Fic Update: "Good Neighbors"
Jan. 30th, 2010 02:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mark_asphodelFire Emblem fans have this impulse to cross over the game continents. I've seen Elibe/Magvel, Elibe/Tellius, Archanea/Tellius, and so forth. Now, there really are two game continents that exist on the same planet, in the same timeline, with canonical ties, but one of them is not terribly popular and the other is downright obscure. While Archanea and Valencia appear to share the same language, they offer completely different mythologies, magic systems, and an entirely different "feel" all around. It's a situation ripe for exploitation if you're so inclined.
FFnet is being a pain tonight, so I'll upload it here. Spoilers for FE2, plus all kinds of cross-references between the games. I don't think a reader needs to know either world intimately to get the story, but understanding the references adds a layer of meaning.
Good Neighbors
In which Alm and Cellica learn the true cost of bread.
When the chains of the gods are broken there is celebration. No longer will the dark gaze of Lord Doma spur the people of Rigel toward harsh acts undeterred by mercy; no longer will the soft heart of Lady Mila enable the people of Sofia to live in pleasure without thought to consequence. The gods have fallen into sleep, and the new rulers of this united land of Valencia promise justice tempered by mercy, charity infused with responsibility. The Valencian people turn away from the battle and look upon a world unfamiliar to their eyes. The great fortresses of Rigel no longer seem as tall or imposing, and the fields of Sofia no longer appear as lush and green. Valencia is a land torn by war and the raids of unnatural creatures, and the once-fertile lands of Sofia have already seen three years of bare earth and famine.
Yet they persevere. Men and women who once called themselves “Rigelian” or “Sofian” now work side-by-side in the fields and towns, and for every citizen who learns the value of a day’s honest work, another learns the beauty of compassion. No hands are idle now; too many who would have been able workers are lost to the war. The young rulers of Valencia make themselves a focus of the struggle-- King Alm leads his men against bandits, while Queen Cellica distributes food to the poor in the temples. Cellica dances as Mila once danced, at the planting and the harvest, and she leads the people in prayers that each year will be better than the one before. And these are good years, years of struggle that forge the identity of the new kingdom-- one Valencia, proud and united. Men of the north and the south alike swear to Doma and Mila in one breath, and the slumbering gods are a source of comfort, not corruption.
*
And yet, four years after the defeat of the gods, the truth seems inescapable. The land will never return to the state of abundance it enjoyed in the time of Mila’s rule. Yields are down, even in good years, as though the earth itself cannot produce what it once bore so easily. Not every harvest, for that matter, is good, and some crops that flourished under Mila’s care now simply will not grow. The earth is too wet, or too dry, or too sandy, or too full of clay, and the things the people of Sofia once took for granted can now only be obtained with great effort-- when they are obtained at all.
Alm and Cellica look to the half-empty granaries and turn to one another with the same thought: “Our people must have bread.” They cannot wait for the land to heal itself-- if they do not act, more will starve. It is not enough to tell the people of Rigel, “You must give to your neighbor what you desire for yourself,” as there is not enough to go around. It is not enough to say to the men and women of Sofia, “You must now learn the meaning of toil,” for the toil is exerted to little end. The hardscrabble Kingdom of Jesse, set among the barren dunes east of Sofia, can offer them nothing. Help, if it comes, must come from outside Valencia entirely, and Alm and Cellica turn to their neighbor across the seas, to the mysterious land of Archanea, known to them through a few contradictory accounts. It is a hard land, more difficult to till than Rigel. It is a beautiful land, with rich soils to rival Sofia under Mila’s care and vast plains of ripening grain. It is a frightening land, the birthplace of dragons, seared by one war after another. All they know for certain is that Archanea is larger than Valencia, and there surely must be something it can offer them.
Alm drafts a letter, with Cellica keeping one eye on her husband’s wording-- their initial contact with the Archanean ruler was marred by some misunderstandings over language, and Cellica wishes to avoid a repeat of the incident. Alm, for his part, writes the plea to be urgent but not desperate; he cannot allow Valencia to be weak before this little-known foreign power. All they ask for is grain; the sweet fruits that once hung from every Sofian tree are sorely missed, but bread is a necessity. The king of Archanea sends a swift reply, saying he will gladly spare what he can, and asking only a minor favor in return. While his northern realms bear grain, his own southern lands have poor, thin soil, and he is interested in new crops that might do well in these regions. The hardy root crops native to Rigel, which flourish even without Mila’s blessings, might be the answer, he writes. It seems a small request, one that can be met without hardship, and the Valencian rulers agree.
The first three ships from Archanea come to Port Sofia laden with grain, wheat and rice both, and leave port high in the water, with but a few things as cargo. Cellica personally blesses the precious samples: sacks of the root vegetables that sustain the people of Rigel, as well as the Three Daughters of Mila-- maize, hard squash, and climbing beans. Cellica adds some garlands of dried peppers, and a few strings of seeds, and hopes that this will be a pleasing gift to the king across the water. Perhaps the Three Daughters will not grow in a land unblessed by Mila’s footsteps, but something must surely take root in far-off Archanea.
Alm and Cellica distribute the foreign grain in the temples and the village squares. Their people are bemused, at first, by these gifts from overseas-- they say that bread from wheat has a strange and springy texture, and that porridge from rice has no taste. But a full belly is a full belly, and there are no complaints when the next ships come from the east. Cellica, anxious to repay their new trading partner for his kindness, shears her alpaca herd of their precious wool and sends two sacks of that on the return voyage. So it goes for several years, until Cellica’s imaginative gifts become part of an established practice-- wheat in exchange for wool, rice for the sugarcane that still grows easily in the wettest parts of Sofia. Once a steady rhythm of trade is established, the arrival of the Archeanean vessels becomes less about survival and more about desire, and the ships come with blown glass and exquisite metalwork alongside the sacks of grain. Port Sofia grows wealthy again thanks to the new trade route, and the children of the port line the docks whenever the great “treasure ships” appear on the horizon. The flow of commerce attracts less innocent attention, though-- pirates of the southern waters find the treasure ships an irresistible temptation, and many ships and lives are lost to the brigands. But pirates, like mosquitoes, are a fact of life in Valencia, and Alm and Cellica apply themselves to other worries.
One spring morning, after the winter storms have subsided, the first treasure ship of the season is greeted by brigands; a red-sailed pirate ship gives chase to the Archanean vessel within sight of Port Sofia. The children of Port Sofia, swarmed upon the docks, hold their breaths in anticipation of the battle. Long before the pirate ship can draw in close enough to board the merchant vessel, it bursts into flame. The buildings of Port Sofia empty as those of all ages stream out to the waterfront to watch the pillar of fire and streaming smoke. The pirate ship burns to the waterline; Archanean sailors rescue the survivors and bring them to Port Sofia for their punishment.
The royal court, residing at Sofia Castle, reacts with horror to the incident. Alm summons the Archanean captain and demands to know what sort of magic they possess that can set a ship aflame from so great a distance-- beyond the range of the most powerful spells or weapons know to Alm or Cellica.
“Holy fire,” is all the captain will say. He will answer any other question-- his birthplace (Talys), his length of service (four years), his personal situation (married with two young children), but he will not explain the Holy Fire. Alm’s men search the ship, and find nothing more unusual than some very large bows and a number of oversized arrows. Though unsatisfied by these clues, Alm lets the foreign captain free with the warning that he and his Holy Fire are not welcome in Alm’s waters.
“Irregardless of pirate attacks.”
“Regardless, dear.”
Alm composes a letter (a little heated and a little hasty, it must be said) to the Archanean ruler, demanding to know what terrible sort of weapon this Holy Fire is, and how anyone could devise such a thing. Cellica lies awake at night, imagining the pretty seaside towns of Sofia ravaged by columns of fire hurled by ships far from the coast. Several weeks pass before a pegasus knight in Archanean uniform brings a terse response to Alm’s letter.
“Ask your General Zeke.”
*
“The land of my youth,” begins the general, who takes great care with his words so as to never say too much, “employed a variety of mobile siege engines, both offensive and defensive. I imagine that Archanea has taken the concept and improved upon it.”
Alm questions his foreign-born general for hours to scrape up all the information he can about “mobile siege engines,” whatever those might be. Zeke produces a few drawings of these engines, unwieldy devices built around what appear to be tremendous bows fitted with equally large arrows. Alm stares at the drawings, thinks of the reports of the men who searched the Archanean ship, and begins to feel something beyond apprehension.
“Can these engines hurl fire?”
“Fire, thunderbolts, large stones and other projectiles. If memory serves,” replies Zeke.
That settles the question for Alm; he looks again at the drawings of the siege engines, which evoke in him the same sort of horror he felt at the sight of Lord Doma’s monsters. There is something about these machines that is simply unnatural.
Cellica writes the letter this time, an extensive plea to the Archanean ruler that he not continue with these terrible weapons.
“I know you have a just heart, for my own dear companions Palla and Catria serve you faithfully, but please consider what has been unleashed. We of Valencia found pride in strength and wealth, and suffered for our arrogance. If we now know peace, it is only through our humility... the wise among us speak of the day when mankind will grow arrogant again in its misplaced pride, of a day when the flames of conflict will scorch our fragile land. Do not be the one to hasten that day.”
Cellica suffers from sleepless nights while she awaits the reply from across the vast waters. The letter in response, when it comes, is lengthy and considered, with flashes of humor and even poetry. Yet its overall message chills Cellica, for it voices her own fears for the future in terms of the inevitable.
“Nothing is permanent. Our intentions are nothing before the will of the gods. I have seen good men used and broken, for no earthly purpose, to please the whims of heaven. I do what I must to protect my people, and if these defenses are to be turned against me in the end, then this also....”
“Must be fate,” Cellica says aloud.
When the next treasure ships draw close to Port Sofia, a squadron of pegasus knights forms a barricade across the harbor, and the squadron’s captain tells the foreigners that King Alm and Queen Cellica have forbidden Archanean vessels to dock. The ships turn and sail away without protest, though the townspeople of the port shout their disappointment at Alm’s knights as the squadron flies inland. But the will of the king and queen is absolute-- they will not deal with those who use such terrible weapons. Valencia has recovered from the wars, and they do not need foreign gifts any longer to survive or to know happiness. They will thrive without the wheat and the rice, the glass baubles and metal ornaments.
Cellica still dances before her people when the new seeds are planted, dances as Mila once danced, but though the next year’s yield is strong, it still is not enough. The Three Daughters of Mila cannot suffice for the many, many daughters and sons born since the war’s end. Meanwhile, Alm’s agents report to the king that the potent liquor the Archaneans distill from Valencian sugarcane can still be found in markets throughout eastern Sofia.
“It’s coming from the Kingdom of Jesse, Your Highness.”
So Alm learns that, in spite of his principled boycott, his neighbor who rules the desert to the northeast of Port Sofia has no qualms about doing business with Archanea, regardless of the terrible weapons. Cellica attempts to have a dialogue with King Jesse, only to be met with a blunt response: “We need the money.”
“Money for what? I don’t understand,” says Alm.
“They buy the liquor from Archanea because they like it, apparently, and then resell it to our own merchants to earn enough money to buy more liquor. I’m not entirely sure how that works for Jesse.”
They don’t have much energy to spare for the bizarre and unethical finances of Jesse and his barren kingdom. With the granaries only three-quarters full, and the priests forecasting a severe winter, Alm and Cellica realize that, once more, they have only one choice to make on behalf of their people.
“I will ask Zeke to build us one of these fire-machines. We should be able to defend ourselves,” Alm says, though he cannot look at Cellica while he says the words. Cellica cups her hands around his face and looks deeply into his eyes.
“We cannot be servants to our fear.”
“No. We will not be servants to fear,” Alm agrees.
The Holy King and Queen of United Valencia will agree to blind themselves to Holy Fire, if only for the sake of their people. So the treasure-ships from the east return, the pirates make their raids, and the children of Port Sofia pack the docks in hopes of another spectacular battle. Alm looks over his yearly revenue and sees that fewer farmers struggle with delicate crops; far easier to raise a herd of alpaca and send the wool overseas, or to grow a stand of sugarcane and sell that to Archaneans who gladly exchange grain for sweets. Cellica says her prayers and lives with her visions of the Sofian coastline ravaged by flames. For Cellica, like all those who called Sofia their home before the lands were joined, knows keenly the sense of having a powerful neighbor looming ever on the horizon. And this neighbor is as alien and terrifying as ever Rigel was-- Archanea, where beautiful women ride winged dragons through the skies, where the streets are lit by magical lanterns that give light but no heat and thus cannot cause fires, where great towers harness the winds to grind wheat into meal. Archanea, that buys up the raw materials of Valencia, fashions them into matchless luxuries, and sells the product back to Valencians at a price three times higher.
Though the boycott has failed, the king and queen try, as they always have, to set an example for their people. Cellica allows only wholesome Valencian maize to be served at the royal table, but the young people in the towns whose pockets are now lined in gold want the soft, white bread made of Archanean flour. Alm drinks toasts using the fermented juice of the agave, but his people buy vats of imported wine and the sugarcane liquor. The royal children wear clothing fashioned by the most talented weavers and tailors in the kingdom, but their peers beyond the castle walls buy expensive cloth woven on Archanean looms out of Valencian wool. Alm raises taxes on the pre-milled flour, on wine and liquor, on woven cloth, but those who can afford the taxes continue to buy what they please, while those who cannot let up a cry about abuse of the lower classes. So the taxes creep down, and the ships bring white flour and red wine and beautiful fabrics. And the merchants of Port Sofia raise their crystal glasses of sweet “Aurelian white” and sour “Macedonian red” in a toast to King Alm for his business sense.
Eventually, the pirates have enough of Holy Fire, and seek easier targets elsewhere on the seas. They tarried too long in their original course, for an entire generation of Valencian youth has served as a witness to wartime horror, viewed at a remove and so viewed as entertainment. Young mages set fire to toy boats to amuse their companions, and the staged burning of a “pirate ship” becomes, much to Cellica’s dismay, a component of the harvest festival in many villages.
Even as she dances, Cellica sees, in her mind’s eye, the columns of flame upon the water, spreading up and out to consume the entire coastline.
*
The next formal round of trade negotiations goes poorly for Valencia. They are dealing now with the king’s new chancellor, and it seems he has taken offense over the boycott. Cellica looks at the terms of the agreement and remembers the meager strings of seeds and peppers that made Valencia’s first export to Archanea. If she had only known then the true cost of that trade-- three ships of grain for a wreath of peppers!-- but then, as now, her people need bread. They want the fine cloth and the wine and the liquor, the baubles and ornaments, but they will always need bread. Alm and Cellica, despite the grave doubts in their heart, affix their signatures to the new trade agreement. With each passing year, they find themselves obliged to give up more and more to keep their people in the state to which they’ve all become accustomed; when Cellica hears herself compared to divine Lady Mila, regret grips her heart.
In the end, they have but one offering left to send east-- their only daughter. Love and affection united Sofia to Rigel, so perhaps such magic can be worked again, and keep that terrible fire from Valencia’s shores. As Cellica watches her child wave farewell from the deck of the sleek ship flying the azure banner of Archanea, she hears an echo from a long-ago letter, the faint call of a voice she has only ever heard in her imagination.
“This, also, must be fate.”
As difficult as it was to break the chains of the gods, humans ever find a way to shackle themselves anew.
***
Yes, I did just spent three thousand words on an imaginary intercontinental trade dispute. Some context: this is part of my series of interconnected FE2/3/DS stories, “Tales of the Unified Kingdom,” and ties in pretty closely to both “By Any Other Name” and “Homecomings,” both of which show post-war Archanea and its neato innovations like the siege engines, windmills, and so on. The parallel between Rigel/Sofia and Archanea/Valencia was something I couldn’t keep away from... though you can read this as a metaphor for the popularity of the relevant games. The whole Old World/New World dichotomy is my own spin on the continents.
PS: For those of you who’ve read “Homecomings,” I’ll just say this-- Valencia also exports malaria to Archanea. So there.
ETA: "Cellica" is not an available choice in the ffnet drop-down character list. This must be corrected, post-haste.
FFnet is being a pain tonight, so I'll upload it here. Spoilers for FE2, plus all kinds of cross-references between the games. I don't think a reader needs to know either world intimately to get the story, but understanding the references adds a layer of meaning.
Good Neighbors
In which Alm and Cellica learn the true cost of bread.
When the chains of the gods are broken there is celebration. No longer will the dark gaze of Lord Doma spur the people of Rigel toward harsh acts undeterred by mercy; no longer will the soft heart of Lady Mila enable the people of Sofia to live in pleasure without thought to consequence. The gods have fallen into sleep, and the new rulers of this united land of Valencia promise justice tempered by mercy, charity infused with responsibility. The Valencian people turn away from the battle and look upon a world unfamiliar to their eyes. The great fortresses of Rigel no longer seem as tall or imposing, and the fields of Sofia no longer appear as lush and green. Valencia is a land torn by war and the raids of unnatural creatures, and the once-fertile lands of Sofia have already seen three years of bare earth and famine.
Yet they persevere. Men and women who once called themselves “Rigelian” or “Sofian” now work side-by-side in the fields and towns, and for every citizen who learns the value of a day’s honest work, another learns the beauty of compassion. No hands are idle now; too many who would have been able workers are lost to the war. The young rulers of Valencia make themselves a focus of the struggle-- King Alm leads his men against bandits, while Queen Cellica distributes food to the poor in the temples. Cellica dances as Mila once danced, at the planting and the harvest, and she leads the people in prayers that each year will be better than the one before. And these are good years, years of struggle that forge the identity of the new kingdom-- one Valencia, proud and united. Men of the north and the south alike swear to Doma and Mila in one breath, and the slumbering gods are a source of comfort, not corruption.
*
And yet, four years after the defeat of the gods, the truth seems inescapable. The land will never return to the state of abundance it enjoyed in the time of Mila’s rule. Yields are down, even in good years, as though the earth itself cannot produce what it once bore so easily. Not every harvest, for that matter, is good, and some crops that flourished under Mila’s care now simply will not grow. The earth is too wet, or too dry, or too sandy, or too full of clay, and the things the people of Sofia once took for granted can now only be obtained with great effort-- when they are obtained at all.
Alm and Cellica look to the half-empty granaries and turn to one another with the same thought: “Our people must have bread.” They cannot wait for the land to heal itself-- if they do not act, more will starve. It is not enough to tell the people of Rigel, “You must give to your neighbor what you desire for yourself,” as there is not enough to go around. It is not enough to say to the men and women of Sofia, “You must now learn the meaning of toil,” for the toil is exerted to little end. The hardscrabble Kingdom of Jesse, set among the barren dunes east of Sofia, can offer them nothing. Help, if it comes, must come from outside Valencia entirely, and Alm and Cellica turn to their neighbor across the seas, to the mysterious land of Archanea, known to them through a few contradictory accounts. It is a hard land, more difficult to till than Rigel. It is a beautiful land, with rich soils to rival Sofia under Mila’s care and vast plains of ripening grain. It is a frightening land, the birthplace of dragons, seared by one war after another. All they know for certain is that Archanea is larger than Valencia, and there surely must be something it can offer them.
Alm drafts a letter, with Cellica keeping one eye on her husband’s wording-- their initial contact with the Archanean ruler was marred by some misunderstandings over language, and Cellica wishes to avoid a repeat of the incident. Alm, for his part, writes the plea to be urgent but not desperate; he cannot allow Valencia to be weak before this little-known foreign power. All they ask for is grain; the sweet fruits that once hung from every Sofian tree are sorely missed, but bread is a necessity. The king of Archanea sends a swift reply, saying he will gladly spare what he can, and asking only a minor favor in return. While his northern realms bear grain, his own southern lands have poor, thin soil, and he is interested in new crops that might do well in these regions. The hardy root crops native to Rigel, which flourish even without Mila’s blessings, might be the answer, he writes. It seems a small request, one that can be met without hardship, and the Valencian rulers agree.
The first three ships from Archanea come to Port Sofia laden with grain, wheat and rice both, and leave port high in the water, with but a few things as cargo. Cellica personally blesses the precious samples: sacks of the root vegetables that sustain the people of Rigel, as well as the Three Daughters of Mila-- maize, hard squash, and climbing beans. Cellica adds some garlands of dried peppers, and a few strings of seeds, and hopes that this will be a pleasing gift to the king across the water. Perhaps the Three Daughters will not grow in a land unblessed by Mila’s footsteps, but something must surely take root in far-off Archanea.
Alm and Cellica distribute the foreign grain in the temples and the village squares. Their people are bemused, at first, by these gifts from overseas-- they say that bread from wheat has a strange and springy texture, and that porridge from rice has no taste. But a full belly is a full belly, and there are no complaints when the next ships come from the east. Cellica, anxious to repay their new trading partner for his kindness, shears her alpaca herd of their precious wool and sends two sacks of that on the return voyage. So it goes for several years, until Cellica’s imaginative gifts become part of an established practice-- wheat in exchange for wool, rice for the sugarcane that still grows easily in the wettest parts of Sofia. Once a steady rhythm of trade is established, the arrival of the Archeanean vessels becomes less about survival and more about desire, and the ships come with blown glass and exquisite metalwork alongside the sacks of grain. Port Sofia grows wealthy again thanks to the new trade route, and the children of the port line the docks whenever the great “treasure ships” appear on the horizon. The flow of commerce attracts less innocent attention, though-- pirates of the southern waters find the treasure ships an irresistible temptation, and many ships and lives are lost to the brigands. But pirates, like mosquitoes, are a fact of life in Valencia, and Alm and Cellica apply themselves to other worries.
One spring morning, after the winter storms have subsided, the first treasure ship of the season is greeted by brigands; a red-sailed pirate ship gives chase to the Archanean vessel within sight of Port Sofia. The children of Port Sofia, swarmed upon the docks, hold their breaths in anticipation of the battle. Long before the pirate ship can draw in close enough to board the merchant vessel, it bursts into flame. The buildings of Port Sofia empty as those of all ages stream out to the waterfront to watch the pillar of fire and streaming smoke. The pirate ship burns to the waterline; Archanean sailors rescue the survivors and bring them to Port Sofia for their punishment.
The royal court, residing at Sofia Castle, reacts with horror to the incident. Alm summons the Archanean captain and demands to know what sort of magic they possess that can set a ship aflame from so great a distance-- beyond the range of the most powerful spells or weapons know to Alm or Cellica.
“Holy fire,” is all the captain will say. He will answer any other question-- his birthplace (Talys), his length of service (four years), his personal situation (married with two young children), but he will not explain the Holy Fire. Alm’s men search the ship, and find nothing more unusual than some very large bows and a number of oversized arrows. Though unsatisfied by these clues, Alm lets the foreign captain free with the warning that he and his Holy Fire are not welcome in Alm’s waters.
“Irregardless of pirate attacks.”
“Regardless, dear.”
Alm composes a letter (a little heated and a little hasty, it must be said) to the Archanean ruler, demanding to know what terrible sort of weapon this Holy Fire is, and how anyone could devise such a thing. Cellica lies awake at night, imagining the pretty seaside towns of Sofia ravaged by columns of fire hurled by ships far from the coast. Several weeks pass before a pegasus knight in Archanean uniform brings a terse response to Alm’s letter.
“Ask your General Zeke.”
*
“The land of my youth,” begins the general, who takes great care with his words so as to never say too much, “employed a variety of mobile siege engines, both offensive and defensive. I imagine that Archanea has taken the concept and improved upon it.”
Alm questions his foreign-born general for hours to scrape up all the information he can about “mobile siege engines,” whatever those might be. Zeke produces a few drawings of these engines, unwieldy devices built around what appear to be tremendous bows fitted with equally large arrows. Alm stares at the drawings, thinks of the reports of the men who searched the Archanean ship, and begins to feel something beyond apprehension.
“Can these engines hurl fire?”
“Fire, thunderbolts, large stones and other projectiles. If memory serves,” replies Zeke.
That settles the question for Alm; he looks again at the drawings of the siege engines, which evoke in him the same sort of horror he felt at the sight of Lord Doma’s monsters. There is something about these machines that is simply unnatural.
Cellica writes the letter this time, an extensive plea to the Archanean ruler that he not continue with these terrible weapons.
“I know you have a just heart, for my own dear companions Palla and Catria serve you faithfully, but please consider what has been unleashed. We of Valencia found pride in strength and wealth, and suffered for our arrogance. If we now know peace, it is only through our humility... the wise among us speak of the day when mankind will grow arrogant again in its misplaced pride, of a day when the flames of conflict will scorch our fragile land. Do not be the one to hasten that day.”
Cellica suffers from sleepless nights while she awaits the reply from across the vast waters. The letter in response, when it comes, is lengthy and considered, with flashes of humor and even poetry. Yet its overall message chills Cellica, for it voices her own fears for the future in terms of the inevitable.
“Nothing is permanent. Our intentions are nothing before the will of the gods. I have seen good men used and broken, for no earthly purpose, to please the whims of heaven. I do what I must to protect my people, and if these defenses are to be turned against me in the end, then this also....”
“Must be fate,” Cellica says aloud.
When the next treasure ships draw close to Port Sofia, a squadron of pegasus knights forms a barricade across the harbor, and the squadron’s captain tells the foreigners that King Alm and Queen Cellica have forbidden Archanean vessels to dock. The ships turn and sail away without protest, though the townspeople of the port shout their disappointment at Alm’s knights as the squadron flies inland. But the will of the king and queen is absolute-- they will not deal with those who use such terrible weapons. Valencia has recovered from the wars, and they do not need foreign gifts any longer to survive or to know happiness. They will thrive without the wheat and the rice, the glass baubles and metal ornaments.
Cellica still dances before her people when the new seeds are planted, dances as Mila once danced, but though the next year’s yield is strong, it still is not enough. The Three Daughters of Mila cannot suffice for the many, many daughters and sons born since the war’s end. Meanwhile, Alm’s agents report to the king that the potent liquor the Archaneans distill from Valencian sugarcane can still be found in markets throughout eastern Sofia.
“It’s coming from the Kingdom of Jesse, Your Highness.”
So Alm learns that, in spite of his principled boycott, his neighbor who rules the desert to the northeast of Port Sofia has no qualms about doing business with Archanea, regardless of the terrible weapons. Cellica attempts to have a dialogue with King Jesse, only to be met with a blunt response: “We need the money.”
“Money for what? I don’t understand,” says Alm.
“They buy the liquor from Archanea because they like it, apparently, and then resell it to our own merchants to earn enough money to buy more liquor. I’m not entirely sure how that works for Jesse.”
They don’t have much energy to spare for the bizarre and unethical finances of Jesse and his barren kingdom. With the granaries only three-quarters full, and the priests forecasting a severe winter, Alm and Cellica realize that, once more, they have only one choice to make on behalf of their people.
“I will ask Zeke to build us one of these fire-machines. We should be able to defend ourselves,” Alm says, though he cannot look at Cellica while he says the words. Cellica cups her hands around his face and looks deeply into his eyes.
“We cannot be servants to our fear.”
“No. We will not be servants to fear,” Alm agrees.
The Holy King and Queen of United Valencia will agree to blind themselves to Holy Fire, if only for the sake of their people. So the treasure-ships from the east return, the pirates make their raids, and the children of Port Sofia pack the docks in hopes of another spectacular battle. Alm looks over his yearly revenue and sees that fewer farmers struggle with delicate crops; far easier to raise a herd of alpaca and send the wool overseas, or to grow a stand of sugarcane and sell that to Archaneans who gladly exchange grain for sweets. Cellica says her prayers and lives with her visions of the Sofian coastline ravaged by flames. For Cellica, like all those who called Sofia their home before the lands were joined, knows keenly the sense of having a powerful neighbor looming ever on the horizon. And this neighbor is as alien and terrifying as ever Rigel was-- Archanea, where beautiful women ride winged dragons through the skies, where the streets are lit by magical lanterns that give light but no heat and thus cannot cause fires, where great towers harness the winds to grind wheat into meal. Archanea, that buys up the raw materials of Valencia, fashions them into matchless luxuries, and sells the product back to Valencians at a price three times higher.
Though the boycott has failed, the king and queen try, as they always have, to set an example for their people. Cellica allows only wholesome Valencian maize to be served at the royal table, but the young people in the towns whose pockets are now lined in gold want the soft, white bread made of Archanean flour. Alm drinks toasts using the fermented juice of the agave, but his people buy vats of imported wine and the sugarcane liquor. The royal children wear clothing fashioned by the most talented weavers and tailors in the kingdom, but their peers beyond the castle walls buy expensive cloth woven on Archanean looms out of Valencian wool. Alm raises taxes on the pre-milled flour, on wine and liquor, on woven cloth, but those who can afford the taxes continue to buy what they please, while those who cannot let up a cry about abuse of the lower classes. So the taxes creep down, and the ships bring white flour and red wine and beautiful fabrics. And the merchants of Port Sofia raise their crystal glasses of sweet “Aurelian white” and sour “Macedonian red” in a toast to King Alm for his business sense.
Eventually, the pirates have enough of Holy Fire, and seek easier targets elsewhere on the seas. They tarried too long in their original course, for an entire generation of Valencian youth has served as a witness to wartime horror, viewed at a remove and so viewed as entertainment. Young mages set fire to toy boats to amuse their companions, and the staged burning of a “pirate ship” becomes, much to Cellica’s dismay, a component of the harvest festival in many villages.
Even as she dances, Cellica sees, in her mind’s eye, the columns of flame upon the water, spreading up and out to consume the entire coastline.
*
The next formal round of trade negotiations goes poorly for Valencia. They are dealing now with the king’s new chancellor, and it seems he has taken offense over the boycott. Cellica looks at the terms of the agreement and remembers the meager strings of seeds and peppers that made Valencia’s first export to Archanea. If she had only known then the true cost of that trade-- three ships of grain for a wreath of peppers!-- but then, as now, her people need bread. They want the fine cloth and the wine and the liquor, the baubles and ornaments, but they will always need bread. Alm and Cellica, despite the grave doubts in their heart, affix their signatures to the new trade agreement. With each passing year, they find themselves obliged to give up more and more to keep their people in the state to which they’ve all become accustomed; when Cellica hears herself compared to divine Lady Mila, regret grips her heart.
In the end, they have but one offering left to send east-- their only daughter. Love and affection united Sofia to Rigel, so perhaps such magic can be worked again, and keep that terrible fire from Valencia’s shores. As Cellica watches her child wave farewell from the deck of the sleek ship flying the azure banner of Archanea, she hears an echo from a long-ago letter, the faint call of a voice she has only ever heard in her imagination.
“This, also, must be fate.”
As difficult as it was to break the chains of the gods, humans ever find a way to shackle themselves anew.
***
Yes, I did just spent three thousand words on an imaginary intercontinental trade dispute. Some context: this is part of my series of interconnected FE2/3/DS stories, “Tales of the Unified Kingdom,” and ties in pretty closely to both “By Any Other Name” and “Homecomings,” both of which show post-war Archanea and its neato innovations like the siege engines, windmills, and so on. The parallel between Rigel/Sofia and Archanea/Valencia was something I couldn’t keep away from... though you can read this as a metaphor for the popularity of the relevant games. The whole Old World/New World dichotomy is my own spin on the continents.
PS: For those of you who’ve read “Homecomings,” I’ll just say this-- Valencia also exports malaria to Archanea. So there.
ETA: "Cellica" is not an available choice in the ffnet drop-down character list. This must be corrected, post-haste.
