As related by Her Grace Battlequeen Escharton, Skarsian Secretary of Defense
The best we could do wasn’t good enough. Before the thugs could arrive, the warriors had made off with Christolea.
I’m ashamed of myself, ashamed. I’m a Skarsian battlequeen. Have we all gone soft? Soft in the head is more like it. Like a bunch of fucking fairy-tale princesses, we left the defense of our kingdom to some man. Alright, a god/tree, but the idea is the same. My mother must be rolling over in her grave.
What was the use of all those battle-exercises in my youth if I never actually go into combat? At least the current Matriarch has credibility. We all know what she did at the battle of Starbright Point. Through force of arms or guile, diplomacy or strategy, she’s beaten everyone, from CenGov to the SongLuminants. Maybe we’ve come too much to rely on Ashtara, but Ashtara is her servant, her consort.
I resolved to show some spine. I resolved to grow a pair of fucking ovaries. We had to learn to fend for ourselves.
Ta’al Erich told me that he contacted Lady Lorma on Dolparessa. “We all know that Christolea’s target is going to be the Staff of the Matriarch,” he said.
I thought it was pointless. Even if Christolea was able to defeat the all palace guards and the planted SSOps agents, the Staff was useless without an Archon.
As if on cue, Archbishop Venesti came running into the council chambers. “You have to…you have to see…” he sputtered. “It’s from the colonies, so the transmission is six days old.”
He threw his datapad on the desk. It was a holovid of some kind of rally, led by a man, blonde, beautiful, fit. His every gesture was authoritative, his voice a firm baritone. Behind him luminous banners hovered in the air, reading: “God is dead. Long live the new God.”
“Your leaders are perpetuating a horrifying deception,” he said. “The Archon and Matriarch have been assassinated, and the government is being run by a junta of aristos, supported by a small cabal of Cu’endhari who are perpetuating the lie that the Archon and Matriarch are alive and well. Who has seen them in the past week? And where is the Grand Vizier, Lord Danak? Why was the Alliance Fleet allowed to get so dangerously close to our space? Surely, the Archon could’ve disarmed it with a thought! And why was there no retribution against this fleet? Could it be that the Alliance is in collusion with the secret rulers of the Domha’vei? That the so-called attack was merely a pretense to bring Alliance ships into our space, ships lying in wait for the time to strike? This plot was masterminded by Ta’al Erich, a Volparnian who wants to seize control of Skarsia. You know what will be next – the battlequeens will be required to wear the veil! And his ally, Escharton, who shames the unearned title of battlequeen that she bears, has betrayed her gender in a wild grab for power. They are backed by that conniving weasel, Archbishop Venesti, who would love to return to the days of an Arya Archon, a figurehead he could manipulate while controlling the riches and power of the church for himself.”
“It all sounds disturbingly plausible,” muttered Erich, “except the part about the veil. Most of my people think that’s embarrassingly old-fashioned.”
“Except the part about we’ll lose our immortality if we betray the Living God!” howled Venesti. “Who in their right mind would believe this?”
I remained silent. I would never betray the Matriarch. But the jibe “shames the unearned title of battlequeen” hit a little too close to home.
“If we can’t produce the Archon quickly, we’re done for,” said Ta’al Erich.
The blonde man continued. “And how long can they perpetuate the lie until the power grid fails? There is only one solution: Christolea must assume the Matriarchal Throne. And I, Lamark the Brilliant, am prepared to take up the role of Archon in the name of my Chosen, the prophetess Nan-Zee.”
The door opened. It was Elma. “Can you believe this crap?” she said. “Also, does anybody have some puddins? I hate to watch a holo without snack food.”
“In case any of you doubt my ability to fulfil this role…behold!” The camera shifted to the sight of a tree – an enormous, seven-trunked Cu’enashti.
“Huh,” said Elma. “He could maybe power half the Domha’vei – maybe. There’s no way he could take on any more – unless he grew a few more trunks. Or trees. Trees would be a lot better.”
“That’s not Dolparessa,” said Erich. “That’s Shambhala.”
“Yeah, and look around him. A lot of the trees are that big. Bigger than on Dolparessa. I wonder why?”
Elma shrugged. “Maybe because they’re transplants to a different galaxy which has much better access to nul-energy. Maybe because they’re second generation Cu’enashti. Maybe because they’re being mentored by giant Ashvattha, and not little Ariel, the father tree. Maybe all three. But the point is that Ashvattha is still much bigger than any tree on Shambhala, and Atlas, Goliath and Yggdrasil are the same size as it. Canopus is a shrub among redwoods, but who knows what Ophion is like? No one has ever seen it. The Atlas grove has power to spare, many times over, but this guy is overextending himself.”
“Not if his plan is to take over the colony,” said Erich. “But if his nau’gsh is in another galaxy, it also means that we’ve got a big problem. The grid wasn’t designed to feed power from Shambhala to the Domha’vei. The colony is self-sustaining, and the grid link functions only to allow the Archon to have control in both places simultaneously.”
Our enemies had, apparently, anticipated this. “As of now, I am declaring myself Archon of Shambhala, which will become fact once Christolea asserts her rightful claim to the Staff of the Matriarch. Once given that power, I will use it upon my ascension to grow a second tree in the heart of the Domha’vei.”
“Could he actually do that?” asked Erich nervously.
“Dunno,” said Elma, shrugging. “Ashtara did. Nan-Zee has powerful dreams and a rotten childhood. The conditions are right.”
“It will be a disaster,” said Venesti. “Not only a personal one, and not only a spiritual one. Christolea isn’t strong enough to be Matriarch.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I remarked. “Christolea is going to be a puppet of the Almiss family, just like she was a puppet of the old Vizier, Bok Denevi.”
“We’re at a disadvantage because most of our allies are at the combine meeting,” said Erich. “We need to make a list of the rest.”
“People we can trust,” Venesti agreed.
“No,” said Erich. “People who can trust us. Any of our potential allies who believe that congealed wad of frostbeast spittle will be ready to slit our throats. Right now, Lady Lorma, Captain Zosim and Ashkaman know the truth. We need them to convince people like Lady Miranda and Cara the Arrow that we aren’t traitors. And all this buys time for our enemies.”
“Anyone who resists giving Christolea the Staff might be branded as sympathetic to the traitors,” I realized. “We need proof that the Archon is still alive.”
“Well, duh,” said Elma. “His trees haven’t even lost their leaves.”
“True,” said Erich. “Venesti, issue a statement that the Archon is on a meditative retreat, but is alive and well, as demonstrated by the health of his grove. That might keep our heads off the block for a few more days.”