Spoiler: The Execution of Lady Spring
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Everyone in Tir Amser was called.
Everyone.
There were no reasons to not attend. Only soldiers guarding borders were exempt. And no one wanted to miss this.
Why should they? All four of the Aeldir leaders were as one with the order: “Bring yourself before the Rose Throne.” And though soldiers were ordered to remain home, a few warriors not yet called to serve as official members of the Rose Courts army surely were in attendance. Old scars and grudges were boiling; many had been excited at the idea of finally being one people, and putting aside these petty wars.
Now? Now those same Aeldir were upset, and looking for a reason.
Almost everyone looked with distain at the Spring Court. Supposition flew everywhere; that Lady Spring herself had only agreed to the promise of peace ten years ago in order to foster false hope and giggle over how clever she was. Some were even saying that this, the gathering before the Rose Throne, was her final move in some complicated game. Others were whispering that she had been seen speaking with Lady Autumn, and had left visibly upset; the speculation being that Lady Cynel had accused Lady Kellianth of being an Oathbreaker, and this gathering was the public execution of the Cutest of the Cute.
Aeldir were held accountable for any promises that they did not keep. No matter what other nations might think, Aeldir could not lie. They could however, offer their opinion on things; it was a very fine line, true, but there is a difference between one saying, for example, ‘I think that is a bird’ and ‘That is a bird.’ And in this manner, with simple phrases like ‘I think…’ and ‘It is possible that…’, rumors and supposition regarding the gathering continued. They grew and grew, and while no one lies were told, speculation was not – strictly – untrue. And so a whispered word here – just a thought, really, harmless – became so large as each teller added their own thoughts that it turned into a the imminent death of a Seasonal Leader, a thing that had not happened… in a while.
Ages ago, perhaps. Time was… flexible, in the eyes of Aeldir. It occurred, and they had been learning about the things called ‘years’ and ‘months’ that non-Aeldir used. It was quaint, in it’s own way. To Aeldir, however, everything was measured in Ages. There were eighteen of them. Three were called the Age of Spring. Three were the Age of Autumn. Four were the Age of Winter. Five were the Age of Summer. Each Age represented a time which that particular Aeldir Court had held the Rose Throne, and thus dominion over the others. But there were three others. The Age the Beginning, when all was right and perfect, and was the birth of the Rose Throne. The Age of Woe, which followed the Age of the Beginning when the great sadness occurred; this ended only when Lord Summer stepped forth to claim the Rose Throne, starting the first Age of Summer. It lasted for a time, until Lord Summer was defeated by Lord Winter, starting the first Age of Winter; and so on and on. This continued, each Court eventually besting another as time moved on. Decades went by; centuries! These are things that the Aeldir did not track. They only know this: the longest of the Ages was the most recent, and the fifteenth. They call it the Age of Conflict.
History is uncertain as to the exact cause of the Age. All Aeldir can agree upon is this: The fourth Age of Winter was the last Seasonal Age, and it ended with not the death of Lord Winter, but the death of that Age’s Lady Spring. A new Lady Spring arose, and the mystery of her rise is the unknown. She did… something… to Lord Winter, and removed him from the Rose Throne; but did not have the power to secure it for Spring. Lady Autumn and Lord Summer were able to muster enough guile and strength to create a near perfect balance, and cause the struggle for the Throne to begin in a whole new way.
With no one atop it – no claimant to decree they held dominion over all – the Age of Conflict began, and the battles were long. Some did not even look like battles. Lady Spring was clever enough to prevent grief from reaching Glaw Novo. Lord Summer was strong enough to forestall the idea of direct confrontation, and stronger still to win when visible battle was engaged. Lady Autumn, the beauty of all Aeldir, knew every law and every rule passed down through the Ages, and she wielded them with force at times more terrible then any sword held by Summer. And Lord Winter… known as the eldest of Aeldir, he was the holder of mysteries that not even the curious Spring Court could uncover or even fathom.
Deaths between Aeldir are rare things. There were battles; terrible things. When one occurred, it was more gruesome then the last, as each grudge, each rivalry, each vendetta; they all grew. Some Aeldir had personal enemies among the other courts, even to this day. During the Age of Conflict, these two Aeldir would seek each other out, ignoring any whom might get it their way, just to continue their personal bloody quarrel. These? These were the familiar wounds and old sores that almost every Aeldir whom fought in the Age of Conflict and lived thought about to this day.
And then? Then the Age of Conflict was suddenly… over. New Seasonal Leaders in all the Courts, except for Winter. Peace. The promise of it, at least. The Pledge. The ten years of working together, presenting a united front against the non-Aeldir. The discovery of other nations outside the Courts, and even, yes, even other Aeldir, thought to have been lost or completely unheard of.
But now that was all over. What had been thought to be the dawning of a new Age - an unnamed Age, a thing that had not occurred for uncounted centuries – was forestalled.
And all the blame seemed to rest upon Lady Spring. And for that, the supposition said, she would die today. An Oathbreaker.
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The area around the Rose Throne was, in its own way, beautiful. Serene. So some speculate, it had been the Throne from which all Aeldir had heard the words of their gods, or perhaps an Aeldir Monarchy, before the Age of Woe. The winds gently caressed the grassy plain that almost impossibly stretched out before the small island that held the Throne; a natural courtyard from which to see the Throne, surrounded by the Lake of Babdi, a ring of water said to have been blessed by Babdi herself.
This plain had been the place of many of the growing grudges of battles that had occurred during thirteen of the fifteen ages; only the Age of the Beginning and the Age of Woe were spared. And now, perhaps, the Age of Conflict would continue. The din as so many Aeldir, of all the Courts, walked upon the grass was almost deafening.
And yet… it was instantly quiet, the moment all four Seasonal Leaders stood before the Rose Throne. Lady Autumn, with her all her beauty. Lord Winter, with his solemn, ancient eyes, full of knowledge. Lord Summer, his strength visible even from far away. And Lady Spring, child-like face frowning, as though she knew what awaited her and did not like it, but could no more get away from it then the shore can flee from the waves.
Kellianth Beagen, current Lady Spring, looked back upon her fellow Seasonal Leaders – the only Aeldir that she deigned her equal – and it seemed to those in the crowds that she was seeking permission of some sort. She looked upon Lord Summer, standing to her left, who nodded. She looked at Lord Winter, standing behind her, whose eyebrow raised slowly, as though to encourage her to get on with it. And then she looked at Lady Autumn, to her right, and the implacable beauty waved her hand almost imperiously, echoing the apparent thoughts of the two Lords.
Lady Spring stepped forth, standing before the Rose Throne, the symbol of the Aeldir. A murmer in the crowd began, as some wondered aloud – purely speculation – if she would try to sit atop it and begin a new Age of Spring; weapons shifted in the hands of those whom held them, and the more hot-headed Aeldir began to search the crowd for their old rivals, to know where to charge.
Kellianth did not sit atop the Rose Throne. She did pause before it, however, and a look of consternation crossed her face. Those in the front, closest to the shores of the Lake of Babdi, would later speculate that they had seen Lady Autumn raise an eyebrow in annoyance, before both Lord Winter and Lord Summer stepped up behind Lady Spring. Each grabbing her under an arm, they lifted Lady Spring up to stand upon the Rose Throne, and then Lady Autumn joined them. With Lady Spring standing atop the Throne, the other three Leaders ringed around it.
Whatever was about to occur was approved by all four Seasons. And that was when the laughter began.
It was tinkling, bell-like, and it would have been adorable, had it not also sounded like mockery to some of the assembled, pointed, ears. It was Lady Spring. She stood atop the Rose Throne, and she was laughing.
“You. All of you. Look around you!” She giggled, as she spoke aloud in the Aeldir tongue. “What brilliance. What majesty. A single ruse, and we are reduced to this? Are the Aeldir so unbalanced as to be brought low by the clever masterstroke of one whom may very well not be among us?”
“I have heard the rumors. I am, apparently, to blame. The supposition, the speculation, it has been blown out of proportion. I am unhappy, yes. Why would I be pleased? Someone has almost managed to undo everything I have been personally working towards since the beginning of the Age of Conflict. And they did so in a manner that not only upset the entirety of Glaw Novo, but made me look complicit and at fault.”
“Oh, I am most displeased. But how can I stay unhappy in the face of what is quite possibly the grandest ruse to have ever affected us? I wish I were able to lay claim to this, for it would be a fitting end for an Aeldir of Spring to be this clever.”
“I did not, however, come here to die today.” Lady Spring made herself heard to the whole crowd before her, massive though it was. “What stands before you is not Lady Autumn, Lords Winter, Summer, and an Oathbreaker; no, what stands before you is all four Seasons, and just as we agree upon before, we agree now: the Pledge for the forming of one Rose Court, ruled in conjunction. None will sit upon the Rose Throne this day.”
The clever work-around of the rules was sure to not be missed by the Aeldir, even as Lady Spring continued to stand and speak, “What is on this island with us four Seasonal Leaders is not just the Rose Throne. It is that which has been around since the Age of the Beginning. It is our history. It is the legacy of the Aeldir which came before us. It is our very past.”
“But I am not of the past.”
“Nor am I,” echoed Lord Summer.
“Nor I,” echoed Lady Autumn.
“Nor me,” echoed Lord Winter.
“Our eyes look towards the future,” all four said together.
“And we, all Aeldir, will not be chained to the violence of our for-bearers. So much hate. So much conflict. There are those of you here whom have yet to let go.” Lady Spring said with a grimace, before smiling again and proclaiming, “I am the Matron of the New. I find the spirits of our young, fill them with curiosity, and guide them to Summer. I also, perhaps more than the rest, seek to better our future through discovery of new things. And yet, there are some out there whom would hold us back. Whom would steep us once more in to war. Whom fear change, because it is different, and perhaps have sought to blame the Spring Court as progenitors of that change, because we – in their eyes – have broken some unwritten law.”
“No law has been broken.” All four leaders said again together; but there was a curious power within their voices. Something was happening. Something important. Something that would change the Aeldir forever.
“We four agree,” Lady Kellianth spoke alone again, the giggle gone from her voice. “And by your very oaths to your Courts, our voices should be as one. There should be no more struggle. No more conflict. Not between Aeldir.”
She stamped her foot upon the Rose Throne, “And yet there is! There exists something here that is preventing us from moving on. From being more! The old ways are important, but they should not prevent us and the spirits of our future from becoming free of internal strife.”
“And I believe that it is not the outsiders; many of you have now had time to leave Tir Amser and see the outside world. There are certainly some there whom deserve our scorn, perhaps even our fury, but there are also some whom we can become friends with – true friends to Aeldir, among the rarest of the rare – and others whom we can appreciate for their cuteness, their strength, their beauty, their wisdoms.”
“We must present to them not Aeldir divided, but Aeldir united! And to the clever one who threw us into this disarray in such a delicious way, they should know that I have executed my own plans; slain them before any schemes or twists could come to fruition, all in the name of uniting us all. I have lain down my weapons of war, and in the face of their trickery, Lady Spring, Lord Summer, Lady Autumn, and Lord Winter speak for all Aeldir when we say…”
Again, and with a seeming finality that reached even the farthest Aeldir in the crowd, all four Seasons spoke, “We Stand As One!”
And that… that should have been it. That got a rousing cheer from all assembled Aeldir. It was historic in it’s own way; all four Seasons working together, beside the Rose Throne, the symbol of superiority among Aeldir. Yet, as the crowd’s din finally fell, Lady Spring spoke yet again.
“What I do next, I do alone. I accept all punishment, in the eyes of those whom believe it to be needed; below me is the Rose Throne. I do not sit upon it, for to do so would be to hold dominance and sway among all Aeldir of Tir Amser. A fact that has not escaped the notice of any Aeldir for any Age after the Age of Woe!” Kellianth Beagen looked once again towards Lord Summer, whom looked away, a notable grimace on his face. She looked toward Lady Autumn, whom frowned with displeasure. She looked towards Lord Winter, and the one whom was known as the eldest of Aeldir showed no emotion at all, but his hand gripped tightly to his sword hilt.
“For me to do this thing, a promise has been made. A promise that should I die, the next Lady Spring and the next will be bound to: If the life of Lady Spring is needed to undo what I am to do, it shall be freely given.” Lady Kellianth drew from her sleeve her own short sword, and its blade gleamed in the sunlight. “But my eyes look to the future. And they see a problem. They see violence. They see the chance for us to not stand together, but fight amongst ourselves once more. They see someone sitting upon the Rose Throne… and if we are to stand as one, we cannot have this. So there is an execution today; an execution of a plan of mine!”
Lady Spring leapt straight up from her perch on the Rose Throne, and her sword sang out as it cut not once, but twice; first straight down, and then from side to side. Soon, everyone could see what she had done. The Rose Throne had been split apart. After the deafening shouts of surprise died down, Lady Spring walked out from in the middle of the other Seasons. She carried with her a piece of the Rose Throne, cleanly severed from her sword strokes.
She handed it to Lord Summer. It was one armrest of the seat.
She went back to where the Throne had been, picked up another piece, and handed it to Lady Autumn. It was one half of the back.
She handed the other armrest of the seat to Lord Winter, his face perhaps grimmer than ever, and picked up the other half of the back in her own hands. How she carried each piece by herself was perhaps a testament of both her determination and power as an Aeldir Season, but she managed, as she stood on the seat itself, still untouched and unmoved.
“Some of you are surely shocked. But know this: Now no one will find it as easy to sit upon the Rose Throne again. No one can claim dominion over all of us, and surely, someone in the future may have tried. Now each of us holds a piece of the Rose Throne; our powers are equal and balanced, as they should be. If we are to lead all Aeldir, we must come together – all of us – to do so. What I stand on now is not the Throne, not a seat of power, but a relic of the past; a testament to our history. It will remain here not as a place of power, but as a symbol of peace. And we shall take the rest of that symbol back to each of our Courts, for you should all remember:
We Stand As One!”