12. The Price of Power #4
“Be that as it may, if you walk from this chamber now, you will be single-handedly destroying an order that has stood for almost three thousand years. I will personally send the missives that the Draleid have betrayed us and turned against the word of the council. I swear it by Varyn.”
“Enough!”
All heads turned to Alvira.
“We are not children, and we will not act like it. This is not a game of our egos, this is the balance of thousands of souls, and we will give it the respect it deserves.” She looked around at the councillors. “This is truly the decision of the council?”
Matharius looked back at her. “It is. And not a word of this is to leave this chamber.”
“Very well. Draleid, with me.” Alvira strode past through the group of councillors, not even feigning to slow when one stepped in her path.
When she reached Eltoar and he made to speak, she cut him off with a swift, “Not here.”
The First Sword cast Aeson a glance, then strode after the Archon.
Alvira stepped into her chambers and heard Eltoar close the door behind them.
“What in the gods was that, Alvira?” Eltoar snapped in a hushed voice. “Are we truly going to just stand by and let Orinhale burn?”
“Yes.” Alvira moved to the arched window that looked out over the central courtyard.
His footsteps behind her came to an abrupt halt. “Surely I have misheard. Did that word truly just leave your lips?”
Alvira clenched her jaw for a moment, trying to still the anger that held her gut in its grasp. She drew a long breath, feeling Vyldrar’s warmth spread through her. “What do you want from me, Eltoar?”
“More!” he shouted, his hands shaking.
Alvira kept her voice low and level. “And what would you do in my stead then? Take to wing against the council’s decision? Save Orinhale but doom hundreds of thousands to inevitable war and death? Is that your solution?”
“So you agree with them?” Eltoar snapped.
“No I don’t fucking agree with them!” Alvira roared back, finally losing her grasp on her temper.
She drew a sharp breath, pulling herself back.
“Of course I don’t agree with them. Can you not see that?
Time and time again, I try to show you how it is not as simple as you would paint it to be.
I know the council are far from perfect.
I know it. But they are our tether to the souls we swear to protect – they are the voice of the people.
If we ignore them and enforce our will on Epheria just because we are stronger, if we simply do whatever it is we please, how are we anything more than tyrants? ”
When Eltoar didn’t answer her, Alvira strode across the room, opened her cabinet, and produced a bottle of wine along with two cups. She filled them with two hefty pours, handed one to Eltoar, then stood by the window.
“Look at them,” she said, gazing out over Ilnaen.
“Hundreds of thousands of souls, asleep in their beds or drowning themselves in the inns. If we wished it, we could burn every one of them alive, and they would die never knowing why, never even having a chance. Some of them wouldn’t even wake while the flames burned their souls from the world. ”
Alvira sipped at her wine as she spoke, not turning back to Eltoar.
“Alvira?” Footsteps sounded on stone as Eltoar drew closer, his tone shifting entirely. “A question of the heart?”
Alvira turned to face him. “Having this power, Eltoar, comes with needing to make choices that tear at my soul. Impossible choices. Our position is both simple and untenable – no matter which path we choose, people will die. We are not fisherman deciding whether or not to turn in for the day, not farmers choosing which crop to plant. We are Draleid. We possess the power to end wars in an instant, the power to level cities, the power to do whatever we want.” She took a long draught of her wine and moved so she stood only inches from Eltoar.
“But the moment we choose to use our power in that way is the moment we do not deserve to hold it.”
“We can’t just let those people die,” Eltoar said, shaking his head.
“I already hear screams every night, see the faces of those I failed to save, see their bones in the ashes. I can live with death, Alvira. I can live with the cost of war. But the cost of knowing that people died because I did nothing…”
“The world has a way of mocking us, doesn’t it?
” She said, a painful smile on her lips.
“Almost a century ago I said almost those exact words and now you repeat them to me. I have learned much of the world since that day at Vastillion. If this was a simple thing, anyone could stand where we stand. But it is not.” She let out a soft sigh.
“I do not know if this is the right choice. I only know that it is the choice the council have made, and we must make the best from it. Their concerns are not without merit. We must make friends in Lunithír and Kavathíl. We must separate Aerilon’s strength so that they do not swing so large a sword.
We must act so that this cannot happen again. ”