Page 124 of Alchemised
All eyes turned to Helena, eyebrows rising at the sight of her. She should have cleaned up more before coming. It had felt so urgent when she was on her way.
“Marino, you have the floor.”
Helena swallowed and looked down at the file in her hands, chest tight as she walked towards the centre of the room where there was a large mosaic of the sun, rays spanning out around it. Speakers were supposed to stand in the centre.
“These are only the initial estimates,” she said, her voice hardly loud enough to carry, but it carried anyway; the spot where she stood had been designed to capture any sound and amplify it due to the oddly stepped ceiling overhead.
“An estimate is fine,” Ilva said.
Helena opened the file. The numbers felt so incomprehensible, they threatened to stretch and distort as she read them out. Estimated casualties, estimates on how many would be permanently removed from combat, estimates on how many might recover enough to return to the front. Every number but the last too large.
The report was met with a long silence.
Althorne cleared his throat. “Would you say those estimates are likely to rise or drop in the final report?”
“Rise,” she said in a dull voice. “The hospital resorted to triage care per protocol and prioritised the patients most likely to survive, but preliminary reports are usually conservative.”
There were concerned murmurs.
“Thank you, Marino,” Ilva said, a note of tension in her voice as she nodded towards the map. “Althorne, you may resume.”
“Wait,” Helena said. Her heart was pounding as she forced herself to look up from the numbers, staring at the empty seat where Luc was supposed to be. Anything. Anything. Anything. “I submitted a proposal to the Council a week ago, along with my report on the hospital inventory, and several weeks before, too. I never received an answer.”
There was a tense silence. She plunged on.
“I know—it is hard to consider, but I believe we should offer Resistance members the choice of donating their bodies to the cause in the event that they’re killed in combat,” she said. “Rather than burning the bodies, we could—” She hesitated a moment, knowing she could never take back what she was about to say. “—reanimate them and use them as an infantry in order to protect our living combatants. This would be done only with their written permission—”
“Absolutely not,” Ilva said, cutting her off.
“That is treason!” came another voice.
Helena looked up and met the eyes of Falcon Matias, who glared down at her, his face livid.
“You stand before us and propose a desecration of the natural cycle. This is the reason why vivimancers can never be trusted, not even for a moment. They are corrupt from conception! This is why this country faces war even now. One moment of leniency and their corrupted natures will seek to spread their contamination.” He turned to the Council members seated beside him, inclining his head. “I am ashamed that such apostasy could be uttered by my oblate. I beg the Council’s forgiveness. She will be taken in hand, placed in chains, and stripped of all—”
“We are fighting a war against the dead and the Undying,” Helena said. She’d known they wouldn’t listen, but surely by now they understood the Eternal Flame couldn’t possibly win if things continued as they were. “It wouldn’t be done to anyone who didn’t consent while they were still alive. Our soldiers are willing to die for the cause; why not at least give them the choice to keep fighting and spare the living?”
“What do you know about fighting?”
The question came from behind her. She looked back, but there were so many people glaring at her, she couldn’t even guess at who’d spoken.
“Your proposal is a violation of everything the Eternal Flame has stood for since the moment of its founding,” Ilva said in a cold voice. “You want us to consider the damnation of our soldiers’ souls? You took oaths, Marino. Did I misjudge you? Have your abilities made you forget your humanity?”
“No!” Helena said, ragged with frustration. The file in her hands was crumpling as she gripped it. “I am loyal to the cause. My vows are to protect life and fight against necromancy no matter the cost. This would be to that end. I would sacrifice my soul for the Eternal Flame. There might be others who would as well. Can’t we ask?”
Falcon Matias stood up. He was a tiny, bony man, and he looked prepared to launch himself over the dais at Helena and strangle her. “The Order of the Eternal Flame, created by Orion Holdfast himself, was founded on Sol’s principles of the natural cycle of life and death. It was for Orion’s bravery and willingness to sacrifice his life that he was blessed by the heavens and made victorious. Any use of necromancy is a violation of the cycle. Your thoughts and words are a stain upon the Eternal Flame and history itself.”
“Who are we saving right now?” Helena said, her voice rising. “How many more can we lose before—”
There was the firm smack of a flat hand on the marble table, and the ceiling overhead abruptly rearranged itself. Helena’s words were swallowed, leaving a deadly silence.
Jan Crowther lifted his hand away from the dais, his eyes narrowed into slits as he studied her.
“Marino, your voice is no longer recognised by this body,” Ilva said after a moment, her voice cool and deliberate. “However, it is plain to see that you are—hysterical. Given that you are clearly not sound of mind, we will not have you disavowed for this.” As she spoke, Ilva looked sharply at Matias, who looked ready to protest. “In gratitude for your years of service, I will have this outburst stricken from the records.” She closed her eyes briefly as if in prayer. “I’m only grateful that Principate Lucien was not here to witness this betrayal of faith. Tell Matron Pace she will handle all future reports from the hospital. You are dismissed.”
Without another glance in Helena’s direction, Ilva turned towards the map once more. One of her hands rested on Matias’s arm to calm him. “Moving on now. Althorne, you may continue.”
Althorne’s voice was a distant rumble in Helena’s ears as she turned and left the war room.
