Amelia Thornheart-Chapter Eighty-Eight: A New Path

The Holy Capital of the Known World was blessed with calm winds and clear skies on the day Caolan returned. The Vatican was a sprawling expanse of white walls, golden roofs, and carefully curated gardens and forests to hide the fact that it was surrounded by the urban monstrosity that was Christdom’s largest city: Somerwall.

It was an illusion that could only be maintained at ground level. As the ship carrying Caolan and his fellow diplomats touched down on one of the air staging towers jutting up and out of the Golden Cathedral, he was treated to the sight of the ever-growing city spreading almost to the horizon.

Normally, he would have felt a sense of pride witnessing the holy city. Now, he just wanted to be alone with his thoughts. He turned away from the horizon, looking upwards at the towering structures that formed the centre of the Golden Cathedral. The largest of these buildings was the Spire of Saint Luminara, and Caolan couldn’t resist sending a quick prayer and best wishes towards its golden roof.

Hopefully, his small effort would bring some comfort to His Holiness.

“Go get some rest,” Caolan ordered his weary-looking colleagues. After receiving murmurs of gratitude and appreciation, Caolan strode down the winding steps of the staging tower and made a beeline for the nearest garden where he would hopefully find some time alone.

He wasn’t sure what he was feeling. It was a curious emotion, somewhere between frustration and relief. It had started the moment he watched the Republic’s generals scratch their names on the treaty. It had intensified when he’d added his own name as an observer.

They called it the Treaty of Meppen.

He felt his forehead furrow as he remembered the moment again and again. He couldn’t help but ruminate on it. It was a historical event, even if the result wasn’t what the Republic or its supporters wanted. Perhaps they could have achieved more favourable terms if-

The sound of an argument from nearby pulled Caolan out of his thoughts. He turned from the path, stepping through some trees into a clearing where a group of boys were shouting at each other.

“It’s not fair!” one of them insisted. “I always lose!”

“That’s because you’re the demon!” the boy’s friends countered.

“I don’t want to be the demon! I want to be on the human team!”

They stopped when Caolan coughed politely. Frowns filled their faces which quickly morphed into surprise when they saw his uniform. Backs were straightened hastily. He looked them over. They’d taken canes from the garden’s supply shed and were using them as imaginary swords. The boy who had been complaining wore a headband with two sticks strapped to his forehead, creating a makeshift set of horns.

“You’ve distracted me from my troubling thoughts,” Caolan said, bending down so he was at eye level with the children. They were young, perhaps eight or nine years old. “Are you playing Humans and Demons?”

“Yes, Sir Paladin!” the boys responded in unison.

“A little unfair, don’t you think?” Caolan asked. “One demon against how many humans? One… two… three…” He slowly counted out the boys roleplaying the human team. “...Four,” he finished. “Surely our little demon here can have a teammate?”

“That’s what I said!” the boy with the makeshift horns exclaimed.

“But demons always lose!” one of the other boys countered. “It’s not fun to lose!”

“Oh?” Caolan raised an eyebrow. “Demons always lose? Why is that?”

The boys puffed out their chests. “Because they are foolish heretics who worship their false demigod! They lie about the Second Coming of Christ! The Almighty punished them with horns so that all would know their deception! So they have to lose!” The boys pointed at the pretend demon. “The heretic cannot win!”

It was a child’s answer. A rote repetition of their teachings that was loosely applied to Caolan’s question. Even so, it came oddly close to describing some of the frustration he felt. After all, recent events had proven very clearly that demons sometimes did, in fact, win.

“Hmm…” he hummed, scratching his stubble. “Even heretics are creatures of God. We must save their souls, remember?” He looked at the boys carefully, trying to keep his explanation simple. “If the demons lost all the time, they wouldn’t find it fun to be around humans, would they? And if they’re not around humans, how can we save their souls? Sometimes…” he leaned in, smiling. “We must let them win every now and again, so we can draw them in close and teach them the truth, understand?”

“Y-yes, Sir Paladin…” the boys muttered.

“Caolan,” a cool voice sounded from behind. “You’re back.”

“Play nicely, okay?” Caolan gave a final command to the boys before turning and approaching the newcomer. Despite the man’s round figure and large jowls, Archbishop Bethell always managed to sneak up on Caolan.

“Let’s walk,” the archbishop said, scratching his bald head and turning and walking through the gardens. “I climbed all the way up the staging tower’s stairs only to find you slipped away. Now here you are, playing with children.”

“I needed some time, Alexander,” Caolan replied, falling into step beside him.

“To do what?” Alexander replied, glancing at Caolan with sharp eyes. Without waiting for Caolan’s answer he continued, “Some might not like hearing you talking to our boys about demons winning. What would you do if High Command heard you talking like that?”

“Why?” Caolan asked. “Are you planning on telling on me?”

The archbishop scoffed. “Probably the only time they might listen to me. Look at this.” He passed a brown envelope to Caolan. Opening it, Caolan saw pages of ship diagrams. Each one was dotted with hundreds of points, mainly around the ship’s exterior superstructure and less-critical areas.

“Analysis of noted impact points of returning and repaired Republican ships,” Alexander explained. “I just spent half an hour trying to convince High Command that the reason we’re not recording impact points on the ship’s turrets and engines is because the ships that get hit there don’t return.” He raised his hands to the sky. “What’s the point being in Naval Intelligence if those we report to don’t have the intelligence to listen!”

“Can we afford more armour?” Caolan asked. Every ton of steel was additional weight that the ship’s lift engine had to fight to keep airborne. He glanced up, looking at the gentle glow of Christdom’s White Moon. Its crystal boasted decent efficiency in aetheric combustion, but it wasn’t quite as good as the blue crystal that rained down upon Cascadia’s Eastern Terra-Firma. Likewise, the Federation’s Orange Moon was the best human moon for munitions, but it still fell short of the demon’s red crystal.

“We’ll have to, even if we take some from the less-critical areas,” Alexander replied with a sigh. “Those tungsten penetrators are a real problem to work around. You should see the damage they do to a ship’s engine room! At least our torpedoes evened the playing field a little. Did you get a chance to pressure the Federation into more sanctions? If they tighten their belts a little more, Cascadia loses its ability to make penetrators.”

“I did, but they didn’t respond well,” Caolan answered honestly. “They said they’ve done as much as their economy can handle, and any further pressure would just incentivise Cascadia to use the Sabanis Dominance as a third-party.” He shook his head. “The Federation is ideologically opposed to a demon presence on the continent, but Federation ideology is notoriously weak when put against gold. We’ve seen that time and time again.”

Not to mention the problems the Federation caused by transporting the desert tribesmen of the Endless Sands from their doorstep into Republican territory. They defended the action by justifying it as providing desperately needed manpower for the Republican army, but it was really just a way for them to move one of their problems across the mountain range and out of their territory.

“Mmm…” the archbishop hummed. “We must appear united, at the very least. How was the signing?”

“Cascadia made a show of it,” Caolin replied. “As expected. They brought their media to take photographs. Large delegations from Centralis and each of the Terra-Firmas. Elana sent Edward Alistair to represent her and lead proceedings. I had a few opportunities to speak to him, but nothing substantive. They were mostly cordial, but you could sense the arrogance in the air. Greatlord Orlan couldn’t stop sneering.” Caolon turned his mind back to recent events. “They were more cautious and respectful towards us and the Federation, but it was a thinly-veiled politeness. They blame us for the war.”

“Bah!” Alexander waved a dismissive hand. “Just because they’ve clawed a small victory they think they can rewrite history!? They violated the treaty! They started the war by poisoning the Republic with their heresy! Did they expect us to sit back and let their lies spread? Teaching humans that Christ was one of them!? Ha!” The archbishop clenched his hands tightly. “I feel rage just talking about it, Caolan. You’ve seen the statues they worship in their churches! How in the Seven Heavens did you keep your composure in there?”

“By remembering they had a quarter million soldiers and three hundred ships within a hundred klicks of our borders,” Caolan answered flatly. “All backed by Cascadia’s war economy. Besides, I’m a diplomat now. It’s my duty to talk.”

When I’m allowed, at least, Caolan thought. Formal diplomatic ties had been severed from Cascadia for years, and it wasn't until a Republican defeat became inevitable that Caolan and his fellow diplomats were instructed to reestablish contact and represent Christdom in the peace talks.

Not that he hadn’t been busy. For years, Caolan had been travelling, trying to set the framework for a direct allied intervention in line with High Command’s orders. Unfortunately, Christdom’s main ally, the Federation, had been more talk than action. The Coalition of the Willing had never manifested along the original plan, but it had enabled them to feel confident enough to put several hundred thousand soldiers on the Republic's borders as a deterrent against any further Cascadian aggression.

“You know…” Alexander said slowly. “Two months ago, I thought we were going in. I mean, really going in. I was seeing logistics orders go out that exceeded any training exercises I had seen before. We were building field hospitals on the border. The Inquisitor Fleet was repositioning. And then…” He snapped his fingers. “Order came to stand down. Know anything about that? High Command wouldn’t even tell Intelligence why.”

“I heard rumours, but nothing came directly to me…” Caolan stopped suddenly. “When was this? What day?” After hearing the archbishop's reply, Caolan let out a slow whistle. “The Suijin embodiment…” he said. “You think that was Cascadia’s response?”

If Christdom was really going to enter the war officially, Cascadia might have revealed one of its hidden weapons to try and put a stop to it. Caolan had thought the demonic water god had been invoked to fight the Asamaywa fire, but perhaps that was the excuse, and the primary reason was a show of force.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

It would have been a gross violation of international law for Cascadia to deploy a Second-Word Speaker, but would they have cared? Cascadia could hardly be trusted to keep their word, after all.

“That was my thinking. Did they mention Suijin at all during the talks?”

“No,” Caolan replied. “They just made the same allusions Cascadia always has; that they’re willing to use their full military force to protect their territory. Matters of Second-Word Speakers and above are beyond my station, Alexander.” He raised a finger, pointing to the sky. “Perhaps someone higher up than I had a discussion.”

“Oh?” the archbishop intoned. Caolan had heard rumours that His Holiness had a direct method of communication with the demons’ heretical Empress. From a diplomatic point of view, the existence of such a thing made logical sense. Still, from a religious point of view, it made Caolan feel uneasy knowing His Holiness might have had to converse with the source of the demons’ heresy directly.

May God’s archangel: Ascemurella: grant His Holiness strength and wisdom.

“It’s worrying to know we might have come so close to open conflict,” Caolan said, continuing to walk down the path. A quiet rumbling was heard, causing both men to look up. An Inquisitor Heavy Cruiser was taking to the skies. Its armour shone in the sun and, from its underhull, great red flags bearing the cross fluttered gently.

The thought that this blessed ship and its faithful crew might one day lie broken and shattered upon the earth was a bitter one.

“I hope you can remind the High Command that God always provides another path, even if the folly of man cloaks it,” Caolan said slowly.

“I’m more worried about the folly across our borders,” Alexander grumbled. “You spoke to them. What’s your perception? Do the demons want war? I’ve read your report, of course. I want to hear your interpretation before it's filtered for High Command.”

Caolan took some time to answer.

“Cascadia gave us mixed signals,” he finally said.

“Such as?”

“The Republican gold we’re protecting.” As Meppen’s lines buckled, the Republican government transferred almost two hundred tonnes of gold bullion into Christdom. “They implied they wouldn’t ask for it back if Christdom recognised Cascadia’s control of the Republic in-effect and normalised diplomatic relations.”

“A bribe, then?” The archbishop hummed to himself. “I’m surprised we accepted.”

“Yes.” Caolan nodded. “Christdom and the Federation will recognise the Republican leaders as a government-in-exile. Cascadia knew we would never recognise it legally, so on the face of it, it appears they were making an expensive compromise in good faith.”

“And the other signals?”

“They refused to enter into any form of arms reduction or restriction treaties,” Caolan explained. “Whether limiting the number of soldiers they can deploy on Republican territory, or the tonnage of their navy, they refused entirely. They claim that due to the presence and aggression Christdom and the Federation are apparently displaying with our deterrence force, they’re forced to maintain a large standing army and navy.”

“Funny thing, for the aggressors to complain about us reacting to their aggression. I hope you told them none of this would have happened if they had just recognised the Republic’s independence. After all, we’re not exploiting a colony of demons on Cascadia, are we?”

“I raised the matter, not in those words, but I raised the matter. They won’t listen. They don’t consider their warmongering as aggression. They specifically refer to it as defending demonkind and its interests. So as for whether they want war… I don’t think they want it, but they seem to be moving towards it. If only they were willing to make a real concession. A real sign of wanting enduring peace…” Caolan looked down, clenching his hand and opening it. “I would suggest to High Command that we should try and make the first move, but if I suggest anything that might be interpreted as fear or weakness, they’ll throw me out of the room.”

“Demons only understand strength, Caolan. The only reason your talks made the progress they did is because of the strength we mustered on the Republic’s borders. If we didn’t send a single soldier south, an army of horns would already be marching through Christdom. Mark my words.”

“If there is going to be a war, it’ll be terrifying,” Caolan answered. “When we fought the Federation, there were perhaps a hundred and fifty thousand on each side. Right now, we’re technically at peace and there’s already more than six hundred thousand on the borders. If war happens, how long will it be until each side fields a million men?”

“Despite the numbers, it’s a war we would eventually win,” Alexander growled. “There’s a little over a hundred and twenty million demons under Elana’s thumb. Christdom alone rivals that, and if you factor in Ulm and the Federation, we have more than double. Karligard adds another fifteen million.”

“And alone?” Caolan asked. “Could we win alone?”

“Of course,” the archbishop replied, shrugging. “Because we would not be alone. God is on our side. We’re united, Caolan. Cascadia pretends to be, but civil war is brewing, trust me on this. Where do your doubts come from? Do you really think demonkind can contend with humanity?”

“It’s not a matter of our victory. It’s the journey we seem to be taking to achieve it. I felt strange signing the treaty,” Caolan replied, trying his best to vocalise his complicated thoughts. “Frustration at the result, of course, but also relief that the war would end. But, now that I think about it, I felt something else: unease. After listening to the demons and receiving the orders from High Command, I can’t help but think both sides gave up on an arms treaty too easily. It’s almost as if…” Caolan paused momentarily. “...It’s almost as if we’ve accepted that another war is an inevitable fact. We’re sleepwalking towards it, knowing it’s coming but not truly trying to avoid it.”

“...I liked you better when you weren’t a diplomat. You talked less.”

“It’s my duty to talk,” Caolan said with a sigh. “I don’t doubt the path His Holiness has set out to achieve, I merely have concerns about High Command and their… interpretation.” He turned to face the archbishop. “Hurry up and become Cardinal so we can have someone competent advising His Holiness.”

Alexander laughed. “I’m trying.”

“I’m serious,” Caolan said. “Something needs to change.”

“Change, mmm?”

They walked in silence for a minute.

“There’s someone I wanted to ask you about,” Caolan said. “The healer Cascadia has somehow acquired.”

“Careful,” the archbishop said, keeping his voice low. He looked around before saying, “That’s a sensitive topic. A very complicated, sensitive topic.”

“I’m aware,” Caolan answered. “Just… help me understand.”

“Understand what exactly?”

“Who is she?”

“A bloody mystery,” Alexander hissed. “She’s an impossibility.”

“An impossibility?”

“Exactly. She claims she was born in Karligard, right?” As Caolan nodded, the archbishop continued, “And she looks Karlish, doesn’t she? Cascadia’s story is that she travelled south while developing her healer skills, but neither Karligard, the Federation, nor Christdom has any record of an errant healer. It’s simply not possible. Yet, it has to be. She’s confirmed to be a Speaker of Aseco, which means she must have had some connection to the Golden Cathedral!”

As if on cue, both of them turned their heads to glance towards the golden-tipped tower looming high towards the clouds.

“But get this: she’s never been heard speaking anything other than Imperial. Her accent and language indicate she grew up in Centralis. That is, of course, impossible. No human can commune with Aseco without the guidance of His Holiness. And I know what you’re thinking. Perhaps she isn’t human. Perhaps she’s a demon, using one of their Kanaxai glamours. No. It’s been verified. She’s the real deal. Don’t ask how.” Alexander shook his head. “Why? What are you thinking?”

“I just feel that…” Caolon mulled over his words. “If I can understand who she is and why she’s aligned herself with Cascadia, I’ll be able to see the path towards peace. I’ve seen the articles about her. She seems to… think differently.”

“Careful, don’t let anyone hear you talk like that. It sounds too close to a compliment.”

“We need a different perspective, Alexander. There’s another path, I know it.”

“Maybe war is the path towards peace,” Alexander replied.

“You seem to have made up your mind already.”

“I’m a realist.”

“Do we know her motivations?”

“The healer? No.”

“Really?” Caolan raised an eyebrow. “No-one’s made contact?”

“We’ve tried a few times,” Alexander replied with an uncomfortable look. “Got close enough to verify what we know, but Cascadian Intelligence is too strong on their own turf. We’ve had… casualties.”

“Has anyone made contact?”

“Mmm…” Alexander scratched his jaw. “There was a Federation team that managed it. They used their trade relationships to slip in a Citadel field team. They were caught, though. There was a recent exchange to bring them home. Apparently one of them became friends with our lost lamb.”

“Friends? Really?” Caolan felt his interest surge. “Who was it?”

“Why? Jealous?”

Caolan gave Alexander a stare until the man chuckled.

“Just a nobody, Caolan.”

“Nobody is nobody.”

“Don’t quote me to me,” Alexander complained. “I can give you the name, but I doubt they’ll let you meet her. They’re keeping her close.”

“I’ll be heading to the Citadel anyway for post-war discussions,” Caolan said. Post-war discussions was the polite way of putting it. In reality it would be every side blaming each other for not doing enough. “Who knows? I might bump into her.”

“Mmm…” Alexander hummed. “I’ll send you the file. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“Thanks,” Caolan said.

They continued to walk and Caolan found his mind feeling lighter already. Perhaps it was his imagination, but with every step he took he felt like another path was opening up to him. He didn’t know where it would lead him, but for now it seemed to point in the direction of the Federation and this nobody field agent.

“I wonder what she’s up to now,” Caolan muttered idly.

“Who? Your Federation girlfriend?”

“No, you fool. Our lost lamb.”

“Well if you find that out, make sure to tell me. High Command might start listening to me more, then.” Alexander chuckled to himself before patting his stomach. “I’m hungry. Let’s get something to eat.”

Caolan let Alexander lead him back into the Golden Cathedral. Along the way, he couldn’t help but keep thinking the same question.

What is she doing now?

“You’re unbelievable,” Serena said. “What the hells… where did you get this?”

“I bought it!” Amelia chirped, striding from one end of Serena’s bedroom to another. “How couldn’t I! What do you think!?” Amelia gestured at Serena’s early Christmas present, hanging from one end of her bedroom to the other.

It was a two-person hammock.

A very expensive and comfy-looking one at that.

Serena ran her hand over the fabric. It had just the right balance of firmness. She checked the maker’s label. One hundred percent Fengra cotton. Serena shook her head. So, her idiot girlfriend wouldn’t be satisfied with only sleeping near her for a few weeks, could she?

“You’ve got that look on your face,” Amelia said with a smug grin.

“What look?”

“The one where you think you should chastise me for doing something amazing, but secretly you like what I’ve done?” Amelia tilted her hips to the side, placing an exaggerated finger on her chin. “That look?”

Damn it, Amelia had seen right through her! And she’d looked ridiculously, annoyingly cute while doing so! Serena strode over and after ruffling Amelia’s golden hair for a few seconds, hopped up into the hammock.

“I guess it’s an improvement,” Serena murmured as Amelia climbed up and over.

“Whoa, it’s so comfy!” Amelia wiggled into position against Serena, yawning. “I feel like I could… I could… Mmm…” Amelia’s breathing slowed and soon she was fast asleep.

Idiot.

Serena reached down and grabbed a blanket. Once she placed it over both of them she closed her eyes, letting the rhythmic noise of the ship’s lift engine and the continuous hum of the propulsion engine lure her to sleep.

Amelia shifted, and a moment later Serena felt an arm snake around her waist. It was an unconscious reflex by Amelia, who was so used to cuddling or being cuddled by Serena. Still, this level of affection was something Serena was comfortable with on the ship, especially after she’d notified Anathor of their romantic relationship.

Serena turned her head, giving her sleeping girlfriend a peck on the lips.

“Night, Lia,” she whispered.

“I love you.”