Blessed Are the Peacekeepers

---

The streets of Daring are quiet this morning, a late frost riming the cobbles and keeping many folk in their beds a little longer than usual. The chill mist is thick with the smell of woodsmoke and breakfast fare, and Varis is glad to push through the heavy front door of the Four Fair Winds and into the welcoming warm of its common room. From the far corner, a small arm rises in greeting, and, with a smile, he walks over to where Merla sits at a sturdy table. The surface is crowded with plates and dishes, and at her invitation, he sits and joins her in breaking his fast.

“So, what is it you wished to speak of, Daughter of Summer?”

“First, let’s get some food going. It is chilly outside and Winter is a hungry season. Please, have whatever you like, Grandmaster,” Merla says with a smile and a gesture.

Whilst he starts selecting items from a three tiered tower of plates and other dishes still hot from the kitchens, Merla pours a dark brew of morning tea for Varis and then herself, adding milk and sugar to her cup. The aroma of earthy spices and caramel sweetness coil around them.

“Now, where to begin,” she muses, picking up her cup of tea to breathe in its warmth. “Which would you like to hear tell first? The news I have? The advice I would seek? My question for you? Or an update on our Fey King problem?” She takes a small sip of tea, eyes effervescently excited.

“Mffhmg” says Varis, before gesturing an apology, finishing his mouthful and repeating, “news first, if you please.”

“News it is then,” Merla says, placing the fine china cup down in its saucer. The glow of the topaz in her circlet casts a warm light over eyes that dances as she looks at him.

“Queen Titania will soon make her move to right the Balance that has been set askew since Sarastra’s death, and she has given me an important role in it.” Merla pauses, a half smile lifting one side of her mouth. “She offered me a legion of se’akhrua* to command… and I accepted.”

Varis’ eyebrows rise slightly and he pauses a moment before responding.

“So it is to be war then, among the courts? Who will she strike at?”

Merla looks to her plate, taking a small bite of food before responding.

“She did not specify to me, though,” she looks back to him, honesty clear in her expression, “her desire is not to wipe out the other Courts. For any one Court to have dominance over another would only serve to upset the Balance even more, and that is not Queen Titania’s aim, nor mine. Just enough to tip the scales in Summer’s favour.” She sets her silver fork down and there’s a soft clink on the fine china. “There is a bigger threat coming and the sooner there is an Ascendant Fey Court, the sooner we all can face it, united.”

A frown creases Varis’ brow.

“What threat do you speak of, si penaal**?”

Her smile turns humourless. “I am going to sound like a canary in an iron mine, repeating myself with the warnings I tell, but there is something many people, especially the folk of the Material Plane may not know.”

Merla sits a little closer, making sure to keep her voice low, whilst appearing to have a casual air about her, though Varis can see a tension to her eyes. She distractedly picks at her food, taking a small bite of the fruit on her plate when and where she can.

“The Unseelie Cabals seek to overthrow the Seelie Courts far more than conquer, favouring anarchy over sovereignty. They keep separate, thus making it easier to sow dissent when one cell is taken out. If one does not know anything of the others it makes the whole nigh impossible to find. But they are merely the tip of the iceberg.” She takes a sip of tea before continuing. “What many do not know, and the part I find most ironic, is there is one who rules over them, the true puppetmaster.”

She fixes Varis with a look.

“This Archfey is also my Queen Mother’s sister,” Merla says, her voice soft. “The Queen of Air and Darkness.”

“And her goal is chaos? That would make some sense of the assassination.” Varis matches her voice and outward calm. “We have fought disruptive infiltrators before – the Vanguard used many of the tactics you describe – but never one without a concrete objective. If we do not know what she seeks, it will be nearly impossible to oppose her.”

Merla takes a moment to think, the piece of clementine she was bringing up to her lips pausing mid flight before being lowered back down.

“She has always been jealous of the throne my Queen Mother gained,” she says thoughtfully. “It’s difficult to say for certain but since the plot the Black Hearts tried to enact failed she may try another way, perhaps something a bit more drastic.” Merla pops the piece of fruit into her mouth and sighs. “That train of thought only serves to worry me more.”

The half elf looks sympathetic but doesn’t offer comment.

“You seemed surprised when I mentioned accepting Queen Titania’s offer,” she glances at him as she pours more tea into their cups. “Would you share your thoughts with me?”

Varis is silent for a moment, considering the question.

“It strikes me as a little direct,” he says at last. “I suppose my reservations stem from not knowing your queen mother as well as you do, but it is also worth remembering two things: firstly, you are a prominent member of the Dawnland’s adventuring community. Your actions set a tone for your junior peers and send a signal to our allies and neighbours. The other is that, if I may be frank, this reeks of politics. Titania has only just rescinded your banishment, and now hands you a legion and sets you to conquer her enemies. The Throne Paramount is in play, and I have no doubt the Queen of Summer desires the seat. What cost she is prepared to pay may be a question that is answered sooner than we would like, and I would hate to see your name listed on the butcher’s bill.”

Merla takes a moment before she responds.

“Would you believe me if I said I am choosing to do this to help the Dawnlands?” she asks quietly, eyes lingering on him.

Then she looks away, out the window they sit beside, eyes seeing more than the pre-Spring landscape and bustle of people on the cold street. Her hands wrap around the fine china tea cup, holding it carefully, like it is something that could break if she were to squeeze too tightly.

A sparrow lands on a branch in one of the trees in the courtyard. Merla watches as it looks around and begins to sing a series of trills. An unconscious smile slowly spreads across her face.

“Faye and I spoke about this and they told me in no few words their thoughts too. They also mentioned their idea of a Council of Courts, not unlike the Council Daring Heights has. If I had been told their idea a year ago I would be supporting them all the way, even leading the charge…”

The sparrow flutters down to the ground, picking through to where any potential food could be. It finds a few seeds and begins to eat.

“I did not know what I was doing in the Giant War. I was reacting to things, just trying to keep pace with those bigger and stronger than I.” Overhead, a raven lands high in the tree, it’s talons wrapping around a branch as thick as Merla’s arm. It looks down at the tiny songbird.

“Things changed with Zariel’s assault on K’ul Goran, and again when I was banished from my home. Then once more when we faced the liches in Vorsthold, the moment of Sarastra’s death, so on and so forth… Each event has changed me. I wouldn’t say my optimism has left, but there is a wisdom I have gained from all of those experiences.”

The raven swoops down. For a moment, it appears the dark bird has captured its prey but Merla doesn’t see any telltale signs of blood on the icy ground. Then it gives a throaty caw as the tiny sparrow escapes, quick as the wind, flying up into the sky. Her eyes get a little brighter, hopeful.

“I see why Faye believes in their idea, it is a beautiful dream. Maybe there is a way for it to work. Maybe it can be possible. But as the Courts are now, each vying for power, trying to find the edge, the proof that one is more than the other…”

The raven hops around on the ground, trying to spot any other tasty morsels that might be easier pickings but it finds none. It glances up to their window, then flies off in search of more bountiful grounds. Merla takes a sip of her sweet tea before continuing, keeping her eyes cast down.

“Have I chosen the right path, a good path? I believe so. If war could be avoided I would choose to not fight in a heartbeat. But I see the patterns repeating themselves and I cannot ignore it. That is a naivety that isn’t in me anymore.”

Merla looks up and as she does, she feels a lump form in her throat as unexpected emotions threaten to overwhelm her. She does not know where they come from but tears spring to her eyes and she fights the urge to look away, to hide them. The last thing she wants is to have Varis think she is incapable or think her resolve is wavering. If she does not believe in herself, how can others believe in her too?

“I almost miss the girl I was,” Merla admits, her voice a little more controlled as she feels the lump leave her throat through her honest words. “She had so much potential to be everything and anything. I am trying to do the best I can by those I love.” A small, tentative smile lifts her lips. “I have told you before, I value your opinion, Varis. That has not changed.”

Her eyes are cast down again, watching the steam dance in swirls out of her cup as she continues.

“I told Faye about my decision because they needed to know. They have as much of a stake in what happens with the Fey Courts as I.” Her hands tighten on the fine china before releasing. Merla settles back in her chair, composed and steady once more as she looks to Varis. “But we are both very close to the issue. I want someone who can be objective, someone from outside the Courts who can see what I may miss. Which leads me to the question I would ask of you:

“The se’akhrua have yet to bloom but when they do I will need to train with them, teach them tactics and skills that I have learned through the trials and errors of the adventures and missions I have been on. I have had no formal training. Leading a legion is different than being part of a team of individuals all with a unique set of skills. I have mentioned you on more than one occasion in the stories I have told my Queen Mother and I proposed, should you be amenable to the idea, you may help me in this task.” Merla pauses, heart pounding. “Will you help me, Varis?”

Varis is silent for a long while, brow furrowed in thought.

“Forgive me, Merla, but I am not certain you understand what it is you ask of me. I have spent my life – many lives, in fact – learning the art of war. It has cost me friends, and family, and on more than one occasion my own soul has hung in the balance. This price I have paid willingly, to better understand how I might shield my people from the evils of the world, and you now ask me to lend that understanding to a being I do not and perhaps can never know? To help you forge a weapon for a Queen of the Fey, and let her do with it as she will? What assurance do I have – could I possibly have – that, once I have trained these warriors for your mother, she would not turn them on the Dawnlands? Or our allies? Or some other peoples, innocent of any crime by our understanding of the word?”

There is no anger in the words he speaks, but the force of his conviction is undeniable.

Merla’s eyes light with her own confidence, the air beginning to hum around her.

“Queen Titania’s desire – my desire is not to hurt the innocent or to encite bloodshed. I accepted this gift for everything it could mean, for more than just the Faen Realms. I want to help, to protect, to be the strength the fey and the mortals turn to when they need a shield to protect them from Darkness.”

The music around her crescendos briefly before quieting again.

“But you are right, you do not know Queen Titania like I. But you know me. I can give my word that I will not allow anything like that to happen. If it were, I would do everything in my power to stop it… even if it means having to defy the Summer Queen.”

The words come freely, none of them catching on her tongue, and with such certainty that he can see the passion behind her own conviction.

Her eyes soften a little, but that faint music still hangs in the air. Merla rests a small, warm hand on Varis’ arm. “I understand what it is I ask, and I do not do so lightly. Politics are in play as are Powers great. But I cannot let that stop me from trying to do what I think is right. You have given so much of yourself to this place, these lands. I am prepared to give my all – for the Faen and the Mortal Realms.”

Varis starts to respond, then – as though hearing another’s voice in his ear, he pauses, closing his eyes. When he opens them again they are clear and calm.

“Tell me of these flower warriors. They are soldiers? Mortal creatures with will and drive?”

Merla withdraws her hand and takes a sip of tea. Inclining her head, her expression become quieter.

“The Flower Warriors are mortal, but they differ from you and I in that they are not fully individualistic with their own personalities, wants and desires. They are floral constructs – soldiers, if you will – intelligent enough to understand and follow commands, but not much beyond that. Not from what I have seen at least.”

“To whom are they loyal? Will they follow your orders over your mother’s?”

“They are loyal to Summer and I am her Daughter so they will follow my orders, yes.” She pauses, her gaze unwavering. “But my Mother could probably overrule me should she wish.”

Varis nods slowly, looking up to meet her gaze.

“I am sorry, Merla. This is not something I can help you with. I wish you all success, and I hope you are right in your judgement of your mother’s motives, but I cannot help arm the courts for war.”

Merla holds his gaze for a moment, looking deep into those peridot eyes. Then a wistful look crosses her face and she gives a small nod. She sits back in her chair, taking a deep breath in before letting it out on a sigh.

“Perhaps I will save the advice I seek for another time. This conversation has been heavy enough, despite the light fare we have been enjoying,” she says with a gesture to the half eaten food arrayed before them. “That is, if I can still come to you in the future. I have asked a lot of you, Varis, beyond what we have spoken of today, and you have been there for me when I have needed it. My goal is not to overburden you with my affairs. You are… a dear friend. But I would not wish to presume more of you than you are willing to give.”

There is something to her expression as she speaks that is both controlled and vulnerable at the same time, juxtaposed by the soft bend of her lips and the steady way Merla looks at him.

A look of confusion passes briefly over his face, followed closely by alarm.

“Merla, I hope you do not take my words as admonishment – I offer no judgement of your actions, and I was sincere when I wished you well in this endeavour. I speak only for myself in this matter, and I hope you will consider my door open if there is anything you need. I consider you one of my dearest friends, and more than this, we have shed blood together in the defence of our people. A little disagreement cannot shake that. Ask what advice you would – though I make no claim to wisdom, I will offer whatever council I can.”

She shakes her head, but not at Varis’ words. He sees she believes him, is moved by what he has said. But that look lingers in her eyes.

“I don’t-...” Merla stops herself and tries again. “I am not sure I can put into words the advice I seek.”

She looks down at her hands, lightly tracing over the lines of her palm, feeling the choices she has made, her history through the texture of her skin.

“I worry about these little disagreements. Not that people shouldn’t have them but rather… how they grow. They always start small, a difference of opinion on what should be done. Before you know it your friends might not be beside you anymore. You want there to be peace, for there to be Balance. You want to convince your friends that your idea is the one to follow. But to manipulate people into it, to lie and use their secrets against them to draw them to your side…”

Her eyes drift up to his again and he sees the maelstrom within her.

“I am good with words. Words have weight in the Feywild, meaning. But they are easy to twist too, to hide truths behind half lies. That is why I believe my actions, my intent will speak volumes more. But there are those who are going to try to twist that too and I don’t know how to keep our friends from falling for it. How to make them see…”

A small divet of concern forms between his brows.

“What is it you fear, Daughter of Summer?”

Merla laces her fingers together, knuckles turning white as she holds onto herself.

“That I will fail… everyone. My Mother, our friends and allies, restoring Balance… Will I have the courage to make the right choices?” She pauses. The memory of the day of her trial, when her Queen Mother asked what she had learnt about battle, and how her stance might slowly shift. “Who will I see when I face the darkness, with everyone watching me? Who will I be when everything changes? Will I be a stranger to myself? Will I feel proud of what I have done or betrayed by the choices I have made?”

Varis’ face softens slightly as she speaks, and when she is done, he is silent for a moment.

“My father’s people have a saying: the oak is not strong in spite of the wind, but because of it. There is no strength without adversity, no conviction that does not spring from doubt, no courage where we do not also know fear. And let me be clear – you will fail. Some day, perhaps tomorrow, perhaps a hundred years from now, you will err, and it will cost you dearly.”

His eyes are distant, left hand straying to his jaw and the trail of puckered scar there.

“Two things are worth remembering when that happens: first, you are not alone. The people who stand beside you chose every step of their path, just as you did. Trust them to make the right choices. Secondly,” his eyes meet hers with a glint of mirth, “and I speak now from personal experience – everything great is built upon a foundation of failure. Do not fear it. Use it.”

The warmth fades a little, and he runs a hand through his hair, aging a decade in the blink of an eye.

“As to who you will be when that day comes, I can give you no answer that will satisfy, save to remind you of what you already know – we are what we do, who we love, and what we are willing to sacrifice to protect them. All else is dust and air.”

Merla sits there, hands clasped tightly, worry coursing through her, marching to the beat of her heart. As he speaks, Varis’ words do little to banish the feeling but they do manage to make her feel not so alone. At the core of all this that is what she fears most – being lost and alone.

She wants to ask him more questions but decides to keep them tucked away behind her lips for now. Instead she sits forward, reaches across the table to a basket of fluffy pastries filled with sweet cream, and brings one to her plate.

“You know, for a man with no claim to wisdom the words you speak say otherwise,” she says, giving Varis a half smile. Merla peels the pastry apart and proceeds to eat it, savouring the melt-on-your-tongue texture of it.

He returns her smile.

“All borrowed from wiser heads than mine, I’m afraid. So what now? Where do the Courts draw you next?”

“Faye has asked for help with a task,” she says, smile fading. “They don’t know the details yet but I can guarantee you it will be to do something that will benefit the Winter Court. I will give you one guess as to who the intended target will be.”

His smile is tinged with sadness, but he gives no other response.

Merla continues. “After that I am not sure. There has been no word on who will ascend to the Twilight throne. Perhaps there will be reasons to go there soon. Did you hear the rumours of this person, a modron named Jack, and how he managed to erase everyone’s memory of him?”

The smile vanishes, replaced by a look of concern.

“I did not participate in the Amaranthine games, but I heard enough about them to recall a little. The crazed Mechanite Sarastra kept prisoner? It has freed itself?”

“Apparently so, on the day of Sarastra’s murder. By what I have been able to piece together from the gossip, Jack or someone working with him cast a strong memory modifying spell on the whole palace so none remember who he is.” Her expression darkens, the light in the imperial topaz flickering faster, getting brighter. “This sounds dangerously similar to what happened to all those who supposedly met Livara, the last minute addition to the waitstaff working on the day of the Accords. There is a thread that connects the two, I am sure of it. I just need to find it.”

Merla’s brow clears, though her eyes remain sharp and stormy. “I have a gift I plan to give to Queen Nicnevin – once I find some time to research how to make it – but maybe before then, a visit to the Wandering Court will be in order…” She gives Varis a coy look.

“I spoke to my Mother about Ulorian and our desire to seek justice for the wrongs he has done. She is more than willing to lend her support.”

He nods, eyes still clouded with thought.

“Very well then. Let us speak to our friends, and then let justice be done.”

Merla nods, her eyes lingering on his thoughtful expression. She sits forward and rests a small, warm hand on his, making him look at her.

“Thank you,” she says with deep sincerity. “I do not think I have said those words enough to you, Varis.” She gently squeezes his hand. “You always have a way of helping me find the courage to keep moving forward.”

Merla smiles softly, but much like the Grandmaster, a storm of thoughts and worries continue to collide within her heart.


*se’akhrua – flower warriors
**si penaal – battle poet


Continued in ‘Sometimes, Silence is the Best Answer’ 🦋