“I am asking to join your government.”
Wait, what?
The words hung in the air. It was as if the entire room had been plunged into silence. My mind whirred with a myriad of emotions as the news slowly settled. The government? He wants to join the government now, too? I felt as though I were teetering on the edge of an abyss. Wait, wait. Think about it, Lordza. He’s playing her! This man has shaken The Shadows’ hand! He works with Dante, he threatened me at the staircase! Images of Armin and his mother flashed through my mind. He’s playing them. He’s playing them all! The gnawing sense of betrayal twisted within me. Gods, and he used me. He used me like a piece of evidence. As a yes-man. I was trapped. In this moment of profound uncertainty, I stood at the crossroads of my convictions as I was left to grapple with the unsettling awareness that the game had changed, and I was nothing more than a pawn with Valdrec as my king.
Trianite spun on her heel and started for the staircase. “Joining my government is a dangerous thing to say,” she began before rounding the corner and returning downstairs. She didn’t deign to say anything else. Valdrec began to wring his hands nervously. The both of us followed her like disciplined students trailing the principal to her office. Shame swept over Valdrec’s face, perhaps realizing he’d overstepped.
“My Lady,” he chirped. “I’m sorry if I—”
“Silence,” she said and clasped her hands behind her back. With a nod of the head, she gestured out the window. “What do you see?”
“The ocean, my Lady.” Indeed, smack in front of us was the Sashan Sea. It was a marvel to behold: the blue waves crashing against the shore rocks, the clouds drifting overhead, and the many ships circling around the bay. With their sails fluttering in the wind, they swiftly deposited their merchandise before joining the rest of the sailing ships. It was like a cycle almost, an ever-repeating cycle: ships replacing ships, constantly boarding and deboarding—waiting for the next one to sail by.
Trianite looked at her throne and shook her head. “My brother, Miarite, has unspeakable power in his kingdom. Calls it his empire. A dear friend of mine wrote to me testifying of the barbarism there—the cruelty with which he treats his people. It made me wonder…” A troubled look passed over her face, reflected dully in the glass before us. “How should I treat my people? I feel power slipping through my fingers like tiny grains of sand. If I do not act, if I do not become like him, I wonder… will I fall victim to the same fate?”
She watched the waves below ebb and flow, lapping at the cliff face before stepping back toward the sea. She continued, “But I do not have to be like him. No. I could look to my sister, Ianite. She has given full control of her government to Archbishop Abbylea. You might think that it's a good thing—a democracy of sorts—that giving her disciple power lessens her own, right? Wrong.” She bit the lower part of her lip, her shoulders quivering subtly. “That’s what I thought, too. Until I went to visit and I saw Abbylea for myself. That woman is an enchantress, a weaver of lies; she has crafted an image of Ianite that is beyond Godly, beyond otherworldly, and her people worship her as though she were the only being in the realms. That is not freedom, Valdrec. It is a beautiful lie, but a lie nonetheless. And so her nation, too, has fallen to that same fate. The citizens under my family’s rule will never be free.”
Trianite gazed intently at her reflection—a stare that would otherwise shatter the glass in front of her if she hadn’t been so deep in thought. “Is it a curse?” she went on. “A family curse all three of us must bear, like my father before me? Am I falling into his Shadows? Do I have any other choice? Or will fate rule us all?” Her voice seemed to break on the last word as if she couldn’t bear to keep speaking. I wanted to help her somehow. Her vulnerability had struck a chord in me, awakening a desire to alleviate some of her pain, and I could tell Valdrec felt the same. It was written all over his face. He’d watched her the entire time, his expression a mirror of genuine concern as her voice trembled under the weight of her questions.
When she turned her gaze toward him, Valdrec stepped forward, his voice soft but filled with sincerity. “My dear Trianite,” he began, “is it wrong to say that you remind me of myself?” He put one hand to his chest, misery sweeping over his face like a dark shadow. “When he was alive, bless his heart, my father had worked as a guard for The Shadows. As a child, he often told me I’d grow up to be exactly like him,” Valdrec groaned. “The thought terrified me, my lady. I didn’t want to kill. But one day, he put a knife in my hands, and he told me enough was enough. Told me that it was time I became a man. I had to stand up for myself. I brought that knife to the park one day, ready to show my bullies what I was made of. I didn’t even take the knife out of my pocket. I’m so thankful that I never did, because the next day I met Merchant Hendrix, and he told me that we can’t go through our battles alone.” He put his hand. “I may not have the power of a God, not a drop of magic in my soul, but I have something equally as potent: resolve and my undying loyalty for you, my Lady. If you’ll have me.” His eyes held hers, offering solidarity in the face of uncertainty. “To join your government and take that burden off your shoulders. Together, we can find a path through The Shadows. It is that easy, that simple. Just like Hendrix told me: all you must do is let me help you.”
Trianite hesitated, furrowing her brow. “You are sure you want this? You would be seen as my right-hand man,” she said, “as an equal controller of the oceans: the marine life, the fauna, the anomalies of the Deep. But that’s not what you want, is it? You are not just asking to join my government, no. You are asking if I’ll permit you to run it alongside me.” She turned to face her golden throne. It had a bright blue pillow for where she sits and spikes of ice depicting the element for which she reigns over. She sighed. “You are asking to be my king, and that is something I cannot grant.”
“I know it’s a bold move. I get it.” His hand clenched into a fist. “But you said yourself you need help, and I’m not just talking the talk; I’m ready to walk with you. By your side. Envision it! Let’s break free from the old ways, my lady, and build a world where everyone gets a fair shot. A world where you can finally rest.” With a solemn hand over his breast, he got down on one knee and hung his head. After a brief silence, he raised his gaze to meet hers. “Think about it, my Lady, please. If you give me this chance, I promise: I will prove myself to you every day.”
Slowly, she ambled toward the various paintings that lined the wall. “I remember when I had the drive like you do. When these very men had the drive like you.” Before her was a painting of Iceking Ryan—the first king of Trianite’s Kingdom; everyone who knows the Ice element was either taught by him, or taught by someone who had learned under him. Then, there was Forger Zylirion—the great blacksmith who had crafted Trianite’s Trident and the sole weaponsmith in all of Jaihara who could bend magic as though it were iron or steel. And, finally, there was General Zul—beside her, her friends Skylar and Isabel; the three founders of The Blue Light City.
Ra’Sasha: the name danced around my head.
“I did not know what I was signing up for,” Trianite admitted while she stared up at a drawing of herself. The painting depicted her as a god-like figure, ascending from the waters while a ray of light emerged from the dark clouds. “In order to manage my kingdom, I must find new solutions. There is work to be done with the lords in our military and navy to understand the complexities of magic. As a non-lord, Valdrec, do you believe you could fulfill that tall of an order?” Trianite gazed down at Valdrec, who had remained knelt on the ground before her. With one hand on her chin, she waited for his response inquisitively.
“You’re right, of course, my Lady. It will certainly raise some brows that I would be the first non-lord in office, and I couldn’t agree more. But frankly, enough is enough. I spoke with a child just moments before about how he wanted a park next to his house. Tomorrow,” Valdrec emptied his pocket, dropping the many coins he had, “I am funding a new park in the Rookeries. Why? Because I am betting my life’s savings on this nation. And as a non-lord without any magic, as a man who can not wield a sword nor draw a bow: I am a merchant. That is my only skill.” With his hand still waiting for hers, he said his final piece, “I will be a man of the people, for the people. All I have to give is yours for the taking. Let us have an election, eh? Let the people decide who they want. It is only fair, after all.”
Carefully, with all the precision of a seasoned huntress, our Goddess grabbed his outstretched hand and ordered him to rise. Valdrec, the large man who couldn't go one minute without his pipe, didn’t look like the conniving bastard I knew him to be. At that moment, I saw him dressed in uniform, wielding a pen rather than a sword, smelling of ink rather than sulfur. He didn’t need to convince me, it was Trianite who needed convincing. I was the one—the only one—who not only saw him with Trianite, but also his handshakes with Dante. Yet, Valdrec said it himself: “All I have is my wallet, and I am ready to give it up.” So when he is elected, The Sashan Free Traders won’t have their CEO anymore. Who else has a track record like me in this business? Who else was friends with both Valdrec and Zul? Once Valdrec becomes king—no matter what the hell he does—it won’t matter to me. All I took away from this conversation is that there’s going to be an empty seat in just a few more board meetings.
“If you believe you can handle this pressure,” Trianite started, “if you believe you have the strength and understanding to combat The Shadows and run the government,” she smiled, “then consider yourself King Candidate. I will announce an election this evening.”
With Valdrec off the helm, I can steer the company away from The Shadows. I practically made The Sashan Free Traders with Zul, and if she says I’m nothing to her, then she won’t be sitting by my side once I’m up there.
“My lady—” Valdrec stuck his hand out, “—you will not regret this decision.” But before they shook, a voice came from the lobby. The mercenaries tried to stop whoever from coming, but they were pushed and shoved aside by the interrupter.
Trianite looked onward and saw the person running toward them. Her eyes lit up, but before she greeted the newcomer, she finished shaking Valdrec’s hand. “I’m sure I won’t. I shall speak to you at a later date.”
“Very well, my Lady,” he responded.
At the doorframe of the throne room, the interrupter stood stunned at the sight of us. She had her hand over her mouth and looked upon the Goddess with a terrified look.
Lady Trianite addressed her, “Now, who stands before me? Skylord Skylar—master of the Subcontinent! I’m surprised to see you here on the Mainland. Have you yet had the pleasure of meeting Merchant Valdrec? Let me introduce to you: our new King Candidate.”