"They have tested the bounds of our patience past all reasonable limits, pursued our trade caravans to the point of ruin—and you tell me that you intend to advise the King to refrain from war?"
"I do." Conscience Astin did not allow any flicker of the contemptuous disdain she felt for the Councilwoman to show on her face. "It is best."
"By Gara Herself, Conscience! I have praised your integrity and discernment since the day of your ascension to the service of our King—"
"Trust that discernment now, Councilwoman."
"Were His Majesty to discover what we have told you concerning his sister, he would not thank you for your advice."
Conscience Astin nodded her head in sober acquiescence. "It is for that reason that decisions of this gravity must fall to my lot and not his. The nation of Raan lies across a great desert, and its army is mighty. By the time our fighters crossed the desert they would be in no condition to prevail. Alternate trade routes are less profitable, but preferable to the devastation of war."
"The King's sister—"
"Was killed by one woman among many. Her only connection to Raan was her birth."
This was all true. And Conscience Astin felt no regret at relating her decision to the King; she could not afford to.
She did wonder, however, what it might be like to face no tension, no worry for the future. Although his shoulders now slumped with grief for his young sister, the King accepted Conscience Astin's verdict with the same wide-eyed certainty he had always had. He knew that she was just an extension of his power, waiting for its deadly illness to conquer her before it could reach him.
She wondered, if she failed him, would his shoulders slump for her? Or was she as human to him as the throne he sat on?
YOU ARE READING
Mercy (Short Story)
FantasyConscience Astin was unaccustomed to staring Justice in the face. She had worked alongside it all her life, sent helpless souls into its unforgiving hands-but she had never faced it as she now did. She had been taught to expect that this day would...
