Leo

"Who's William Greene?" Victor repeated back with an incredulous smirk.

"That's what I just asked," Leo shot back.

"Don't you know already?"

"The name is vaguely familiar. Refresh me."

Turning his smile on their less-than-mirthful mother, Victor said: "Oh, the poor dear. I see old age is finally catching up with him."

"Child," Mother snapped, her beautiful features briefly tightening with impatience before returning to dignified placidity. "Stop being clever with your brother and start talking, or I swear you won't—"

Victor held up his hands. "Yes, yes, yes. Sorry, Mother." Turning back to Leo, he continued: "William Greene is a moderately accomplished assassin based out of Sheerhome. One of my harbingers flagged him for potential recruitment some time ago. As you might be able to guess, it didn't pan out. The man was directly and chiefly responsible for orchestrating Brimstone's rather dramatic removal from office."

"That's not right," Leo said, working up a frown. "It was that Buck fellow that killed Brimstone, wasn't it?"

"Mmm, well, you see—" Victor was interrupted by a knock on the door, which turned out to be a servant who'd come with spiced wine for him. Mother glowered while the young woman brought in the platter and placed it down on the desk, while Victor only slung himself into the nearest padded chair and smiled defiantly up at her while holding out his delicate stemmed glass to be filled.

Victor had always been the obstinate type. He got off on being a contrarian, doing the opposite of what he was expected to. Sometimes his mercurial nature could be uniquely useful—indeed, it was probably the only reason why Mother tolerated it—but most of the time, it was just plain annoying.

Two years Leo's junior at sixteen, he hadn't quite grown out of the awkwardness of adolescence. He was tall, with light brown skin and thick curly hair, and he might have been handsome if he wasn't so chubby on account of his excess indulgence in treats and wine. He always wore a slightly condescending smirk, as though he was privy to some joke nobody else could comprehend. If it wasn't for his unrepentant slothfulness, he might have gotten higher than his current level of 21 by now.

"Sorry," Victor said with an unfashionably deep pull of his wine, "ahh, where was I? Yes, Lord Buck of Sheerhome. It's true that he struck the final blow against Brimstone, but Greene was the one who organized the coup. Indeed, it seems he fought Brimstone himself, nearly to a standstill, before Buck arrived to finish off the old goofball."

Making no attempt to hide his leering at the servant girl's behind on her way out, he was distracted into silence until Mother snapped her fingers in front of his face and brought him reluctantly back to reality.

"Not only is William Greene accomplished in the killing arts," he continued, "but the man also surrounds himself with some rather dangerous people."

"Like this Lord Buck, you mean?" Leo asked.

"Oh, no no no. Buck is more interested in clownery than doing anything actually meaningful. They might put a goat in charge of their city and not notice much difference in the quality of their governance."

"I suppose I will take your word for it. After all, you are the preeminent expert on clownery, aren't you?"

"You wound me, brother!" Victor's derisive laugh was muffled as he dipped into his glass and slurped noisily. "How—mmm—dare you."

When Leo merely rolled his eyes in reply, Victor smiled triumphantly and went on. "No, there are others we must be watchful of. Intelligence suggests that the unrecovered child was taken by Greene, and that he's still holding her."

"Goddess…"

"Then there's Samantha Darling, who we believe to be the daughter of Wayward Learner. At first I only saw her as a potential hook on her father, but it seems she's turning out to be quite the thorny rose herself… Bastardy must run in the family, I suppose. I've found no evidence yet that she's contacted Wayward Learner or brokered any alliances between Octants Five and Six, and indeed the man doesn't seem the type to make concessions for anyone, blood relation or otherwise, but it certainly bears monitoring."

"I don't care about Wayward Learner right now," Leo said. "What about our sister? What has Greene done to her?"

It was Mother who replied, gingerly holding the letter between the long, sharp nails of two pinched fingers. "Our enemy has graciously omitted to redact his intentions from the report made by our operative. Not only has he revealed the existence of our clandestine branch, he's also raised the child as some sort of false Prophet."

Victor nodded along to himself while finishing off his wine. "I'm not surprised. It's certainly what I'd do." Hefting his glass lazily toward the crystal decanter, he said: "Brotherrr, I am ever so tired and ever so thirsty, would you fill this up for me pretty please?"

"No," Leo replied curtly. "How about you pour your own drink for once? Here, how about I give you a swift kick in the ass to get you moving?"

"Leo," Mother said warningly, her golden corona twitching in the air with agitation.

Leo bowed his head in obeisance. "Sorry, Mother." She didn't like him using profanity, though she'd long-since given up on policing Victor's speech.

Mother's expression softened, and she came and patted him on the cheek. "Don't fret, little lion. I know how he provokes you." Her touch was so hot it nearly burned, and left his skin buzzing pleasantly.

Victor pretended to vomit into his empty glass, then stood with a great dramatic sigh to refill his wine. "I should like to go over the contents of that letter more closely at a later time," he said, back turned to them, "but based on what I'm hearing, and the fact of Greene's little gift to you, it is clear that he intends to continue being a nuisance to us. I admit that aside from our three main adversaries, William Greene might be the greatest threat to our plan at present."

"Getting our sister back needs to be our top priority," Leo said firmly, pounding his fist into his open hand. "She's the youngest of us besides, isn't she? We can't allow her to remain in evil's clutches, or who knows what all will be done to her."

"Securing the child is important," Mother said. "That said, she cannot be allowed to live at this stage. It's simply too dangerous."

"Agreed," Victor said. He spun to put his back against the desk and swirled his dark wine around before taking a sip. "Greene is likely poisoning her against us even as we speak. Furthermore, intelligence suggests that Brimstone himself had a hand in raising her, which does not speak well for her sanity—or more likely, her departure from it No, she will need to be dealt with."

"Dealt with…?" Leo asked, hands falling to his sides.

"Killed," Victor clarified.

"Set free," Mother corrected significantly.

Victor smiled. "Please, Mother. We're not children anymore. Let's call a spade a spade."

Listening to them talk, Leo felt his face go all cold. "You can't be serious! Mother, you too? By the goddess, she's your own daughter! And ten years old, at that!"

"Almost eleven," Victor muttered into his drink.

Mother's steely gaze made Leo wither almost instantly. "You think my heart doesn't ache for her? You're right, she is my flesh and blood, and I would like nothing more than to hold her to my bosom, but we do not have the luxury of such selfish fancies, none of us. Our responsibility is to ensure the best course—for everyone, not just ourselves—and to work toward the ultimate good. I have decided—the girl will be set free at the first opportunity. Be glad that she will be allowed to pass into Heaven so swiftly, and not remain in this hell to become shackled, as we are, by our duty."

Leo bit his tongue. Slowly, he lowered his head. "Yes, Mother." Though he was king, she was the archangel; wise in all things. She would never contradict him so harshly in a public setting—but here, in private, she was the teacher giving instructions, and he was the child expected to listen. A fool though he was, he was at least wise enough to trust her wits above his own.

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"Now, now, don't look so glum," Victor said, cutting through the sudden tension. "Weep over our sister if you must, but I do have some consolation to offer. Things are not so bad as they sound. We have multiple factors working in our favor against Greene. Firstly, he's only Level 16."

"Seventeen," Mother corrected. "The report says seventeen."

"Okay, Level 17, then. That's still very manageable. Besides, intercepted rumors suggest that he was near-mortally wounded in his battle against Brimstone, and that it will be quite some time before he makes a full recovery, if ever. That means he will be greatly diminished in the kind of resistance he can muster against us." He motioned with his glass, ruby liquid inside sloshing, toward the paper Mother was holding. "This attempted poisoning only confirms it. He's trying to project strength when it gives him no real strategic advantage. Empty posturing. After all, he couldn't have hoped that a cheap trick like that would actually kill you. No, he wants to look strong, which means he's probably even more weakened than he appears.

"That being said, I underestimated that man once, and I will not do so again. I will deal with him thoroughly and properly. Don't you worry your little golden head over it."

"We should send the Hunter to kill him," Leo said, "as soon as possible."

Victor shook his head. "No. The Hunter is needed where he is, keeping Wild Walker pinned down so he doesn't interfere with the Matriarch or her forces. We're lucky to have found him as it is thanks to Dark Feather—I doubt we'd get so lucky again if we let him slip away now.

"No, dear brother, I have a better idea. We don't have many assets left in Sheerhome, but unless that report Mother is hogging states otherwise, the Collector remains there, and has managed to avoid detection."

"No mention of him," Mother confirmed. "Maybe it's in one of the sections Greene tampered with, but I find it unlikely."

"As do I. Contact with him must be reestablished to confirm. Now, obviously the Collector's stage of the plan has stalled due to the war between Sheerhome and Stormfront being averted, but he should still be poised in a good position to build up his strength and take the city by force. Sheerhome is already on the brink of collapse. Our influence in the neighboring cities remains strong—I will incentivize them to exert economic pressure over Sheerhome to speed along its downfall and create proper fertile ground for the Collector to sow chaos in."

"Or we could invade," Leo said, glancing over at Mother to gauge her reaction. "Start the crusade immediately. If our enemies are weak, we should strike now, before they get the chance to build up strength."

"Oh, Brother," Victor sighed, and drank. "Dear, sweet, stupid brother. Is your shiny new fleet ready to be mobilized?"

"Not fully, but—"

"And Operation Bridge Burners, has it been completed?"

"Well, no—"

"If you send your ships to Octant Six, what happens then? What will you do when Wayward Learner comes knocking on the door of the Great Temple?"

"I would obviously leave forces behind to repel any attempt at—"

"You'll do nothing, dear brother. Do you know why? Because I say it's not time yet. There is an order to these things. Every stage of the plan must be completed in sequence. Count with me, please. One, two, three, four, five. That's how numbers work, yes? Now, unless you've gone and stumbled into some great stock of genius since yesterday, I will remain in charge of keeping things in sequence, and I will make sure everyone hits their marks as intended. We must not declare war until we can be sure of our victory. So until I tell you to pick up that big fuck-off sword and sail across the sea on your glorious conquest, you will sit on your throne like a good boy and shut the fuck up. Clear enough?"

"You can't speak to me that way! I am the king!" It made him sound petulant to say it out loud, he knew as much—a good king did not need to remind anyone he was king, after all—but it just slipped out before he'd gotten a handle on his anger.

"Victor," Mother said. Her voice was eerily calm. "Apologize to your brother."

Victor instantly opened his mouth to bounce back some witticism, but even he must have known he'd overstepped, because he went for a sip of his wine instead, then bowed his head in obeisance. "Yes, Mother." He looked up again to meet Leo's eye, and there was some measure of sheepish remorse in the look of him. "I'm sorry, Leo. I got a little carried away."

Leo chewed on his pride; swallowed it down. "It's… okay. I forgive you."

Mother put her palms together and motioned with them toward Leo, then Victor in turn. "Good. Now, setting aside his delivery, Victor is right. You'll defer to him in this, child."

"Yes, Mother."

"Everyone in agreement then?" Victor said. Not waiting for anyone to answer, he added: "Good, great, awesome. Mother, have a copy of that report put on my desk—preferably without the poison—and I'll get to it at some point." He pushed off the desk, spun lazily to catch the decanter, and began sauntering out of the study. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the library." That meant he would certainly not be in the library. After hip-checking the door open, he turned and said: "And Era's tits, crack a window or something in here. You're stinking up the place something awful, Mother."

"Victor—" Leo began.

"Let him be, child," Mother said, and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze that silenced any idea he might have had toward the contrary. "Now, Leo. Considering all this dreadful business, I will give you leave for the rest of the day while I review our security protocols. But before you go, there's just one little thing I'd like you to do while I still have you."

"Of course, Mother."

Setting the poisoned letter aside, she went and fetched another sheet covered in small, dense print from inside a desk drawer and shuffled it across the rich wood top for Leo to peruse. He knew at once what it was just from the look of it and the fact that it had a line for a signature at the bottom.

"A contract," he said, idly scanning the lines of text, "whatever for?"

"It's a contract of subjunction," Mother spoke softly, sidling close to peer down at the sheet beside him.

Leo frowned at the thing. "I thought I already signed one ages ago."

"Yes, well, it didn't take." There was a touch of annoyance in her tone, which made him nervous. Noticing his discomfort, she stroked the back of his neck and added: "It's not your fault, child. I suspect it's because you hadn't reached the age of majority as decided by the Concord. Now that you've turned eighteen, I think it's time to try again."

"I see. Fair enough." Leo began scratching out his signature along the line.

"You're not even going to read it over?"

Pen falling short, Leo looked back at his brother, who lingered in the doorway with glass in one hand and decanter in the other.

"What do you mean?" Leo asked. "I've already signed it before."

"It's just a formality," Mother added.

Victor snorted a tipsy laugh. "No offense, Mother, but there's no such thing as just a formality with binding contracts. Now, I'm not saying you snuck anything nasty in there, but it's just bad form is all. Leo's gullible enough without you teaching him to sign whatever bit of paper someone puts in front of him. Soon, you'll have table napkins and toilet paper covered in signatures."

"Point taken," Mother replied stiffly, though her silver eyes blazed with intensity.

Victor shrugged. "All I'm saying is, just take a day to review the contract—who knows, you might spot a typo or two—and go ahead and sign the dotted line tomorrow. It's not like it's going anywhere, right?"

Mother took a step back, robbing Leo of her warmth. "Your brother is right. Take as much time as you need, of course. I did not mean to pressure you—I hope you know that."

Leo scowled at the both of them. What were they on about? Maintaining unbroken eye contact with his brother, he finished the signature with a dramatic flourish and set the pen down sharply on top of the page. "There. Signed. For Era's sake, it's only Mother. You make it sound like something sinister."

Victor just shook his head, that derisive smirk of his touching the corner of his mouth. In his eyes, though, there was something close to pity. Rolling along the doorframe, he took his wine and left without another word.

Good riddance. Leo loved his brother dearly, but could only really stand him in short bursts. It was a good thing their duties saw them spending most of their time apart, or every day would probably end with Leo attempting to throttle him.

A shock went up his spine as Mother pressed into him once more, her hand tracing his lower back. Her lips so close to his ear he felt their heat, she whispered: "You are a very good boy. I wish your brother were more like you."

Vanilla, honey, almonds. The smell was so thick he could taste it, almost choked on it. He put both hands out to support himself, white-knuckling the edge of the desk. "Mother, please… you're embarrassing me."

Despite his best efforts, he found himself painfully stiffening.

Don't be disgusting. Don't misunderstand. Goddess, she's your mother!

"Nonsense," Mother purred. "Is it so wrong for a mother to dote on her favorite son every once in a while?"

"No, but…"

Gently but firmly, she guided his face around so he was staring deep into the bottomless quicksilver wells of her eyes. "But what? Are you too old for your mother now? Is that it?"

"Of course not. Never."

Softly, softly, she kissed him on the cheek, making his whole face flush with warmth. Her lips just barely touched the edge of his mouth. If he moved over just slightly, he could…

Before he knew it, the moment had passed, and Mother had moved back half a step so her breasts were no longer pressing into him. The loss was so terrible it left him gasping, like her smell was his only source of air and she was taking it away from him.

"My little lion," she said with a small but infinitely captivating smile. Somehow mathematically perfect to the tiniest degree. She ruffled his hair, then broke away from him fully to glide out of the room.

As much as he'd looked down on his brother for his unrepentant leering, he found he was no better as he stared at Mother's retreating form. In truth, he was so much worse than Victor—at least he knew to keep his lusting outside the family.

Once she was gone, Leo stood paralyzed with just the memory of her, and tried his best to inhale as much of her precious scent as he could before it faded completely.

When he was small, Leo had been convinced that his mother was really the goddess in disguise.

These days, he wasn't so sure he didn't still think that.

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