperation. And for the Legions, doing anything there
is like throwing a stone in a glass house. They answer to you and Black
alone, so meddling never struck me as being in the cards.''

``That is because you still think of yourself as a separate entity from
the Empire,'' the Empress gently said. ``Discard this perception,
Catherine. A few scrying sessions making it clear that you speak with my
authority end the issue entirely. If I am to rely on you, as you wish me
to, learn to rely on me as well.''

I balked, more out of habit than any reason I could express in words. I
fiddled with the shaft of dragonbone and forced myself to seriously
consider what the Empress had said. Had I ever really considered myself
as part of Praes? I already knew the answer to that, deep down. I'd
taken my first steps onto this path with the notion that I would join
the Legions to gain authority and then use this authority to change
things in Callow. The heart of it had always been that I'd be part of
the Praesi hierarchy without ever \emph{belonging} in it. I'd stuck to
that, even as the situation changed month by month. I'd relied on Black,
sure, but only to teach me and shield me from other Wastelanders. Even
when I'd forged the Ruling Council, the motives for its structure had
all revolved around limiting Praesi influence in my homeland. There was
a reason it had stung back in Laure, when Thief had called me a
collaborator. I still saw the Empire as the enemy and for years I'd been
dancing from one flourish of rhetoric to another to avoid owning up to
that, because almost everyone I loved came from it. Saying I didn't
oppose Praes, just the parts of it I found unacceptable. That I was
willing to live with what it could be, if not what it was right now.

But I was running out of excuses to not make use of the parts of the
Empire that I'd already said I believed in. I wasn't above throwing
around my weight as the Squire to get my way, because I'd always thought
of the Name as \emph{mine}. But it wasn't, not really. Praes at large
listened to the Squire because she was the apprentice to the Black
Knight, the leading villain of the next generation of Calamities. The
moment I'd taken Black's hand I'd chosen a side for everyone to see, and
lying to myself about it wouldn't get me anywhere. I couldn't have the
authority coming from being part of the Tower's rule without actually
\emph{being part of the Tower's rule}. It wasn't a nice thought. It was
bitter, and it felt like I was spitting on everything I'd ever dreamed
of as a girl. But it would work. And if I kept mouthing off to heroes
about how their pride and principles just got in the way of getting the
shit that mattered done, then I had better be ready to follow through.
Otherwise I should not have lived this long.

``Then please do so, Your Majesty,'' I said, taking a deep breath. ``Can
I assume you have leverage on the Dark Guilds?''

``Malicia,'' the Empress reminded me. ``Call me Malicia, darling. And I
have a few irons in the fire. Scribe was the one to call them to heel
after the Conquest but I've people in their ranks. Enough that a message
can be sent.''

I breathed out. There were only smouldering remnants in my pipe, so I
took a last pull from it and set it aside. The smoke drifted lazily in
the candlelight, a wall that would do nothing at all to protect me from
the woman in front of me.

``That leaves the worst three,'' I said.

The Empress shifted slightly in her seat and I side-eyed her. There was
something\ldots{} In some intangible way, I felt like I could trust her
more now. Also like I should take my feet off the stool and straighten
up. The Winter cold wavered when I realized exactly what she'd done.
\emph{She's mimicking Black's body language}, I thought, horrifyingly
impressed. If they were closer in height I might never have noticed.
There was an amused glint in the puppet's eyes when I stared at her
face. She knew perfectly well that I'd noticed.

``We arrive at the interesting part,'' the Empress said. ``Before
touching upon how these entities can be affected by us, consider their
nature as agents and how this informs their actions.''

My brow creased.

``I'm not sure I follow,'' I said.

``As an example, let us study Cordelia Hasenbach,'' Malicia said.

I leaned forward interestedly. It wasn't everyday I got to have an
assessment of the ruler of the Principate from the mouth of the very
same woman who'd been fighting her across the continent for the better
part of a decade.

``At first glance, dearest Cordelia is the most powerful individual on
the surface of Calernia,'' the other woman said. ``She commands the
largest and wealthiest nation on the continent, her armies are recently
blooded and her personal diplomatic reputation is pristine.''

``Procer's isn't,'' I immediately said. ``The reputation, I mean. No one
that has a border with the Principate remembers them fondly.''

``Indeed,'' Malicia smiled. ``The history of the nation she rules does
influence what actions she can and cannot take. At a more basic level,
consider the limits of her position. Cordelia Hasenbach is Lycaonese,
the Prince of Rhenia. Her support base is primarily Lycaonese as well,
which means it is poorer and less populous than that of her internal
opposition. She can only project military strength temporarily, for the
Lycaonese armies are needed at the northern borders. What does this mean
for her position in Procer?''

``She has rich, powerful rivals,'' I said. ``And she needs to keep them
in check if she wants to keep her throne.''

``Precisely,'' she smiled. ``To compound the issue, the civil war that
Amadeus initiated and I fed has ravaged large swaths of the Principate,
leaving her with large amounts of dispossessed and unemployed soldiery.
She is unlikely to face open rebellion, as it would be reputational
suicide for any ambitious rival to try to remove her by force after the
last decade of war. Yet if she does not deal with this issue, she risks
being set aside in favour of a ruler that will.''

``So she needs to keep her soldiers busy and out of her lands while she
rebuilds the Principate,'' I frowned. ``Then why Praes? Why Callow?
There's easier targets. Sure her reputation will take a hit if she
scraps with Levant or the Free Cities instead, but it's kind of
\emph{expected} of Procer they're going to be real pricks to their
neighbours.''

``We now return to your earlier insight about reputation. If Cordelia
acted as you said, she would face the same issue that the Empire
traditionally does,'' Malicia said. ``She would stand alone. Make no
mistake, Catherine, Procer has been greatly weakened. It cannot afford
war on more than one front, which is certain to erupt if the Principate
turns expansionist again. The Calernian balance of power would be
shattered if she was allowed to make gains.''

I chewed on that. Hasenbach needed a war, but she also needed her other
borders quiet. Which meant a target that didn't worry everybody else,
and the way she could accomplish that was\ldots{}

``A Crusade,'' I sighed. ``It \emph{has} to be a Crusade, from her
perspective. She can't not be at war and she can't take on any of the
southern nations without pissing off the others. But if she's fighting
Praes, not only can they not backstab her they might actually have to
help.''

``And so we come upon the nature of Cordelia Hasenbach as an entity,''
the Empress said. ``She must be at war, but cannot be at war with a
nation that is Good. These are the rules she has to obey.''

``It's why she can meddle in the Free Cities but only to back the
faction fighting Helike,'' I said. ``Otherwise her southern borders
catch fire. She has to fight against Evil or her alliances all collapse
because no one can trust Procer.''

``Have you wondered why I never expressed fears of you attempting an
independent Callow, Catherine?'' Malicia smiled. ``This is the reason.
Assuming you achieved that result and even sought to remove the impetus
for Imperial invasions by trading us grain, you would still have to face
Procer. You are, after all, a villain. An acceptable recipient of dear
Cordelia's wrath from a diplomatic perspective, and from a political one
a long-term threat. Procer cannot afford another hostile border, from a
purely logistical standpoint. It needs Callow to be Good and at war with
Praes, to keep them both in check.''

That made it twice that she'd turned an offhand example into a pointed
lesson as to where I had to stand. As I understood it this was unusually
straightforward for her, but I wasn't surprised. She would be tailoring
her approach to who she was approaching, and I wasn't unaware I reacted
best to people being direct. The part she'd left unspoken was that if
Callow with me at the head was at war with the Principate, it would be
without the Legions backing me. That wasn't ending well for my side, and
since Praes wouldn't be able to tolerate a Proceran protectorate just
across the river that meant Callow would once more become the
battlefield of the continent when the Tower made its move.

``Point taken,'' I said. ``Nature, huh. The Summer Court is the easiest
to figure out. The Queen has three rules that bind her, I've been told:
destroy Winter, protect Aine and `see the Sun victorious'.''

``All points of pressure you can feasibly reach,'' Malicia said.

``I've got the sun stashed away, so I can bargain with that,'' I said.
``Threaten to destroy it, maybe? I get the impression to actually do
that in Creation would be a very bad idea, but it wouldn't be the first
time I lied to a god. The other two are a little trickier.''

``As I understand it, my dear, Winter is not a static state,'' the
Empress said. ``It is transient, fated to come and pass. You do not need
to think of destruction as requiring force. If what Winter is no longer
corresponds to what Summer believes it should be, that may very well
qualify as `destruction'.''

``You mean force it to pass into Spring or Autumn,'' I said, taking a
look at the notion. ``I'm fairly certain the seasons only shift when
either Summer or Winter has lost the war. I'm not sure that's
feasible.''

Malicia smiled warmly.

``It would be a mistake, to believe yourself bound to the traditional
fae outcomes,'' she said. ``This entire affair began by one of the
Courts believing these were not impossible to avert.''

\emph{A way to make Winter no longer Winter.} There might be something
to that.

``That leaves Aine, the seat of Summer,'' I said. ``I can make gates so
getting there isn't impossible, just\ldots{} really stupid. There's no
winning a fight there, and the fae can cross back into Arcadia much
easier than they come into Creation. It won't be undefended.''

I paused.

``I'll need all three, if I'm to force the Queen's hand about
anything,'' I said. ``She's not really a thing that gets compromise.
Anything less than complete failure, anathema to what she is, and she'll
just keep on slugging.''

``If your strength is insufficient, borrow strength,'' Malicia said.
``She has enemies as well, does she not? If I understand your plan
correctly, this assumption lay at the heart of your taking prisoner the
Princess of High Noon. Should Summer fail to secure her return, should
they lose too many soldiers, they will afterwards fall in the face of
oncoming Winter. This is one of the limitations she must abide.''

I spared a moment to hope my intentions weren't this fucking transparent
to everyone out there. I would have spared another to be intimidated by
the fact she'd understood my plan without being involved at any point in
the making of it, but I'd grown dull to that breed of surprise by now.

``Winter winning fucks it all up too,'' I said frankly. ``I'm not sure
if \emph{worse} is the right term, but it will definitely be a similar
yet different shade of godawful.''

``Let us speak of Winter, then,'' the Empress lightly said. ``You have
treated with the King of Winter in person. Become bound to his Court, in
part, and fought at the side of his greatest captains. What did you
glimpse from this?''

``Take two vicious, spitting furious cats and shove them in a bag,'' I
said. ``Then add that it has been there since time literally immemorial.
The King's the cat \emph{real} desperate about getting out of that
bag.''

``A colourful description,'' Malicia said, arching an eyebrow. ``Yet
short on useful specifics.''

I almost laughed, until I remembered how fucking dangerous it would be
to actually like this woman.

``He doesn't have a plan, I think,'' I said. ``Or his plan was just to
drag Callow into this mess and he doesn't really need to control what
comes after that. He wants out, Malicia. I don't think \emph{how} he
gets out actually matters all that much. And that he thinks that way at
all is scaring the other fae. I don't think he's supposed to.''

``That,'' the Empress said quietly, ``is worrying. Wekesa once told me
that Arcadia is akin to a first draft of Creation, and mirrors it still.
If Winter is meant to he be the reflection of villainy, and yet bound to
it, there are\ldots{} implications.''

I didn't have to look all that far to find the villains who'd made the
largest mark on Calernia in the last century, so her meaning was pretty
clear.

``It's not that clear cut,'' I said. ``The parallels aren't so direct.
But it's crossed my mind, yeah.''

``A matter to consult more sorcerously-inclined minds over,'' Malicia
finally said. ``Desperation is a useful tool, Catherine, especially if
it can be given outlet. If your read of the creature is correct, it is
the easiest of your obstacles to bargain with.''

I grimaced.

``He has my heart,'' I said bluntly. ``And I don't mean that in a
romantic sense. Ripped it out to make a point which, uh, complicates
negotiations a bit.''

The Empress smiled, almost fondly.

``I sometimes forget how much Amadeus has left his touch on you,'' she
said. ``Catherine, one cannot always deal from a position of strength.
That is mere vanity. And doing so does not mean the negotiations will be
at your expense.''

``Fae always screw you on deals,'' I reminded her.

I'd always thought that Black's quirk of lips was terrifying, the
blade-smile that always heralded something dark happening to someone he
thought deserved it. Looking at the Empress' face then, the languid and
almost lazy amusement, I found something to match it. This had been the
closest to a glimpse of the person underneath the crown I'd gotten since
I'd first met her, and what I saw there had my fingers itching for a
blade.

``Darling, you forget what side you chose,'' she drawled. ``You stand
with the Dread Empire of Praes, Catherine. We have murdered gods and
made doorkeepers of demons. We have tricked angels into damnation and
made orderly host of the hordes of Hell. Fae?''

She smiled amusedly.

``Fae will be a pleasant reprieve from the High Lords, my dear. Let me
show you.''

\emph{Fuck}, I thought. \emph{Now I like her.}
