\hypertarget{closure}{%
\section{Closure}\label{closure}}

\begin{quote}
\emph{``The most important part of any summary execution is to remember
to have fun and be yourself.''}

-- Dread Empress Malevolent II
\end{quote}

The last time Alaya had come to Wolof was decades ago, when the ashes of
the civil war were still warm. She'd gone to humble a rival and assert
control on a stage all the High Lords would be avidly watching, and
found victory. She'd not returned until now. The more years passed, the
more desperate High Lady Tasia had become. Even when she'd thought she
was winning, she had felt the noose beginning to tighten. Now the Dread
Empress of Praes had returned to the oldest city in the Empire, one that
boasted it alone had suffered no foreign occupation since the Miezans.
Even the crusaders under Eleanor Fairfax had shied from those high walls
and the horrors kept leashed behind them. A statement that had resounded
lightly, coming from a host that had pulled down the Tower itself on the
head of the most powerful madwoman to ever rule Praes. Alaya did not
share Amadeus' contempt for Dread Empress Triumphant, as it happened.
Oh, she did not deny his reasons.

Triumphant had spent a generation of the Wasteland's youth on foreign
fields, forged the Principate through her massacres and managed to drive
to war two empires separated from the Empire by an entire sea. It could
not be denied that she had broken Praes so thoroughly that four decades
had passed before war could be taken to the crusader kings that had
carved realms out of the Wasteland's meat. For all that, Triumphant had
understood the nature of the Empire better than any Tyrant before or
since. Under her rule there had been no betrayals, no scheming
Chancellor or rebellious High Lords. All had been united in terror of
the monster of monsters. It was not a sustainable method of rule, of
course, as the swift collapse of Triumphant's conquests has proved. Yet
there were lessons to be learned from her successes, not to be dismissed
for her penultimate failure.

For the Empire to function as a single, smoothly running entity, there
could be no snake held close. Triumphant had achieved this through
overwhelming might, Alaya had by censuring the Name out of existence.
There could be no High Lords in a position to pose a threat, either.
Instead of crucifying half of them and binding devils to the rest, she
had achieved this by slowly and carefully destroying the influence of
the Court in the ruling structure of the Empire. The only conflict among
the highborn now was between the Moderates and her own followers,
warring for her favour and backing. Having achieved both these
conditions, what Dread Empress Malicia needed was \emph{terror}. The
ability to inflict large-scale destruction at will, to give pause to
anyone who would threaten her position. A deterrent beyond argument.
She'd once thought Amadeus could be this, but her dear friend was a
scalpel and what she needed was an earthquake. Catherine might become
this, given her affinity for destruction, but she was difficult to
control and would need years to grow.

Alaya had sought alternatives and found one that suited, a keystone for
the monument she had spent her entire life crafting. It would require
sacrifice to be birthed, but if Malicia had to bleed it would be by her
own design and no one else's. Quietly amused at the thought, the Empress
watched the legionaries pour through the gates of Wolof.

Taking the city by force, even with the three legions assembled here
under Marshal Nim, would have been horrifically difficult. Wolof was the
heart of sorcery in Praes, its ritual sites millennia old and its vaults
of monsters deep and terrible. But the city had not stood united behind
High Lady Tasia. It had been eating itself alive as Tasia's nephew
attempted to usurp her seat, all those powerful mages and hardened
soldiers slaughtering each other in the streets. Sargon Sahelian had
unleashed all the devils held by ancient pacts only to corner dearest
Tasia into calling on a demon of Madness. Half the city had violently
butchered itself merely from suffering its presence, until desperate
rituals managed to banish it. And then Marshal Nim's legions had calmly
marched through the gate, wading through the sea of corpses. Fifty
thousand dead, by the most conservative estimates. The contracts of at
least a hundred devils had been twisted beyond control by the demon and
the creatures were still loose in Wolof, Legion mages sweeping through
to bind and banish them wherever they could be found.

Many would escape into the Wasteland, roaming for years before they were
finally caught. No matter. It would occupy the days of new High Lord of
Wolof long enough he would not realize his power was being curtailed
until it was too late for Wolof's influence to recover in this lifetime.
Sargon was still among the living; this much had been confirmed. He was
under Legion protection and would remain there until he swore allegiance
to Alaya. The Dread Empress set her mount to a trot, the silent
Sentinels surrounding her scaring even legionaries enough that they gave
the procession a wide berth. The ancient fortress at the heart of the
city had been breached this morning, its wards shattered and the few
remaining loyal household troops put to the sword by the newly-raised
Fourteenth Legion. They'd been in need of tempering, Marshal Nim had
told her over a cup of wine. Forcing a dug-in position with heavy mage
presence would bloody them enough they would be ready for the inevitable
war with Procer. It was not as inevitable as the ogre thought, but that
was a hand best kept in the dark until the very last moment.

High Lady Tasia had been captured by noon, after much struggle. Two full
cohorts had died in the struggle before mages managed to break her
power. She'd drained the life of hundreds to replenish her vitality when
wounded and almost managed to collapse the fortress on the soldiers of
the Fourteenth with some sort of ancient artefact. It was an undeniable
confirmation that Alaya had been correct to accept her surrender decades
ago, no matter how Amadeus had chafed. If she could do this much when
spent, how much blood would it have taken to break her in the fullness
of her power? Now the proud aristocrat that schemed to destroy Alaya for
so many years was bound and shackled, unable to call on even a speck of
sorcery. The Empress could have ordered her executed, and would, but a
conversation was owed before. An old enemy was dear as an old friend, in
some ways, and some courtesies were due. Tasia had almost as much of a
hand in what the Wasteland had been shaped to become as Alaya herself,
after all.

No unnecessary risks were taken. Additional runic shackles of different
patterns were added to ensure Tasia would not be able to use a last
moment surprise, every inch of her body inspected for weapons and
artefacts. The room where they would speak would be in the city, not her
fortress, and heavily warded against dimensional interference. No hidden
space would be emptied to destroy them both. The Sentinels spread out
around the beautiful stone manse the Empress had chosen for this matter,
some following her inside but remaining at the door of the salon she
entered. Tea had already been served when Alaya entered -- her own brew,
a precautions perhaps unnecessary but taken regardless -- though the
fragrantly steaming porcelain pot remained full. With her hands bound,
Tasia had been unable to pour herself a cup. The High Lady of Wolof was
bruised and not even her poise could hide her exhaustion, but she had
not been touched since her capture. Torture of an old enemy was very
much gauche, after all, beneath women such as them. Even in this state,
Tasia was beautiful. She did not seem a day older than thirty, her
smooth dark skin and golden eyes something even a young girl would envy.

``Your Dread Majesty,'' the High Lady of Wolof greeted her.

``Dearest Tasia,'' Malicia smiled, taking the teapot in hand and pouring
two cups deftly.

She waited for an invitation before seating herself across the elegant
table for two. Hands still shackled, the other Soninke sipped at her cup
before chuckling languidly

``My favourite,'' she complimented. ``You always did play the Game
beautifully.''

``Iron sharpens iron,'' Malicia replied in a backhanded compliment.

Tasia leaned back against the cushioned back of her seat, a minor breach
of decorum her old enemy would never have allowed herself if she'd
thought she would survive the day.

``It was the irony of it I could not resist,'' Tasia said. ``All that
gold you poured into Procer, turned to silver and sent to my coffers.
You might as well have been funding me yourself.''

``It was a long game,'' Malicia said. ``And an expensive one. Truly,
ruining you cost more than the Conquest itself.''

``You knew since the beginning, then,'' the High Lady sighed, almost
admiring. ``Nigh forty years of preparation for a single blow. I am in
awe, Malicia. We've not seen the likes of you in centuries.''

\emph{You have never seen the likes of me}, Alaya thought. \emph{And
never will. That was your mistake from the beginning, measuring me
through names long dead.} It would have been tawdry to gloat, and so the
thought remained unspoken.

``I truly do regret that you will not see the coming years,'' the
Empress said, genuinely saddened. ``That you must leave us at all. A
mind like yours, Tasia, the wonders I could have crafted with it.''

``It was always going to be this way,'' Tasia said gently. ``You are
smothering the soul of Praes one exquisite scheme at a time. I honour
the method, but despise the intent.''

Alaya conceded the point silently. A waste, but perhaps an inevitable
one. Tasia had been one of the few highborn in the Wasteland to grasp
her intent. It was her tragedy that she'd lacked the ability to do
anything about it.

``Would you like to tell me your plan?'' Malicia offered.

The High Lady sipped her tea, considering the matter.

``Yes,'' she decided. ``You must have grasped the shape of it, by now.''

``Your daughter to replace me,'' the Empress said. ``Yourself holding
the strings.''

``She chafed at the notion,'' Tasia confessed. ``But as long as I held
her father, she would have submitted.''

``He fled the city not long before she betrayed you, I believe,''
Malicia said.

``He must have been in contact with her for years under my nose,'' she
sighed. ``Such a talented man. He would have made a fitting consort, had
he any ambition at all.''

``Callow?'' Malicia asked.

``Cowed through diabolism,'' Tasia smiled. ``I'd gathered a great many
contracts, before my nephew usurped them. As for your Duni hound, he
could be leashed through his attachment to that Callowan girl. With him
under our thumb the rest of the Calamities would have fallen in line.''

It never ceased to amaze Alaya how, even after decades of Amadeus
crushing them in every conflict, the High Lords never quite managed to
understand exactly what they were dealing with. They would all have been
dead within the year, even if their fall broke Praes for generations.

``You believed your agents in the Legion would bring enough to your
side, then,'' Malicia said.

``Ah,'' Tasia breathed. ``You found them?''

``I have hooks in the minds of every officer of legate or above in the
Wasteland,'' the Empress said. ``Your attempts to turn them were doomed
from inception.''

The other woman smiled.

``A precaution to check me or the Carrion Lord, I wonder?'' she said.

Amadeus was not aware that she'd surpassed the limitations of Speaking,
that much was true. By feeding her aspect of \textbf{Rule} into the act
she could plant commands without ever saying them out loud, something
not even Wekesa could reproduce. Maddie would be furious if he knew, but
there were risks Alaya was not willing to take and twelve thousand men
in Praes she did not control directly was one of them. As for Tasia's
insinuation, it was only that. Amadeus would never turn on her, not even
if it killed him. If there was one person she could trust in Creation it
was him, even if in the dark of night the fear came to her. Alaya would
not be ruled by old wounds, and chose to match faith for faith.

``I take it you have no true notion of what Akua is doing in Liesse?''
Malicia said.

``I'd believed it to be wards, to keep the Squire at bay,'' Tasia said.
``Evidently I was wrong. She must have infiltrated my spies.''

``Mine as well,'' Malicia laughed. ``Though not as well as she thinks.''

``You've been watching her since the beginning, then?'' the High Lady
asked.

``Oh yes,'' the Empress murmured. ``I went to a great deal of trouble to
get her the materials she needed without her catching on.''

The golden-eyed woman hid her surprise, but not quite well enough. Alaya
pretended not to notice -- Tasia was quite weary, some allowances must
be made.

``You don't intend to destroy her work,'' she said.

``No,'' Malicia said, savouring the fragrant tea. ``She's truly
brilliant, your daughter. She would be a match for Warlock, were he
thirty years younger. I must compliment you on the education you
afforded her.''

``Talent must be fostered,'' Tasia waved away, managing to inject grace
to the gesture even shackled. ``A weapon, is it?''

``The likes of which have not been seen since the birth of the Kingdom
of the Dead,'' Malicia said.

``Yet you do not intend to make use it, after taking it from her,'' the
High Lady of Wolof said.

``I imagine she will unleash it at least once, when dear Catherine comes
for her,'' the Empress replied. ``It will be demonstration enough. A
deterrent, Tasia. It will be the deterrent we have always needed. A
weapon even Cordelia Hasenbach fears.''

``A lesser ambition, this,'' the other woman chided.

``I would rather rule the Empire forever than the continent for a year,
darling,'' Malicia replied. ``A mere difference in intent.''

They remained silent for a moment after that, the comfortable quiet
between two women who had for so long tried to ruin the other.

``She may yet triumph,'' Tasia finally said. ``She has the best of me
and of her father as well. If what we are could ever beat you, it will
be through her.''

``She will try,'' Malicia said sadly. ``They always do.''

Finishing her tea, the High Lady of Wolof met her enemy's eyes.

``The cup,'' she said. ``Coated with poison before I was taken here?''

``Sweetsleep,'' the Empress agreed.

``What a soft touch you are,'' Tasia teased. ``It could have gone either
way, couldn't it?''

``Yes,'' the Dread Empress of Praes lied.

``Liar,'' the High Lady of Wolof smiled fondly, and her eyes closed.

She took no breath after that.

``Goodbye, Tasia,'' Alaya murmured. ``I think I will miss you, if only a
little.''
