Chapter Text
It had been years since Sasha had last seen Newtopia.
She and a dozen soldiers were on a low rise above the inner sea, resting their beetles before the final day of riding to bring them to the city proper. She had dispersed the rest of her troops over the previous week, paying the veterans she couldn’t afford to lose from what remained of the warchest and sending the rest back to their winter quarters. The toads were eager to return to their families and their little vegetable patches, eager enough that there hadn’t even been much grumbling that their pay was late again. But that complacency wouldn’t last long.
In a few short months spring would come, the snow blocking the mountain passes would thaw, and fresh bands of hungry marauders and bugs would spill down into the kingdom to devour entire provinces at a time. Unless Sasha could beg, steal and borrow enough copper coins to entice the Newtopian Army back into the field and stop them. It was the same damn song and dance as every other year. Except each time the Newtopian Army marched out it was just a little bit slower and each time another piece of the kingdom disappeared down the gullet of its enemies, never to return…
Down the slope, a couple of her soldiers had lashed some wooden planks across the collapsed arch of a stone bridge. One of them gingerly put one foot and then the other on the beam, testing the strength of their makeshift repair. It seemed to hold. The toad looked up and Sasha nodded her approval. It just needed to last long enough to get the beetles across - a permanent repair could wait until there was less urgent business. Of course she was pretty sure this particular bridge had been waiting since her last visit to the city more than five years ago.
Soon they were all remounted and on the road again, watching the walls of the city rise out of the flooded plain. After an hour or so, the drizzle stopped and the clouds suddenly broke. Lances of sunlight pierced through the clouds and their destination seemed to glow golden as the light caught the walls. The toads and handful of newts in her small escort let out a cheer, excited to have their destination so near. Yunan cheered the loudest. It had been a long time since she had last been allowed to return to the city.
Sasha could only sigh under her breath. She hated the capital, but she had exhausted every other option for raising money.
The only way was forward.
Another gentle rise revealed a family of frogs on the road in front of them, over a dozen of them all crowded into a single snail-drawn wagon. The driver quickly turned the wagon off the road, almost flipping the top-heavy vehicle in their haste to get out of the soldier’s way. Sasha’s troops thundered past without a second look, but Sasha caught a glint of something in the corner of her eye and halted her beetle for a moment. One of the frog children was holding a little wooden slingshot… no it was a miniature tennis racket. The young frog looked up at Sasha with wide wet eyes and gave her a shy gap-toothed smile before her parents pulled her hood down over her face and bowed deeply, deliberately averting their gaze as they motioned for the rest of their children to do the same.
Sasha spurred her beetle onwards and rejoined her troops. Sometimes it was like Newtopia was covered in exposed nails and she could feel them catching on her clothes, threatening to unspool her like an old sweater. She hated it here.
She did not stop again until she was through the city gates.
The reception ceremony was mercifully brief. The king presented Sasha a few gifts for her accomplished service: some coral jewellery that would have been sold as souvenirs back in Andrias’ day and a crested helmet that Grime had clearly commissioned because it actually looked like it might fit her. Sasha pretended to be respectful and did not bother to try too hard.
The king was new, but Sasha wasn’t at all surprised. It was another gangly newt adolescent, the latest “distant cousin” that Grime could always conveniently dig up whenever the previous one got a bit too unruly. The old warlord had always insisted that he would be too bored if he ever took the crown himself, that he preferred not to be burdened with all the ceremony when he already had all the power. Sasha wasn’t sure if she believed him though. As much as Grime might enjoy seeing some weak-willed newt aristocrat squirm around trying to look regal on Andrias’ oversized throne, he must suspect that he would look every inch as ridiculous in their place: like an ugly child playing dress up with their parent’s clothes.
There was one thing in the whole tedious pantomime that caught her eye though. For the first time she could remember, there was a frog at court. He was dressed in the deep blue robes of a priest and he stood in the position of honour at the king’s right side. When the ceremony concluded, the frog stepped forward and Sasha felt her heart catch in her chest. Eyes closed and arms outstretched, the priest began to lead the court in a prayer.
“To the blessed Anne of Frog Valley…”
Sasha turned on her heel and marched out of the throne room, heedless of the courtiers that tripped over each other scrambling out of her way. The priest’s droning voice continued but she couldn’t hear him over the blood pounding in her ears. She made it out of the room and down another corridor before Grime caught up with her.
The warlord was noticeably older than when she had seen him last - the remaining streaks of colour were fading from his beard and there was a new rasp in his voice as he called after her - but his good eye was still as piercing as ever.
“Lieutenant,” he rumbled with almost perfect sincerity before breaking into a broad grin. Sasha smiled as well, her dark thoughts dispelled instantly by the sight of her old mentor.
“Let’s go find something to drink.”
“I wonder what those two are plotting,” Grime muttered. They were up on one of the palace balconies, Grime on his fourth bog grog and Sasha deep into a bottle of red wine. Sasha followed his gaze down to Olivia and Yunan seated together at the edge of a fountain in the courtyard below.
Back when she and Grime had first seized Newtopia, those two newts had the potential to be two of the most formidable enemies of the new regime. Even to this day, Sasha sometimes wondered what might have happened if Yunan had been in the palace when she and Grime had made their move against Andrias. But fortunately the general had been on the other side of the city and by the time she was able to rally her troops, Bufo and the rest of the toad army was marching through the gates and it was already over.
Yunan had gone with Sasha to serve in the Newtopian field army and Olivia had stayed with Grime in the capital as his head bureaucrat, each convenient hostages for the other. It had been a long time though since either of them had needed to be reminded of the leash. Sasha honestly thought they never would. As long as Newtopia still had enemies to fight (and it was probably the only thing the kingdom still had in surplus), Yunan’s deranged sense of honour meant she would be there to fight them. And as for Olivia? She might roll her eyes and play in the margins to try and soften some of Grime’s more egregious brutality but at the end of the day, making excuses for eccentric old tyrants was all she knew.
Just four idiots who had all shackled themselves to the same dying kingdom.
“They can plot,” Sasha responded carefully. When Grime got in a suspicious mood like this, it was usually better to appeal to logistics than try and overcome his inherent distrust of all his subordinates. “But it won’t mean a thing without troops and Yunan’s newts are all garrisoned in the furthest corners of the kingdom.”
“Beatrix has troops,” Grime scowled. Nothing scared the old warlord like the idea of his younger sister pulling the same trick on him that he had done to Andrias. Sasha thought it was exhausting, although she had to admit there were probably more than a few real spies among the servants Grime kept arresting for treason.
“Olivia knows that Beatrix would lose half the kingdom overnight and the rest would fall apart in less than three years,” Sasha said, unable to keep the exasperation from her voice. “It would be madness to try and start another civil war after what happened with Aldo and Bufo.”
“Beatrix wouldn’t have a claim if you let me declare you as my heir,” Grime snapped back and they both went silent.
They had this argument every time they saw each other.
The silence stretched on, as sullen and stubborn as ever. But Grime was going soft in his old age and he finally let the subject drop.
“How much copper do you need, Sasha?” he asked by way of truce. “The treasury isn’t what it used to be but we could confiscate property from some of the more difficult nobles and compel loans from the others and maybe scrape together 150,000.”
Sasha winced. It was less than half of what she needed. Grime read her expression and his frown deepened.
“What about the road funds?” Sasha asked. Grime bristled at that, like she knew he would. He was always going on about how well maintained roads were the sign of an orderly kingdom, that the army can’t march at any speed without good roads. But the army wouldn’t march at all if it wasn’t paid and he knew that too.
“We can shave another 60,000 coppers from that,” he admitted grudgingly. “But any more and there will definitely be famine in the city. The granaries are in bad shape and we need to keep the food shipments coming in to make it through the winter.”
Sasha’s hand tightened on her cup. It wasn’t enough, not even close.
Grime sighed. As he did, the shadows caught the wrinkles on his hands and around his eyes and he looked older than she had ever seen. Old and tired and for the first time, Sasha wondered if she should indulge him in all the talk of heirs and legacies and a mausoleum on the banks of the Nettlewater where he had won his great victory over the rebel toad lords. But she wasn’t ready for that just yet.
“There is one other option,” he began. Sasha could tell where he was going immediately from his tone and was already shaking her head.
“Oh come on Sasha,” he said with a sudden sharpness that felt like a speartip between the ribs. She had gotten used to bullying him with her silence but she should have remembered that logistics trumped feelings with him every time. “I am giving up my damn roads. You can swallow your pride and ask the church for a loan.”
Anger rose in Sasha’s throat and she started to get to her feet.
“You think it's about pride?” she snarled. “After everything she did?”
She tried to storm off again but Grime put a hand on her shoulder. His skin was like an old leather jacket. Her dad used to have a jacket like that, a faded motorcycle one that he would wrap her in and they would rock out together in his car. Sasha blinked, overwhelmed by the memory for a moment. She hadn’t even thought about her dad in years. Eventually Grime began to speak.
“Sasha, you are the bravest soldier I know and I don’t know where you got this streak from…”
You, Sasha thought mutinously. When did you last try and talk with Beatrix except through assassins?
“But I am giving you an order now,” Grime continued, ignoring Sasha’s glower. “The church has money to give, but they will only do it if you are the one asking. So go ask.”
Sasha wanted to snap back. She wanted to turn around and leave. She wanted a lot of things but she knew that Grime was right.
There wasn’t another option.
The only way was forward.
Sasha went to visit the Basilica in her full panoply, arrayed as if for war. Servants had polished the steel scales of her armour to a mirror shine and buffed the scratches out of the leather tassels of her skirt. Around her shoulders was a heavy soldiers cloak and she wore her new crested helmet which covered her face with a finely crafted mask hammered in silver and backed with sturdy iron bars. She was accompanied by six companions, each similarly dressed in shining mail and tall helmets and with their swords conspicuous at their sides. The early morning foot traffic parted before them, the residents of Newtopia rightfully nervous to impede such a display.
The Basilica was easy enough to find. There were few stone buildings being built in Newtopia these days and no other ones came close to the Basilica in scale. Two noble palaces and part of the colosseum where Andrias had once gleefully confessed his crimes had been pulled down to provide materials for it and construction was still ongoing. Some pilgrims were already congregating outside even at this early hour and Sasha could feel their eyes follow her as she approached, filled with something between awe and terror. A few blue robed priests were corralling the pilgrims and they were smart enough to begin pushing them aside to make way for her. Sasha paused for a moment in the wide doorway and nodded to her soldiers who took up position shoulder to shoulder across the threshold, facing the street. Behind them, the priests simply bowed and the pilgrims quickly followed suit. Sasha took a steadying breath to try and keep from shaking and ducked inside.
The antechamber was enormous, easily large enough for a hundred amphibians, but still unfinished. Only a single basin of the dozen had water in it. Sasha took off her helmet. It was so quiet in here - almost none of the clamour outside could be heard through the thick stone walls. She washed her hands in the basin and then her face, taking her time to scrub off any dust or sweat from the walk. The water was bright and cold and Sasha felt her nerves begin to uncoil a little. There was always a moment of calm like this before a battle. After the plans had been made and lines arrayed and there was nothing left but to wait for the inevitable.
Sasha dried her hands on her cloak and reached for the inner doors. Then after a moment’s hesitation, she knelt in front of them and pressed her forehead to the cool bronze.
“Please Anne,” she whispered. “Give me strength."
Then she stood and opened the door.
The main chamber was easily ten times as large as the antechamber and even less finished. Scaffolding lined the walls and beams of sunlight shone through the gaps in the vaulted ceiling like thick bars of gold. The only part that seemed to be nearly complete was the far wall where a vast mosaic had been assembled.
Sasha had seen many depictions of Anne over the years. Nearly every squalid little frog village these days had an equally grimy little chapel with some crude approximation of a human, usually just a frog body with the pointed head of a newt and maybe some curly hair tangled with leaves. This one was different though. Sasha’s feet carried her across the tool-strewn floor, unable to take her eyes from the mosaic. It was Anne, exactly as she remembered her. A scrawny teenager in a threadbare school uniform and only one shoe. The shape of her face perfectly reproduced in a thousand shards of shining brown glass. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling a small, sad smile. Sasha was so entranced she almost did not notice the figure kneeling at the mosaic’s edge, surrounded by bowls of different coloured stones, but as she approached she suddenly realised she could hear the whispering of someone fervently talking to themselves.
It was all so achingly familiar.
The figure seemed to finally notice her as well and turned, pulling herself to her feet with a strange staff like a shepherd's crook. As she did, she knocked over one of the bowls and sent tiny pieces of vivid blue rock scattering across the stone floor.
Sasha felt her face settle into a perfect mirror of her helmet, cold and impassive to meet the high priestess of the cult of St Anne. The one person on this planet that Sasha would give almost anything to never talk to again.
But not a kingdom. Not yet.
“Hello Marcy.”