Chapter 78

Lua Nova

Both moons were full bright orbs in the sky. Ecko a brilliant iridescent blue, Luna a warm lustrous red. It was Lua Nova, the turning of a new year. As with Unionsday in the summer, it was a time when both moons were full, bathing the city of Epilas in bright moonslight.

A sailor had once tried to explain to a young Femira how complex the phases of the moons were and how they affected the great tides of the Altasjura seas. What she’d grasped was that the moons would both be full on different days depending on where you were in the world. So even though it was Lua Nova here in Epilas now, the northern reaches of Rubane would have already celebrated the turning of a new year a few days ago. And the people of Keiran wouldn’t celebrate it for maybe another few weeks.

That truth had awakened young Femira to the realisation that Lua Nova and Unionsday didn’t actually mean anything important. They were just days that people celebrated for no other reason than both moons were full. The temples tried to preach that they were gifts ordained by the gods, that there was meaning behind the cycles. But the truth was this was simply the way the natural world was. The only reason this day was special was because people decided that it was.

Knowing this didn’t mean that Femira couldn’t appreciate the beauty of both moons in their splendour. She stood dressed in her black uniform—the winter variant with a black overcoat. She looked up at the moons on the largest balcony in the Pillar. The twisting fountain behind her.

The city of Epilas sprawled out before her. The twinkling lights of gaslamps were still lit despite the moonslight providing ample illumination. Fireworks burst in fantastical plumes of colours. She could see the tiny dots of thousands of people revelling in the streets.

Despite the festivities, Lua Nova was a perilous time. The full moons working together made the Uniontide which drew back the sea for miles, revealing swathes of exposed shoreline. She could pick out tiny motes of light out in the bay where delvers risked the treacherous sea floor searching for pearls. When the tide came roaring back, Wavecallers would be manning the city coastwalls to guide away the strongest of the swells from the city. Flooding across the kingdom was the norm and many rural people travelled inland or to the cities for the festivals, and to avoid the floods.

She thought about how different her life was now compared to her past Lua Nova’s spent on the rooftops, taking advantage of the festivities to break into stores and homes. She turned to look up at the amassed highborn on the balcony and those milled into the galleries and halls in the Pillar. She hadn’t expected anything less for a night as important as Lua Nova.

Like many of the other guests present, Femira waited in anticipation for the arrival of the King and his family. It was no secret in the Pillar that the War Council had met earlier that afternoon. It was expected that the King would make a declaration at the feast. Festival be damned if it interferes with Abhran’s lust for war. Abhran likely thought the festival was the perfect timing to announce the invasion of a neighbouring nation with all his gathered subjects.

Femira made her way to the main gallery, deftly avoiding the various nobles that attempted to engage her in conversation. Garld had also wanted to discuss the mission to Keiran with her before the feast, and likely to discuss with her the outcome of the War Council. She found that she had little interest in speaking with him. A part of her still seethed at what he’d been doing. She wanted to find Landryn. She was hoping to pull him away from the festivities for a time so that she could talk to him about it.

Lemira spotted Landryn across a crowd of highborn. They were all less important than him. Everyone in the world was less important than him. He was handsome, dressed in a military style suit, black with silver trim. She couldn’t help but smirk when they met each other's eyes. Then she felt a spike in her heart as she noticed Rhianne with him. The raven-haired woman leaned into Landryn, snaking an arm around his torso, while talking to another noblewoman in their group. The woman looked frustratingly beautiful, dressed in a fine gold and blue dress, her hair falling in immaculate, waving curls.

The look Landryn gave Femira filled her with longing. Femira knew that he wanted to be next to her. She could feel it. There was the slightest sadness in Landryn’s expression and it wrenched at Femira’s heart.

Rhianne looked happy. The woman laughed at something someone in their group said and looked up at her husband. Landryn pulled his eyes from Femira and gave Rhianne a false, sympathetic smile.

In that moment, Femira had never felt more like a thief. She was a crook, and she’d stolen his heart… and she’d meant to. Even after she’d known that Landryn was married, she’d pursued him. Throughout all her years as a thief, Femira had never thought herself as doing something wrong.

Maybe… Am I… Am I a bad person?

The question had never drifted into her mind before. She always justified what she was doing. First, she’d stolen to eat, to cloth and shelter herself. After that, she’d stolen from the rich who had too much anyway. She’d stolen Annali’s name and hadn’t given six shits for what had happened to the woman… And now, what was she doing? She’d stolen Landryn’s heart… And she’d stolen lives… Selyn and Drad… The stormguards on that ship.

A knife sliding into an eye socket.

Why am I feeling this way? It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“You don’t look as though you’re enjoying the festivities,” Femira heard Vestyr’s voice pulling her from her train of thought. The Aeth youth wore a fine doublet of green and silver. His white curls were pinched back, exposing his elongated ears.

“Parties like this aren’t really my thing,” she replied, quietly.

“They do not celebrate Lua Nova where you are from?” His Aeth ears picking up her words despite them being barely a whisper in the din of celebration.

“They do… I just usually don’t.”

“I see,” Vestyr looked out across the crowds of colourful people, “it is very different to my home also. In Evier, Lua Nova is a much… quieter celebration.”

“I didn’t realise you were feeling homesick, Vestyr,” a feminine voice said. Femira turned to see Princess Allyn stepping towards them through the guests. The nobles parted, making way for her, bowing and flattering as she moved past.

“Lua Nova is important to my people, Princess,” Vestyr bowed, taking the girl’s hand and kissing it. Femira had learned enough to know when others bowed, she should too. “We sing the songs of Aldar to the moons,” Vestyr continued. “A tradition I have long enjoyed. This is my first Lua Nova away from the forests of my home. My father is likely leading the song of the winds right now.”

“You don’t speak of your family often,” Allyn replied.

“No,” he smiled sadly, “I suppose I don’t. My father is ‘First Whisperer of the Winds,’ a grandiose title but carries much weight with my people. My decision to come here… it didn’t sit well with him.”

“Well… I am glad that you are here,” Allyn said warmly.

Allyn turned to Femira and inclined her head respectfully.

“You look radiant, Princess Allyn,” Femira said, and genuinely meant it. The girl was dressed in a splendid dress of black slashed with white. It made her look simultaneously beautiful and strong. Femira would typically be judgmental of such an ostentatious dress but she liked Allyn. In no small part that was because of Landryn, and how highly he spoke of his sister. She was apparently a runewielder with phenomenal natural talent. She’ll be unstoppable when she becomes soulforged.

“Lady Annali,” Allyn greeted her with a warm smile though her eyes danced warily between the two, “I’ve not had the chance to express my gratitude to you for your recent accomplishments. You saved Landryn’s life as I understand it. You have my deepest thanks, he is very dear to me… He and Daegan both.” Femira noted that Annali did not mention her eldest brother Lukane.

“Landryn means a great deal to me as well,” Femira replied.

“As a friend, I’m sure.”

“Of course,” Femira returned the Princess’ knowing smile. Femira and Landryn’s growing relationship could only stay a secret for so long.

“My father will be making his announcement soon,” Allyn turned to Vestyr. “They’ve told me nothing but everyone here knows where this is going.”

“From what I gather,” Vestyr said, “this war is inevitable. Knight-Marshal Mattice, I hear, has already recalled the majority of his forces from the Reinish border.”

“Mattice’s forces will be the anvil,” Allyn offered.

“You’ve been reading Ayden,” Vestyr rose his eyebrows at the Princess.

“It is important for the eldest daughter to be familiar with military tactics,” Allyn shot back playfully, “and a broad stroke of interests is valuable… Lady Annali, what do you make of it?”

Allyn turned to her. It was a question that many of the highborn had been posing to her over the past few days. Garld had instructed her to be ambiguous when asked, that she would follow as the King decides. She didn’t think that Allyn would be satisfied with that nothing response. A part of her wanted the Princess to like her. Femira could recognise that was because of her relationship with Landryn.

“Truthfully,” Femira replied carefully, “I do not wish to see us at war with Rubane.”

“Really?” Allyn asked with surprise, “you do not wish to see vengeance for my brother’s death?” “It’s not that,” Femira replied, “forgive me, Princess, but I did not know your brother. I would like to see justice done for him—for yours and Landryn’s sakes… and for Daegan’s… But I do not think that an invasion of Rubane is that justice.”

“Are you not a bloodshedder?” Allyn asked, her interest piqued. “I would have thought the war was in your interest.”

“The bloodshedders are not about war. We’re about preventing it… protecting people. Not killing them.”

Allyn and Vestyr shared a confused look. The Princess opened her mouth to speak but then was distracted by trumpets sounding at the other end of the gallery. All heads in the room turned to the dais, upon which a plush throne-like chair sat raised above the guests.

The conversations in the hall died away as a man dressed in an ornate gold and black threaded suit arrived, flanked by a full dozen Royal guards. Even at a distance, Femira could see King Abhran’s resemblance to Landryn. She could make out the definitive shape of his jaw and his strong bearing. The King had a fierce gaze that he held over the amassed nobles. Any who were sitting, rose to standing as he made his way to his chair.

“My Lords,” King Abhran spoke, “you have my gratitude for joining us tonight. Many of you have travelled far for this year’s Lua Nova festivities. Even during such dark and grieving times, we must always celebrate the traditions of our country. I am grateful to all whom have expressed their condolences for the death of my son. Daegan’s murder is an insult against all of Reldon and our reprisal for this must reflect the power and might of all Reldon.” The nobles and military officers in attendance responded with aggressive affirmations, each trying to sound more emphatically patriotic than their peers.

Femira was watching Landryn as his father spoke. She noticed the crease in his forehead, the cracks of his grief showing through the mask on his face. Her heart ached with the desire to comfort him. He’s the only one really suffering here. She schooled the anger from her face. None of these people cared about Daegan Tredain. None of them loved him as Landryn had. They didn’t have the right to use his death as a means to further their own goals.

“We will bring back Arch-duke Edmund’s head on a spike, your Grace,” Femira heard Knight-Marshall Mattice declare from close to the dais.

“His city will burn,” Highlady Ingel’s voice could be heard above the clamour, “Rubane’s lands and resources will be claimed as tribute to the crown.”

“Your avarice for vengeance is admirable,” King Abhran raised his hands to the crowd's growing chorus, “I have met with the War Council and we have determined that the Duke’s of Rubane are to blame for this injustice. War with Rubane is an inevitability. As immutable as the great tides of the Altasjura, our retribution will wash over Rubane.”

There was raucous approval from those in the gallery. Femira met Landryn’s eyes, she could see the concern in them. This is not the fight we should be focused on.

“We sit upon the dawn of a new year,” Abhran continued. “Three hundred turnings of the stars since my ancestor founded this great nation. However it is not simply a new year that lies before us, but a new age for all of Reldon. I confirm here and now that we have re-discovered the ancient art of Soulforging. The power which gave the Sorcerer King’s of old their omnipotent and supreme rule of these lands is now ours to command.” There were audible gasps of surprise in the crowd followed by a tumultuous murmuring. So the secrets out then. She wondered how Garld felt about that. Femira glanced over at Landryn who was now making his way to the dais.

“We sit upon the precipice of greatness, my Lords,” Abhran continued. “Join us in celebration of our new era. You all know my son, Prince Landryn Tredain, Commander of our armies. Landryn is one of the first among us to become soulforged. The feats of his bloodshedders have become renowned across our nation.” Femira felt her stomach clench in a knot.

“The soulforged will be the spearhead that we drive into the heart of Rubane,” Abhran declared. “It is time for the world to see our power. The soulforged will instil fear into the hearts of our enemies, they will be the sword by which this world will bow. However, the crown is not without mercy. My enmity is for the Dukes of Rubane and I do not wish for needless bloodshed. I will be content with annihilating the Duke’s and their rule, but the people of Rubane need not suffer for the actions of their maladroit leadership.” How very magnanimous of you. Femira thought bitterly.

Abhran had no care for the people of Rubane, tens of thousands would die in an outright war with Rubane. This wasn’t a tiny island-nation like Altarea. This was a large-scale invasion of a massive country. Femira felt nausea rising in her at the thought of the amount of people that would die because of this decision. She fixed her gaze on Landryn. Say something! Stop this! Femira pleaded in her mind.

Landryn stood up onto the raised platform and stood next to his father’s throne.

“It is with a heavy heart that I issue this charge,” Landryn started. “The Dukes of Rubane have plotted and murdered my brother Prince Daegan Tredain in attempts to sow sedition within our borders. Under the authority of my father, King Abhran the First; I declare war upon the nation of Rubane. From this day forth, all Rubanian peoples are considered enemies of the crown. The Arch-Duke Edmund must be de-throned and the lands of his Dukes surrendered to Reldon.”