2412, Strilaxis 31, Briss

The Unseelie Court's chambers loomed over Marin like the Heiress' presence whenever she raged. And for Marin, she had a fair share of memories showing exactly that. After her failure in Carleon, with Xanthy bursting in and ruining everything for the second time, Marin endured an hour-long lecture from the Heiress on what it took to lead an army and an organization with the aim of taking over the island.

The Heiress had one request—for the Cardovians to succeed in everything she sent them to, and yes, it included Marin. Never mind all the accomplishments Marin had given to the Heiress the past few weeks. When she failed to retrieve the Soul Spells and when Kymalin failed to curb the control of the Temple of Souls from her mother, the Heiress went ballistic. Unlike Marin who lost everything once, the woman wasn't used to having something taken from her to the point that it hurt.

But losing was painful, and as long as Xanthy and her friends were around, it'd always be the case.

That's why Marin thought of another plan to salvage her reputation. Xanthy was just one person in a sea of many others. She couldn't stop everything that's happening in the island, and Cardovia should do exactly that. With the Sovereign and Synketros making moves of their own, it'd only be a matter of time before the Virtakios gave up.

And no matter how many allies she had, as long as they're singular forces in an ocean of power and politics, they wouldn't be able to do anything either. The island belonged to those in the right positions, and a mere country bumpkin, a disgraced heir, a runaway prince, and a wayward nobody wouldn't come an inch to who really had a say in how Umazure would turn.

The early Thenaserine sun beat down on her, driving sweat off her brow and the side of her face. While the seeds of this idea came from her, it was the Heiress who came up with a more solid plan, which involved sending Marin without a carriage or anything else into the heart of the Junction City.

They would start with the Court of Commons or the Unseelie Court. Most of the advisers there were once prominent members of the Seelie Court—the prestigious assemblage of nobles and the law-making body of the Imperial palace—but after several mishaps and ill-guided political maneuverings, they have fallen from grace and "exiled" to the lower court. These people bore a deep-seated hate towards the Imperial power, and the Heiress was right to capitalize on that.

It'd be a piece of beeo—getting these blockheads to swear fealty to Cardovia and the Heiress' cause.

After arriving and being admitted into the Unseelie Hall—an extravagant but unnecessary building smack dab in the core of Thenaserine—her boots thumped across marble floors, the polished surface reflecting her stance as soon as it saw her. Guards in red coats marched alongside her, and she almost told them she could handle it here. She didn't need them. It's not like she's here to cause a scene.

Of course, that's dependent on whether they would listen to her or not.

Within seconds, the ornate doors of the meeting hall greeted her. An almost golden light filtered through the glass sundoors littering the domed ceiling of the halls. Portraits of nameless nobles and puffy advisers decorated the halls. Ornaments like bejeweled weapons, decorative vases, and polished battle armor resided behind and under glass cases, flaunting their glory and apparent vanity.

Marin scrunched her nose but kept her thoughts to herself. It wouldn't be proper to insult a host in their home. Besides, what was she dallying here for? It's just a talk. They'd hear her out. If not...well, she's got better tools.

Here she goes.

The door gave in under her force when she pushed them inside. More than fifty heads snapped up to meet her gaze. Relaxing her shoulders, she exhaled a steady breath. The Heiress' script flitted out of her lips with general ease.

"Greetings, Masters of the Unseelie Court," she said, bowing with as much reverence as she could muster. "I am a representative sent by the Heiress of Cardovia. Hear our message, and by the gods' grace, we may reach a concord later today."

The first noble to Marin's left scoffed. "Many others have tried to get us to sign anything," he said, his arms crossed over his maroon robes. Several others bobbed their heads in agreement. Marin made sure to pinpoint them. She'd make them pay later. "Why do you think you'd be any different when we've rejected all of them?"

Marin fixed the smile on her face to stay amicable and not betray the annoyance rippling in her gut. "If you hear what I will have to say, then—"

"It's better if you get yourself out before we force you," the next noble grouched before turning to the one to their right. "When are the reports coming? We need to do something that actually matters, not waste time with useless treaties like this."

"Whoever this Cardovia and Heiress witch are, they are only after our wealth and our power," another chimed in. Marin narrowed her eyes on the woman with bright orange hair tied up. "They also went to us because they failed to have the Seelie Court under their thumbs."

A couple of complaints rang through the crowd. They were like children who learned how to throw toys at each other and be declared the winner.

"Get out, you heathen!" another noble chanted, and the rest of them followed, even if by varying synchrony and shriller voices. "We don't need you! Go away!"

Something snapped inside Marin's system. In a flash, her dagger flew out of its sheath and out her hands. A loud thwack, like wood being split in two. Silence. Then, loud screams.

Marin's magic rushed to the surface, and she pointed it towards the windows, the doors, and every exit point they might think. The golden ambience changed into an inky dimness, brought about by the muffling spell curling as black smoke from her fingertips. To anyone listening outside, nothing was happening. It would only be too quiet.

"Scream all you want," she hissed, boots sliding across the smooth floor as one would over broken glass barefoot. "No one will hear you."

The nobles, to their credit, stayed rooted to their seats. Wise choice. Marin had enough blades to take them down, one after the other. She stalked towards the noble who was collapsed against his chair. A dagger's hilt glinted from his forehead, its dark sheen betraying what it's made of.

Dwarven metal.

Which meant Marin could kill off anyone she wanted. It wasn't them who held the power in this room. It's her.

"Let's start again," she said, wrapping her hands around the hilt and yanking the blade out. The corpse tumbled forward in a flash of maroon and crimson before exploding into a pile of embers. Huh. A fire sprite? A pixie? Who cared? They're all the same in Pidmena's bosom. "I am a representative sent by the Heiress to inform you of a treaty written to both of our benefit."

She approached the noble whose blood had totally drained from her face. After all, she was inches away from ending in the same fate as the one next to her. There were more than fifty of them here. They could do well with one or two less. Or more. It depended on their willingness to cooperate.

"Cardovia is on a quest to distribute power all over Umazure, and that will start in the Unseelie Court," Marin continued, weaving in and out of the spaces between the spaces of the masters' seats. Most had their heads turned down. Others shook in fear, their shoulders never staying still even though she was leagues away from them. Some developed the stoicism of the earth sprites' favorite element—-rock.

It's amusing. Fun, even.

"We will move up to the Seelie Court later on, but for change to start, it should start from those in the bottom," she said, twirling her dagger between her fingers. They itched to chuck the glinting blade at the next person who opened their mouth and said something she and the Heiress didn't want to hear. "Change has to start with us."

She tucked her hands behind her and flashed a sympathetic look at them. "We are all victims of the High Queen's tantrums," she said. "Would it not be for her, you will still be up there, fulfilling your duties as a body higher than the Imperial power, herself. Don't you want that back?"

Her lips curled into a wide smile. It was both inviting and manic. Excited yet murderous. It's something she perfected over the course of months, scaring off whoever wanted to pick on her because of her age. "Isn't power and authority your most fervent wish?" she said. "Isn't getting back at the High Queen and everyone else who plotted your downfall pay? None of you deserved to be here, and yet you are. Why was that?"

The nobles' faces curled into reflective expressions. Good. They're considering everything they've gone through while in service to the High Queen. Every transgression. Every altercation. Every instance of when they didn't get what they wanted. Everything reflected in their eyes. Was this what the Heiress felt like, being able to read people like the open tomes they were?

"Cardovia will give you what you are worthy of," Marin said, returning to her initial place. Now, no one hurled insults at her. They all listened. Blood was the perfect motivator, after all. "As long as you pledge your allegiance and lend us your assistance anytime we will require it."

She leveled her gaze at them. "Are we in agreement?"

A couple of nods. Not enough. She drew another blade from her belt and pointed it at the quivering nobles. "Sign your name in blood," she said. "Do it, and you will not end up like your acquaintance."

Parchment rustled in waves, filling Marin's gut with a different kind of relief. Within minutes, a sizeable sheaf rested on her palms, all bearing bright red scrawls made by shaking hands and darkening blood. The rusty tang filled her nose, and too much of it, she'd start looking for it in her sleep. When the last sheet made it, she bowed again. This time, it wasn't because she revered them. It's because she stood over them from the shadows, controlling their movements, their speech, and their decisions.

The Heiress has won, and Marin brought forth such a victory.

Next step? Edgerift. The Seelie Court.

Marin made it out of the Unseelie Estate, bearing the proof of her success. She took a step towards the wide streets when her muscles seized. Her stomach turned, and in her mad dash, she ended up in a dark, backwater alley on the outskirts of the city. How did she find this? No idea.

All she knew was that the smell of blood now gripped her senses, drowning it in its color, its odor, its feel. Her knees gave out, flinging her shoulder against a sturdy but crumbly wall. Her nails clawed at the debris dislodging from the mortar and bricks the wall was made off. Her chest squeezed, flattening her airways into nothing but mere slits. Black spots danced in her vision, taking over every blob of illumination the afternoon sun gave.

What...

Panic settled in her veins. Blood on her hands. On her blade. On her clothes. She threw a dagger. The corpse. It's dead. She killed it.

Dear gods.

Marin Draswist killed someone with her own hands.

The realization sank in, and her lunch forced its way out of her throat. The sordid gunk splattered on the floor and the walls. Maybe even in her clothes, but her squeezing vision didn't allow her to see that much. Her ears rang. It never stopped.

If I tell you to kill, you will follow. That's the Heiress' terms. Marin had just done what she was asked to do. She had a task she needed to succeed, and she's prepared to do it by all means. This was the right way.

This was the only way.

With skipping breaths, she forced her shoulders to relax. No use getting worked up over such a small matter. One breath. Two. It became easier, the breathing. It's over. No one would get her. She succeeded. No one would get her.

She's fine. She's alright.

Marin Draswist would be fine. Her father might not be proud of her. Nobody might ever be proud of her, but as long as she fulfilled what she set out to do, she'd be alright.

She'd be alright. No matter the cost.

Wiping the rancid taste off the corner of her mouth, she stumbled out of the dark alley and joined the traffic of merchants, government workers, and nobles who were all on their own paths. And like them, Marin was on hers.

And it always led back to Cardovia.

Back to the Heiress.