CHAPTER 26: PLOTTING
Seven years in the Tower had turned Hania from a toddling experiment into a precocious child. Most of that time had been spent navigating the Tower’s architectural mood swings and trying to piece together the fractured history of a world that didn’t make sense.
Hania sat on a plush rug in the library, a heavy, leather-bound book open on her lap. She wasn't reading it. She was using it as a tray for her snacks.
So, the world didn't always look like a grimdark RPG, Hania thought, popping a grape into her mouth. Two hundred years ago, it was the Aurea Pax: The Golden Peace. A time when mana was as common as dirt and people treated magic as a basic utility. Must have been nice. No student loans, just mana stones.
Lusha was hanging upside down from a chandelier, her dark silk skirts defying gravity. She was braiding a string of pearls with terrifying speed.
"Lusha," Hania said, her voice high and clear, "why do the history books say the Thornecrests founded the Empire, but the songs say the Noctis ended the war? It’s a bit of a plot hole, don't you think?"
Lusha swung gently, her eyes reflecting the candlelight. "Books are written by the people who have the patience for ink and parchment, little moon. Your father finds ink bothersome. So, the Thornecrests got the credit, and your father got to keep his nap schedule."
Right. The Bumania inferiority complex, Hania mused. Imagine being the Bumania line, ruling an empire for four generations while knowing the guy in the North could take it back if he ever got bored enough to do his own laundry.
"Was the Dragon King really wise?" Hania asked aloud. "Kofery says he went berserk, but berserk doesn’t feel appropriate. Animals go berserk. Kings usually have reasons."
Lusha dropped from the chandelier, landing silently on her feet. She sat cross-legged in front of Hania. "He was the oldest thing in the world, Hania. When he lost his mind, the monsters followed. The mana stones, our literal lifeblood, were trapped in his territory. We were starving for power. That’s why the five nations had to hold hands and pretend to be friends."
"Until Gloriana betrayed everyone," Hania added, tracing the crest of the fallen kingdom in her book.
"Betrayal is a strong word for a kingdom that was simply in the way of a Bumania expansion plan," Lusha whispered. "They crushed Gloriana, absorbed it, and called it justice. Then they shackled Obelion with a marriage contract that turned a Queen into a prisoner in her own palace."
Hania looked up. "Thalindra. She’s still alive because of the curse, isn't she? To watch everything she loves suffer and die while she remains."
The Aurea Pax ended in a bloodbath and a series of cosmic 'f-you's', Hania thought darkly. The four houses didn't just win a war; they inherited a nightmare. The Thornecrests get the throne but die before they’re fifty. Leonarth is a 200-year-old who can't trust his own descendants because they're all Emberlyn-flavored crazy. And Dad…
"Lusha, what happened to Dad's hair? Truly?"
"He reached the end of the path," Lusha said, her voice trailing off. "He broke the limit. But when you step that far into the cold, you don't come back with the same heart. He sealed the Noxbrion kingdom and gave it to his sister’s family to manage as proxies, sealed the borders, and built this tower. He told the Empire: 'Don't interrupt my peace.' And for two centuries, they’ve been too terrified to knock."
But the monsters aren't gone, Hania reminded herself. They're just behind the wards, waiting for the mana to flow like water again.
"It's messy," Hania grumbled, closing the book with a thud. "The Empire is on its fourth generation. The Emperor is thinning out, the Southern Duke is a melting puddle of fire and jelly, and the Queen of Obelion is a shackled ghost. Why is everyone still pretending this is a 'Golden Empire'?"
Lusha leaned in, poking Hania’s cheek. "Because the alternative is admitting that the world ended 200 years ago, and we’re just the scavengers living in the wreckage. Now, stop being a little philosopher and finish your milk. Kofery spent twenty minutes making sure it was the perfect temperature before he went to hide from the laundry maid."
Hania took a sip of the milk, her mind still spinning. Learning that my Daddy is a bored man who accidentally started a cursed era. If the Bumania line only lives to fifty, and the current Emperor is hitting that ceiling... the power vacuum is going to be a disaster. And I'm stuck in the middle of it with a teething ring and a target on my back.
"Lusha?"
"Yes, little moon?"
"Does Dad ever regret the crown?"
Lusha looked toward the laboratory doors. "Your father doesn't regret, Hania. He seems to… wait. I'm just not sure what he's waiting for anymore."
Maybe he was waiting for me, Hania thought, looking at her tiny, mana-sensitive hands. Or maybe he's just waiting for the world to finally finish breaking so he can finally get some real sleep.
"I think I want to learn to cast a shield today," Hania said, her voice back to being a demanding seven-year-old. "Big enough to keep out annoying ginger boys and territorial emperors."
Lusha laughed. "That’s my girl. Let's go see if we can make Kofery faint again.”
Time passed, and night fell. It was time to write in her diary, which was hidden under her mattress.
She reached deep under her mattress, her small hand brushing past the covers of Volumes I and II until she found the leather of her current project.
She crawled back into the center of her bed, pulling the heavy velvet duvet over her head to create a makeshift tent. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a marble-sized sphere of light. She picked up her quill. It was time for a late-night brain dump.
THE CHRONICLES OF HANIA THE UNSTOPPABLE, VOL. III: THE TOWER IS A GOLDEN CAGE AND I AM NOT A CANARY.
Entry 47: The "Aurea Pax" was a scam.
Lusha finally stopped speaking in riddles for five minutes today. Tomorrow is the day. I’m going to confront the Glacier.
I’ve been practicing my hardest. Lusha says I look like I’m about to commit a coup. Honestly? Accurate. I need to see the Southern Dukedom. I need to see if I can find a way to fix the shackled mess in Obelion before it becomes my problem.
Daddy is going to say "No." He’s going to say "It’s bothersome." He might even try to distract me with a new set of mana-theory books.
He doesn't realize I’ve already read them. And I’ve already decided they aren't enough.
I didn't pray for a new life just to be a well-fed spectator. If he won't lead me out, I’ll bite his hand until he drops the keys. He thinks he’s the only one in this family who can be stubborn? He’s about to meet the version 2.0.
Current Status: Plotting.
Target: The lab doors.
Weapon of choice: Unfiltered audacity.
Hania closed the book and blew out the light. She shoved the diary back into its hiding spot and lay flat on her back, staring at the dark canopy of her bed.
You’re a bored man, Daddy, she thought, her eyes narrowing in the dark. But I’m a girl who has already seen the end of one life. I’m not wasting a second of this one.
She fell asleep dreaming of southern suns and crumbling empires, her tiny hand curled into a fist. Tomorrow, the Archmage was going to have to deal with something much more terrifying than a berserk dragon: a daughter who had stopped asking for permission.