“Forgive me, sir,” Deckard said, sounding anything but repentant. “But we were never offered an assignment. Your agents manipulated us into your service. We are not members of your organization, nor are we your soldiers. Therefore, I do not recognize you as my commanding officer.”
A ripple of dissatisfied whispers began to spread through the room. Auden, still standing, stared at Deckard in disappointment while Ilain held her chin high, despite the seething expression on her face.
Archminister Fishere’s hands clutched together on the table before him. “You don’t believe in our cause?” he asked.
“I don’t rightly know what your cause is,” Deckard returned. “I know you want to reinstitute Allund. I know you want Mages and Warriors to help rule in some way. I know you claim this is a message from Allore above. That’s all. And it isn’t enough for me to stake my life or the lives of my wife, brother, and men upon.”
“It was enough before,” Ilain countered.
Deckard glared at her. “But now, your leaders want to take my wife from me. I’m afraid my good faith has reached its end.”
Seeing the rising animosity in the room, Evylin reached up and took Deckard’s hand. He glanced down at her. “Carefully,” she said softly.
Deckard dipped his chin in understanding. Evylin supported him and his questioning of the Alliance. She no more trusted them than he did. But they were in a room filled with dozens of their members and only five on their side. And she didn’tparticularly care to go against Ilain and Auden should the conflict escalate.
However, she felt the need for answers herself.
Pushing her seat backward and rising, Evylin finally decided to speak. “Only this afternoon, Highlady Freye told us that the Alliance is built on the sacrifices of its members,” she said, almost faltering as the gathering turned to her. She swallowed the lump that immediately came to her throat. Suddenly, she realized that Deckard was the one for great speeches. It was her job to stand by his side, wielding a sword, not speak in front of the masses.
Then Deckard entwined their fingers, and a tingle of warmth spread up her arm, emboldening her.
Evylin stepped farther into the aisle next to him. “Well, we have made sacrifices too,” she said. “We defected from the Ephrian Army to the detriment of our futures. We’ve defended the Calders and secured five Relics at the risk of our lives. I lost my uncle to your cause.”
Evylin’s voice cracked on those words, and several heads dipped respectfully. “I think you owe us an explanation of what that cause is,” she concluded.
Archminister Fishere regarded Evylin and Deckard, standing side by side in the aisle. The corner of his mouth lifted in what bordered on a smile. “You both make excellent points,” he replied. “Very well. Allow me to clarify our cause.”
The elderly man leaned forward, a solemnity in his gaze that assured them he took their charge seriously. “It is the Alliance’s core tenet to restore Allund, as you mentioned, Colonel. Not to the unjust state it was nearly two centuries ago, but to the divine province that Allore ordained more than a millennium past.”
Evylin shuffled her feet, uncertain how much of his grand rhetoric she could trust.
“We intend to accomplish this,” Fishere continued, “by first reclaiming the Ateri Relics, which are fragments of the Creator Divine’s very self. Since they’ve been locked away, their absence from our realm has set our world into a slow degradation. With their return, we shall restore Terraeus to its true nature by granting each Relic to a Bonded couple of corresponding resource. At which point, we will establish our rule in Allund as an oligarchal democracy. Granted, all of this can only take place once we’ve overthrown the Waulden and Ephrian monarchies, which we intend to accomplish by means of the power granted to our Bonded couples with those Relics.
“We will give both Ephren and Blount the opportunity to surrender,” he explained. “If they refuse, they will either be incarcerated or, if they turn violent, executed. But we’d prefer to avoid that outcome.”
Evylin glanced at Deckard, unsure what to think of these plans.
“Now,” Fishere said, “if you’d like a full report on our governmental structure, such an endeavor would take several hours, and as I’d rather not bore my members who are already familiar with those details, I’d be happy to meet with you tomorrow should you like to review the specifications of our plans. Does that answer your question?”
Evylin forced herself not to chew on her lip, finding her brain too full of political elocution to come up with words of her own.
“Not entirely,” Deckard said slowly. “But well enough. I’d only ask: What if the people of Wauld and Ephria don’t want to be part of this new version of Allund? What if they prefer their lives to remain the way they’ve been?”
A handful of individuals scoffed at the idea, but Archminister Fishere regarded the question with earnestness. “I’m sure many Mages of Wauld do prefer things the way they are at present,” he said. “But I can assure you that the people do not. Thoughsome of our members here in the Alliance are nobility, we are not a league of the elite. The majority of our people are normal citizens from settlements throughout the continent. They are the merchants, the farmers, the tailors, the bakers, and the smiths. Their futures are not defined by grand or entertaining tales, but they are the individuals who make our choices. They are the ones who gave us—” He gestured to himself and the rest of the ministers, “our jobs. We have thousands of Wauldeners and Ephrians who have rallied to our cause, only a small number of whom hold any sort of wealth or noble blood. The Alliance has no interest in claiming power for the sake of ego or ambition. We don’t care for glory or honor. We only seek to provide a better future for our children and to serve Allore’s holy charge from the beginning: to care for Terraeus, to create as he created, and to serve the nature of his divine balance.”
A deafening applause and clamor of approval filled the room as the archminister finished his impassioned speech. Fists were raised as men and women whistled and cheered their support. The Calders sat with their heads held high, proud of their leader’s proclamation. Even young Reyana let out a whoop of excitement.
The sound surrounded the five Ephrians. Rafferty appeared unimpressed, lounging in his chair. Ethenn stared at his hands, deep in thought. And Thom’s eyes were on Evylin and Deckard, as though waiting for their reaction.
Evylin met Deckard’s gaze, his expression inscrutable. She couldn’t deny the stirring of emotion in her chest. The archminister meant his words. These people—the members of the Alliance—meant them too. This was not a band of selfish anarchists. It was an organization of devout Allorians, determined to uphold the commission of their deity.
But Evylin wasn’t religious.
So why did she feel the urge to join them?
As the cheering died down, it was clear the archminister was waiting for their response.
Deckard steadied himself, resetting his grip on Evylin. “Thank you, sir,” he said with his usual refinement, “for sharing your convictions. They are both insightful and reassuring.”
