Garden of Heroes

The reconstruction of Frola was a city-wide project, but in a quiet, secluded grove on the castle grounds, a new, more solemn work was underway. A garden of heroes.

Anna gently walked among the rows of newly churned earth, holding a little bouquet of white wildflowers. At first she stopped at three graves, one beside the other. Ingeldamu. Grizellum. And even Yarte. She placed a single flower on each, a quiet acknowledgment of the Pillars they had once been, a final, silent farewell to the heroes and the monster they had become.

She looked around. "Where's Nennoch?" she asked Bella, who had accompanied her.

Bella pointed with her chin to the grove's highest point, a little hill shaded by an old weeping willow.

"He's up there," Bella said softly. "Beside the last Saint, Rumaya."

Anna looked at the two graves, side-by-side. "Were they close?"

"More than close," Bella said, "She was supposed to be his wife. It was a secret, of course. A Saint and a knight... it would have been a scandal. But they were happy."

"What happened?" Anna asked.

"Yarte happened," Bella replied, "It was about twenty-four years ago, just before they officially searching who will be the next saint. Rumaya was found dead in her chambers, killed by a potent, untraceable dark magic. There was no proof, but everyone knew. Everyone suspected Yarte. He was the only one with the skill and the ambition to do it."

"Nennoch was broken," Bella continued, "But he had his duty. Then, years later, after I had taken Serenya's place, Yarte, who had been serving as my 'tutor,' finally realized I was a fake. He went mad, accusing me of being a usurper, a demon who had killed the real Saint. For Nennoch, it was like Rumaya's murder all over again, a dark magic user threatening the Saint. He had had enough. He challenged Yarte, and at the Battle of the Neverends, he killed him."

Anna looked from the old grave to the new one, "So he waited about twenty years to be with her again," she whispered.

"Yes," Bella said. "He was a good man. The best of them."

For a long time, they stood still, two queens in a graveyard of slain kings, while the world around them was still being rebuilt in silence. 

From her position on a distant roof, Ura watched, not even caring about all the political thing going on around her.

Grinning, she poke around the new object dangling from her belt. The exquisitely crafted marionette, about the size of her palm, was wearing a perfect miniature replica of the armor of a Minilon knight.

Its limbs were jointed with silver wire, but its face was the most remarkable part.

Its two tiny, blue eyes, which were, in fact, Sir Baltram’s own, were wide with a constant, silent, screaming terror.

He could see and feel everything, but his new body could not talk, move, or do anything.

A loud, crisp crunch beside her broke her concentration.

Nima, the Abyssal Siren, was sitting on the ledge next to her, peacefully eating a bright red apple.

“Your biology is abyssal.” Ura said.

“Adapted for consumption of deep-sea fauna rich in protein and sulfuric compounds. The simple carbohydrates in that apple should be, at best, nutritionally void for you, and at worst, mildly toxic. So why are you eating it?”

Nima looked at the half-eaten apple in her, “I am not eating for sustenance. I am eating to understand.”

She took another loud, deliberate crunch.

At last, she turned her gaze from the Siren to the mute, frightened marionette hanging from her belt, then back to the political play taking place below.

“Weird,” she muttered, “I don’t even understand what you’re saying.”

Nathan padded silently onto the rooftop. He shifted into his human form and gave a single, respectful nod to his mistress.

Ura’s smile returned. “Good boy,” she purred.

She then unhooked the small, terrified marionette from her belt and tossed it to air, “Catch!” she said. “A new toy!”

Nathan’s instincts took over. He caught the object with a single, fluid motion with his mouth.

Gaspard joins them, as the oldest of them, looked at the three of them.

“You are all very young,” he began, “And you are all… exceptionally powerful… Lady Anna is truly one of a kind. I have made my pledge to serve her because she has the character and strength of a true leader, a quality my former master lacked.”

He crossed his massive arms. “I wish to understand my new comrades. So, tell me. Why did you submit an application to Lord Yarte’s network in the first place?”

Ura was the first to answer, “An application implies I was seeking employment,” she said, “I was not. Yarte’s agents found me. They offered me resources and a promise of non-interference in exchange for occasional, trivial tasks. I followed Lady Anna because she presented a more efficient version of the same contract. She is a competent leader who handles the boring parts, which allows me to focus on what is actually interesting.”

Gaspard nodded slowly. He understood it. He then turned his gaze to the silent siren.

Nima looked up from her apple core, “The Abyss is silent… It is a world of pressure and darkness, but it has a single, constant current. It is easy to know your place there.” She looked out at the ruined city. “This world… it is too loud. Too bright. Too many currents, all pulling in different directions. I was adrift.” She then looked towards the place where Anna is walking, “Lady Anna… her will is a current stronger than any other. It is the only thing in this chaotic world that feels like home.”

Gaspard did not understand this reason at all, but he felt the profound, unshakable truth of it.

Finally, he looked at Nathan. The silent boy just stared back, his amber eyes unreadable.

Then, without a word, Nathan took a half-step to the side, positioning himself just behind Ura’s shoulder. His loyalty was not to Anna, not directly. It was to the witch. And the witch’s loyalty was, for now, to Anna.

The tiger beastkin let out a long, slow breath. It was a collection of anomalies, a witch who valued efficiency over all else, a goddess from the deep seeking a purpose, and a living weapon bound by a singular, primal devotion.

They were all broken, all solitary.

And they were all, in their own strange, absolute way, completely and utterly loyal to the vampire who had somehow managed to gather all these disparate, dangerous threads and weave them into her own design.

Gaspard looked out at the temple, his resolve hardening.

Yes, Lady Anna was truly one of a kind. And he had made the right choice.

.

.

.

Anna continued to walk silently through the rows of newly-turned earth.

She stopped first at a simple, humble grave. Sir Tetbald. A Good Man.

She placed a single white wildflower on the stone, a quiet acknowledgment of the honorable knight who had thanked her and then died for a cause he didn’t understand.

She continued, her gaze finally landing on a small group gathered on a low hill.

Jarce, Zebril, and even Seware stood before the largest, most ornate of the new tombstones.

Jarce was crying while Zebril stood stoically, her hand resting on his shoulder, her own eyes red-rimmed.

Anna approached, her footsteps silent on the soft grass.

The inscription on the stone was simple, yet it carried the weight for them and the kingdom.

Destrian Mondloe. The Titan King.

She placed her own small bouquet at the base of the tomb, beside the more elaborate wreaths left by the knights.

“He was a good captain,” Zebril said, her voice a low rumble. “Honorable. Stubborn as a mountain. But good.”

“He… he believed in me,” Jarce choked out, wiping at his eyes.

Anna looked at the grave, then out at the recovering city. “He asked me to find the knight killer,” she said, “He begged me. I refused.”

Jarce looked up, his expression confused. “Why?”

“Because it wasn't my fight,” Anna said. “And because a kingdom’s problems are not solved by one person. They are solved by its leaders.” She then looked at them, “I have figured it out, by the way. Who the killer was.”

The three of them stared at her. “It was the assassin,” Anna stated simply. “The calico catgirl, Flavie. She has been the Queen’s secret hand for the last five years, eliminating the corrupt elements within the knightly order that the King, in his pride, refused to see.”

Zebril’s eyes widened “So all this time… Tetbald… he wasn't a random victim. He was…”

“The final loose end,” Anna finished. “Killed on the Queen’s order to ensure the old regime could not interfere with the new one. It was a political execution. A necessary evil, perhaps. But the killing is over now. It is done. Cause I just made that catgirl my team.”

The grim truth settled over them, a final, bitter closure to a long and bloody chapter.

Jarce finally managed to dry his tears, his expression now one of a weary but determined young man who had seen too much. He looked at Anna, at her pale, beautiful, and impossibly distant face.

“Anna,” he began, his voice soft. “Now that this is all over… I… I wanted to say something!”

Anna looked over, curious.

“I know you’re a saint, a vampire… and I’m a… knight… the son of a winery owner… But… We’re still the same age and I… I think I…”

She knew what he was going to say. And she had to stop him.

“Jarce,” she said, “You are an honorable man. The best of them. You will be a great knight, and you will find a good woman, and you will have a family, and a beautiful life in the winery you love.” She gave him a small, sad smile.

“But that life is not my life. I am not human. I am not a queen, or a saint, or a wife. I am Orivanne.”

She looked out at the long road that led away from Frola, towards a future she now had to build for herself.

“My path is… different. And it is a path I have to walk alone.”

Jarce gazed at the girl who had rescued them all, a girl who was powerful, impossible, and incredibly lonely.

The last of his boyish crush gave way to a man's polite acceptance as he released a long, nervous breath. “I understand,” he said, and he meant it.

They stood there for a long time.

The war was over.

They have gone through a lot but the city was rebuilding, the First Kin were free, and the sun was setting on a new, better, and more complicated world they had all built together.

“I think… Being a vampire is not a bad idea afterall…”