“Just like our falcons,” interjected Sylvain’s mother, furiously fanning herself.
“Of course, dearest Aquina,” replied Pearlblood, giving her husband a secret little kick.
The bugles disrupted their conversations; the teams were announced and about to line up alongside the pool. When the Academy Blues walked in the stadium, a deafening roar erupted from the crowd.
“Oi, pretty boys, don’t let them flatten you too badly!”
Everybody turned around to find out about the source of the noise. It came from a dark haired girl, seated in the Warhorn Lodge.
Lexandros smiled.
“Young Princess Ariessa. She’s a feisty one.”
“And one of the best Falconers of the Island,” added Olivier.
“Good thing our boys don’t have to play their team; the Academy Reds would eat them alive,” chuckled Nessa.
Gloria found it hard to believe that such common behaviour could be coming from a Royal. Even worse; it had come from her own niece. Ariessa’s late mother, Queen Aranie had been Gloria’s sister-in law.
The Academy Blues walked by the Sunflare Lodge, stopped for a second and took a bow.
“Oh, don’t they look adorable in their sports garments?” asked Queen Mother Lunea adoringly.
“Yes, mother, your golden child Octarian looks fetching in anything,” sighed Lexandros, which earned him another little kick from his wife.
“Sylvain is sooooo handsome,” Liona beamed at her future mother-in-law Aquina, after having managed to take her eyes off her fiancé.
“As is Trillian, I always thought blue suits him best,” said Nessa to the Silvertongues.
“Quite,” said Count Dizzius Silvertongue, uncharacteristically curtly, impatient to change the subject.
“Any bets going?” he asked rubbing his hands.
“Please don’t,” his wife Silberie whispered.
“By all means, yes,” Lexandros was up to the challenge.
“The question is not whether they will win or lose; it’s by how much they will lose,” King Razzael said with his usual arrogant smile.
“I’m in,” quipped Olivier.
“So am I,” shouted Nessa.
Gloria’s hand flew to her chest; she felt that she had failed as a mother, with her children displaying such indecent behaviour. Maybe it was just the Unpleasantness.
“I’m sure they will win,” said Liona sulkily.
“Please, I beg you, place your bet, I’ll be happy to take your money,” Nessa grinned at her friend.
“The odds are the same as Octarian getting married in the next decade,” she grinned.
“Oooh, now that’s a challenge, young Lady,” Lexandros laughed, quickly turning in his seat to avoid another kick to his already aching ankle.
Gloria felt a sudden jab to her chest. She had tried not to look at Octarian, but she couldn’t help it. His usually coppery hair was faded to blonde and his light skin was tanned, rather than burnt – a proof that Father Sun was indeed the God of Heliodorians.
Memories of their last night together flared up.
That fateful night of the Sunflare Festival.
The night when a harmless fling turned into something more meaningful.
At least for her.
She cringed when she thought back to the night with Octarian after the ball.
She still felt embarrassed when she remembered the speed at which he had got out of bed at dawn, to depart hastily.
Mordan looked up at the Sunflare Lodge which shaded and seated the friends and families of his team-mates. The familiar ache of desire hit him when he looked at Gloria – by now the possible Empress of Pyonia.
Suddenly it struck him; he wanted all that was offered to him by Scypian and Noerelle.
He wanted to be up there like the Royals of the Sunflare Lodge.
He desperately wanted to be one of them.
Octarian took a deep, exaggerated bow towards his family and friends. He threw air-kisses to his mother and sister. The sight of Gloria unsettled him though; he knew he had to do something about her sooner or later. Their last encounter was anything but pleasant. He cursed himself for having gone to her at all.
By the time of the Sunflare Festival he was sure that he had made it clear that their fling had run its course. Even though he had noticed previously that she might have had different ideas about their relationship, he was certain that she was too proud to push the matter.
He couldn’t believe that even though their affair was over – as far as he was concerned, - Gloria had practically offered herself in what he found was a pitiful way. He had brushed her off with a non-committal ‘maybe’ – phrased in a much more polite way, naturally.
After having dismissed Wolly’s offer of a fun foursome with some of the serving staff, he had spent hours trying to find Nocturnia, only to discover that she had left already.
It had hit him there and then, that Nocturnia did mean what she had told him back in Lectricka. She had made it clear that they couldn’t have a lasting relationship; her position at the Academy being the reason for it. He had thought that he could win her over with his charm and position.
‘What position, you fool? You’re only second in line for the throne, whereas she could be the Empress of her country,’ he had thought to himself at the ball.
‘Fine, Sister, there are women who still want me,’ he decided and made his way to the Summerwind Palace.
Big mistake.
He had thought of Gloria since then; he had thought of her a lot. Even though he knew there was no future for them, he had hoped to solve the situation and re-establish a friendly relationship with her. She probably didn’t know this, but she was special to him; during his years of Unpleasantness he was utterly infatuated with her; she had been the main object of desire in his pleasurable day-dreams. For him it had meant a lot that his boyish fantasies could come true. But that was all he ever wanted from her. It seemed to perfectly suit her up until recently.
The game had finally started.
It was – as expected – a disaster for the Academy Blues.
Sylvain and Octarian did their best to block the goal, but whenever a Lectrickan Falconer aimed, they just scored. Their hopes went up by a notch when a Gundian Sharker was sent off for a frontal attack, but it didn’t help their scores much after all. Even though Atlas had kept performing miraculously low dives on his falcon, his bird’s feet touching the water and landing a fair amount of goals, it was clear that there was no chance in Hell they could win.
The Academy Blues came third. The Inner Lectrickans won fair and square.
After some ranting and raving, the team met up in the Sunflare Lodge where chilled drinks were served.
“Come on boys, it’s a miracle you made the semis at all,” Lexandros chuckled.
“Of course bro, we would have won if you were on our team,” Octarian fumed.
“When did the Gundians learn to play ball games? I thought they specialised in ox runs,” said Wolly bitterly, downing a glass of sparkling wine.
“Cheers to the most handsome team of the Championship,” Nessa raised her glass.
“Liona, I believe you have lost your bet. Hand over the money,” she demanded. Gloria wished the ground would open and swallow her.
The assembled Royals mocked, toasted and drank again and again.
“Lords and Ladies, Empresses and Emperors and all other titles, please follow me,” Lexandros exclaimed after a while. They all did.
The Royal Sunflare Barge shipped them down to the Sunflare Outskirts of the Island. A picnic was set for the company on the shores of a moonlit lake, surrounded by olive groves and orange trees. The tables were lit by hundreds of candles, and a troop of musicians were playing.
Food was consumed, dances were danced and the noblest of beverages were served.
During the course of the night, Lexandros asked Octarian for a chat the next day. Mordan and Octarian re
peatedly punched each other’s shoulders and toasted their friendship. Wolly disappeared discretely into the olive groves with one of the serving girls, when his mother wasn’t looking.
Much later, Octarian found himself in Gloria’s bed again.
Fegilovíxit, Areshadia
The messenger took a deep bow and withdrew. Vipra looked at the envelope and closed her eyes for a moment.
This was the letter she had been waiting for.
For over a decade.
She slowly opened the envelope and read the letter relishing the fearsome magnitude of its content.
The New Country was complete; the last brick in its place, its defences beyond imagination.
From this day on, tens of thousands of the forces of the Alliance would be relieved of their construction and defence duties and available for their next task.
She would have to let the Kronurian know.
Suddenly, his absence hit Vipra with an elemental force.
The pain overwhelmed her, she could hardly breathe.
She hurried over to a window and threw it open.
She drank in the air and breathed deeply. It didn’t help.
She fell to her knees and started crying hysterically.
She was writhing on the floor, digging her nails deep into her thighs, until she could feel her blood dripping onto the floor.
‘You’re not in love, you fool, are you?’ she asked herself, but even the notion made her queasy.
She knew what had stirred her passion; he had something no man could ever give her – unavailability. And that made him the most desirable man in the whole World.
She burst out in a maniacal laugh. The longing pulsated in her whole body. She threw back her head and opened her arms; she relished the sweet, excruciating pain. She felt alive. She was ready.
She rang a bell for a servant.
“I want everybody in the Central Courtyard within the hour,” she commanded and stepped out onto the balcony overlooking her city.
It wasn’t the barren landscape surrounding a labyrinth-like Tomb any longer. The Kronurian had promised her progress, protection and a palace. Despite the constant attacks of the Five Tribes that had united against her and the other two tribes who followed her, all the promises had turned to reality.
The city was surrounded by thick walls, manned by trained and armed fighters of her tribe. Several buildings had been erected by Kronurians and Areshadians who had learnt about construction. Naturally, her palace was the crowning jewel of the settlement.
In the past two decades, there was a massive influx of refugees; both from the allied tribes who had fled from their ravaged tombs, and even from the members of the Five Tribes, who deserted because they believed Vipra’s cause was just. There were even Southerners and Kronurians who settled in the city of Fegilovíxit.
The Central Courtyard was soon filling up. When the hour was up, Vipra addressed the crowd.
“Citizens, tribesmen and my followers, free men and women who had been declared godless traitors for having broken the shackles of Areshadian traditions!
We all had to endure much pain and loss in the last twenty years, but we also have learned things we didn’t think possible.
We did it all in the hope that we would see this very day,” she paused, and an excited murmur ran through the crowd.
“Today is the day. The work is done!”
The crowd stared in incredulous silence.
“Feel free to cheer,” she said.
They obeyed.
Shouts and whoops erupted and once they had started, it seemed that it would never end.
After a while, she raised her hand and they fell silent again.
“We will go to the Gathering.
We will go, but not with carts filled with resources to be given away, not with human sacrifices in tow.
We will ride, armoured and armed.
We will go, but not alone; the allied Southerners and Kronurians will accompany us. I’ll take three-thousand warriors, everybody else get ready to defend the city while we’re away.”
“Death to the Five Tribes!” some shouted.
“We’ll kill them all,” others screamed.
Vipra raised her hand again.
“No. We go to the Temple of Bones and offer them peace.
We give them a last chance to join us.
The ones who won’t will be the traitors from now on.”
Summerwind Palace, Realm’s Heart Island
Octarian slowly returned to the Land of the Living, but he found little pleasure in it. His body was screaming with pain and he had no idea where he was.
After a few seconds of consideration, he opened his eyes for a moment.
The room he was in was enveloped in almost total darkness.
A hand gently ran up his spine. He groaned. Not with pleasure; it was the result of the realisation where he was.
“Good morning,” Gloria whispered, stroking his hair.
“Morning? Why is it so dark?”
“I wanted to make sure you slept well, so I had all the shutters closed and curtains drawn,” she said, trying to put on her most carefree voice, lighting a candle at the bedside table.
He blinked a few times until his eyes could adjust to the light, and turned on his back. The World began spinning. Gloria caressed his stomach. He summoned all his energy to grab her wrist to stop her.
“Please don’t… Even breathing is a chore at the moment. I can’t manage anything more challenging for the time being.”
“You wouldn’t need to move at all.”
Octarian winced.
“Your offer is very tempting and I’m very flattered, but…”
She tried to smile graciously.
“Shall I have some breakfast brought up?”
“Can’t you just shoot me… please? What the hell did I drink last night?”
“I don’t think it was just the drinks, you smoked one Lazulian black cigar after the other… and you kept inhaling them.”
“Gods, I must stink…”
Octarian felt utterly trapped. He wanted to get out of the Summerwind Palace as soon as possible, but all he wanted was to crawl under the covers, fall asleep and make the whole situation go away.
Suddenly he remembered his brother’s summons.
“Gloria, as much as I’d like to, I can’t stay, my brother wants to see me,” he said, making an attempt of getting out of bed.
“You’re in no fit state to see your Emperor, but I know what will help.”
“And no, it’s not that,” she added to avoid any further embarrassment.
She went to her beverage cabinet, filled a glass with a dark liquid and offered it to Octarian. When the drink’s aroma hit him, he recoiled.
“Don’t be such a child, just drink it,” she urged him.
“Well, it will help either way; it could make me feel better or worse, which would result in me feeling better after all,” he pondered and drank it down.
Gloria drew a deep breath to calm herself. Panic constricted her stomach when she thought about this being her last chance. Octarian had been evasive and elusive in the last month. She had to do something. And she needed to do it now. She swallowed all her pride and gambled everything on the upcoming conversation.
It was far from ideal.
She snapped the empty glass out of Octarian’s hand and refilled it. She poured one for herself as well and sat on the bedside.
“How do you feel?”
“Surprisingly well… considering. What is this swill?”
“Euposian Nightmare. Apparently it’s all the rage among people who can handle it,” she clinked her glass to his and took a sip when he did. It was truly appalling.
“Any idea why His Majesty wants to see you today?” Gloria asked innocently, swirling the contents of her glass.
Octarian snorted.
“No doubt he will lecture me about being irresponsible and infantile. And worst
of all, he’ll ask me when I intend to get married and whom to.”
“Well, it’s understandable; you’re second in line for the throne. As a good brother and responsible ruler he has to make sure…”
“Oh for Gods’ sake, all this Royalty rubbish with the bloody rules… Did anybody ever ask me if I want this?
Just because I’m someone’s son or brother, why do I have to be burdened with this crap?”
“A burden many would kill for.”
“I don’t care, let them have it then. I just want to have a good time, I want to enjoy myself,” he said bitterly, offering his glass for a refill.
“With the lifestyle and money to go with it,” she remarked, getting up to refresh his glass.
“I think I have the abilities and the education to support myself,” he snorted.
“The education your family paid for.”
He raised his arms in desperation.
“Fine, what’s your point?”
“Only that the privileges you enjoy come with a price.”
“I never asked for those.”
“Yet you enjoy them,” she said, biting her lip.
By now they were miles away from where she wanted to be.
“Why? Don’t you? All you have is because of your birth and your late husband.”
Gloria straightened up to come back with an appropriate reply only to find that she couldn’t.
She watched him in silence for a few seconds, and then took a deep breath.
“Octarian, as you know I have agreed to become the Empress of Pyonia if the circumstances…”
“Yes and why shouldn’t you have?”
“I might have to fulfil certain obligations. As a Duchess I could afford to remain a widow for a while, but as the Empress of a troubled country I might not be able to be unmarried for much longer. As you can see, we’re in the same boat,” she said. Octarian looked at her.
‘By the Gods! She’s breaking up with me. She found a husband and is ending it,’ he thought. Relief swept through his body.
“Yes, it’s true, we’re both bound by social conventions,” he said pensively, trying to come up with some platitudes to assure her of his appreciation for her, avoiding even the slightest sign that he was glad about the end of their affair.
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