The Second Archon War, Comoedia Glascialis 5 (Patreon)

Comoedia Glacialis 5: The Curtain Rises, the Show Begins

Looking out at his trellises, Saad felt his heart sink into his stomach. He tramped along the tilled rows of rich, tilled earth, his feet crunching on dead leaves and ice. This was not how it was supposed to be. It did not snow in Nagaa, Egypt. And yet it had. For an entire day, wicked winds had blown, and the snow had piled up in drifts up to a meter tall. And now, his entire crop was dead. 

He bent, examining one of the trailing vines of his beans, but it was withered and brown, the plant dead as can be. He closed his eyes, and he sank to his knees. Behind him, he heard his sons arguing, his wife weeping. What could he do? He barely made enough money to survive as it was. Now, their entire winter crop was dead. 

“What should I do? Curse Allah, and die?” Saad whispered, tears on his wrinkled old cheeks. He clutched at his hair, ready to pull it out in sheer frustration and desperation. What sort of world was this, where devils danced and made ice and snow fall from what had been sunny skies?

“Father, something is coming!” his oldest, Abdul, cried, shaking his shoulder. 

“What does it matter?” Saad said, not bothering to even lift his head. “We are finished.”

“No, LOOK! Something is coming, and the farms, all along the river, they are blooming!” 

Saad’s head jerked up, and his eyes went wide in astonishment. Along the banks of the Nile, a carpet of flowers was spreading out as a bright green spark raced along the banks. He stood, scrambling to his feet and hurrying over to the stone wall that marked his property line to watch. 

“What is it, Abdul? These old eyes do not see so well now,” Saad said, clutching his son’s arm. 

In response, Abdul picked up his own son, Saad the Small, and lifted him to his shoulder. “What do you see?”

“A fairy,” the boy answered instantly. “A djinn! She is green, with wings like a dragonfly! It is Nahida Saeed!”

“Impossible, she is in Iraq,” Saad muttered. But as he watched, the spark drew closer, moving at a good clip. Soon, even he could see the silver hair and insect-like wings on the back of what looked like a little girl with pointed ears. She saw them, pausing in her flight to wave. 

Fear not, for I am with you. I will not let the mouths of the righteous amongst my people go unfed. 

The voice was clear and musical, and it reminded Saad of his granddaughters. Then the green sprite turned about, and raced down the river again, life spreading in her wake. When Saad turned, he fell to his knees in awe and wonder and praised God. 

For all his crops had not just been restored, but had grown taller and stronger than before. His bean plants were now heavy with grown beans, earlier than he would have expected. 

“Allah is merciful and kind,” Abdul said, his own voice tremulous. “We are saved.”

“God is great,” Saad agreed, but his mind went to that green fairy who had wrought this miracle. He did not understand how, nor why, but he did not care. He and his family would survive because of Nahida Saeed, the one they called Lesser Lord Kusinali. And it was to her he would be saying prayers of thanks that night, and for many nights to come. 

All across the Middle East, from Egypt to Turkey, then across the Arabian Peninsula to as far away as parts of India, green specters visited, renewing frozen fields and withered crops. Even in remote places, the Lord of Dendro walked, though it took her many weeks to do so. In some regions, she sent her Dragon, called Sayidat Alzuhur, or the Lady of Flowers. In the end, the Middle East experienced not a food shortfall, but instead a bumper crop that winter. 

And it was sorely needed. For there were cold dark days ahead. 

The dirty alley was stained with blood and had corpses in it, but Kollei ignored them. She had seen dead men before, even killed a few herself. She had eyes only for her savior, standing with her sword like a heroic knight of old, surveying all those who knelt before her. Eyes filling with tears, Kollei felt embarrassed to even be here. What sort of person was she? Anatoly was handsome and rich, and these others were stronger and smarter than she was. She was a bug, not worthy of even being in the presence of someone so beautiful and terrible as the Tsaritsa. 

To Kollei’s shock though, the Tsarita’s cold blue eyes met hers, and for a moment, they thawed slightly. 

“Kollei Moskaylova. Arise.”

At first, Kollei could not believe her ears. This wonderful being was speaking, to her? But the Tsaritsa’s eyes were locked to hers, and swallowing, Kollei got unsteadily to her feet. The Tsaritsa smiled at her, and beckoned to her. 

“Come forward, child.”

Awkwardly, Kollei stepped forward, over the rubble and dead bodies, to where the Tsaritsa stood. She made as if to kneel, but the other woman caught her arm. 

“Stay on your feet, Kollei. When the world had abandoned me, you alone found me. Though you had nothing, you gave all to me,” the Tsaritsa said, her tones soft and gentle, but cold as a midwinter day. 

“I-I didn’t do anything. I just…you looked so beautiful,” Kollei stammered, licking her lips, unable to continue meeting the gaze of this being. What was she? A saint? An angel? A witch? Or perhaps, a god?

“You gave me water and warmth, and most importantly, your faith. Know that in my empire, you will always have a place. It seems that Beezlebul has taken a ward. I shall do the same. You will be Kollei Moskaylova no longer. From this day forward, you will be Kollei Synezhnaya.”

Then to Kollei’s shock, the Tsaritsa embraced her, and kissed her affectionately on the forehead. “You have found a home, my daughter.”

Kollei started trembling all over, then buried her face in the Tsaritsa’s chest, hugging her tightly. She couldn’t speak, too overcome with emotion. For so long, she had longed for a family. Now she had Anastasia, Anatoly, and even the Tsaritsa. 

“I’ve been alone for so long,” Kollei hiccuped when she could speak again. 

“As have I, my child. As have I. But no longer.” Gently, the Tsaritsa lifted a lace hankie to Kollei’s eyes and dried her tears. “But you must have a heart of ice, my daughter. For our road is a long and harsh one.”

That Kollei didn’t understand, but she nodded anyway. For the first time in years, someone saw her. The Tsaritsa understood her, knew her, and despite all that, loved Kollei anyway. In return, she loved this woman so much it hurt. Whatever the Tsaritsa asked of her, Kollei would do. After all, who wouldn’t do anything for their mother? 

Gently, the Tsaritsa guided Kollei to stand at her side, then looked around at the mobsters around her. Her lips thinned, especially when her gaze swept over the two still-wounded capes. “So, did the Sustainer send you, Cursed Ones, to torment me? Or did you truly seek to slay your god and queen of your own accord?”

“F-forgive us, Lady,” the one with the gadgets gasped. “We…we thought we were attacking that upstart, Anatoly Borisevich and his Nazi henchmen. We didn’t realize…didn’t know…”

He trailed off, going pale. Kollei could tell he would die, if he didn’t get treatment. He’d lost a great deal of blood, and more was trickling out. 

“Thoma is no fascist!” Anatoly snarled, suddenly standing up. “He is German, yes, but he is my comrade!”

The Tsaritsa raised a single finger, and Anatoly fell silent. “It would be unwise for one who seeks clemency to disparage one of my retainers. Especially since ignorance is no defense. But as I said: I am a merciful god. If you throw yourself at my feet, perhaps this lesson shall cost you only your arm.” 

The one who had been speaking, the Tinker, fell flat on his face and began to weep and beg, but the ugly one with the long fingernails spat at the Tsaritsa’s feet. “You are no god, but the Devil. I am a good Christian man, whatever else I have done, I will not blaspheme against Christ.”

Kollei fully expected the Tsaritsa to part the idiot’s head from his shoulders, but instead she studied the man. After a moment, she reached down, and touched the groveling one’s hand. His stump froze over, and he gasped out thanks as his wound was healed. Then the Tsaritsa touched the defiant one. He cried out in pain and defiance but then gasped like a man dunked in ice water. A moment later, a new arm sprouted from where he had lost his. 

Looking down at it in wonder, the ugly parahuman flexed his new fingers, which were tinted slightly blue. Then he looked up in confusion. “But…but you said…I did not deny Jesus…”

“You love your god, that I can see. As the God of Love, I cannot but respect your devotion. This Christ Jesus, he is not the Sustainer, yes?”

“I…I do not know what this Sustainer is,” the man admitted. 

“The golden false god who calls himself the Warrior. The one whom I battled,” the Tsaritsa clarified. 

“No! The Devil’s balls, but I don’t worship him! He’s nothing but another false hero,” the man said, shaking his head and crossing himself. 

“Then go, find your god, and tell them these are now my lands. Perhaps we can make a treaty, if he is as loving as his follower is.”

“I…” the man blinked at the Tsaritsa, clearly confused as Kollei was. Find Jesus and speak to him? Kollei had gone to church and prayed with her grandparents as a child, and she had continued to do so, out of hope in Heaven even after they were dead. But there was certainly no God in the hopeless land called Russia.

Or at least, there hadn’t been. 

“I…I will speak with Father Dmitri,” the cape agreed, slowly getting to his feet. “I don’t know if you’re just a madwoman or the Devil’s sister. But…thank you. For sparing my life, and this.”

With that, the man stumbled away, heading off down the street. 

“He is a dangerous cape. It might not be wise to let him live.”

Kollei turned to see Anatoly standing on the Tsaritsa’s left, a hard look in his eyes. “Nogut is not the smartest, but if he lives, he will attach himself to someone else, very likely someone who would oppose us.”

“Are you always so thirsty for blood, child?” the Tsaritsa asked, her tone amused.

Anatoly flushed but tried to hide his annoyance. Kollei could see it though. She had gotten very good at telling when men were angry or upset. That was the time to run. Though right now, she thought it would be safer to stay with the Tsaritsa instead of fleeing.

“I simply wish to advise you as best I can, my Lady,” Anatoly said, inclining his head. “I am…thankful that you have awakened. I was quite concerned for your health.”

“And your own, one presumes,” the Tsaritsa said. Anatoly colored slightly again, but she shook her head. “That is unkind of me. I sense the love within your heart, Anatoly. You fear first for your sister, but also for your fellow countryman. For a thief, you have quite the noble heart.”

“I…I confess I have undertaken less than lawful activities, that my sister and I may survive. Russia is not a kind place these days,” Anatoly admitted. He looked around at the men with guns and the remaining cape, who were still cowering. “And what of these others?”

The Tsaritsa tilted her head to one side. “What would you advise?”

“I know some of these men. They are scoundrels, but they are not evil. What they are is hungry, cold, and desperate. There are few jobs that pay well in Saint Petersburg, and fewer still an unskilled man could obtain. Offer them bread and vodka, and they will follow you. Give them purpose and meaning, and they will love you,” Anatoly said, and his voice almost became pleading. 

“Hmm. And you, Kollei?” the Tsaritsa asked, turning to her. 

“M-me?” Kollei squeaked. She looked around at the rough men and felt their predatory gazes upon her. Her instincts told her to run away and find a hole to hide in, or they would do unspeakable things to her. She looked at the Tsaritsa, wondering if this was a joke, but the woman, no, her mother, gazed back at her with love and patience. 

Taking a shuddering breath, Kollei closed her eyes and tried to think. “I…I know what it’s like to be cold and hungry. I…I’ve done some pretty horrible things, to keep myself fed and warm. Stolen. Stabbed people. Sold…whatever I had. Maybe…maybe if they have someone to love them…they can be good people.”

“Your hearts are both so full of love. It warms me to hear it.” The Tsaritsa raised her voice. “To those of you who would have attacked your empress and god, I offer you clemency. Swear yourselves to me, and I will lead you to success and glory. Depart now, and I will not pursue you. But wrong me again, and the ice shall take you.”

To Kollei’s surprise, a shocking number of the men slowly came over, and knelt before the Tsaritsa to pledge themselves to her. The first, however, was Anatoly, who quickly knelt at her feet. 

“I don’t know everything yet. But if you seek to restore Russia to glory, and to save my people from the slow slide into destruction, I will serve you utterly,” Anatoly vowed, taking the Tsaritsa’s hand. “I would see this broken land mended and restored. For people to no longer live in fear and hunger, but to hold their heads high, and proudly say that they are sons and daughters of The Motherland.”

As Anatoly spoke, Kollei felt a sudden change in the air. The Tsaritsa closed her eyes, then began to recite a strange poem. 

Son of Ice, though your heart is chilled and hardened, you still feel Love. 

Though your path is jagged and perilous, your eyes are set upon your Ambition.

Even when the world calls you a fool, your Vision remains set upon your desires. 

Let your tale now unfold, my beloved of the Twinfold Path. 

As she spoke the last line of the poem, a glowing blue gem appeared in the air before her, and drifted down towards Anatoly as Kollei and everyone else gasped in amazement. With a steady hand, Anatoly reached up, and grasped the Vision in his fist. He looked down at it for a moment, then back up at the Tsaritsa, his face now wet with tears. “You…you truly are an Archon.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” the Tsaritsa asked. She turned to the others who were gazing on her with awe and wonder. “Now. Who shall pledge themselves to Russia?”

Every single one of those who had come to slay the Tsaritsa scrambled to fall to their knees and swore themselves to her, and once more, Kollei felt her heart stir with hope. 

A new day dawned for her people.

While the Tsaritsa accepted fealty from Viktor’s former minions, Anatoly dug out his phone and placed a very important phone call. His heart thundered in his chest as it rang once, then he felt a sigh of relief as his sister’s panicked voice picked up. 

“Tolik?! Are you alright!? What about Kollei, the woman, are you all-”

“I am fine, Nastya. Is Thoma with you? Elena? You are all well?” he asked. 

“Thoma got Elena and I into a car. Didn’t tell us what was happening, just grabbed me and told Elena to follow if she wanted to live, then there were gangsters attacking us! I…I shot one, Tolik. I think…I think he died…”

“Good,” Anatoly said, gripping his Vision so tightly his hand hurt. “Tell Thoma to bring the car around. The safe word is parasol. We’re in the alley behind the theater. And tell him to call for a clean up crew. The Tsaritsa made a bit of a mess.”

“The Tsaritsa? Tolik, what are you even-” 

“She’s fully awake now, Nastya. And everything is about to change,” Anatoly said, then hung up the phone and set about the business of organizing things. 

“You, Alexander Feofilievich. You remember me, yes?” Anatoly said, turning to a grizzled older thief with a scar across his nose. 

“Yes, boss,” Alexander said immediately. “Whatcha want?”

“Take Slozhnyy and ten men. Go secure Viktor’s headquarters. The most important thing, you remember, yes?”

“Books, papers, records,” Alexander said immediately. He might look like a stupid peasant, but the man had a keen mind and had once been a mid-level bureaucrat before he’d been forced to become a street tough to keep his family fed.

“Exactly. If anyone gives you the business, you talk first. They keep giving you the business, break some legs. Tell them Axe Head is dead, and there is a new queen of the organization.” He took out his pistol and put it in Aleksy’s hand. “Get moving.”

“You got it, Comrade boss,” Alexander said, saluting sloppily. He turned and picked out his ten men along with Slozhnyy, who looked disgruntled to be taking orders from an unpowered thug, so Anatoly pulled him aside. 

“You need to prove yourself, Slozhnyy. Accomplish this mission, and her Majesty will reward you. Fail…well. You already have a black mark in her book. You will not survive another. Understand?”

Slozhnyy looked like he wanted to protest until Anatoly hefted his Vision. The Tinker’s eyes fixed on that, and he nodded. “Yes, Comrade.”

“We are not communists, Slozhnyy. Communism failed Russia. The Tsaritsa will not,” Anatoly growled. He had always detested communism. The idea that all men were equal was absurd. Just as with the beasts, bloodline and ability mattered. And now, whether or not one was blessed by the gods with powers. 

“Yes…sir,” Slozhnyy said, sounding distinctly unhappy about having to defer to Anatoly. But he was but a commoner, gifted with powers. He would learn, like any dog did. 

He needed men like Anatoly: to show him the proper way of things. 

As the group departed, Anatoly heard rapid footsteps and turned just in time for Anastasia to plow into him, hugging him tightly. 

“You’re alright,” she said, clinging to him like she had when she was a little girl. “I was so afraid…”

“This isn’t the first time someone tried to kill me,” he said in a lighter tone than he felt. He hugged her back, meeting her tear-filled eyes. “I am more concerned that this is the first time someone has gotten so close to killing you.” 

“Tolik…what is that?” Anastasia asked, her eyes now fixed to the Vision still clutched in his right hand. 

“Ah.” He stepped back, holding it up for Anastasia to see. “It seems the Tsaritsa and I are of one mind. We will heal this land, and restore it to greatness.”

“Oh! That is…good?” Anastasia said, but Anatoly was stepping past her. He nodded to Thoma, who looked as professionally bland as always, then embraced a startled Elena, and kissed her on the cheek. “I am sorry you were caught up in this unpleasantness. I am so glad you are safe, my love.”

Elena flushed, looking surprised and rather pleased at her reception. “I am glad, Toly. I was frightened of course, but…did you…you said you loved me?”

Anatoly took her chin in his hands, tilting her head up towards him, though she was quite tall and close to his own height. “It took you being in danger, but I realized how much I longed for you, Lena.”

As a matter of fact, it hadn’t been until just now, when he saw her again, but Anatoly felt a surge of affection and desire for Elena now that far surpassed the mere lust he normally felt for her. How could he have ever seen this beautiful, vibrant woman as merely a companion to warm his bed? He loved her fiercely, and he would protect her. No harm could come to those that were his. 

He kissed her again then, this time full on the mouth, and to his delight, she returned the kiss eagerly. He could feel her heart beating rapidly inside of her chest, feel the swelling of her own passion and ardor. That was new. Not just the passion, Elena had been playful and affectionate, receptive to his advances but not madly in love with him, he was no fool. But to be able to feel her emotions like heat from a warm fire in winter…was this part of his new powers? What powers did he even have? He would need to experiment. 

When they parted, Elena’s breathing was hard, and a grin spread across her mouth. “Well, perhaps I could learn to love you too, Mr. Karimosov. I was rather frightened by today, but…well. Life is full of danger, is it not?”

Anatoly nodded, then extended his hand to Thoma, who returned the handshake firmly. “Thank you, Thoma. You protected the ones I love most. You are a true friend.”

Thoma barked out a laugh. “Friend? And here, I thought I was but an employee. But it was my honor, sir. Anastasia is dear to my heart as well.”

Anatoly did not miss the flush that game over Anastasia’s face, or the way she looked at Thoma. Probably just a passing gratitude for Thoma saving her life. She was still a teenager, after all. 

“Now, let me present you to Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa,” Anatoly said and ushered the three forward to the queen, who had left the alley, returning to the theater to hold court. Anatoly was not concerned about her safety: as she had proven, even three parahumans and two dozen thugs with machine guns ambushing her didn’t pose a threat. He somewhat doubted anything short of an Endbringer would. 

A slow grin spread over his face as they made their way to the room the Tsaritsa had claimed. Based on past examples, he somewhat doubted Behemoth would fare well if he picked this moment to return to Russia. 

They found the Tsaritsa in a ballroom, where four men were standing guard, rifles in hand. They looked slightly confused about their sudden change of station in life, but they let Anatoly and his companions pass with awkward salutes, save one man who made the gesture crisply enough that Anatoly knew he had to have been in the military. 

They came inside to find the Tsaritsa sitting upon a high-backed chair, with Kollei sitting beside her. Georgy and Elmira were offering her some wine and finger food, while ruffians knelt and swore loyalty to her, including some of Anatoly’s own men. Seeing Anatoly however, the Tsaritsa raised her hand in a gesture of dismissal, and the others stepped aside as Anatoly knelt before her. She offered him her hand, and he kissed it, though she lacked a ring. Something they would have to remedy. 

“Your Majesty, may I present to you once more my sister, Anastasia Karimosva, my lover, Elena Belyaeva, and my aide, Thoma Roth.”

The Tsaritsa smiled, then motioned for them to rise. “Yes, I recall you all. I am especially grateful for your sister caring for me during my convalescence. And you both gave wonderful performances, Elena and Anastasia. But you, Thoma…you are of Barbatos’ people, are you not?”

Anatoly shot a look at Thoma, but the man shrugged. “I am German, yes. You refer to the one called Venti Luft, do you not? I do not know him.”

“Is that the name that treacherous wind sprite has given his vessel? I am afraid I am unfamiliar with the politics of this world. Still, are you loyal to the Anemo Archon, Thoma the Red?” the Tsaritsa replied. 

“No.” Thoma stood up straight, his expression firm. “I serve Anatoly, now. His loyalties are my loyalties. I bear no allegiance to my old home.” 

“I see. Then if it is here your heart lies, kneel,” the Tsaritsa commanded. 

Thoma stepped forward, kneeling before her, and she reached out a hand, touching his red hair. “I name you Thoma Krasnov, and claim you as one of my own.

Thoma shuddered, and Anatoly sensed a change within him. When the other man exhaled, his breath was fogged and icy. “I…I thank you, Majesty. Though I must ask… do you truly wish to become Queen of Russia?”

The Tsaritsa laughed, and Anatoly felt himself shudder with sudden anticipation.

“Oh, child. I already am the ruler of this land. It simply has not realized it yet. Now. I have slept too long, and there is much to do. Anatoly: you will bring me information. I must know the state of this country and her people. I can feel their grief and sorrow, for it mirrors my own. I would know how to bind up this nation’s wounds, and make her strong once more.” 

Anatoly grinned and bowed. “It would be my pleasure, your Majesty.”