The Will of the Many (Hierarchy Book 1)
The Will of the Many: Part 3 – Chapter 57

“PLEASE.” FADRIQUE WHISPERS THE WORD. Holds out a hand, as if worried he’ll scare me away. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

I waver, confused.

“It’s truly you, isn’t it?” He looks at me as if seeing a ghost. Which, in many ways, I suppose he is.

I fix on him, frozen. He’s already caught me in here—in the tunnels only my family and a few scant others knew about—on the same night as Military’s meeting. So even if this is some ruse to trick me into admitting my identity, it’s close to moot.

Fadrique, apparently, takes my lack of response as affirmation, because he’s suddenly striding forward. I flinch away, but he wraps me in a fierce embrace, clutching me close as if I was a long-lost child. Then he takes my head between his hands and forcefully kisses me on each cheek. His eyes, to my shock, are glistening.

“Master Diago. My prince. Master Diago.” There’s no denying the sheer delight in his voice, the release the words are bringing him. There’s joy but also disbelief, sadness, regret.

I push him away, not unkindly but firmly. “If I were who you think I am, I would probably ask why a former citizen of Suus is now a Sextus. I would probably ask how much the Hierarchy paid him to betray his people. I would probably ask why he was allowed to live and thrive, after the entire royal family he served were murdered.” It’s an accusation, I know, as well as close to an admission as I can manage. It’s hard—almost impossible—to say the truth aloud, after so many years of practice.

Fadrique is still overcome with emotion. There’s pain as he looks at me, so much that I can barely stand to meet his gaze. “Your father told me to look after his people.”

“So you became one of them?” I’m more vehement than I mean to be.

“I and my family survived. And we stayed.”

There’s no heat to it, but the indictment is one I physically flinch from. My mind spins, a surreal mix of relief and anger.

“Forgive me, Highness.” Fadrique is moving again. Dropping to his knees, bowing his head. His voice shakes. “I didn’t know what else to do. I asked for no benefits to my position, but they said it was required. That if I wished to act on behalf of Suus, then I had to accept everything that came with the job.” There’s so much shame in the words. “Please, my prince. I beg you to believe me. I did not want this.”

I still want to rail at him, but some part of me already suspected, I think. I knew Fadrique. Or rather, my father knew him, and well enough to trust him. He wouldn’t have taken on this role if he didn’t think it was the best thing for Suus.

It doesn’t dispel my anger, but it diminishes it enough.

“I… believe you.” The words are a release of tension, a letting go. “The Hierarchy would have needed one of us to help them manage our people, but they couldn’t let you be popular. Even if the benefits didn’t buy you, they knew being a Sextus would set you apart. Make everyone else think you were bought, regardless.” I hesitate, then step forward and gently lift the man to his feet again. “No kneeling, Fadrique. There’s no royal family in Suus anymore.”

It hurts to say it. It might be the first time I’ve admitted it out loud, in fact.

The man accepts my help, his relief and gratitude almost too much to bear. “As far as I am concerned, there is for as long as you live. Your Highness.”

I swallow at that. Nod. “How did you know I would be in here?”

“There are Imbued alarms on most of the hidden doors. Set by me,” he adds reassuringly as he sees my burgeoning panic.

“Is there any chance someone else will come by?”

“No. They sealed off the underwater entrance. There’s no way in or out through these tunnels otherwise, so they just forgot about them.” He smiles fondly. “Not much different to your day, Highness. It was really only you and your sisters who ever made use of them.”

I smile at that, too, through the ache in my chest.

Eventually I sigh, moving next to Fadrique and sliding wearily down the wall until I’m seated. Fadrique sits too, our backs against the cold stone. Silence settles.

“When did you recognise me?”

“I saw the resemblance as soon as you walked in, but…” Fadrique shakes his head. “I only thought it might not be coincidence when the entrance to the Great Hall got opened the other night. Then I saw which room you’d chosen, and… I knew.” He stares at the opposite wall. “Are you here to kill him?”

“What?” I look over at him blankly. “Who?”

It’s Fadrique’s turn to be surprised. “Quartus Latani.” He frowns at my confused expression. “The man they call Suusicus? The one who led the assault here, ordered the deaths of your family?”

I don’t fully understand at first. Then I’m cold. Dizzy. “Latani?” I met him.

“Yes. First time he’s been here since…” He trails off. “I don’t think anyone in town knows.”

I breathe, more heavily than normal. “I didn’t either.”

“Well. Violence is no answer to grief, Your Highness, but if you give the word, I’ll replace a way to show him justice.” Fadrique was always a soft-spoken, placid man, but there’s steel in his offer.

I consider it. I consider it for a long, long few seconds.

“There’s being brave, and then there’s throwing your life away.” I say it even as fury blisters my chest. “You do anything like that, you end up in a Sapper. You end up in a Sapper, and maybe whoever they choose to replace you here doesn’t have our people’s interests at heart. And they suffer as a result.” I feel the last of my wrath toward Fadrique drain away with the words. I turn to him. “I am sorry, Fadrique. I shouldn’t have been angry. My father would be proud of what you’ve done—what you’ve sacrificed. I am proud of it.”

Fadrique bows his head. It takes him a few moments to recover his voice. “Thank you, my prince.”

Silence again. I shift, not wanting to ask the question, but having to know. I’ve been wondering these past few years. Torturing myself with the different scenarios so much that the reality, surely, could not be any worse than what my imagination has conjured. “How did they die, Fadrique?”

“Your family?” Fadrique turns quietly sorrowful. “Hanged.”

Just like Menendo from the tavern said. “Ysa too?” My voice is small.

“Her too, Highness.”

Something in me wrenches, though every logical part of me knew that would be the answer. Information about their deaths has been so scant, near impossible to replace. I knew they were dead. Every single account said they were dead. But then… every single account said I was dead, too. Some small part of me, I think, had still hoped.

Then I’m suddenly, unexpectedly weeping. Huge, gasping sobs, arms wrapped around my knees, forehead resting against them. I don’t know why the grief hits me so hard, then and there, but it does.

I feel Fadrique grip my shoulder. A gesture of solidarity and comfort. Somehow that only makes me sob harder.

“Did you see it?” I manage to whisper the question.

“I did,” says Fadrique gently. “It wasn’t public, but I was asked to bear witness, to confirm their deaths. Myself, Gelmiro, and Polo.” A consoling squeeze. “It was quick. They were brave. Especially your sister.”

I try not to imagine it, but I do anyway. My family with nooses around their necks, dropping from the gallows. Another sob wracks my body and then I force some deep breaths until I’m settling, emotions back under some semblance of control. “Was it all at once?” I ache at the thought, but I want to know that none of them had to watch the others die.

“Yes, Highness. They showed them that mercy.” He exhales. “And it wasn’t until two days later that Princess Carinza’s body was found. So for all your parents knew, she had escaped along with you.”

The sadness hits me all over again. “Good,” I choke. “That’s good.” I wipe my face with my sleeve.

Neither of us talk as Fadrique lets me recover myself. Eventually, I shake my head. “I have so many questions, Fadrique. About what happened that night. About what’s happened since.”

Fadrique stands. “Before you ask—there’s something I would like to show you. But we shouldn’t risk speaking until we get there. We need to pass by several occupied rooms.”

I frown, but stand too. “Alright.”

Fadrique picks up my lantern and leads the way, deeper into the tunnels. He seems comfortable navigating, not hesitating at intersections. I have only vague memories of this area. Enough to replace my way back out, probably, but that’s about all.

Finally, Fadrique turns into a small chamber. He picks a candle from the wall and holds it to the lantern, then lights several more around the room.

I watch, puzzled. There’s a jumble of things in here. Piles of objects stacked in the corners.

As light starts to reveal the closest ones, my heart stops.

“Is that … my mother’s bow?” I already know the answer. I crouch beside it, pick it up reverently. The wood’s intricately carved with scenes from Suus’s history. A gift from my father, wrought by Suus’s finest craftsmen. It was one of her proudest possessions.

I’m transfixed, running my fingers over the wood, for long enough that when I look up again, the room is properly lit.

For a surreal moment, I’ve been transported into my past.

Everywhere I look is a memory of childhood. Trinkets that belonged to my parents, some truly valuable, others I know they kept for sentimental reasons alone. Toys from my room, my sisters’ rooms. Things that we made for one another. Instruments I learned how to play. Even my old Foundation board is here, the small leather pouch beside it bulging with stones.

“They were going to sack your rooms, sooner or later. I know I shouldn’t have taken it upon myself to hide it, but—”

I stride over and fling my arms around the startled man.

“This means everything, Fadrique.” I break off the embrace and step back again, looking around in disbelief. A crack in my voice. “Everything. I know it shouldn’t, but it does.”

I spend the next few minutes just… browsing. Touching things I never thought I’d see again. I flip through pages of books rescued from my rooms: some educational texts, some stories I’d forgotten even existed. I laugh as I replace a set of crude wooden ships among my father’s things. I carved them when I was ten. Two large ones, three smaller ones, our names etched under hidden slots on their decks. I didn’t even know my father still had them. The one with my name is missing. I ache again when I realise it. It seems appropriate.

There are coins here, too. A pile of circular silver. I finger one, gazing at my father’s regal silhouette on the back. It’s not legal currency anymore. I slip it and a couple more into my pocket. Easy enough to say I found them, or got them from a local, if asked.

Finally, I turn back to the older man, who’s been watching me with a beaming smile.

“Thank you, Fadrique.” I put all the gratitude I have in me into the words. “I never thought I’d see any of this again.”

He bows his head in happy acknowledgment. “I did have some help.”

“Who?”

“Friends.” His pleasure slips to melancholy as he says it, and I can tell the people he’s talking about are gone. Then he straightens. “You are not alone here, my prince. That’s why I took you to Menendo’s tavern, the other morning. I knew he would recognise you. I wanted you to know that you still have allies here. People who aren’t afraid to stand up to the Hierarchy, given the right motivation.”

“Thank you. It helped to see that. Truly.” I make sure he sees my appreciation.

Fadrique ruminates, then motions to the floor and sits there himself. “Sadly, I couldn’t save the furniture. But I know you have a lot of questions. So ask. I’ll tell you everything I can.”

The next few hours—maybe more—is spent on that uncomfortable stone floor, just talking. I learn about life on the island since I escaped. The chaos and fear of the first few days, when the Hierarchy soldiers began pouring in, but all most people knew was that they’d been told by their king not to resist. The fury and outrage after they discovered that my family had been executed, the riots that followed.

I am selfishly glad of the last, even if they were soon quelled by the Hierarchy’s liberal use of Sappers as punishments. It helps to know my family’s murders did not go unchallenged.

Fadrique gradually fills in the gaps after that. The Catenans, after the riots, began proscribing those accused of resisting. Some of my countrymen, I am ashamed to hear, took advantage. Fear of the Sappers took hold. Within three months, most of the population had visited the nearest Aurora Columnae, leaving only the occasional outburst against the Hierarchy’s presence. Within six, that had faded to nothing more than grumbling.

Which, at least as far as Fadrique is concerned, is largely how things have stayed. The lingering resentment toward the Hierarchy remains, but fades a little more with each passing day. Where once people hated the idea of Will-powered devices, now they’re clamouring for a Transvect to ferry them to and from the mainland. Where once they used to threaten violence at the alterations to their land, their history, their way of life—now they just murmur. Accept it as progress.

Eventually, Fadrique falls silent. I glance across at the older man, and I can see the questions in his eyes.

“I don’t want to know all the details, Highness,” he says quietly. “But I have to ask. The naumachia. They say you stopped the Anguis. Is that…?”

“It’s true enough.” I see his face cloud. “People were dying by the thousands, Fadrique. People who were defenceless. Some of them children.” I decide not to mention Estevan. They knew each other, but the addendum here would only be a cruelty.

Fadrique chews his lip, then gives a soft, rueful laugh. “Your parents’ son,” he says, and the touch of approval in his words makes me swell a little. Not with pride for myself, but for the gentle admiration with which he speaks of my mother and father. “I should not have been surprised that you’re not here for revenge. They would never have wanted that.”

I swallow a lump in my throat. Nod.

“I was sent here to replace out what Military were meeting about.” I look at him meaningfully. I have to trust him—there’s no real alternative—but I won’t give away more information than I need to.

He seems to understand. Acknowledges me thoughtfully.

“Fortunate,” he murmurs.

“Why do you say that?”

He shrugs. “You—probably the only man alive who knows these tunnels well—happen to be sent here, just as Military also hold their meeting here? It’s fortunate.”

“It was arranged.”

“By someone who knew you could get around like this?” Fadrique sounds dubious, and looks even more so when he sees my hesitation. “I won’t ask if you have an ally from Suus, Highness—better that I don’t know—but I cannot imagine how you were expected to succeed, if they didn’t know you had that advantage.”

I say nothing. He’s right. Relucia said she sent me here because I was familiar with the place, that I was the best person to eavesdrop. But there’s no way she could have known about these passageways. And without them, listening in to that meeting tonight would have been… well. Not impossible, maybe, but close enough to be touching it.

Estevan wasn’t supposed to know about them—few in the palace were—but in his role as Melior, he must have told her.

“I hear rumour you have found companionship at the Academy, too, my prince?”

I blink, misunderstanding for a second, then flush. “You mean Emissa?”

“You seem to like each other very much.”

There’s no judgment in Fadrique’s tone, but I worry about it anyway. “We do.” A moment, and then I ask. “Do you think… do you think it’s a betrayal?”

“If all were still as it should be, Highness, I would wonder at her potential to be a princess of Suus. But now…” Fadrique sighs. “They are the world, my prince. Pride and self-respect may mean we never give in, but if they are all our enemies, we will never be happy.”

I give him a grateful nod. Neither of us speaks for a while.

“Do you want to know where I’ve been?”

“Better you don’t tell me.” He’s rueful, this time. “I’ve learned two things tonight. One, that you are no longer the carefree boy I knew. And two, that you are still your father’s son.” He reaches over. Puts his hand on my shoulder. “That is enough for me.”

I swallow down another hard lump at the words.

That should be it, but neither of us move. To me, at least, it feels as if doing so will be letting go of this place. Leaving behind the final remnant of what we’ve both lost.

Then Fadrique starts talking. Remembering to me a time—five years ago, perhaps?—when he realised my sisters and I had been lying to both him and Iniguez about our schedules and were instead sneaking off to the beach while both tutors thought the other was taking our lesson. We laugh about it, about the boldness of the plan, and the ridiculousness of our ever thinking it would work. All it took was for Fadrique and Iniguez to run into each other in the palace, and the whole thing came crashing down. We were still reaping the consequences for weeks after.

And so we just… speak into the silence. Take it in turns to share memories of my family, of the days before the Hierarchy. I hear stories of my father that make me genuinely guffaw, stories I’ve never heard before, stories he honestly probably never wanted me to hear. It’s strange to say, but I learn more of him as the night goes on, seeing him through different eyes in a way that would never have been possible while he was still king.

And I think Fadrique does, too. As a child, I would never have thought to sit with him like this. With any of our tutors, no matter how much we liked or trusted them.

We reminisce, and laugh, and occasionally weep. It’s hard sometimes, but there’s a release in it all that I didn’t realise I needed. I’m not tired, not the way I should be. It’s not as if the weight has lifted from my shoulders—that, I suspect, is something I will never experience—but I feel lighter.

Finally, though, there’s the barest brightening of the passageway outside as light begins filtering down through the crevices. “It’s getting close to dawn.”

“You’re right.” Fadrique says it with sadness, rising stiffly to his feet.

I do the same, muscles groaning from the abuse of the awkward, cold seat. Then I hold out my hand.

“I am very glad to have talked tonight, Fadrique.” I hold his gaze. “I cannot begin to tell you what it’s meant to me.”

Fadrique clasps my arm as he understands my meaning. We won’t be able to speak again, even in secret like this. “As am I, Highness.” He lingers. “What will you do about Latani?”

I don’t answer for a long few breaths. My stomach is still a knot of rage when I remember that I have someone to blame now, that he’s walking around Suus as if he’s done nothing wrong. But tonight has freed something in me, too.

“Violence is no answer to grief,” I say eventually.

Fadrique wraps me in an embrace. I return it.

“If you ever need safe harbour, my prince, you know where to replace it.” He smiles at me, then takes a deep breath and starts to walk away.

“Fadrique!” The man pauses. Glances back. “I am proud, and thankful, and grateful for what you’ve sacrificed for our people. And I know my father would be too.”

Fadrique stares at me, not saying anything. His eyes glisten. He nods.

He disappears down the passageway and into the darkness.