A CONSPIRACY UNMASKED
PLOT TO DESTROY PARLIAMENT HOUSE UNVEILEDCAVALINE— A plot against the Parliament of the Commonwealth itself reached its climactic stages yesterday when General Gregor Hawthorne threatened the Parliament House in Cavaline with total destruction. The General, singlehandedly driving a cart fully stocked with black powder ready to detonate at a moment’s notice, was dispatched by the skilled Parliamentary Guard at about eleven o’clock in the evening. He was subsequently taken into custody and is expected to recover from his wound.
The Black Harbor Times can reveal two additional co-conspirators taken into custody for threatening the safety and security of the Commonwealth: Bishop Inquisitor Henry Lindell, and the Marchesa Gianna of House Forteza, both of whom were apprehended at the Prime Minister’s High Summer Ball within minutes of the altercation at Parliament House.
All three conspirators were implicated in the plot via intercepted correspondence between the three of them and an individual claiming to be the Lion Prince of Cavaline, believed to be living in exile somewhere on the continent. Parliamentary officials have not confirmed
Lucia looked up from the newspaper clipping. She sat in her rented room in Cavaline the morning after … after everything. She felt … empty. That wasn’t her usual reaction at the completion of a demonic contract; doubly so for a contract of this magnitude. But this had been no mere contract.
Talia wasn’t coming back. The unreality of the day before had faded, and the truth had settled upon her heart, binding it with iron unyielding. The Duke had lived, and now she was dead. And there was nothing Lucia could do about it.
She felt too empty even to cry.
She turned over the newspaper clipping, which cut off mid-sentence, to read a scrawled note taped to the back in a familiar hand.
To the Lady of House Fallmire. My condolences, as ever, are with you. Hawthorne was more cooperative than even I hoped. Luckily, I managed to slip away before Parliament tightened its noose. Do you have any more vengeance that needs seeing to? I’ll be at the funeral, best regards,
S.S.
Lucia sighed and tossed the clipping away. Soon enough, it would all be over.
***
Lucia insisted on attending the hanging, three days later.
It was a pale day, much like the day the Duke of Fallmire had been murdered. Here, a modest crowd of lookers-on gathered under the steel-gray cloud cover as various officials moved up and down the gallows scaffold, a few conferring with each other here and there. The overall mood of the crowd was … well, it was always hard to put into words such a complex collective emotion. But if Lucia had to choose, it would be hungry.
They wanted to see someone die. Preferably someone high born.
Well, today’s spectacle should not disappoint.
Three days was all it had taken for Parliament to declare the three co-conspirators guilty of high treason. The gears of justice spun quickly indeed when their very survival was threatened. Lucia had understood that, at least. Calamity, the demon could be dramatic when she wanted to be.
“Presenting!” came the call from atop the gallows, and the crowd hushed to listen and collectively lean in. Lucia had a decent view on a raised seat at the rear of the enclosure—as an aggrieved party, she apparently had a very legal right of witnessing justice be done. Beside her, a representative of Parliament sat as well, witnessing on behalf of that body. Lucia was surprised the Prime Minister himself hadn’t shown his face. But, well, she rarely understood those kinds of people.
“Presenting,” the herald repeated as the crowd had managed to still itself satisfactorily. “Three prisoners sentenced to death for various crimes, including the charge of High Treason.” These words the herald thundered down like an ancient god of the old world. “For which they have been found guilty.” Another pause as her voice echoed across the stone.
“Firstly, the former Commander General Gregor Hawthorne,” and at this the general was led up the scaffold and to the rightmost noose, which was pulled down around his neck. “Secondly, the Marchesa Gianna of House Forteza,” and she was marched to her position beside him. “And lastly, the former Bishop Inquisitor of Cavaline, Henry Lindell,” and the Snake was marched to the leftmost noose.
“The prisoners may now exercise their rights to speak their final words.” The herald gestured first to the General. He shook his head, his eyes hard as flint.
The Marchesa shouted out as the herald gestured to her. “History will remember us as heroes …” but Lucia could not hear the rest as the gathered crowd savagely booed her into silence.
Henry Lindell spoke not a word himself.
“Very well,” the herald said. She motioned the executioner to hood the three prisoners, and before Lucia could truly process what was happening, the lever was pulled. There were three sickening drops.
She watched as each and every one of them twitched and struggled for air. Slowly, their motions faded, and as they did, the demon knew her job had been done.
***
The funeral for the Duke of Fallmire was held eleven days later, on the morning of Midsummer. Lucia had delayed the event, feeling it was right to inter the Head of House Fallmire on that day. Perhaps she was delaying her own return to the Abyssal Dream; her return would come sooner or later, and she certainly didn’t wish to depart too soon. She was dreading it, in fact.
Every rumination she felt here on the world of Melodia would be magnified by that place. Her grief. Her sorrow. Her anger at the injustice of her lot. Nothing would stand between her and the heat of these consuming fires, and they would ravage her for as long as she remained in that place.
No, she did not want to return. But such actions only delayed her inevitable fate.
And fate would not let her forget it, for the time before the funeral sped on by, leaving Lucia aghast as that very morning dawned entirely too soon for comfort. She played her part at the service well, as her grief was all too real, and soon enough Talia’s body was returned to the earth, buried on a plot of land not far from the ruins of Fallmire house.
It was a beautiful day as she stood beneath Melodia’s sky, eyes still rimmed with tears as she read, and read again, the inscription on the headstone marking the final resting place of her heart.
Here Lies Talia Fallmire
Head and Founder of this House
Anno Calamitatis 1107 - 1137
Your Word was as a Burning Fire in my Bones
She closed her eyes. Now would be as good a time as any. Her mind reached along the old pathway, her ancient connection to the Abyssal Dream, forged when her soul was new.
She blinked, then opened her eyes again.
Nothing happened.
The sun shone above, and the trees far below swayed in the wind. This had never happened before. Every time, her contract completed, she would draw herself back to the Abyssal Dream. If she left it too long, the connection would force her back in agony.
But her connection to this place, to this world, had not been severed. And that could only mean one thing.
Her contract was not yet done.
But how could that be? Lucia looked around, waiting for any kind of explanation. The trees and the grass and the sun were not forthcoming. She raised a kerchief to her forehead, dabbing at her sweat. She didn’t understand …
And then, as across a great distance, Talia’s voice echoed in her mind, a ghost of the final night they spent together.
The greatest vengeance I could ever have upon the bastards who took my father from me … is my love for you.
A piece of the puzzle; but it still did not explain it fully. If Talia truly had changed the contract with those words … well, then, it would only be in force if that love was still possible. If Lucia and Talia could still be together.
Hope began to glow within the demon’s heart. But how … ?
And another piece came to her. The pendant, the final, bizarre gift Talia had given mere moments before her death. Lucia had kept it on her person almost instinctively, and she pulled it from her purse now, turning it over desperately, hoping to see something there to guide her forward.
“What’s that?”
Lucia started at the voice, but relaxed as she realized it belonged to Annalynn, the daughter of Walter and Raleigh. The girl had wandered back her way after the service, and now looked in curiosity at the pendant in Lucia’s hands.
“I … I’m not sure.” Lucia was truthful. “I think this is supposed to be important. This was something Talia gave me.”
“Oh, is it a Countess necklace?” Annalynn peered at the pendant. “I’ve read about those. You can hide something in them, and they’re supposed to be impossible to open unless you know the password.”
“What?” Lucia turned it over again. There was no hinge, no obvious way to open the tiny pendant.
“Here,” and Annalynn held out her hand to take it. Lucia passed it over warily, but the girl twisted it in her fingers like an expert jeweler.
“Aha, there we go! You see, the latch is hidden, here,” and as Annalynn spoke, Lucia saw the girl flip a tiny, hidden cover open. “From there … yep! What word do you think opens this one up?”
Gleaming under the sunlight, an impossibly tiny dial inscribed with nearly microscopic lettering tempted her with possibility.
Lucia took back the pendant, knowing already the seven letters that would open this final gift from Talia. The seven letters that formed the true name of the woman she loved. She spun the tiny dial carefully, stopping at each letter, and at the end …
Click.
The pendant fell open in her hands, and a folded slip of paper dropped out of it.
“I knew it!” Annalynn whooped. “That’s so cool! What does it say?”
Lucia laughed, feeling joy for the first time in forever, then shrugged. There didn’t seem any harm in reading out the note to the girl, so she did.
My Dearest Lucia,
If you are reading this, know that I am making three rather large assumptions. First, that I am dead at the hands of the Snake, Lindell. Second, that you have succeeded in fulfilling my vengeance against Lindell, Forteza, and Hawthorne. And third, that I have been successful in altering my contract with you. My greatest vengeance will and shall ever be my love for you.
If all three of these are true, then there is still hope. I am a selfish woman. I desire nothing less than both the satisfaction of my vengeance, and continued life and happiness with you, my beloved. The information I share here gives us a glimmer of a chance at the latter.
Seek out the following book with all haste: The Summoner’s Desire, by Iris Tertullian Rondel. I had a copy in my own personal collection, but sadly it has been destroyed in the fire along with the rest. This book, however, posits a theory of demonic summoning that would allow a human soul to survive after their death, assuming the true name of that soul is known. This soul could be summoned in the manner of any demon. To my best knowledge this theory is untested, but it remains our truest chance at happiness together.
Our future lies in your hands. I love you, I trust you, and I will see you again,
Your beloved,
Talia Lovelace