Revival - Chapter 230 Endings and Beginnings

Chapter 230 Endings and Beginnings

The Avalonian Version

Royal Steward Maeath Vaelor bowed as he withdrew from the Crown Prince’s private chamber.

“Your Highness has responded with both wisdom and necessary restraint. Propearaterra and Norhollow will remember that the Crown stood beside them.”

Crown Prince Caedmon rested both hands upon the table before him. Reports from Propearaterra covered one side, while dispatches from Norhollow, more commonly called North Hollow, covered the other. Between them lay a map marked with the latest movements of the Shadowbloom.

“Every contributing house must retain command of its own soldiers,” Caedmon said. “Neither afflicted realm may preserve its forces by spending the blood of another.”

“Your proclamation states that requirement clearly.”

“The levies must also reflect reliable numbers. Distance, available strength, and the defenses each house must maintain at home should determine what we ask of them.”

“Precisely as Your Highness has written.”

Vaelor bowed again before leaving the chamber with the signed proclamation held carefully between his hands.

Minister Halvern Dast waited beside a column farther along the royal corridor. He glanced toward the closed doors, then fell into step beside the steward.

Vaelor lifted the parchment slightly.

"The proclamation carries his lordship's seal."

Dast's gaze settled upon the rolled manuscript. "Then the remaining individual instructions can now be completed."

A lamp lit the stacks of ministry reports in a room of records, in a corridor leading off the west wing of the palace. Dast shut the door, and Vaelor set the parchment on the writing table and unrolled it to the lamp.

The Crown Prince’s order read:

Great houses shall lend aid according to their strength and the distance to the infected regions of Propearaterra and Norhollow. Each group shall be led by its given officers, working with the realm leaders of their kingdom. No house shall be forced to place its own settlements at undue risk for the scope of aid.

Dast placed the proclamation aside and opened the Ministry’s assessment ledger.

The first page listed the southern houses, their estimated soldiers, their distances from the threatened territories, and the number of troops each could provide without endangering its own lands.

House Avalon appeared near the bottom.

House AvalonEstimated trained strength:Reliable field strengthDistance from afflicted territories: ConsiderableLocal defensive obligations: SevereRecommended contribution: Two hundred soldiersCommand requirement: Established Avalonian officers

Vaelor read the entry, then turned the ledger toward Dast.

The minister dipped his quill into the ink.

He drew a careful line through one hundred and fifty and wrote three hundred above it.

He struck out considerable and replaced it with moderate by maintained southern roads.

Beside local defensive obligations, he removed severe and entered limited following stabilization of the Hollow.

The recommended contribution became one complete field company.

The requirement for established Avalonian officers disappeared beneath a narrow strip of pasted parchment.

Dast pressed the paper flat until the alteration appeared to be an ordinary correction.

Vaelor opened a second report containing the readiness assessments gathered from royal observers. The original notation concerning the White Company remained brief.

Under the command of Lord Caelen Avalon and its captain, the White Company maintains exceptional discipline. Its success depends on experienced leadership, tight internal cohesion, and specialized training approaches that royal observers have not yet grasped.

Dast copied the assessment onto a fresh page.

His revised version read:

The White Company shows remarkable discipline and exudes a quiet confidence, their training evident as they function independently without constant guidance from Avalonian leaders. The company’s standardized methods, clear and consistent, make it well-suited for integration beneath regional command.

Vaelor compared the two passages.

“You omitted the Captain.”

“The deployment table has no place for unnecessary names.”

He moved the original report beneath several unrelated ledgers.

Vaelor opened the Crown Prince’s distribution schedule. Caedmon had divided the burden between Propearaterra and Norhollow, assigning nearby houses according to geography while preserving each force beneath its own commanders.

Avalon had received no specific assignment.

Dast drew a new line beneath the Propearaterran allocations.

House Avalon: White CompanyInitial deployment: PropearaterraSecondary operational authority: NorhollowRequired departure: Immediate

Vaelor examined the addition before drawing another document toward himself.

“The company requires implementation guidance.”

Dast selected a clean sheet bearing the heading of the Royal Ministry of Levies.

In accordance with the proclamation of Crown Prince Caedmon, House Avalon shall dispatch the formation commonly known as the White Company in support of Propearaterra and Norhollow.

He paused long enough for Vaelor to place the Crown Prince’s proclamation beside the draft.

The original required every contingent to remain beneath its established officers.

Dast continued writing.

Because Lord Caelen Avalon’s health prevents prolonged exposure to regions affected by the Shadowbloom, his presence shall neither be requested nor permitted. Avalon’s senior commanders should remain within the Wardenate to preserve local stability during his absence from military affairs.

Vaelor read the sentence without comment.

The quill resumed its measured scratching.

Upon arrival, the White Company shall submit to inspection by representatives of Propearaterra and Norhollow. The inspecting authorities may divide, assign, or reposition its soldiers according to the immediate requirements of either afflicted realm.

The words ‘remain beneath its established officers’ were nowhere upon the page.

Dast added the final requirements.

House Avalon shall provide the company’s weapons, armor, healers, transport, and sixty days of provisions. Subsequent expenses may be recorded as part of Avalon’s continuing obligation to the defense of the kingdom.

Vaelor opened the casualty projections prepared for the Crown Prince. The estimates warned that forces entering the abandoned settlements along the Shadowbloom’s frontier might suffer losses exceeding half their number.

He removed that page from the packet.

In its place, he inserted a shorter assessment.

Expected resistance remains uncertain, although disciplined troops should restore access to the affected roads with acceptable losses.

Dast scattered fine sand across the completed instructions and waited for the ink to dry.

Vaelor examined the royal proclamation once more.

Caedmon had ordered proportionate support.

The ministry required an entire company.

Caedmon had protected the authority of established officers.

The ministry removed them.

Caedmon had forbidden either afflicted realm from preserving its soldiers through another house’s sacrifice.

The ministry gave Propearaterra and Norhollow the power to divide the White Company between them.

Every alteration remained hidden beneath the Crown Prince’s signature and seal.

Vaelor folded the original proclamation around the additional instructions.

“One document still remains,” he said.

Dast placed a smaller sheet of parchment before him.

Vaelor began writing in a gentler hand.

Lady Seraphine,

Some of the royal court members have also voiced their worried thoughts about Lord Caelen's health, his temperamental nature, and the way he controls the soldiers tested in Avalon. A few have even implied that he should be brought before a royal commission to discuss the issue.

The current levy is a more peaceful solution. Should the White Company remain with the Crown and not be with Lord Caelen, those questions may no longer be pertinent. Perhaps your son can stay safe in Avalon while the company takes care of the task put upon your house.

No mother should be compelled to deliver a tainted child into the Shadowbloom. Following the instructions provided below may be the surest way to save him from both the trip and the attention that would follow him.

Vaelor left the letter unsigned.

Dast warmed green wax above the lamp and sealed the official instructions with the mark of the Royal Ministry of Levies. The private message received the plain seal of an unimportant clerical office.

The steward arranged the documents in their intended order.

The Crown Prince’s proclamation appeared first.

The altered military assessment followed it.

The instructions surrendering the White Company came next.

The warning addressed to Lady Seraphine rested separately upon the top.

Dast glanced toward the removed pages lying beside the ledger. Those pages still carried the original troop estimates, the distance calculations, the warning about Avalonian command, and the anticipated casualty rate.

He fed them into the brazier one at a time.

The edges curled first, and then the Crown Prince’s numbers blackened into ash.

Vaelor tied the official packet with royal cord.

“The packet should be sent before sunrise.”

Dast watched the final page collapse into the coals.

“The private letter must arrive first.”

Several floors above them, Crown Prince Caedmon continued studying the defenses of Propearaterra and Norhollow, believing his proclamation would prevent either realm from purchasing safety with another house’s soldiers.

Below him, the version intended for Avalon was already complete.

The Leaving of the Council

The Royal Camp was a collection of houses aligned with the Crown, and during their weeks in Avalon their matrons, daughters, attendants, guards, and servants had occupied a substantial portion of the Southern Manor itself. The highest-ranking women had been given suites within the main house, while others filled the guest wings, adjoining apartments, and smaller buildings surrounding the principal courtyards.

Now those rooms were emptying.

Servants moved continuously through the corridors carrying traveling cases, garment trunks, hatboxes, writing chests, rolled carpets, and the considerable collection of possessions accumulated during several weeks away from home. Porters waited at the foot of staircases while household stewards attempted to determine which baggage belonged aboard the two seagoing ships and which belonged upon the river craft gathering at the manor's landing.

The difficulty was made considerably worse by the simple fact that everyone was leaving with more than she had brought.

Matron Priscilla Morevethal stood in the doorway of her suite watching two servants struggle with another wooden case.

“That cannot possibly belong to us.”

Princess Celestine Aurelia Haldrith glanced up from the traveling desk where she was checking her own correspondence.

“It contains glass.”

“We already packed the glass.”

“That was your glass.”

Matron Priscilla looked toward her.

“And this would presumably be yours.”

“Most of it.”

Matron Priscilla considered the answer.

“How much glass does one young woman require?”

Princess Celestine smiled.

“Apparently considerably more after visiting Avalon.”

That problem extended well beyond glass.

The corridors were filled with the evidence.

The Royal Camp had arrived carrying the enormous amount of luggage expected of noble houses traveling for an extended council. It was leaving with that same luggage, accompanied by gifts, purchases, samples, commissioned pieces, and enough newly ordered goods to keep Avalon's workshops occupied long after the women themselves had departed.

Some things would travel with them immediately.

Others would follow later.

Hollow glass occupied entire padded cases. Bone-white tea services had been packed between layers of wool. Perfumes and scented oils traveled in carefully divided boxes, while soaps, creams, medicines, preserved fruits, sweets, decorative glass, mirrors, and small crafted gifts appeared among baggage that had possessed no corresponding place when the women arrived.

The birthday had contributed its own peculiar collection.

Painted glass ornaments had to be protected.

Perfume bottles required packing.

Shadow portraits had been placed between stiff boards.

Bracelets bearing tiny silver and golden charms remained almost universally upon wrists rather than inside trunks.

Even the Legacy game had generated requests.

Several matrons wanted copies whenever Avalon could produce them.

The ice cream remained the only notable failure.

Avalon had politely explained several times that frozen cream could not simply be packed aboard a riverboat and expected to remain frozen halfway across the kingdom.

This had not prevented anyone from asking again.

Matron Priscilla watched another case disappear down the corridor.

“We are going to require another ship.”

Princess Celestine looked amused.

“Perhaps you should have purchased less.”

“I purchased considerably less than several others.”

“That does not make your purchases lighter.”

Before Matron Priscilla could answer, Matron Sabina Senecor appeared from the adjoining suite accompanied by two servants carrying another chest.

Matron Priscilla stared at it.

Matron Sabina immediately understood.

“Medicines.”

“Of course.”

“And several books.”

“Naturally.”

“Some glass.”

“Everyone apparently has glass.”

Matron Sabina smiled.

“It was an educational council.”

The departure itself had become another logistical exercise.

Two ships waited beyond the southern harbor for those Royal Camp houses whose destinations made the sea route preferable. Their baggage was already being transported toward the docks in a steady procession of wagons.

Most of the remaining houses would leave by river.

The manor landing had been crowded since dawn with narrow passenger vessels, larger noble barges, and several richly appointed river craft flying house banners from their sterns. Servants carried trunks aboard while guards supervised horses and baggage. Boatmen argued over loading space, stewards checked manifests, and ladies repeatedly discovered that something they desperately needed had already been packed somewhere inaccessible.

The confusion delighted Princess Celestine.

“It appears remarkably ordinary.”

Matron Priscilla looked toward the crowded landing.

“There is nothing ordinary about moving half the noblewomen of the kingdom simultaneously.”

“I meant the confusion.”

“That is always ordinary.”

The younger ladies were discovering a different difficulty.

For days they had known they were leaving.

Only that morning had leaving become real.

Lady Talia Bellacor had crossed from another portion of the manor before breakfast specifically to find Lady Lisette Avalon. Lady Astrid Frostmarch appeared shortly afterward, followed by Lady Elara Stonecross, Lady Ingrid Stromholt, Lady Auraline Galeden Vale, and several others who had spent much of the council together.

Nobody seemed particularly interested in discussing departure.

Instead, they discussed everything that was supposed to happen afterward.

Letters would be written.

Visits would be arranged.

Invitations would be sent.

Someone would convince her mother that a journey halfway across the kingdom was perfectly reasonable.

Someone else would persuade her father that another gathering in Avalon was absolutely necessary.

Lady Talia turned the birthday bracelet around her wrist.

“I am keeping this forever.”

Lady Ingrid looked toward her.

“You said that about your glass ornament.”

“I am keeping both forever.”

“You also said that about your perfume.”

“I possess sufficient forever for several things.”

The laughter came easily.

It ended more quickly than it would have several days earlier.

Lady Lisette looked around the little gathering.

The Matrons' Council had given her something she had not expected.

Friends were supposed to exist near home. They were supposed to be daughters of neighboring houses, girls encountered at seasonal gatherings, or companions selected through family relationships.

Instead, she now had friends scattered across the kingdom.

That realization had become considerably less exciting once boats were waiting to take them away.

Lady Elara looked toward her.

“You could visit Stonecross.”

“I intend to visit everyone.”

Lady Ingrid smiled.

“That would require crossing half the kingdom.”

“My brother builds roads.”

That earned the laughter Lisette wanted.

Lady Auraline did not laugh immediately.

She and Lisette exchanged a quieter glance.

Departure meant something different for them.

The correspondence desks Caelen had given them that morning of the party remained secret, particularly the mirrors hidden within them. Auraline could return to Galeden Vale without disappearing from Lisette's daily life.

The others possessed no such certainty.

Lisette remembered Caelen's promise.

If there was someone she cared about enough that distance might take them from her life, she needed only to tell him.

Looking at the girls surrounding her, Lisette realized that her list had become inconveniently long.

Lady Talia suddenly embraced her.

There was remarkably little noble dignity involved.

Lisette embraced her back.

That apparently gave everyone else permission.

The matrons watched from farther along the terrace.

Some smiled at the spectacle.

Others saw considerably more.

The council had spent weeks discussing marriages, fostering, alliances, old grievances, trade relationships, and the connections that might shape the kingdom twenty years from now.

Their daughters had accomplished something much simpler.

They had become friends.

Those friendships possessed no contracts and carried no formal obligations, but the matrons understood that relationships between girls could eventually become relationships between houses.

Matron Priscilla found herself watching Princess Celestine more carefully because of that thought.

The princess was also watching.

Her expression revealed considerably less than it once had.

Before Matron Priscilla could pursue the matter, a royal secretary approached carrying a leather document case.

“The final council records have arrived.”

“Put them with my river baggage.”

The secretary hesitated.

“There is one addition you should probably read before departure.”

Matron Priscilla accepted the folded document.

The first section contained nothing particularly surprising.

Gloam Hollow had been formally established as a territorial estate beneath the Wardenate of Avalon. Its roads, settlements, ordinary workshops, public lands, revenues, and future development now possessed a defined governing structure.

Then Matron Priscilla reached the name of its lord.

She stopped.

Princess Celestine noticed immediately.

“What happened?”

Matron Priscilla read the line again.

“Matron Elena Avalon has been declared Lord of Gloam Hollow.”

Princess Celestine stared at her.

“Matron Elena?”

“The same.”

“Not Caelen?”

“Apparently not.”

That answer drew Matron Sabina closer.

Within minutes, the document had passed among several Royal Camp matrons.

The interpretations began almost immediately.

“It is a clever political move,” Matron Sabina said.

Another matron shook her head.

“It is insurance.”

Matron Priscilla looked toward her.

“Against what?”

The woman hesitated only briefly.

“Against the boy dying young.”

Nobody rebuked her.

Caelen's health had remained a subject of rumor throughout the council. Too many people knew enough of his history to dismiss the possibility completely.

If Gloam Hollow had been created around Caelen personally, his death could have produced succession questions surrounding an increasingly wealthy territory.

Matron Elena removed that danger.

She was already irrevocably bound to House Avalon. Marriage could not capture her. She required no outside patronage, possessed decades of political experience, and knew precisely how noble houses converted gifts, investments, marriages, and favors into obligations.

Princess Celestine continued reading.

“I do not think that is the only reason.”

Matron Priscilla looked toward her.

“If Caelen had become Lord of the Hollow, what would everyone have done?”

Matron Sabina answered first.

“Attempted to influence him.”

“More than they already do.”

The answer settled among them.

An unmarried young lord controlling a wealthy and rapidly developing territory would have become an immediate target for every ambitious house possessing an eligible daughter, available capital, or an appetite for influence.

Matron Elena was something considerably more difficult.

Matron Sabina smiled.

“Anyone attempting to capture the Hollow politically must now begin by capturing Elena.”

Princess Celestine almost laughed.

“I wish them considerable success.”

The first twist arrived several minutes later when Matron Sabina continued into the accompanying commercial provisions.

Her expression changed.

“This is considerably more interesting.”

The roads belonged to Gloam Hollow.

The settlements belonged to Gloam Hollow.

The ordinary workshops, public lands, businesses, revenues, and future civic development belonged to the estate beneath House Avalon.

Sunmoss did not.

Its original beds, cultivation sites, propagation rights, research, and commercial development had been reserved personally to Caelen Avalon.

So had his residence and immediate research grounds.

Matron Priscilla read the provision twice.

“He kept the valuable portion.”

Matron Sabina shook her head.

“He kept the portion nobody knows how to value yet.”

Princess Celestine understood immediately.

“He did not want the Hollow.”

“He did not want its title,” Matron Priscilla corrected.

That distinction mattered.

Caelen had avoided creating another lordship that might someday compete with Aldric's inheritance. He had avoided becoming an unmarried territorial lord whose marriage would instantly become a kingdom-wide political contest.

Yet he had secured property and control over the resource behind one of the most remarkable developments anyone had witnessed during the council.

Some would call the arrangement prudent.

Others would call it ambitious.

Almost everyone would discuss it.

The harbor bell sounded in the distance.

One of the two sea vessels was preparing to depart.

Almost simultaneously, boatmen at the river landing began calling for the first passengers.

The Royal Camp finally divided.

Several houses departed toward the carriages to the harbor, their servants accompanying wagons piled with trunks, gifts, purchases, and carefully packed reminders of Avalon.

The others descended toward the river.

Farewells began again.

Matrons embraced matrons.

Ladies embraced ladies.

Promises were repeated.

Final orders were handed to Alessa Bargiani's increasingly exhausted clerks.

One matron attempted to add another case of perfume after her baggage had already been loaded.

Somewhere behind her, a steward nearly despaired.

Matron Priscilla boarded her river craft, heading to Litus Solis, shortly before midday.

Princess Celestine followed.

From the upper deck, the Southern Manor seemed strangely quiet despite the people still gathered along its terraces and landing.

The Royal Camp had arrived carrying questions about Avalon.

Its houses departed with trunks full of gifts, ledgers full of orders, daughters full of new friendships, and minds carrying considerably more complicated questions than those with which they had arrived.

They had seen the hearthfires and floating sunmoss.

They had tasted summer ice and handled glass unlike anything their estates could produce.

They had watched accepted assumptions about magic challenged.

They had watched a fourteen-year-old girl's birthday become one of the most memorable events of the council.

Now they carried another name home with them.

Matron Elena Avalon, Lord of Gloam Hollow.

Some would see political brilliance.

Others would see preparation for Caelen's possible early death.

Those who read more carefully would discover that the boy had quietly retained sunmoss and begun establishing something that belonged to him alone.

The river current caught the vessel.

Along the distant coast, one of the two ships carrying the other Royal Camp houses was already moving toward open water.

Princess Celestine came to stand beside Matron Priscilla.

“So you think the council accomplished what everyone intended?”

Matron Priscilla watched Avalon begin to recede.

“I believe everyone intended something different.”

Princess Celestine smiled.

“That sounds like a Matrons' Council.”

“It usually is.”

Behind them, matrons were already discussing Gloam Hollow.

Several younger ladies sat together comparing birthday charms and farewell notes. Royal clerks checked manifests containing orders for goods that scarcely existed within the kingdom a year earlier.

Matron Priscilla looked back once more.

The council had come to Avalon hoping to understand what was happening there.

They were leaving by river and sea with the uncomfortable realization that they might instead have witnessed the beginning of something none of them yet knew how to name.

The Quiet After the Council 

For the first time in several weeks, Avalon Manor sounded like itself again.

Lady Seraphine sat behind the desk in her private office, both hands wrapped around a cup of tea she was no longer required to share with a visiting matron or defend from questions concerning where its leaves had been grown.

Matron Elena held the chair by the window, while Lady Anastara of Hollow March sat across from her, her traveling cloak tented to one side and ready for her departure to the barge in a few hours. Lady Lisette had crammed herself into the smallest chair, as if to say: doesn't proper posture go out with councils? The room was alive with anticipation.

Lady Seraphine released a long breath.

“They are actually gone.”

“Most of them,” Lady Anastara reminded her.

“You do not count anymore.”

“I am still physically present.”

“You are leaving this afternoon, which makes you considerably less troublesome.”

Matron Elena smiled faintly.

“I am looking forward to tomorrow morning. I intend to eat breakfast without the silence being broken by babble about someone's marriage, hopes, some business agreement, the Crown, and religious strife. Not tomorrow. I wish to eat my breakfast in silence and will not utter anything about the future of somebody's child.”

Lady Anastara raised her cup.

“You may find the silence unsettling.”

“I intend to find it beautiful.”

Lady Seraphine laughed softly.

Beyond the windows, servants were already reclaiming the manor. Temporary awnings were coming down, wagons carried empty crates toward the storehouses, and the last guest suites were finally being returned to ordinary use.

For once, nobody important was arriving.

Nobody needed to be impressed.

Nobody was quietly attempting to marry an Avalonian child.

Lady Seraphine leaned back with considerable satisfaction.

“It is finally over.”

Matron Elena nodded.

“It certainly appears so.”

Lady Anastara regarded them both over her tea.

“Until the consequences begin arriving.”

“You are forbidden from introducing consequences before your barge leaves,” Lady Seraphine said.

“I shall introduce whatever consequences that amuse me until someone physically puts me aboard.”

“That explains why my Mother keeps you as a friend.”

Matron Elena gave her an unimpressed look.

“I simply never discovered how to be rid of her.”

“You stopped trying forty years ago.”

For several moments, the four women enjoyed the quiet.

Then Lady Lisette stretched comfortably within her chair.

“Well, at least that is over, and nothing bad will happen now.”

Silence descended upon the office.

Lady Seraphine slowly lowered her cup.

Matron Elena turned toward her granddaughter with genuine horror.

Lady Lisette looked between them.

“What?”

Lady Anastara covered her mouth, already beginning to snicker.

“Young lady, never say such a thing. You never announce that nothing bad will happen, and you certainly never curse the peace of your own household.”

“I did not curse anything.”

Matron Elena stared at her.

“You are an Avalon, child. You should know better.”

Lady Seraphine nodded gravely.

“Your family history should have taught you considerably more caution.”

At that precise moment, the correspondence box upon Lady Seraphine's side table began to chime.

Nobody moved.

The gentle magical note sounded again.

Lady Lisette's eyes widened.

Her mother slowly turned toward her.

Matron Elena closed her eyes.

Lady Anastara began laughing.

Lady Lisette stared helplessly at the correspondence box before looking between her mother and grandmother.

“I did not mean to do that.”

Lady Seraphine rose from behind her desk with the weary resignation of a woman whose peace had apparently lasted exactly as long as Avalon intended.

“Of course you did not.”

The correspondence box chimed again.

Lady Anastara wiped laughter from her eyes.

“There, Lisette. Your education at the Matrons' Council is finally complete.”

Lady Seraphine reached for the box.

“I rather fear something else is about to begin.”