Chapter Text
"It's over."
Dohalim lowered the hand that still held his staff, the crest acknowledging him as the lord of Elde Menancia dissipating from the space between him and his opponent. But that opponent was more his friend than his adversary, and so Dohalim's chest tightened to see the burden of loss on Tarnigen's shoulders as he caught his breath, still clutching the hilt of his sword. Still clutching it…tighter? Dohalim saw the way his knuckles paled.
Leave it be, Dohalim internally pleaded. If his friend were to pick up his sword again, the intention would be to take Dohalim's life. His lordship had been decided, and the only way to steal that title was to kill the one who held it. And if this duel would not end without one of them being killed, Dohalim knew that Tarnigen lacked the skill to end his life.
"Don't," was the only word he could muster, a whisper not from breathlessness after combat but from fear. Tarnigen wouldn't do such a thing. He wasn't that desperate, was he? For an instant Dohalim envisioned a future where he was burdened with the guilt of taking his friend's life.
Tarnigen barely lifted his sword before casting it aside with an anguished howl, dropping to his knees as he openly wept.
Ah, Tarnigen's family never did teach him to guard his emotions. Perhaps that was part of why he failed where Dohalim excelled.
In the aftermath of his victory, Dohalim hardly acknowledged the congratulations from the people who supported him. His stare flitted to Tarnigen, whose only comforter in the face of his loss was Fahria–and that comfort would have only made Tarnigen grieve more, a belief that if he was not lord then he could not choose a wife from a lower caste. Dohalim wondered if he would feel the same in Tarnigen's place: was falling in society's ranks truly more unthinkable than living without one's deepest love?
Of the things he recalled from the blur of congratulations, Dohalim remembered the way his father praised him; it had been years since the man had grinned at him so warmly or pulled him in for a hug, although it left Dohalim perplexed rather than proud. His mother maintained her usual composure, just the slightest twinge of a smile playing at the corner of her lips.
He was never granted a moment to address Tarnigen, instead swept away by the logistics of his approaching reign. But what would he have said anyway? An apology for not surrendering? Condolence for the moral dilemma Tarnigen would now have to face? Any such words would have been met with resentment. Perhaps Tarnigen would always hate him.
His focus was instead drawn to the people he was introduced to, to the strategists and advisors and guardsmen who would accompany him to Dahna. It was explained that the most knowledgeable individuals would be those who were already stationed on Dahna, committing themselves to the next lord rather than returning to Lenegis. Dohalim questioned if those people could indeed be counted as the most knowledgeable when they evidently had not helped the last lord attain sovereignty, but he kept such thoughts to himself. It made no difference to him whether he became sovereign or not. He did not rejoice in the victory, but rather in the relief that he'd no longer be burdened by people who insisted he must pursue lordship. For the first time in his life, Dohalim felt he could pursue whatever he wanted.
In his chambers in Il Qaras manor, Dohalim hoarded books on Elde Menancia and devoted his evenings to reading them. He read of the capital, Viscint, and of Autelina Palace that stood as its heart. The words in themselves evoked a vision of nature he would struggle to imagine if not for the illustrations that accompanied them. The variation in nature–the carefully plotted flower beds of the palace gardens, the overgrown trees and vines within Gilanne Woodland–must have acted as such potent muses to the artists who had created those images. He wondered if there were works of poetry or song that were equally inspired. Perhaps, at last, he would have the time and freedom to create such works himself.
The idea awakened his concern for Tarnigen again, a knot in his stomach that forced him to set the book down. Would Tarnigen be able to pick up his violin again without bitter feelings? Longing for Fahria; hatred for Dohalim. The most compelling music was that driven by such emotion, and yet he did not wish it upon his friend.
He felt helpless to do anything…but was he? Was he not a lord, one of the five most powerful individuals on Lenegis? One who had been bestowed the privilege to rule as they desire? If there was something he did not wish to happen, then he could decide what would become of it.
"Congratulations, Dohalim."
Tarnigen's words were laced with venom. Fahria discretely chided him with a tug on his sleeve and a subtle shake of her head. She turned to Dohalim. "I can't believe I'm acquainted with a lord!" she gushed. "It's such an accomplishment, Do. You should be celebrating."
"It seems unfitting to celebrate an accomplishment that is paid for by another's suffering," Dohalim said, deliberately turning his attention to Tarnigen. But Tarnigen cast his gaze aside, eyes narrowing. Earning forgiveness was not so simple as speaking the right words. Dohalim knew this, and so he had summoned them with more intention than just a spoken apology. "I hold onto a hope of happiness for both of you, and I ponder…could such happiness be found on Dahna?"
The couple looked to each other, Fahria with new life in her eyes and Tarnigen with exhausted doubt. It was the latter who addressed Dohalim's proposition first: "What are you playing at, Do? Neither of us are anything special. I clearly don't excel as a fighter and politics are not our interest."
Dohalim flashed a smile. "You should know that my values don't match that of your typical lord. Yes, this is the stage in which I establish my entourage for the next ten years–and any court I rule over will require musicians, of course." It was in part a way of easing his friends' dilemma, but it was also a truth. Ten years without music played by people of talent would have been a punishment for Dohalim, hardly suitable for a lord.
"But even so… I'm still…" Fahria's voice wavered, her eyes downcast. Dohalim recognized this look from the first time he had met her - a lifetime of being downtrodden and undervalued, constantly reminded that skill was a farce and birthright was everything.
Dohalim had been the one to tell her otherwise back then, and he would do so again. "I'll officiate your wedding myself if that's what it takes for people to accept your union."
Fahria kept her gaze downward, only braving looking up when Tarnigen reached for her hand. Ever since Dohalim had first caught the way Fahria would sneak glances at Tarnigen during the times they played music together, he had rooted for them in the way one longs to read of characters professing their love for one another in a book. And so he watched then, enraptured by the sincerity in Tarnigen's motion of capturing Fahria's hand between his, the shyness of his words as he asked, "Would you go to Dahna with me?"
They were already betrothed, and yet Fahria reacted like she had been proposed to anew. Her eyes glistened and her hand trembled in Tarnigen's grasp. "Of course I will," she breathed. Tarnigen lowered down to rest his forehead against hers and Fahria's emotion erupted in giggles as tears streaked down her cheeks.
Dohalim felt more pride in witnessing their renewed affection than he had in winning lordship over Elde Menancia. He took in a deep breath and released it through his mouth. " Now I would say we can indulge in celebration."
Perhaps it would be the final time the four of them would gather together. Certainly for the next ten years - Avakhir had made it clear that he had no intention of abandoning his career on Lenegis to join them on Dahna. He had recently graduated from the college of engineering and was as precise a technician in his work as he was when he played violin. The technology on Dahna was said to be at least a decade behind, trapped in the time of the preceding Crown Contest. Not many Renans were willing to work towards those advancements on Dahna and sacrifice the opportunity to help technology move forward on Lenegis.
The quartet always claimed the same table at the lounge they visited after practice sessions, so they chose their usual seats out of habit. Dohalim and Avakhir might as well have had a table for themselves, however, with the way Fahria and Tarnigen were off in their own little world. After only two drinks, the couple took their leave.
"You don't think you've gotten their hopes up too much?"
Dohalim paused with his sake cup at his lips. "What do you mean?" he asked before sipping the last bit of alcohol from his cup.
"Romanticizing Dahna," Avakhir said. He pulled his glasses off and squinted at some imperfection before wiping them clean with a kerchief. "It'll be different than here, of course, but castes exist there too."
"I have been gifted the power of influence." Dohalim set his cup back down and refilled it from the tokkuri, savouring the warmth of the ceramic vessel. "If the sovereign said the castes were no more, then it would be so. A lord at least has that much power in his own realm."
Avakhir examined his glasses before putting them back on. "I agree with you, but I just think things through logically. Changing the law won't change people's hearts."
They were taught that a lord's word was absolute as long as it did not contradict an edict from the sovereign. Dohalim could have been treading close to challenging the sovereign's rules by permitting a marriage between castes, but not so much to raise opposition, surely. Just a smudge in the scenery and not a wave crashing over society as they knew it.
"Maybe I'm worried about you as much as I am them," Avakhir said. He took a gulp of his drink and set it back down. "Nobody is more susceptible to disillusionment than idealists."
The view from the starship was humbling. The structures of Lenegis and Rena and Dahna were part of everyone's education, so it was a simple fact that Dohalim had seen presented through diagrams in textbooks from childhood–even so, to see Lenegis in its entirety as they pulled away from its orbit, and then to see Dahna, too large to view in full once they were a similar distance away…
"Lenegis really is small, isn't it?"
It was Fahria who put it into words. Lenegis was all that they had ever known, and yet it was so minute compared to Dahna.
Dohalim's heart thrummed, suddenly intimidated by the realization that the realm he would rule over was possibly in itself larger than all of Lenegis. How many people lived there? He had memorized the population numbers long ago, but suddenly that basic fact escaped him. He had thought he'd known everything there was to know and, without the stress of caring whether he won the Crown Contest or not, he could finally follow his own whims.
But there was more to Elde Menancia than they could really convey in books.