History Lessons
"We believe you are the new Soul Render," Constance repeated.
"I-Is it because of the alley?" Emma stammered, suddenly nervous. "I didn't mean to! I promise! It-It all happened so fast! I don't even know what I did! I swear I didn't mean to hurt anyone! I'm just a stupid, hopeless street rat! I'm not even a witch!"
"Emma." Constance smiled at her warmly. A calming smile, a smile of understanding and compassion. A smile Emma hadn't seen in years. "We want to help you. You may not know how to use them, or even what they are right now, but your powers have awakened. When that happened, it acted like a beacon to anyone powerful enough to sense it. Like moths to the flame, it brought us to you and will, undoubtedly, have alerted the Order as well. Let me ask: what do you know about the Despair Wars?"
"The Despair Wars…" Emma thought for a long moment, trying to dredge up what few memories of the snippets she had learned about them.
She could point out where the dock hands cleaned the fish because there were sometimes scraps which fell below you could cook and eat. She could lead them all down the routes taken by the merchant wagons traveling from the docks to the warehouse district as sometimes the rough roads caused the loads to jump and bounce and could lodge something of value free. She could guide them to the places across the river where the most beautiful flowers bloomed and how best to create the perfect bouquet for selling, and she could easily show them the restaurant and café trash cans where perfectly fine food was thrown out.
These were the important things. These assured survival for another day when she couldn't find work cleaning or washing laundry or packing fish in ice for transport. These were her tools to survive. The memories of a conflict she'd learned about from her mother so far in the past were harder to form a cohesive picture of.
"Um, the Empress fought against the Order for…" Emma paused, the particulars not coming into focus no matter how hard she tried. "I'm not sure what the fight was about. No one really won, though…I think? Oh! There's a holiday, too!" Emma glanced up at Constance and blushed fiercely. "I'm sorry. I'm not very smart. I don't know much."
"No need to apologize, and please don't put yourself down, love." Constance waved away her concerns breezily. "For most people, the events of the past have to stay there after the pain from them fades. The present should always take precedence. Battlefield statues and memorials and dusty medals won't pay for food or shelter, after all. Besides, everything you said was fundamentally true. The Despair Wars were fought over betrayal. The Empress betrayed her values, the Order betrayed the Empire, and the Archon betrayed everyone."
"Wait!" Emma stopped her. "You mean the Archon? Like…the Archon now?"
"One and the same." Constance nodded.
"The Despair Wars were…" Emma paused, trying to do the math in her head, but eventually gave up and counted out on her fingers. "181 years ago! Is the Archon an elf or a vampire or a lycan or something?"
"As far as anyone knows, she's as human as you or me." Constance shrugged lightly.
"But…" Emma tried desperately to wrap her head around what she was being told but failed. The fact Constance and, by extension, the Empress herself thought she was somehow some new mythical person was so remote and disconnected as to be nearly laughable, and far beyond her meager understanding, Emma decided. But the notion that the Archon was somehow not only the same person from nearly 200 years ago but also evidently unaged was more present and astounding. "Wow."
"Aye." Kiley nodded, gesturing with the rim of her drink glass in Emma's direction, the amber liquid nearly gone. "Tha's precisely wha' I thought th' first time I heard abou' 't, too!" Emma noticed that the more Kiley drank, the more pronounced her Western Isles accent became.
"You are especially correct when you say no one really won. The Windshell Accords solved nothing. It stripped the Empress of some of her power, placing it in the hands of the Imperial High Council and Senate below them. The Order retained their tower, and their influence grew somewhat, but neither party got what they wanted. The nobles and traders and scholars and the Church put themselves between the two with the rather quaint notion they would act as a buffer between the Empress and the Archon."
Constance cleared her throat before continuing. "While ostensibly it was true, history has revealed it to be little more than an attempt at a power grab by the disparate groups. A way to insert themselves into the conversation rather than to prevent another war."
"I'm not sure what that has to do with me, though…" Emma murmured nervously.
"Honestly…everything," Constance replied, taking a sip from her wine. "The Soul Render was in the center of it all during the Despair Wars. Whenever the Order looked to be on the verge of being destroyed, the Soul Render would step in. She would lay waste to part of a Legion or strike far behind Imperial lines and enable the Order troops to escape. She played the Despair Wars like a violinist plays her instrument. A light touch here, a change of a note there. Sometimes the melody would be sweet and subtle, other times jarring and abrasive, but she always controlled the tune.
"We're not sure why she got involved. We have no idea what she actually wanted. We have no clue what her tie to the Archon was. In fact, we know virtually nothing about her. Today, just as much as when she was in the center of the conflicts, Phoebe Chatwyn, the last Soul Render, is a complete mystery. All we know is that over the course of the wars she was the first, last, best, and sometimes only weapon the Order had.
"For thirteen years she was everywhere. The Legion was terrified of her. The Church Templars refused to investigate their so-called 'heresies' for fear she would appear and destroy them. She was part ghost, part myth, part legend, part skin and bone, and she could be anywhere or seemingly everywhere at once. Then she was gone. Vanished into the mists of the lost empire like she'd never been. Do you know what that sort of thing causes?"
Emma shook her head.
"A vacuum, my love," Constance replied. "A gaping hole in the balance of power the Windshell Accords were designed to resolve. Without their erstwhile champion to protect them, the pendulum should have swung far toward the Imperials. They had the legions. They had the networks of Hunter Squadrons; they had the wealth and legitimacy needed to fill the chasm the disappearance of the Soul Render had created.
"But the Archon filled the void with magic no one had known she possessed. She filled the void with the Despair Batteries and the dependence on them, which had grown more pronounced since the beginning of the wars. And she filled the void with the cult of personality she'd built. In less than twenty years' time she had gone from a gifted, slightly eccentric tinker to the Dark Mother. Loved and feared in equal measures by the people. The Empress was too slow to act. Her tools too archaic. The war for land and prestige had ended in a stalemate, but the war for influence had been a near total loss."
Emma remained quiet, her deep green eyes studying Constance silently.
"So, you're wondering what a lengthy and seemingly pointless history lesson has to do with you, correct?" Constance grinned. Emma initially went to brush away what she'd said but finally shrugged and nodded sheepishly. "The Despair Wars never truly ended." Emma cocked her head to the side in confusion. "For nearly 200 years the Archon and the Empresses have been engaged in silent proxy wars. The ties that the Windshell Accords were supposed to create to bind the empire's wounds did nothing more than act as an anchor to drag it toward the abyss of open war once again.
"We are on the precipice of that abyss." Constance stared at Emma intently. "Your emergence as the Soul Render might very likely be the last stone which tips the scales. If the Archon gets her hands on you, she will use your power to destroy the Empress and crush the empire. The enemies outside our borders are salivating at the prospect of a weakened and distracted Legion and will invade. You, my love, are the final step which will take the empire over the edge into war if the Archon gets you.
"We will not allow that." Constance peered deep into Emma's eyes with determination. "We will keep you safe from the Archon, Emma. I promise you that."
"Who will protect you from the protectors, I wonder, Neptis?" a guttural, barely human voice growled deep in Emma's thoughts.