Progressive Policies

When it came to relations with the Highcliffians, Kael struggled to recall a time when things had gone this smoothly the past few months combined. He knew the different peoples, the clans, the names they carried—but still, the committee had advised him to stay out of it. No lived experience, they said. Not your fight.

Guess the risk was worth it after all. Someone stepped up. The job got done.

Suck on that, committee.

As it turned out, Highcliffians loved arguing just as much as they loved their independence. And while Kael insisted that demonkin were generally more structured, a debate was a debate—especially when both sides were too stubborn to let things go.

Some cheered for him, and others against.

It was all in good fun to finally put his Debating skills to the test—he passed that class in the academy with flying colors, after all.

By the end, he’d won over a lot of people.

Some even gave him perspectives he hadn’t considered. But more than anything, they were easing into the idea that the world wouldn’t stay the same forever—that refusing change would only leave their children to suffer for it.

Egos would be egos. And humans? They had the biggest ones of all.

One thing Kael really didn’t like was hearing that other nations had sent mercenaries to ‘help’—without consulting him first.

Sure, expecting them to ask for permission would have been naïve at best. But what truly got under his skin was how blatantly it showed that they didn’t trust him to handle his own territory.

Thankfully, Elisa and he unleashed the Deadeye to do that bidding for them. Lords, he loved his wife! Elisa always found a way to help, even though she didn’t intend for it.

Speaking of…

Where was Elisa?

His gaze flickered over the crowd. No sign of her. She hadn’t made a fuss about leaving, hadn’t given him one of her looks before slipping away.

He exhaled sharply.

Of course she had.

And he had a sinking feeling he knew where.

\\

Elisa hadn’t gone far.

The village was quiet here, away from the shouting and the debates. A few villagers passed by, giving her wary glances but nothing more. She moved with purpose, her breath steady despite the slight racing of her heart.

She found the village elder waiting just outside the main hall, where the light from the torches barely reached. Shriveled, small, but standing.

The village elder stepped forward, her frail hands clasped in front of her, but there was no weakness in her gaze.

"Tell me, child, why act now? Why not four years ago?"

Her voice wasn’t cruel, just tired.

“Promise… not to tell anyone?”

“Never. On my Highcliffian Vows.”

“I don’t know. Genuinely. I lost my memory of who I was.”

"I won’t lie to you. This whole charade—this performance—is childish. Do you think standing here, untying a demon, and speaking with fine words will erase what’s been done?" She didn’t gesture, didn’t need to. "The Demonkin invasion was nearly two decades ago, yet I remember it vividly. The flames. The screaming. I remember when my neighbors—our warriors—left and never returned. I remember the children as old as you, the ones who had no choice but to accept their new reality." Her lips curled, bitter. "And I will give you this, Lady Blac’hil. You have brought us some wondrous… tap water."

"I was a coward, Matriarch. Must’ve been, to stand so idly." She forced herself to look the elder in the eye. "I could tell you that I was too young. That I was powerless." Her hands tightened into fists. "But the truth is, I didn’t try. I lived comfortably in the estate, knowing full-well just who I shared my bed with. And I told myself—" She shook her head. "I told myself that if I spoke, if I acted, it would only bring ruin faster."

"Child, the past remains in the past. Look forward. And when we call this for what it is, we gain an opportunity to move forward. It is not guaranteed. Justice has not been dealt. And we will not forget what happened." Her hands loosened. "But we will be… content enough to move on." 

The elder watched her for a long moment without saying anything. "An apology is not enough. You know that, right?"

Elisa nodded. "Of course. But it will have to be enough for now."

"And how do you propose we accomplish that, child?"

Elisa didn’t answer right away because she didn’t know. Not yet.

“I mean… if you are serious and willing to change,” the elder ruminated. “Validate yourselves. There is a rebel branch just outside the Bramblewoods and close to the Deltaways being targeted by some of your fellow demonkin.”

“Demonkin who were sent by our closest rivals under the guise of ‘help’…”

“Ah, all the better that you know them then." She smiled insidiously. "Deal with them with extreme prejudice, will you? Oh, and the rebels too. They seem to mistake power for authority in our parts of Highcliff.”

\\

It was finally time for them to go—but as Elisa simply insisted, not before Kael do one last thing.

Kael inhaled through his nose, his grip tightening against the doorframe. "But they want a villain."

"Then let them have one."

She was one-for-one in making good decisions thus far. And even though everything screamed for him not to take this frankly naïve route, he had to trust the process. As Elisa put it: fit the last puzzle piece together.

He turned to her fully now, searching her face for any sign of hesitation. There was none.

Kael let out a slow breath, raking a hand through his hair before finally gripping the door handle.

\\

The hall was packed.

“They seem eager,” Kael said quietly.

Elisa sat to the side, watching, silent. This was his moment, and she wouldn’t interfere.

He had spoken to courts before. To generals, to rulers, to politicians. This was different.

Kael inhaled, a shallow thing. Then, he began.

“I appear before you neither as a ruler nor as demonkin but as a man who received sins from others as his inheritance yet profited from them. I’ll admit it—the speech I gave earlier was no real consolation. Half-hearted at best, downright insulting at worst. One I never admitted guilt in.

“Through force the Blac’hils invaded this territory. They came with bloodshed. The Blac’hils invaded Highcliff with the goal of transforming it to fit their image of a prosperous society. Your fate was sealed whether you opposed them or retreated or found yourself trapped by overwhelming powers.

"You lost land. You lost homes. You lost people. The losses endured by you have been neglected because those privileged enough to recognize them chose to ignore them.

“Moving on is not what I will advise you to do. I will not suggest to you that we need to leave our history behind to focus solely on future ambitions. The truth remains apparent—we continue to deal with the effects of our history today.

“So, from the bottom of my heart, and with all my sincerity, I tell you—I am sorry. I do not speak for all the demonkin, and I can only speak for myself. But while my power is not infinite, I will do everything in my power to make things right for everyone, and try and make Highcliff a better place—on your terms. This apology is merely a pittance to what Highcliff has collectively lost, but this is still an important first step.”

His eyes scanned the people for looks of anything resembling disgust. None.

“I hope you all have a lovely rest of your day. May the Sun shine upon as you soar.”

\\

The village scribe let out a slow breath as he finished the last line, ink still drying on the parchment. He watched as he departed with the fair maiden Elisa Blac’hil, wise beyond her years and able to cow the feral heart of a vampiric lord.

“I’ll make sure to spread the good word!”

This will set a precedent now. The message will spread through all the disparate villages in the region, and the minds that refused to surrender to tyranny will be given pause.

The scribe could only hope the young Count will be able to live up to the lofty expectations he set for himself. He was just here to record history as it happened.

But before they could properly leave, he couldn’t help himself. He ran outside and asked: “What are your plans now?”

Elisa was the one who turned while Kael fastened the saddles of his loyal gryphon.

“We aren’t too sure yet. But you can bet violence is some way or another involved.” 

Oh, the spectacle! He wrote that down feverishly.

When they had left proper, he couldn’t help but shed a tear and smile.

“Such is the Highcliffian way!”