“I imagine so,” Emily said.
Althorn turned and poured them both glasses of juice. “It is always interesting to compare notes,” he said. “Have you found your chats with my comrades... insightful?”
Emily took a moment to study him. Althorn still had the charisma that drew her to him, even though she knew it was dangerous, yet... it was starting to rub thin. The rebels were caught in a bind, trying to establish a new government while readying themselves to fight the remnants of the old one. It was a task that would test the smartest people on the planet, let alone a collection of rebels that had no practical experience in governing. Althorn was handsome, and lacked neither courage nor cunning, but... she shook her head. It was disturbing, on some level, to feel such an odd attraction. She tested, gingerly, for magical influence. There was none.
“They’ve been very interesting,” she said. “Naturally, I wish you all the very best of luck.”
Althorn smiled. “Is that a declaration you will join us?”
“I gave my word I will serve as a mediator,” Emily said. If push came to shove... she supposed she would prefer to side with the rebels. “Have you agreed on terms?”
“You don’t believe in diplomacy, do you?” Althorn raised his glass in a silent toast. “I must say I approve.”
“There are countless aristocrats who will spend hours dancing around the topic at hand,” Emily said. She recalled a five-page letter that could have been summed up in a couple of lines and scowled. “I prefer to think of myself as practical.”
“I approve,” Althorn repeated. He took a sip, then produced a sheet of paper. “We debated the issue for days. There were demands that we consider to be impossible to put aside, that we will fight if the Crown Prince refuses to accept them, and demands we’re prepared to be flexible on. I trust you’ll excuse me” - he smiled, rakishly - “if I don’t tell you which is which?”
“My feelings aren’t the issue here,” Emily said, bluntly. “The Crown Prince will not thank you for wasting his time, if you are determined not to budge on some of your demands.”
Althorn shrugged. “First, the Crown Prince is to swear to accept the outcome of the revolution. The monarchy itself will become a constitutional monarchy, with all powers vested in the people themselves. The aristocracy will be effectively dissolved, with its property either left with its new owners or distributed amongst those who work the land. If they refuse to accept this outcome, they are to be formally stripped of their power and declared traitors.
“Second, the kingdom is to be governed in line with the Zangarian Great Charter, which I believe you had a hand in writing. Serfdom and slavery are to be abolished. All men are to have freedom of speech, the right to keep and bear arms, the right to seek employment wherever they wish and everything else laid down by the charter. There will be no impressed servitude of any kind whatsoever, including military service.”
Emily frowned. “Do you intend to grant rights to women as well?”
“That is something we intend to sort out as quickly as possible,” Althorn said. “It isn’t easy to balance all of the competing voices.”
“Indeed,” Emily said, curtly. “And how do you intend to organize the government?”
“Once the Crown Prince stands down, we’ll arrange for elections to parliament,” Althorn said. “It was always a tool for the king, as the whole system was rigged thoroughly, but it will do for a starting point. In the past, there were places with vast populations that only had a handful of people on the electoral rolls. Now, every male adult will have a vote, allowing them to elect a provisional government. The council will then start the process of handing power over to the new government.”
He shrugged. “Ideally, the members of the current council will be elected to parliament,” he said. “But we acknowledge it may not happen.”
Emily nodded, concealing her doubts as best as she could. Dater was not going to accept the proffered terms. It was unlikely, in the extreme, that they could even be amended to the point he might agree to go along with them. He might dissemble long enough for the council to run afoul of its own internal contradictions or... no, Dater wasn’t the type of person to play nice while he prepared a big stick. He was much more likely to give up all hope of regaining power through diplomacy and declare war. She silently waged the war in her mind, trying to determine who’d have the edge. Dater was a skilled commander, and he’d have much of the aristocracy under his banner, but the rebels would have the infantry. And Dater would be trying to storm a series of cities.
“The Crown Prince will not accept these terms,” she said, flatly. “And they leave a great many issues undecided.”
Althorn met her eyes. “We were told that we had to put up with the king, because he was all that stood between us and the necromancers,” he said. “Why should we put up with a king now? Why should we risk him having power over us again? Why should we trust him to keep his word when we surrender ourselves into his hands? Why?”
Emily had no answer. She knew from grim experience that the aristocracy could be courtly and even chivalrous to its fellows, but horrifyingly brutal to rebellious commoners. The laws of war did not apply to rebels, with or without a cause. Althorn wasn’t wrong to fear the worst. There was no point in accepting terms if one couldn’t rely on one’s opponent to keep them.
She looked back at him, feeling a twinge of... something. “Why did you become a Leveller?”
Althorn lifted his eyebrows. “You ask that now?”
“Yes,” Emily said. “Why?”
“A
