Interlude II

ELSEWHERE…

Highcliffian banners hung stiff against the midday breeze, the newly paved road stretching smooth and wide beneath them.

The newly built bridge stood solid enough. By all accounts, a fine piece of engineering, built to last. Many such infrastructure projects have been completed over the years. The problem is—Legion didn’t even know Highcliff was developing so rapidly in the first place.

If they had to guess—it was embarrassing in comparison to other demon states, so they sweep any and all progress under the rug, and in return they don’t get dogpiled by their contemporaries?

Didn’t matter. There’s been a fundamental misread on how to demonstrate effective governance.

There was a time and place for humility, but when a good number of the populace remain stubbornly steadfast that the demonkin are up to no good, then they are in need of some strict and earnest correction! If they are actively confronted with facts and stimulus, then it’ll be harder to ignore the reality that their evil overlords are not comically evil after all.

So there they stood—Legion, draped in all their glory. Before a crowd of skeptics, wary eyes and stiff postures, and more than a few who feared anything foreign. Specifically, the two people that represented everything they likely hated.

It was going to be a trek uphill on a mountain coated in knee-deep snow. 

But first: first impressions! They made sure cut a striking figure, having chosen a coat far too long for their figure, woven from only the finest Concordian sensibilities. 

Its usual purpose was to give a sense of authority… and to establish who their betters were. One of the only things they got to keep after finishing that damnable war.

Soon, they cleared their voice box before raising their voice to the assembled Highcliffians.

“On behalf of the Mistress Elisa and Count Blac’hil, I declare this phase of our Annual Road Expansion project concluded!!”

Scattered applause. Some of the workers cheered—whether out of pride or simply relief that the work was over, he wasn’t sure. But a good enough reaction.

Legion smiled to themselves. “Please welcome Unification Lane, which includes a new bespoke bridge between cliffs!”

And then, as expected—

"Why did you have to put a party on for… basic things like this, Legion? And Annual Road Expansion Project? Really?" 

Lieutenant Sanza, arms crossed, brows raised, unimpressed as always. At least, she’s giving that impression. No one knows what she really thinks underneath the surface, disfiguration and lack of a remaining eyeball and all.

"It is a good name! We did our homework on Highcliff, we will have you know. And AREP in their native tongue means something along the lines of 'good work'." Legion turned to her. "Look, Sanza. Where we come from… all of this would be unexpected. New infrastructure outside the major cities are slow to come by." He gestured vaguely toward the bridge behind him. "The Concordant only really pays attention to its own cities, but doesn’t spread out. Yeah, plumbing came of it. Great works of art—much better than whatever drab trash the demonkin produce. No offense."

Sanza snorted.

They smirked, but continued. "But Demonkin are the opposite. They build out, expand, leave their mark in stone and steel. But this is novel. At least, it should be perceived as such." They tapped the newly paved road with the heel of their boot. "We’re not going to pretend that the might makes right thing you got going on is not a little misplaced. But this development cuts travel times in half, and the first thing I noticed? Nobody talks it up once these things are built. Didn’t make sense to me. Highcliff talks up a whole bunch of taking the easy route, but what about its citizens without the ability to walk? The ones who can’t take the easy route at all? They get left behind."

Their voice was even, but pointed. The words settled.

"The Mistress Elisa entrusted me with this project. Took a chance on me when nobody else would." A pause, measured. "So think of this as a show of gratitude." He gave the bridge a final glance, then turned back to the crowd. "Now the humans can’t say the demonkin haven’t been doing much."

Sanza clicked her tongue. "Still not calling it bespoke."

Legion grinned as they spotted a group of children inching ever closer to the bridge in the distance, wide-eyed with wonder. They clasped their hands behind their back, rocking slightly on their heels.

"You know, we have something that might help with your uptightness. Nothing quite like a proper brew to steady the nerves, even when we were human. Some of us even had the pleasure of a cat curled up on our lap while we sipped. Civilised living, that."

They cast a knowing look.

"You ought to give it a try sometime—might do wonders for you to live life a little."

Sanza snorted. "By the Lords..." Almost beside herself with annoyance, a small equally-as-annoying thought wormed into her brain. Perhaps... progress can show itself in different ways as well. "We will see if your efforts pay off, won't we? Eventually."

"If they don't..." they mused. "It was worth trying anyway."

For now, there were many more projects to travel to. In fact, this was supposed to be their off day! But as the saying goes, weak minds made for weak coin. 

"Come, Sanza! Chop, chop. We got another bridge to build."

Sanza groaned.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

ELSEWHERE…

A circle around a fireplace. Red liquid symbols spooling the ground. The picturesque children's vision of all things bad and corrupt in the world. 

Daniel always felt that this part of the ritual was particularly cultish.

Around him, figures shifted in the dark, cloaked in rough wool and leather.

And then, a woman stepped forward.

She held up a falcon’s feather.

“I’m ready to leave a wake.”

Daniel nodded.

“And may the tide swallow our enemies into its rip.”

When he took the flask of the Basin and wrote its story onto her forehead, he could almost see the woman’s soul shine.

The Basin’s holy water now intertwined with her own soul.

“I… I won’t let us down, Daniel.”

Others followed. Feathers lifted one by one, held between fingers, some high, some close to their chests like prayers. The great insignia of the Obsidian Tide, and contrary to its name, doesn’t have much to do with the oceans at all.

The falcon’s mark. A pledge.

The rebellion was no longer hidden messages carved into the undersides of doors, no longer a thing of patience and careful steps.

And then he asks, how many had gathered in arms?

He had always fancied himself a necessary catalyst. The kind of man who would be remembered in the stories that survived. He needed to be the one that makes the hard but necessary decisions.

The realist. There was always a need for more people to further their cause.

And he had done what needed to be done.

He had driven the demonkin workers from their farms, like how they had driven Highcliffians from their ancestral rights. The fey cannot claim to have been the progenitors of this place when they hadn’t made Highcliff into what it is today.

Had sealed the forest behind them, commanded the roots to twist and rise, swallowing their path whole.

It made people finally believe. And if the Protectors of the Forest said anything about his use of branches, they didn’t say anything yet. He took it as a silent approval.

Those demons would not return.

It had felt right.

It had felt like justice.

But now—standing here, in the wake of it, surrounded by strangers who had answered his call—something cold curled in his stomach.

Who was inviting who into their ranks?

How did they keep track of them all?

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

Maybe Pauline was right. Maybe they had been too hasty. Maybe—

No.

No, they had waited long enough.

They had suffered long enough.

He would do this for Pauline, in the spirit of the Pauline of the before. He would do this for Elisa, who offered herself and sacrificed her life to appease the Blac’hil Count.

He pitied Elisa. Before she was sent away, she murmured how unification could be possible. How can it be if the power was all in the demons’ hands? How can it be if they invaded their lands just to take it from yet another invader? How can it be when they are changing the landscape into something so unrecognizable from itself it may as well have been a demonkin Vassal state?

No, this ends here and now.

But first… what to do with Pauline?