Bitter Satisfaction [Metra POV]

Metra sat in her alcove.

It was a comfortable thing. Each of them was that way. A singular seat stood by the edge of the stone palisade that separated her from the wider throne room. Thick curtains were bunched and tied to either side, framing the ornately carved stone with cloth of lead grey, mud brown, and gold. The colours repeated on the painted plaster of the walls. Each of the alcoves had their own set of colours, two or three each, representing each individual haremette.

It reminded Metra of a European opera. It also reminded her of the Tower of Babylon. The great chamber of Tiamat also had been equipped with an alcove for each of the Metracanas, to work and live where Mother Chaos could see them. It had been a joyous place at first. It had become a place where she dwelled out of duty as Tiamat’s madness grew.

‘This will not be the same,’ she thought, happily, and watched the scene below. Protesting politicians, voted into power in times of peace, were dragged out of the room by soldiers. Obstructive elements were removed, to assure the stability of the gathering. Momo and Scarlett joined down there, to advise on matters of logistics and troop deployments.

Metra was no tactician. She was the boot on the ground, not the general commanding forces. She broke through the frontlines by strength of arm. She was a weapon to be wielded. Had it not been for this event, she would have accompanied Nahoa. Not even for the apocalypse could she have missed the day that he finally put on the crown.

He had already taken it off again, hanging it from the armrest. That was fine, the crown was every bit as much a symbol as a throne or a specific title was. It mattered, but it did not matter as much as the spirituality surrounding it all. He was king now. It was apparent in the difference of the aura that surrounded him. The desire to oblige other people’s wishes had diminished and in its place the realization of his own vision had swelled.

He had not sacrificed one for the other, only re-aligned his priorities.

Metra would have smiled, had this change been born from crisis alone. She had always known that the first proper military challenge Fusion as a whole faced would lead to this. She had seen it across a hundred realms over thousands of years. Humanity always looked towards a king when the brutality of reality crashed down on them. By John’s request, she had read up on histories of the opposite and every exception she had found were nations that had been lucky geographically. Even then, the squabble eventually turned inwards.

One vision was needed, one final voice, and neither vision nor voice were found in a system. Only mankind could assure mankind would prosper. Such was her honestly held conviction. The wheel of history kept turning.

She wholeheartedly believed that John was the wise king she had looked for all her life. The strong king, the prudent king, the harsh king, the king that could act when it had to be done. The swiftness with which he assumed power had proven that. The moment was spoiled by the deaths surrounding it. Some, she callously deemed acceptable. War was never without casualties. Others, she found regretful. His parents, first and foremost, were a sacrifice that was sad. Lee’s parents she found had died in the greatest way anyone could hope to die.

“Lingering in your triumph?” asked Lorelei.

“In a sense,” Metra responded, eyes still on the events below. The crowd of parliamentarians had thinned to half now. First to go had been those unfit for a time of crisis. Now, John was separating those that had the right mindset from those who had the right mindset and the competency to act on it.

The truth of the matter was, as far as Metra was concerned, that it did not take terribly many people to run a state. A couple dozen, at most, in top positions, then a few supporting offices. Several hundreds, a few thousands at most, even for a land area this size. Anything beyond that was a sign of overreach of inefficiency.

“I don’t feel like there’s much to be triumphant about,” the First of Wrath continued. “Don’t get me wrong, I anticipate the day that I can bring him to Akkad. Several thousand years of purpose are about to be fulfilled… but I’m not cheering for the fact that he had to go through all of this.” She shot Lorelei a slight smile. “I’ll give it a few years before I make jokes about this.”

Lorelei walked closer. The long dress the seer wore fit the occasion. Metra found herself wondering how much the politics of Fusion would truly change. Now that John was king, all of them had de-jure power to join with the de-facto. Nothing about it was written, but everyone understood that a queen had more reach than a mayor.

“Weird to think that I might be a queen,” she voiced her thoughts.

“If I may, you deserve such a title,” Lorelei spoke softly. “Your strength befits to be called a queen among warriors.”

“That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” Metra remarked. She gestured for Lorelei to grab one of the chairs that stood by the side. The Breaker of Armies wanted to install weapon racks here in due time. She had always liked to sharpen an arsenal while her rulers, gods and monarchs both, held court. It was a reminder to the insolent people that **** was always an answer.

Lorelei pulled over the chair and sat down by Metra’s side. Together, they watched. Talks had now progressed away from the frustrating part of separating the wheat from the chaff. What was in motion now was the necessary part of strategy. The cameras had been cut now. A question occurred to Metra.

“Do you think Izha had his hand in all of this? Made the people a little more erratic in their behaviour with this reach of his?”

“It cannot be entirely discounted,” Lorelei answered. “However, if I may, I do not believe so. The emotions I observed were genuine. What manipulation he may have done evoked nothing that was not in the hearts of these men and women anyhow. It goes as much for them as it goes for John.”

“You two having fun in here?” Delicia asked. The small network of corridors that connected the individual alcoves on the backend were getting a lot of use today.

“About to be the worst time now that you are here.” Metra allowed herself a joke in these dire times. It was difficult to know when that was appropriate. Current company did not mind, chuckling while Delicia grabbed another one of the chairs and joined their row. “My ambition comes at the cost of your preferences.”

“Wow, that’s an intellectual sentence by your standards.” The bratty alchemist playfully bumped elbows with the wolf woman in the middle. “I said it before: I prefer the republic, but I’m not terribly mad about the monarchy as long as the monarch is good, and John is very good.” She paused for a moment. “Still, I’ll try to advocate for more of a hybrid system, at least.”

“When you have a man of absolute wisdom, he should have absolute power,” Metra stated.

“Yeah, I love the guy, but I’m not convinced his wisdom is absolute…” Delicia let her voice peter out. “That’s what I wanted to talk about.” She sounded serious now, enough so that Metra looked at her directly. “I’m under no illusion that I’m speaking for the majority here. It’s pretty clear that the harem by large has a monarchistic bent… we’re probably about to go into, like… some kind of harem politics system.”

“Doubtlessly,” Lorelei agreed.

“Honestly, we were halfway there already,” Metra said, hands folded behind her head. “Momo and Bae obviously had power. Jane got plenty of petitions. I got asked to partake in military matters all the fucking time. We are the most powerful and brilliant people on this entire continent, this is just making it official that we’re in charge.”

“Well, nothing is written yet,” Delicia said. “That’s my point… I don’t want this to drive a wedge between us.”

“It will not,” Lorelei spoke with certainty. “Politics is a dividing ****, but a united **** in politics can accomplish magnificent things. I believe in our unity.”

Delicia had no retort in the face of Lorelei’s conviction. For her part, Metra leaned back a little further. She wasn’t worried either. They had been through greater upheavals together than the eventual drafting of the actual system of power would cause. Plus, she would just leave that to John and Momo. Those two knew what they were doing.

‘Metra, could you come down here?’ John requested.

“The king calls,” Metra said and jumped over the balustrade. She landed on the black marble of the upper layer of the throne room. The divine presence of Nathalia and Nightingale had mixed into the materials there. Rather than water, magma and a sort of purple glow webbed its way through the floor there. All of the veins came together at the Throne.

Metra kept her face straight. She could not quite suppress the wagging of her tail. Despite the bitter circumstances, she was satisfied. She circled to the front of the throne, descended three of the long, shallow steps, then knelt in front of her king.

“How may I be of service?” she asked in a tone she had yearned to use for so long.

“I want you to accompany my double and Beatrice to Miami. You’ll be our relief efforts there.”

“I will make your will reality,” Metra swore and rose to her feet. “Do you want me to go immediately?”

“Stay for a moment, I want you to be in the know for our entire strategy.” John pointed her at a table that had been manifested in the room.

Its surface was a three-dimensional map, stretching the entirety of the North American continent. Around the map and the table stood no more than thirty individuals. Everyone else had been either pushed to stand in the back or thrown out of the room entirely. Half of those that remained were not elected officials either, but military staff that had been waiting in neighbouring rooms.

“Metra, Beatrice and my double will lead a relief effort in Miami. Ehtra, Jane, Nia and Nahoa are currently operating in New Orleans. A third party will be sent to Boston – Scarlett, Nightingale and Claire will join from my harem.”

“Is it wise to send our communications specialist out like that?” Elu asked.

The elderly native woman was visibly strained. Metra could smell the fear from her – and the disloyalty. The Hidden Tradition not being pleased about this development had been predictable.

“Be realistic. We need the firepower more than we need me sitting on server duty the entire day,” Scarlett stated. “Our intel is already compromised, our broad strategy predictable. It makes little difference whether I hide the detailed communications from the enemy.” She brandished her metal claws. “I can make quite the difference out there. More than you can.”

“Then you will not need us?” Elu asked, her eyes jumping to John.

“…I will need you,” John broached the clearly uncomfortable topic. “I understand that the Hidden Tradition’s elites are more capable on your own soil. Your regular soldiers are a different matter.”

“You gave us a promise, John,” Ahanu weighed in. “Are we to understand that you want the technicality of the Federation being no more to mean you can break your word?”

The air in the room was thick. All other naysayers had been removed. This was, however, one situation that John could not manoeuvre out of by just forcing the hurdle into compliance. That very act would have been the violation of the agreement.

“At the most, Fusion can field 5’432 regulars and an addition 7’432 soldiers of acceptable training,” John presented the simple numbers. “If we take the Hidden Tradition out of these calculations, then we are down to 4021 regulars and 5124 soldiers of acceptable training. Our army is not and never has been large.”

“It is massive by Abyssal standards.”

“It is nothing compared to the Lorylim.” John shook his head. “This argument doesn’t matter. We must hold the ports of New Orleans, Miami, the Guild Hall and Boston. Our European reinforcements are coming by ship, and if we do not have harbours to receive them, we’ll be divided. We’ll take attrition. We’ll add unnecessary casualties and have less staging grounds for our counter-offensives. My harem and I can defeat masses of enemies, but we cannot hold a line. I cannot operate without those 2000 swords.”

“So you are breaking your promise,” Ahanu admonished.

Metra had to keep herself from growling at the insolent cur. They had taken the oath from John at a better time and now they were leveraging it to not have to pull their own weight. Time and time again throughout history, she had seen this play out between uppity nobles and their overlords. These things only ever ended one of two ways.

“Yes,” John responded, his voice flat. “If I want to maximize the chances for Fusion to be able to push back and secure your land, then I must take your troops.”

“And what if we deny you?” Elu asked.

“You know the answer to that,” John said.

“Spell it out for me, boy, let me hear the treachery that you have pla-“

“SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!”

The outburst from John caught the entire room off-guard, even Metra herself. She had felt the simmering rage, yet it had risen to the surface quicker than the connection between them had been able to communicate.

“YOU THINK I TAKE ANY JOY IN THIS?!” he yelled at her. “IN COMPROMISING MY IDEALS AND PROMISES EVERY STEP ALONG THE WAY? TO LOSE AGAIN AND AGAIN TO THE DEMANDS OF TIME AND REALITY?”

His aura was borderline oppressive, forcing Elu to stumble backwards into her chair. If any of the lesser fighters in the room had been the focus of his wrath, they would have collapsed on the spot, like a faulty pillar upholding a roof.

“You will give me the troops, because that is the only thing you can do,” John hissed through clenched teeth. “I will break my promise, because that is what I must do. I cannot afford to give you privileges in a time like this. You look at the pillars of mould that stretch to the sky and tell me that I am a traitor for not taking my chances with that. Dozens of your people will die, hundreds maybe, but it will be tens of thousands if we do not hold these ports. Do you understand?!”

Ahanu and Elu were shaken by the display. They were pale and sweaty, perhaps finally realizing that the man that they had helped over a year ago was now three times as powerful and ten times as influential. The Hidden Tradition had been a lifeline in a dire time. For that, they had Metra’s thanks, but they were not properly acknowledging how insignificant they had become in the broader scheme of things.

For a brief moment, Ahanu’s eyes met hers. Metra stared back with all of the aggression she felt in that moment. He shuddered. ‘Good,’ the First of Wrath thought.

“…We will comply…” Elu mumbled.

Just like that, the last resistance to the king’s strategy was broken.

“Good. Lastly, I will send a special task **** of Nightfall agents and Aclysia and Eliana to Los Angeles. I have received confirmation that the Mandate of Heaven is sending troops to reinforce us from the west.”

The good news kept on coming.