17: La Quatrième Chanson

Pulling the hood of the dark cloak over her head, Alexandrie bit her tongue and looked at Re’mik’ki, the elf already hiding deep in travelling clothes. The fire of that fourth song was still in her belly - in truth Alexandrie had held her tongue the entire time she watched the Minstrel Laureate dress down from her role as the Voice of the World, returning quickly to relative normality as a tall Ebon elf. Alexa had watched the second half of the opera with a mixture of horror, rage and wonder: as the audience had become restless, so had she. It was the first time La Chanson had shown her a little of itself and she had revelled in it. The beauty of it. The ugliness of what it meant to see the world. The rage it must feel at not being able to change anything, stop anything without those who would give of themselves to its melody. Re’mik’ki was such a one. Whether she was aware of that or not was inconsequential.

If she knew, Alexa would have someone to speak to about La Chanson. Someone who understood. If not, it was another situation like that with Lucas, and Alexa was not prepared to go through that again. So she bit her lip as Re’mik’ki hurriedly dressed in silence. Why had she done it? She had been so determined. Everything had been set up to stop her: she endured the anger of put out staff, would certainly draw the ire of the Sinrou sooner or later. She had to know there would be consequences. The four of them were only to protect her within the city. How could she return here in future? Was she exiled from everywhere else? How did she feel now? What was she thinking? Was it very difficult to be so bold and so disliked?

Alexandrie racked her brain trying to remember if the performance Re’mik’ki had given in Shining Capital had been so outrageous. It had raised eyebrows, but no one had left. If they had, she didn’t remember it. Or perhaps she hadn’t understood the extent of the situation.

She wished, as always, that Grandmère were here. Grandmère knew what the Song wanted – would know exactly why Re’mik’ki had to sing that fourth song. Was it for the people? She was quickly coming to realise that Glitter Delta Cove was a divided populous. At once so joyous and so lost. Both desperate to cling to tradition while also seeming to loathe it. A city at silent war. A city smouldering - awaiting a spark to complete half-finished destruction. If Re’mik’ki was native to the city - or nearby, beneath - of course she would want to sing about it. How could one love their country and not want to tell its story?

Was all of the Progress like this? Would it be this way everywhere they went – everywhere the Progress went? Not progress but… erasure? Attempted erasure, at least. Would people be afraid to tell their story - to speak the truth?

Tucking her hair into the cloak (once they were on horseback one female form looked much like another and despite her fear, Alexandrie was certain it would be better if she drew attack than the Voice) she scuffed a foot on the ground. A small puff of ash rose from the ground, scarring her boot black. Dead tradition, erased history. Until tonight.

Alexandrie had known full well she’d had at her command the ability to silence the singer, but she hadn’t. La Chanson had said not to. Had it been a test? With the uproar the Opera had caused, had it been a test? Did La Chanson still question her loyalty? Her trust? 

Was the test ongoing?

Protect Re’mik’ki. That was the task they were given by Aquideon - the elf who, as far as they were aware, had provided the funding for the mill that could have destroyed the Lizardfolk. Irony, as she thought of it - to destroy the home of others to create the resources to take back his own frayed culture from those who had tried to destroy it. Destruction upon destruction. Where would it end? And La Chanson watched it all - watched the World as it tore itself apart. 

For the first time, things began to make sense to Alexandrie - she began to understand what Jasper meant, and wondered what it was like in the Empire of the Burning Lash - what it was like in the Deliverance of the Dawn. Was everyone the same? More importantly, was La Chanson watching over all of them just the same? Were there other teenagers leaving home, called to an unknown location to…she didn’t know what.

Perhaps. For now, though, there was only one thing everyone was asking her to do: Protect Re’mik’ki.

This was not entirely accurate, though. To Alexandrie, as she walked in step with the elf, eyes scanning as they made their way to the horses, the task was not only to protect Re’mik’ki. 

It was to protect the Voice of the World. Something she would do with her life.

Mounting a horse, she closed her eyes for just a moment. Fingers interlaced, she hummed the few bars she knew of the Song of the World. Large in her mind, the Voice of the World close by and – she frowned and opened her eyes as Lucas appeared behind her, grunting as if mounting a horse were difficult. Shifting in the saddle behind her as though he could not get comfortable. She sighed and rolled her eyes. Let’s get this over with.

Taking the reins, she nudged the horse forward. It huffed as it danced to one side in the movement. She knew what was wrong immediately. Lucas had done something.

“This is not the time to be stupide”, she muttered as Lucas encouraged the horse forward with his legs. Releasing her grip on the reins, she allowed the horse the space to move, then took control of it again. Again it danced in place. 

Biting her tongue in frustration, she returned her attention to Re’mik’ki. A few bars hummed and golden notes flew out like stars around the singer in all directions for 10 feet. They would need to stay close, but the Voice was safe for as long as Alexa could maintain the music.

Behind her, she could feel Lucas’ warmth – more - she could feel La Chanson reaching back to him in greeting. Unsure how she felt about that, she took the reins again, this time more forcefully. They would need to keep up, and Re’mik’ki rode as she seemed to do all things - passionately.

Her attention on Re’mik’ki as it was, when they turned the corner to find the Minstrel and Chevalier facing the interlopers, there wasn’t time to think clearly. 

In the centre of the bandits, with Lucas nearby raising uncertainty and the possibility of harm to her charge, there was no hesitation, no question in her mind what was needed - what she needed to do to protect La Chanson and its Voice. With five bandits to the four of them (where was Spider?), her eyes met Re’mik’ki’s and hardened slightly. 

This – this was the test.

In unison, the women flung back their hoods as they sat astride their horses and screamed in discordant harmony.

One word: Run.

Run from the power and majesty they brought to bear as a gift from that in which Alexandrie placed her trust. 

Run. 

Foes of La Chanson: Run.

In that scream was all the emotional energy she’d held tight, the uncertainty, the discomfort. All the fear of a young woman unsure of whether the wrongs she wished to right could be righted, unsure of where she would be at the end, what she would be or who.

In that scream she burned away the fear that she might not be worthy – for how could she not be worthy when this was the power given to her? 

In that scream – in that moment, the fear rippled out of her and she sat tall and proud in the saddle,  Alexandrie Aerith Vanessa Elamys Normaer Sylvaris Donadieu: Herald of La Chanson du Monde.

She now knew exactly how Re’mik’ki felt as the Voice of the World. 

Victorious.

And then the ground cracked.