NONE SO VILE

27: The Grand Design

Zolfreun Manor, Losaile, 1810.

Eight Months Later.

From the stories he'd heard, Alabaster had expected more out of Zolfreun Manor. It was one of Leon's favourite cards to play during social events; how he'd bested the combined armies of Losaile and Danegard at the Heights, defeated an Angel with his own two paws, and wrapped it all up with a favourable peace treaty he himself extracted out of the two nation's prickly generals. 

It was lavish, of course, but only in the way that pre-revolutionary Rennaire had been lavish. There was too much shine and polish, a slowly-cracking veneer smeared across gaudy decorations that were as tasteless as they were expensive.

Still, Alabaster couldn't deny the location's utility. Zolfreun Manor was far closer to the Rennairan border than the Losaile capital city, and since Leon had come accompanied by some-fifty-thousand men by way of an honour guard, it kept everyone far calmer to keep the shows of force away from populated areas. On top of that, Zolfreun Manor held significant value to both Emperor Leon, and King Deuxmoise. Leon had explained how Deuxmoise had once hated him, but after the battle at the Heights, he had earned the older jackal's respect and gained a lifelong ally. 

“People may say what they want," Leon had told him earlier that day. “But the revolution would never have happened without the support of the military. This is where the marshals first saw that my way was better. This was where the grand design was first conceived… only fitting it should be born here too." 

The layout was useful too. The sprawling manor sat atop a hill, nestled into a densely wooded area. It formed a natural barrier, keeping the Rennairan soldiers out of sight of the Losailan ones. The two countries might have been allies, but soldiers drank, and when they were drunk they needed little provocation to get into fights with other soldiers. A beer-brawl gone bad could easily spiral into an international incident, and so Leon and Deuxmoise were both happy to keep their men out of sight. The armies were only present to achieve a little sabre-rattling anyway, they had no real value to the negotiations and everyone knew it. 

There were no true enemies of Rennaire this far east on the continent, Leon had already won over this half of Midland.

How long until he has the rest? Alabaster wondered. 

Just like the first time Leon had come here, Deuxmoise had the negotiations set to take place in the dining hall. The furniture had all been cleared away, giving a great space over to the table in the centre of the room. It was piled high with desserts few would eat; buttered scones, freshly cooked croissants, crumbled cakes, citrus biscuits, as well as scented teas, eccentric wines, and even a few rich brandies. Leon did not eat anything, and so neither did anyone else. King Deuxmoise had yet to appear, and so Alabaster waited alongside the Emperor, with Gaspar and the other diplomatic advisors circling them like bored pigeons, boots squeaking on the over-polished floors.

“Glad to be back?" Alabaster asked, staring at his own ivory reflection in the floor. 

Leon waved a paw dismissively. “Remains to be seen, my love. The last time I was here it ultimately ended up as little more than disappointment. It was naive I suppose, to think I'd come home and be hailed as some kind of hero. After all, I only conquered impossible odds to end a war I was wholly outnumbered in."

Alabaster tried to hold his tongue, but couldn't help himself. “Don't lie, even back then you knew negotiating yourself wouldn't go over well with the king. I remember those days, Leon. Your bulletins flooded the city with heroic tales of your exploits. You won the people to your side before you even stepped foot back in Albedo, other generals never did that. Joachim and the King hated you long before they ever met you, and you knew they would." 

Leon shrugged, play-acting at bashfulness. “A gentleman never tells."

The Losailan guards at the end of the hall all snapped to attention as a newcomer entered the room. He was a grey-muzzled otter dressed in the crimson regalia of Losaile's generals, a ceremonial cutlass bouncing at his hip, a black leather tricorn swaddled beneath one arm. 

“Your Imperial Majesty, Emperor Valoisier, it is an honour to receive you!" The otter declared, stopping a few metres from Leon's diplomatic procession to bow. As the grey-muzzled otter raised himself back up, he raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me for asking if I should lock away any antique crockery this time, your imperial majesty?" 

Alabaster's eyes widened and he glanced across to Gaspar, who braced himself. The comment was wholly inappropriate, but if Leon took any offence it did not show. Instead, the jaguar's face split into a wide smile, which quickly became a deep laugh. He broke the neutrality between them, crossing the space to clasp the otter's paw in his own before shaking it fiercely.

“General Maxmimilian," Leon said. “What a pleasurable surprise it is to see you here again. When you first met me it was as a hot-headed general, still wet from his first dip in victory. Your antiques may rest soundly, Emperor's honour." Leon paused, squeezing the otter's paw. “That is, so long as I like what your liege has to say." 

Maximilian's eyes tightened, but he forced out a laugh anyway, finally backing out of their greeting. As the two men began to talk, Gaspar sidled up to Alabaster, leaning in to whisper. 

“Do you know him?" 

Alabaster grunted. “I believe it's the same general Leon met when he first came here." The story of Leon smashing the manor's teapot and screaming threats at Maximilian and Heinrech was famous, even outside of the Emperor's circle. In Rennaire it was an example of how fiercely Leon fought for his people, but in Kiberland it was treated like a child having a tantrum. 

“King Deuxmoise will be joining us very shortly," Maximilian said eventually, bowing in lieu of a proper apology – to apologise would be to lose too much face, but he could bow. “He is most eager to see his old friend once more." 

“As am I!" Leon replied. “Power has been known to change a man, and I am eager to see if I chose a good fit for your crown." 

Another little insult. Alabaster caught the almost-imperceptible wince Maximilian gave with his whiskers. 

Does he have to twist the knight so much? Eight years ago Leon had been an upstart general, and Maximilian the veteran commander, yet he'd gotten his way regardless. Now that Leon was the most powerful man alive, Alabaster hardly thought it necessary to rub his own power in Losaile's face like that. 

Then again, what did Alabaster know about international politics? Leon wasn't saying anything untrue. He had given Deuxmoise the crown to Losaile. 

At the end of the dining hall, the Losailan guards once again all snapped to attention. A short trumpet blared, and a fox stepped forward to raise his arm. 

“ANNOUNCING!" He declared. “KING EURAN LE VIEUX DEUXMOISE THE FIRST! RIGHTFUL RULER OF LOSAILE, PROTECTORATE OF ZOLFREUN,  AND GUARDIAN OF THE URDO ACCORD!"

The small number of soldiers guarding that side of the room stamped their boots in unison, all chanting out as one: “HAIL!"

The doors swung open, and the King of Losaile Euran Deuxmoise stepped into the dining hall. 

The jackal was forty-five now, and dressed in a brilliant array of orange and red. The blazing sun of Losaile's coat-of-arms was embossed tastefully across his flowing silk garments, with a modest crown of polished gold resting atop his brow. It was hardly the most extravagant outfit Alabaster had seen a monarch wear, but compared to Leon's simple black and gold fieldcoat, it was stunningly lavish. 

“PRESENTING TO THE ROYAL–"

“Please!" Leon cut through the cry, silencing the announcer. “Enough of that, I beg you." 

A warm smile broke on Deuxmoise's face as he approached, a servant already rushing to help remove his oversized coat from his shoulders. He and Leon stopped a few feet away from one another, dipping their chins in greeting. Alabaster found the whole thing quite ridiculous, but as Losaile was technically an independent nation, it was important to custom that neither monarch show deference to the other. 

Even if the reality could not be further from the truth. Leon will pull the strings and Deuxmoise will dance all the way to war. The atmosphere in the manor was a positive one, but Alabaster had to remind himself of the real reason they were here. Leon wanted Yaravania, and he meant for Deuxmoise to help give it to him. 

The grand design. 

“How good it is to see you once more, my Emperor," Deuxmoise said. Before he was King, Deuxmoise was a marshal of Rennaire, and his voice crackled like sandpaper, the smooth edges filed down to points from decades spent screaming on the battlefield.

“The same to you, my King," Leon replied. He chuckled, gesturing to the room around them. “When we first came here, we were almost enemies, as I recall." 

Deuxmoise conceded. “You were a brash young man. One that I mistakenly thought I had witnessed come and go a hundred times before. How glad I am to have been proven wrong." 

“The crown suits you," Leon said. “As I knew it would. Let it be known you have been one of my greatest and first allies, it was a well-deserved appointment." 

Alabaster resisted the urge to shake his head at the barb. 

Perhaps he knows that is the best way to operate, to keep them under his thumb, make sure they know they are not really in any position to say no. The message was clear enough – “I gave you this, I can take it away." 

“Spend a lot of time jerking eachother off, don't they?" Gaspar whispered to Alabaster, who snorted in response. “It's all part of the game, but I'm sure the Emperor will get what he wants in the end." 

Alabaster nodded. “As long as I've known him, he always does." 

The war in Felise had been drawn out longer than anyone expected, but there were no true surprises in the end. The Felisian capital had fallen, and Kiberland were on the verge of abandoning their new allies as quickly as they'd come to their aid. Despite Rennaire's victory, Alabaster knew that Leon had spent more in manpower and money than he'd let on in company. Whether he'd given Deuxmoise his crown or not, the fact remained that if Leon wanted Yaravania, he needed Losaile's army. 

“We have Felise now," Alabaster said quietly, leading Gaspar to one of the dining hall's high arched windows. “Save a few backdoor deals, the other powers are all acting in accordance with the continental embargo. Give it time, and eventually Kiberland will falter… I see no pressing reason to invade Yaravania." 

“Let alone Audanne after that…" Gaspar added. He flinched, waiting for a reprimand, but Alabaster did not give one. 

In truth, as much as he loved Leon, they had been at odds as of late. The jaguar was obsessed with defeating Kiberland, and Alabaster suspected that the Kiber's resistance was the real cause behind Leon's fixation with conquering Yaravania. The more the Kiber pushed back, the more he wanted to get at the Royal Tanner. 

He can't have the real enemy yet, so he'll punish the others, like a drunken father who hates the foreman at the factory. He's powerless at work, so he beats his children to make it up. 

Try as Alabaster might, Leon refused to see reason. In fact it was the opposite, the more they argued, the more confident Leon became in the necessity of his 'grand design'. Peace at any cost; once great-powers like Danegard, Yaravania, even Koringrad, all reduced until they were little more than larger Rennairan provinces.

And will he crown himself Emperor of the world next? The thought made his stomach turn, not because of how unpleasant a thought it was, but of how believable he found it. There was a word for this kind of ruler, one that he'd been trying to avoid confronting. Joachim had used it, as had others, and now even Alabaster had to admit it was growing harder and harder to resist. Leon may not be there yet, but it was far too close for comfort. 

Tyrant.

“He listens to you, Alabaster," Gaspar urged. It was not an appropriate thing to say, but Alabaster didn't care. He was frustrated, and if Leon wouldn't listen to him then he'd talk to someone who would. “Surely you can help steer him away from this course of action. He won't listen to me, and none of his advisors would dare contradict him. As always, you alone have his ear." 

“Not as of late," the dragon confessed. “Leon has always done as he thought best, and while the last thing I want is to see Rennaire hurt…" 

“The Emperor will never concede so long as he keeps winning," Gaspar finished the thought for him. “After all, why would he?" 

“The Felise Campaign was more difficult than anyone anticipated. We were victorious, but at a far steeper cost than expected. I had hoped that would help him see the need to slow down." These days – whether through choice or sheer ignorance, Alabaster did not know – all Leon saw was victory. 

“He blamed the Supreme Pontiff for the difficulties," Gaspar said, a scoff showing just how much he thought of that excuse. “Said that Felise would never have stood so long without the three Angels protecting it."

“He isn't wrong," Alabaster admitted. To himself, he thought; but those Angels never would have come if you didn't alienate the Church with your mass executions and imprisonments. “An eye for an eye and we all end up blind." 

Gaspar snorted. “Except for the last guy."

“What?"

The crocodile shrugged, grinning. “The last guy, he's still got one eye! How' the last blind guy gonna take out the eye of the last guy left, who's still got one eye!" He laughed, but the thought only increased Alabaster's disquiet. 

Is that how this ends, my love? He watched Leon from the window, who was now seated deep in conversation with King Deuxmoise. With everyone in the world blind but you? 

“Those Felisians certainly gave you what for," Deuxmoise said. “Of course, everyone knew they couldn't withstand your forces, but I thought it'd be over quicker than that. We may be far from the western coasts out here, but word is those sheep farmers bloodied Rennair's nose." 

Leon dismissed it quickly. “Hardly! Kiberland waves any minor setback of ours like a flag of victory. It's trumped-up hearsay, my friend, nothing more. The sheep-farmers were stubborn, I'll admit, but there was never a real question of victory. Did I hope for a swifter resolution? Of course, I am an optimist, but I was always fully prepared for it to be a drawn out fight. Am I such a victim of my own success that ending a war in eight months is no longer good enough?"

“If the army taught me anything," Deuxmoise continued. “It's that you should always be careful of setting the bar too high. Takes six hours to polish the bayonets, but if you do it in four, next time your lieutenant expects you to do it in three, doesn't he?"

“Weren't you that lieutenant, Deuxmoise?" Leon fired back, snickering in time with the jackal. 

Deuxmoise wiped a mock tear from his eyes, straightening up. “What I wish to know now, Emperor, is the truth behind this visit. Men, money, and time brought us here. Rennaire is always a welcome guest in Losaile, but I doubt you came all this way to drink my wine and eat my croissants."  

Leon straightened himself, matching Deuxmoise. “The Felise Campaign gave me reason to reflect on the balances of power. Rennaire has been aggressive in our pursuit of the trade embargo on Kiberland. I thought it time we shore up our defences, recement our alliances with our friends. As I begin to dismantle the Felisian monarch and their lands, I cannot help but worry that… certain other great powers may wish to swoop in and feed off my carrion." 

“Vultures have always followed war." 

“Absolutely," Leon said, as he toyed with a cake. “Our two beautiful nations are allies, King Deuxmoise, and right now we are sworn to support one another when fighting back a war of aggression. But there is no agreement on what exactly the term support truly means. If Koringrad invades you tomorrow, I could simply decry them publicly and call that support… lovely as it is, it's not useful to your people when they're being starved out of their homes by Korin butchers. I want to build true unity between us, signed agreements of honour that go beyond bandied words of affirmation." 

Deuxmoise seemed unconvinced, and the two men went at it like that for hours. It was like a swordfight. Leon continued to try and press the jackal into formal agreements, while Deuxmoise parried his jabs with excuses and questions. The jackal was wily, and far more shrewd than Alabaster had given him credit. 

He admitted that Losaile and Rennaire had shared goals, economies, and even values, but he would not concede the control of his military over so easily. 

“Every conflict is different, my friend," Deuxmoise explained. “My duty is to Losaile, you understand. I would not have a blanket agreement bind either your people or mine to a theoretical war that has not happened. Each situation must be evaluated individually, there is simply no other way."  

Alabaster was impressed. Leon was charismatic and articulate, he'd given Deuxmoise this kingdom, and even at the best of times he was a difficult man to resist, yet the jackal king remained unbowed. 

Maybe this is the setback he needs, Alabaster found himself thinking. It would be bloodless. If Losaile refused to commit their forces, then Leon would have to think twice about starting his next war with Yaravania. 

“Do you like being a king, my friend?" Leon asked eventually, as they returned from a small recess. “Is it what you imagined, or does the power chafe?" 

“I never sought this life," Deuxmoise replied. “You know that. My only goal in life was to raise my children into healthy men and women, and to serve Rennaire at the behest of my betters. My duty is the same now as it has ever been, but it has grown to include serving Losaile." 

Leon picked at his claws. “Well put. And do you still have betters? Or has that, at least, changed?"

“Oh, Leon, I am old enough to know there is always someone better." The jackal narrowed his eyes. “Only a fool thinks otherwise." 

“I'm not so sure," Leon replied coyly. “But it's true you didn't seek this. I doubt you'd ever considered being a king before I told you it was done. I should have consulted you, I suppose. Tell me…" Leon paused, raising his glare as if it were a rifle. 

No, don't say it… Alabaster thought, even as the words left the jaguar's lips. 

“Would you prefer someone else wore your crown?" 

The room was silent. Alabaster wanted to grab his lover and shake him until he found reason. 

Deuxmoise was a more graceful man, and he only chuckled. “It is very late in the day, and I tire of these discussions. Rennaire is always a friend to Losaile." 

“Friends come to their friend's aid in times of need." 

“And we would come to yours, my friend," Deuxmoise said, his voice suddenly hard. “But I would retain the autonomy to aid you in the way that is best for Losaile." 

For once, Leon held his tongue. Alabaster breathed a sigh of relief as King Deuxmoise stood, dusting himself off. “Let us continue our discussion tomorrow at noon. Good evening." 

The two monarchs bid each other goodbye, and eventually broke apart to return their respective wings.

Alabaster had barely closed the door to their shared room, when Leon's tirade began. It was the usual complaints. 

“He was always stubborn, I should have expected it. I gave him this crown, I gave him this entire fucking country! Can't he see the opportunity before us? Can he not see his place in the grand design? What does he want, money, more land? If he'd only tell me I would give it!" 

Alabaster let the jaguar tire himself out, nodding and mumbling an agreement where relevant. Eventually the raging soliloquy came to an end, and Leon stood alone on their room's small balcony, staring down at the fields beneath them. Alabaster gave him a few minutes to compose himself, then joined his side, offering a small glass of port. 

“Look at them," Leon said, accepting the wine and sipping it. He gestured into the view, where the fifty-some thousand of his best men were camped out across Zolfreun Manor's south-western grounds. “The last time I brought Rennaire's sons here, they had just won the greatest victory in living memory. There was more dead, more tired, more sick and injured… but there was more joy too. They need a victory to quicken their blood." 

“Felise is a victory." Alabaster pointed out, and Leon scoffed.

“You don't know soldiers, love. These men have spent the last year camped outside Albedo, and now they're in allied territory on glorified parade duty. There's no hope of glory out here, no hint of battlefield honour and prestige! The war in Felise is far away and fought by other men. I should have just come myself, and not bothered with all this fanfare." Alabaster did not bother pointing out what happened last time he had left the city in secret. Better they all knew, so that proper contingencies could be put into place.

“I'm letting them down by allowing Deuxmoise to deny me." 

“They don't think that," Alabaster said. “They know it's you who orders the extra rum rations, they see you visit them every morning. Leon, they practically worship you. They'd follow you into hell if you asked it." 

Leon sagged against the balustrade, deflating. “Deuxmoise was supposed to be a friend. I thought he would see things my way, make sense of the grand design… hasn't he learned to trust me?" The jaguar sighed, shaking his head. “There are still days of negotiating to go, but if I can't secure Deuxmoise's promise of aid then we cannot afford a new war. If he continues to refuse me… I'll have no choice but to let the fucking Tanner take what's left of Felise." 

“Perhaps that's for the best." 

“For the best? I wish for once I felt that you were truly on my side." 

Alabaster blanched. “Leon, I am always on your side. What I sometimes question is whether you are. You seem intent on sabotaging yourself half the time, as if you need to constantly outdo yourself by inducing greater and greater odds to conquer."

Leon didn't seem to hear him. “I have killed Angels with my bare paws. I have overthrown a king, a council, named myself Emperor. I have done things that have never before been done… and this is where I find my path blocked? Some petty negotiation with an old friend?" He finished his port, grunting. “How could he live with himself, knowing he is the one man holding the continent back from achieving true peace?" 

“Perhaps it is a sign we should focus our efforts on Kiberland," Alabaster suggested. “One problem at a time. Even you can't defeat every enemy in the world at once."

“Perhaps…" Leon breathed. Alabaster resisted the urge to seize on that, instead trying to let the jaguar come to the conclusion himself. Like a stubborn horse, Leon could be led to water, but he would not be made to drink.

“I wish we could leave it all behind." Alabaster had meant to think it, but instead the words came out aloud. Leon's piercing blue eyes seized his eyes, a paw raising up to caress Alabaster's face. “My entire life has been nothing but struggle and violence. I am tired of it, Leon, I just want it to end… no more fighting." 

“So do all good men," Leon whispered, his thumb tracing the sharp edge of Alabaster's jaw. “But that isn't our choice. Destiny comes no matter what we do, and the best of us make of that what we can." 

Alabaster swallowed, found a pressure pushing at the back of his eyes. “Do you really think I'm a good man?" 

Leon smiled. “Absolutely." 

“But the terrible things I've done…" He pulled from the jaguar's embrace, trying to still one shaking claw in the other. “I don't know if I can ever escape it. It was easier before, when I thought nothing mattered, and that all these selfish choices had nothing more to them than survival. I told myself I had no choice, but…" 

“But now you know better," Leon interrupted. “We are what we do. You are not your past, and if you can't trust yourself, you can trust me."

Alabaster wasn't so sure, but he remained quiet. Everything he'd gone through, and he was still lying. 

I always knew better, and I did it anyway. There's nothing harder than being a good person. That was what had first impressed him about Leon. He did, at least back then, what he thought was right, and damn the consequences. An easy choice isn't worth making, and yet I never did what was right, because it was so much simpler to be cruel. He had wrapped it up in all kinds of justifications, but that was the real truth behind it and he knew it. Alabaster hadn't killed and hurt others out of sheer necessity and ignorance. 

He'd done it because it was easy. 

But no more. We are what we do, even if it's hard.

Leon leaned in, pressing his lips to Alabaster's in a slow, tender kiss. After a moment Alabaster pulled back, meeting his lover's eyes, and trying to convey that he was serious. 

He braced himself. “Forget Yaravania, please. Agree to a pact with Deuxmoise, and let's leave this place."

Leon rolled his eyes, leaning away. “Must we have this argument again? It has been a long day, Alabaster." 

“Deuxmoise clearly doesn't want it, why continually push this issue and risk fraying our relationship with Losaile? Why can't you let it go, Leon? Why do you need to conquer the world?" 

“Not the world just…" His face hardened, paws closing around the balcony guardrail. “He made a fool of me. The Royal Tanner, and that incompetent fucking bitch Benicia. They humiliated and subjugated me, just like Phillipe tried to, just like Joachim tried to. And if they did it once, they will do it again."

Alabaster refused to back down. “You may be able to lie to Deuxmoise, but I've seen the casualty reports for the Felise Campaign, and you're throwing lives away in your haste! Invading Yaravania will be ten times worse and we all know it! We should focus on one war at a time, then maybe in the future we can return to Yaravania and–"

“No! I respect your opinion, Alabaster, but you need to trust that ultimately I know better. The Tanner thinks he has won, his guard is down, and our army has free reign about his lands. By the time they realise what's happening, half of Sanlóna will be under Rennairan occupation."

“Fuck the momentum! You swore to put an end to Phillipe's waste of Rennairan lives, and here you are doing the very same! The wars must end." 

“You think I don't know that?" The jaguar hissed, suddenly pushing into Alabaster's space. “Say what you mean, Alabaster, say I'm a warmonger, or a tyrant, if that is what you believe. I thought you of all people would know me better than that."

Leon pointed out at the Zolfreun grounds. “The first time I came to this manor, I made a deal with Losaile and Danegard. It was unsustainable, and eventually war returned, it was inevitable. I won't have that happen again. I don't want to end the war with Kiberland just to fight them again in five years time! I want to end war, and men like the Tanner have shown me that it is only possible if they are not permitted to rule. That is the grand design, and who would oppose it? One continent, one people. Separate but united nations all operating in shared interest, kept in check by a singular, centralised power."

“Your power?" 

“Who else's?" Leon asked, incredulous. “Name any ruler that has done as much for their country as I have! Which king created free schools for all children? What Emperor fed the hungry and sick? Certainly no leader of Albedo ever made the effort to connect the undercity with the rest of society! Rennaire is richer than ever before, and it is stronger than ever before. I have brought an age of enlightenment, free from archaic traditions and barbaric customs. But we can only flourish if children stop dying in pointless conflicts. Yes, the current war is great and painful, but it is a war to end all wars." 

Alabaster shook his head. They had had this argument too many times. Again and again they went back and forth, the link between them fracturing further every time. The nerves of it ate at Alabaster, he felt like everything was coming apart piece-by-piece. He hated how terrified he was of angering Leon, and how scared he was that the jaguar would leave him. 

“Your infantile moralising is growing tiresome, my love," Leon snapped. “Especially when you are not the one making the decisions." 

Alabaster held himself, his body ringing through like a bell that had just been struck. He replied slowly, fighting to keep his voice flat. “You said yourself that all good men would leave this behind if they could. What about you? If you could, if you knew Rennaire would be okay, would you leave it behind?" 

It was the same question Joachim had asked, right before Alabaster killed him. 

“Ask him to give up power, and then you will see the monster you created."

Joachim was a self-serving bastard, but he had always claimed he wanted what was best for Rennaire. He'd called Leon a tyrant in the making, a warmonger who wanted nothing but more blood all in the name of his own glory. 

Was he right? 

“Is that what you want to hear?" Leon asked softly, cocking his head. “Then I'll tell you, and I am not ashamed of it. No. I would not. Destiny brought me here, and destiny showed me that I am the only one who can do it."

“Listen to yourself, you're supposed to be a good man." 

“I am a good man. I am doing what is best for the future of everyone, even my enemies." 

“Was executing those missionaries what was best for everyone?" Alabaster couldn't help it, the words ripped free of him. “Was sending the rest of them off to penal colonies what was best? Half those people had no idea about the Imperators and you knew it! Is invading Yaravania truly what is best for their people, or just what's best for your wounded pride?" 

“You have a lot of nerve," Leon said, his voice dropping dangerously low. “As I recall, you are the one that hypnotises people to do your bidding. As I recall, you only turned on Phillipe to save your own hide." 

“I turned on Phillipe because I realised that it needed to be done," Alabaster said. 

“Tell yourself that if you want. I love you, Alabaster, but I won't stand here while you lie to me and disparage my intent. We both know why you turned on Phillipe. We both know you killed protestors at La Tour de Sel because they were in your way. By all our laws you should have faced the guillotine along with every other aristocrat."

“Leon…"

“You turned on your former master at the very moment he lost the ability to protect you. Looked the other way during massive executions, and you revived and violated the dead to suit your whims whenever it was convenient."

“Leon, stop."

“You murdered Joachim in cold blood to help me take power. But you also betrayed me when you chose to spare Prince Gabriel's life… at least, I can only assume you spared him, leaving a threat to my throne out in the world somewhere."

“I was doing what was right." 

“No, Alabaster, you only did what you wanted. Tell me, when have you not served only yourself? No wonder you can't imagine what I'm doing here, or why. Everything you have ever done has been in service of your own self-interest." 

Alabaster blinked, and realised there were tears in his eyes. 

“You don't…" He sucked in a haggard breath. His chest ached, eyes stinging, and he didn't know what to say. Something cracked in his voice. “You said I was a good person." It was too much to get anything more out. It would have hurt less if Leon had ripped his heart out and shown it to him. This was supposed to be the right choice. Why could he never just do what was right, why was everything going wrong like this? He felt so pathetic, but he couldn't stop the words. “You love me." 

“I do, and I always will. But this is the truth and you need to hear it." 

“Who are you?" 

“Who I need to be." 

Alabaster sniffed, wiping at his eyes. How many times had he cried in his life? Few enough he could count them on the fingers of one claw. He felt like a child. Leon's love was all he had, and the jaguar had just taken that away. 

When you love someone, you give them the ability to hurt you like nobody else could. Later, he would think of responses. Later, he would think how he should have pointed out how he nearly died saving Émeric. Later he would realise it wasn't true, and that Leon was only saying it to hurt him, just so he could get his way. 

But by then, it would be too late. 

“You…" Every retort died on his lips, and even if it hadn't, Leon wouldn't have heard. Alabaster's insides felt hollow and empty, and a part of his stomach wanted to come bubbling up his throat. He knew he should scream back, fight, claw, shove, do something, but he felt nothing, only the singed edges of feeling that Leon had scorched away. He did nothing. Instead, he turned away without a word and left the jaguar alone on the balcony. 

The full weight of his emotions didn't hit until he reached the manor halls. Alabaster didn't know where he was trying to go, exactly, just that he had to get away, had to move. His teeth ached from grinding them too hard. He wished he could stop crying too, it was pathetic, but the tears just wouldn't cease no matter how he tried.

Leon was supposed to listen to him. He'd always claimed Alabaster was his true partner, like a queen, and not some concubine kept around for his amusement. But would a real partner be dismissed so effortlessly, and with such venom? Alabaster had little experience of love and tenderness in his life, but still he doubted it. 

He would listen if he cared. Leon was so wrapped up in his singular pursuit of this fucking grand design that he was blind to everything else. So what if Rennaire didn't rule the entire continent? Would it truly be so bad? There were other ways to avoid wars. 

There is nothing he won't do to win. Cosette had told him he'd always been that way, and it was the jaguar's worst quality. The harder the victory, the more he wanted it. Deep down Alabaster knew Leon hadn't meant what he said, but he was so fixated on beating the argument he had pushed on points that he knew would hurt. Was that any better? 

He fought me the same way he'd fight on a battlefield. 

Eventually he stopped, utterly drained, and sagged against a pillar shrouded in darkness. “I am a good person. I am. I am good," he whispered to himself. It was pathetically childish and he knew it, but at that moment he had to hear it. If Leon didn't see the best in him… then what was there?

“Herr dragon?" 

Alabaster blinked, and realised one of the manor's clerks had noticed him pressed into the alcove. Judging by the rich blue silk of his uniform, he was a personal aide to King Deuxmoise. 

“Please, leave me be monsieur," Alabaster said, hating how hoarse his voice sounded. 

The aide was not to be deterred. “Are you alright, do you need some assistance? The manor is large, and sometimes guests can become lost?" 

“No, I'm not lost I…" He paused, an idea blooming in his mind. 

Anything to win. Do anything to win. Leon needs a setback. A bloodless option. Without Losaile, there's no hope of taking Yaravania. Already he knew his thought was a deep betrayal, but an easy choice wasn't worth making. 

“Actually I do need help," Alabaster said, straightening up. He met the aide's gaze, staring deep as he tugged on the strings of the other. “You're going to take me to see King Deuxmoise, now." 

“He's… in his quarters, retired for the night." 

“Take me anyway." The hypnosis spell dug into the aide's mind like a fishhook, a stupid nod following Alabaster's words. 

Without further argument, the aide spun on his heels and led Alabaster deeper into the halls. 

They crossed most of the manor in silence, eventually reaching the opposite side to where Leon and Alabaster were staying. The aide stopped before a set of double-doors, knocking lightly on the dark wood. 

“Leave the tray outside!" Deuxmoise's voice called from inside. 

“Your majesty, there is a guest of some importance," said the aide. 

Alabaster heard a sigh and the creak of furniture. Eventually the latch slid open, and the door swung inwards. It revealed King Euran Deuxmoise clad in a nightgown, staring out through narrowed eyes. He was clearly surprised at the sight of Alabaster. 

“Monsieur Rafiq," he said, looking about. “This is not in accord with protocol."

“I'm quite aware, your majesty," Alabaster said, dismissing the aide with a wave. “But we must speak in private. May I come in?" 

Deuxmoise hesitated, but then opened the door. “Please." 

Alabaster entered the chamber, letting Deuxmoise shut the door behind him. 

“Alabaster, you've caught me in my undergarments, and I am a soldier at heart, so please let us do away with formality. I have already committed several unwise acts by allowing you in, might as well continue." 

“Of course, your majesty." 

“Before you begin whatever you've come to say," the jackal said, raising a paw. “I need to tell you. When the Emperor gave me the crown to Losaile, I was grateful. But I warned him that I would take my duty as monarch seriously, and that I would always do what was best for Losaile first. I gave him the chance to reconsider my appointment, because I would not be a puppet king. So if you have come to try and force me to remember where my power comes from, let me spare you the wasted breath." 

“I came for the opposite, actually." Alabaster folded his claws before himself. “Leon is not being honest about the extent of the damage our armies suffered in Felise. He seeks to draw your military into an extended war with Yaravania, and then possibly Audanne after that. He seeks to complete what he calls the 'grand design'. All of Midland subjugated to Rennairan control in the name of everlasting peace." 

Clearly, Deuxmoise did not know what to make of Alabaster's confession. “I see. I'll confess that I suspected something similar." 

“Your majesty, you cannot allow Rennaire to have control over your army at any cost."

“And you've come against Leon's will to tell me that?" 

Alabaster sighed. “Yes. I am still loyal to Leon and to Rennaire, but I know that this war would irreversibly shift the balance of power on the continent, and not for the better. The great powers keep one another in check. I… I love him, but he can't be allowed to go this far. For his own good."

Deuxmoise fell into his chair, shaking his head. “I had never intended to create such an alliance, but the Emperor is persistent. His arguments are difficult to resist without putting Losaile in opposition to him." 

“I will give you his arguments before they come," Alabaster said. “I can tell you their flaws, and give you supporting counterpoints. But please, your majesty, promise you will not give Leon control over your army." 

Deuxmoise grunted. “I have not been happy with the way he handled the church's missionaries, I admit. It has created greater pressure for the other nations than he realises, and given the Supreme Pontiff reason to rally against Rennaire. The other great powers are not pleased with the Emperor's expansionist policy either. Sentiment is building against Rennaire, and I am finding it difficult to resist agreeing with them. Your nation is very strong, Alabaster, but Losaile needs the support of the Angels, I do not have a necromancer of my own. I cannot afford to slight the Church, much as I detest it."

“That matter was not handled… gracefully." 

“I admit, I still find it difficult to believe you would betray him like this. He will be inconsolable if he learns of it." 

“Then he will not learn of it." Alabaster pushed away the pang of guilt. In his place, Leon would have done the same. An easy choice isn't worth taking. 

Deuxmoise pushed to his feet, approaching the dragon and offering him a paw. “Alright then, let us defy the Emperor."

A week later and Leon was at his wit's end. Alabaster had watched the diplomatic meetings silently with Gaspar, seeing Leon grow more and more frustrated by Deuxmoise's constant avoidance of his demands. He tried to rage, threaten, bribe, bargain, anything, but with Alabaster's secret help, Deuxmoise was a wall. Whenever Leon did seem to get the upper paw on the matters, he would then be mystified the next day as Deuxmoise returned with the seemingly perfect counterpoint. 

How Joachim would laugh now if he could see me, Alabaster thought. Was this not what the Speaker had done when he collaborated with Kiberland to help the Angel Leutgard attack their army? Was this any different to Joachim trying to assassinate Leon to give himself more influence? 

This war just needs to end. He has to accept that the grand design will never come to fruition. I'll tell him everything one day, when it no longer matters. How he reacts will be up to him. 

On the tenth day, Alabaster and the others arrived at the dining hall they'd been meeting in to find it empty. Not just of the king, but even the aides and soldiers who were typically in place from the crack of dawn were missing. 

“Is this some new game?" Leon snapped. “Even his aides aren't about, and just when we're only a day or two from conclusion!"

Alabaster glanced out the windows to the western side of the manor, watching the Rennairan army down by the treeline. The men were restless, and the marshals had been assigning drill routines to keep them busy.

Finally, the door to the dining hall swung open, a young fox boy coming rushing through. 

“Ah, finally!" Gaspar said, and Leon nodded his agreement. 

“This better be an apology," the Emperor said, as the boy gave him a wax-sealed scroll. 

Sniffing sharply, Leon broke the seal and opened the paper, eyes scanning hastily over the words. 

“It's from Deuxmoise…" he said ominously. “He says that…" 

Alabaster exchanged a glance with Gaspar, but they were both helpless to watch as Leon's face went from assured, to concerned, finally sinking to downright horrified. 

“What is it?" He asked eventually, as the jaguar lowered the scroll in shaking paws. 

“It says…" Leon swallowed. “It says that he always promised to serve Losaile first. That I am a good friend, and a good ally. But…" The jaguar closed his eyes, crushing the paper and dropping it on the table. 

Gaspar quickly picked it up, reading the rest aloud. “... it is with a heavy heart I confess that I have moved to stand with the other united monarchs of Midland. Let it be known that the combined efforts of Losaile, Kiberland, Danegard, Tar, Yaravania, Audanne, and what is left of Felise will be formed into the New Coalition of Midland. We will no longer stand idly by and tolerate Rennaire's increasing taste for bloodshed. As of reading this letter, the New Coalition formally declares war, not on Rennaire, but on Leon Valoisier himself as Emperor. 

“We believe the continent will never see peace so long as he remains sole ruler of Rennaire. Concede your title and all control of Rennaire, and this war can end before any more blood is spilled. We will accept no victory, nor end, save the complete dissolution of the Valoisier Empire. Let it be known that armies of the New Coalition are already encroaching into Rennairan territory with the intent to seize Albedo from you. 

“I am sorry, Leon. I know you will see this as the utmost betrayal. As your friend, I will also confess that a New Coalition army is marching on Zolfreun Manor at this very moment. They are accompanied by two Angels, and their size dwarfs your own honour guard by several times. We have no wish to kill a fellow monarch, Please do not resist.

“Yours, despite what you choose to believe, King of Losaile and Co-Founder of the New Coalition of 1810, Euran Le Vieux Deuxmoise." 

The room was silent as Gaspar finished. The jaguar himself only stared vacantly ahead. 

All of them… My dream, dissolved," Leon whispered. Alabaster had never heard his voice sound so scarred. 

Rennairan scouts came sprinting through the manor a few minutes later, and as Leon continued to stare blankly out the window, Gaspar received their reports. 

Finally, the crocodile went to the jaguar, bracing a paw on his shoulder. “Your majesty. As the letter suggests, King Deuxmoise and his forces have withdrawn. A larger force approaches from the west side. Tell me, do you intend to surrender?" 

For a moment, the room was completely frozen in time. Alabaster could hear his own heartbeat, the shallow breaths of the waiting scouts and runners, bracing for orders. For half a second, it seemed almost as if Leon would give in. 

“No," he finally whispered, paws curling into fists.

“Then come," said Gaspar. “We need to connect with the marshals and prepare for war. The New Coalition's army will arrive imminently." 

“And we will fight them." Leon straightened up, nodding. “Just like we always have."

Alabaster watched in a daze as the jaguar marched off, Gaspar in tow, soldiers and scouts flowing in behind them. There was a deep, sinking pit in the bottom of the dragon's stomach, a dryness in his mouth, and a screaming terror in his mind. 

Deuxmoise had mentioned the pressures of the other great powers. It seemed over the past ten days, he had decided to fold to them. One question burned at him, reaching out like a great shadowed maw to swallow him whole, so gargantuan and terrifying he could almost not imagine even asking it. 

Was this my fault?