by Morgan Rice
Duwayne, her advisor on the masses, stepped forward.
“My lady, speaking of the needs of the people,” he said, “our people have come to King’s Court these last six moons and have helped us rebuild. Now that the work is done, they must return to their own villages. But they will be returning to homes and villages ravaged by war. Now it is our time to help them rebuild. We must allocate and distribute badly-needed resources for them: manpower, building materials, supplies, grain, gold. Now that King’s Court has returned, the rest of the Ring must not be neglected.”
Gwendolyn nodded, finding wisdom in his words.
“Agreed,” she said. “I shall appoint one of my councilmen to oversee this. He will be given the duty of touring all the villages and towns of the Ring, and deciding which resources to allocate, on my behalf. Whatever my people need, they will get.
“Steffen!” Gwendolyn called out.
Steffen hurried over to her, bowing, looking at her with surprise.
“I appoint you as the new Lord of the Interior. You will speak with my voice and have all the power and resources of the royal treasury and royal forces in helping the Ring rebuild. You will travel town to town, you will meet all the townsfolk, and you will decide who will get what. Is this a responsibility that you will accept?”
All eyes in the packed hall turned to Steffen. He shifted and ran his palms on his thighs, clearly caught off guard, and uncomfortable being in the spotlight.
“My lady,” he said, clearing his throat. “I am but a simple servant. I am not deserving of such rank and position. What you describe will be one of the greatest positions of power in your kingdom. Why should it be given to me? I am not deserving.”
“That is precisely the reason why it will be given to you,” Gwendolyn said. “Because you act with humility; because you are not puffed up with pride; because you are a loyal and devoted and trustworthy advisor; and because I trust you with my life. You also understand the common people, and you are a fine judge of character. I trust you to speak with my own voice. The position is yours, and I ask you to accept.”
Steffen bowed his head down low. As he raised his head, his eyes were watering.
“My lady, I accept with the greatest humility and gratitude. It is a position that I should hope to be able to live up to.”
Gwen nodded
“Excellent. On this Departure Day, you will depart before the sun has set.”
Gwen turned back to Aberthol, hoping there was no more left on the agenda for this morning; but he stepped forward and unrolled a long scroll, filled with items, and began to read from it. Gwendolyn sighed.
“Reports pour in, my lady, of forts throughout the Ring that were destroyed and need to be rebuilt, fortified. We also need to reinforce along the canyon bridges. The Silver and the Legion need to be strengthened, too, after all of their losses. They do not have the numbers that they did in your father’s day.”
Gwendolyn nodded.
“Kendrick and Erec,” she announced, “you will be in charge of all matters relating to the Silver. I trust you to make us the fighting force that we were in our father’s time.”
“Yes, my lady,” they both said.
“You will also be in charge of fortifying and securing all of the forts and crossings throughout the Ring. We need our military and our posts back to their prior strength. Replenish our Hall of Arms, and fill the Silver’s barracks.”
“Yes, my lady,” they replied.
“Thorgrin,” Gwen said, turning to him, “You will be in charge of rebuilding the Legion. Fill its ranks once again, make it the fighting force it once was, so that it will reflect upon the honor of all those boys who died serving our cause.”
“Yes, my lady,” Thor replied.
Aberthol held up another scroll, unraveled it and squinted. Then he began to read.
“Reports have arrived, my lady, from today’s falcons, of trouble in the Upper Islands.”
Gwen raised her eyebrow, wondering.
“What sort of trouble?” she asked.
“A dispatch from your regent, Srog. He reports of a discontent amongst its people.” Aberthol squinted at the scroll as he skimmed it. “He speaks of an instability amongst Tirus’ sons, and its spreading to the people. He warns of a possible revolt. He asks for reinforcements.”
Gwendolyn leaned back in her throne and folded her hands across her chest. She had not expected this.
“And how do you interpret all of this?” she asked, turning to her councilmen. Gwen had learned from her father that it was always best to hear others’ thoughts before expressing your own.
“Srog is a wise and capable leader,” Erec said. “Silesia is a great city. If he’s having difficulty ruling the Upper Isles, that does not bode well. I trust what he says.”
“The other MacGils are a stubborn, hard-headed people,” Kendrick volunteered. “Perhaps they cannot be tamed.”
“You could free Tirus,” Godfrey said. “That would appease them.”
“Or you could abandon the Upper Isles altogether and consolidate your reign,” Thor offered.
“Your father was never able to unite the island and the mainland in his lifetime,” Aberthol said. “Nor his father before him.”
“We must not let any rebellion flourish in the Upper Isles,” Kendrick said, “or it could easily spread to the mainland. Perhaps we need to invade.”
“I disagree, my lady,” Reece said. “We need the Upper Isles. It is a strategic point in the Tartuvian Sea. And not all the Upper Islanders are rotten. There are many fine people among them, including our cousin Matus.”
“True,” Kendrick said. “We owe Matus our lives.”
Gwendolyn sat back and considered it all carefully. She wondered what her father would have done. She knew he never trusted the Upper Islanders, his brother, his cousins; and yet, he never let them stray too far from his watch, either.
“I want to know more of what Srog has to say,” Gwen said. “And I want another perspective on the island. Reece,” she said, turning to him.
Reece stepped forward.
“You will depart for the Upper Isles today.”
“Me, my lady?” he asked, shocked.
Gwendolyn nodded.
“You were always close to Matus. You are the same age, and he always trusted you, and you him. You will be my voice, my eyes and ears. Seek out Matus, seek out Srog. Tour the upper Isles, listen to its people, and come back with a full report of exactly what is going on there. Based on your findings, I will decide whether to reinforce or depart.”
Reece nodded, but he seemed hesitant. Gwen sensed the reason why.
“Do not worry of our double wedding,” Gwendolyn said. “It is still a half moon away. You will be back in plenty of time. After all, I won’t have it without you. Go then. Do not linger.”
Reece looked much assured.
“Yes, my lady,” he said, bowing.
Gwendolyn turned to Aberthol.
“Is there anything else?” she asked, exhausted. “If not, then I would like to get on with—”
Aberthol held up a hand.
“Just one more matter, my lady.”
Gwen sighed. She was beginning to get a whole new respect for what her father had went through.
“A dispatch from Bronson,” Aberthol said. “He reports of unrest on the McCloud side of the Highlands.”
Gwendolyn raised her eyebrows, looking at Aberthol with dread. Was nothing ever stable? Was that what it meant to be queen? To put out a never-ending stream of fires, perpetual unrest, discontent? Why could people not just stay happy and at peace?
“Unrest?” she asked.
Aberthol nodded, examining another scroll.
“He reports of his failed efforts to unite the two sides of the Ring. Six moons have passed, and they are resentful. They see the prosperity in the West, and yet they have seen none of it for themselves.”
Kendrick was exasperated.
“Have they forgotten that their lea
der initially sided with Andronicus and helped to inflame this war?” he asked.
“If they hadn’t spent all those moons before the war launching raids on our soil,” Godfrey said, “then perhaps they’d have a greater share now of our prosperity.”
“In their defense,” Reece said, “they did join our side at the end.”
“They are hardly being starved,” Thor said. “Our men have given them plenty of our summer bounty and have helped them rebuild. All of them eat well.”
“They may eat well,” Aberthol said, “but they are not rich. There is a difference. They see what others have and they covet it. That has always been their nature. They see King’s Court, shining, and they want their cities plated with gold.”
Kendrick snorted.
“Well, then that is their problem, not ours.”
“Wrong, my brother,” Gwendolyn said. “Any problem, anywhere in the Ring, is our problem. Their discontent cannot go unnoticed. That is where momentum begins.”
The room fell silent, and Aberthol sighed.
“It is the nature of the McClouds, my lady. They are a savage, crude people. They may not ever merge with the MacGils. You may have dispatched Bronson for a task he cannot fulfill.”
“The rivalry between our two clans is ancient and strong,” Erec said. “Thousands of years. We may not be able to smooth them over in six moons—even with an emissary like Bronson. Vendettas run deep. And the McClouds are not a forgiving people.”
Gwendolyn leaned back and thought it all through carefully. Her stomach was hurting her again and she did not know how much more she could take for one morning.
“What you say may all be true,” Gwen said, “yet that does not mean we should not try. We find ourselves in a unique moment in history: the tyrant McCloud king is dead; his son, Bronson, is loyal to us; their kingdom was destroyed, and we were, however briefly, united in the cause to oust the invaders. I see this as an opportunity to, once and for all, unite our two kingdoms.”
“The problem with the McClouds,” Kendrick said, “is that they are malcontents, and that they consider themselves in competition with us. They see King’s Court, and they want the same. But they’ve never had a King’s Court, and they never will. It is honor and nobility and refinement that build a King’s Court, not a pile of stones. That is what they will never understand.”
Gwendolyn sighed.
“Having a stable McCloud side of the Highlands is vital to our own interests,” she said. “We do not want the threat of cattle raids over our head all the time. We want our people to live in peace. Which is how our father felt, and which is precisely why he had tried to forge an alliance with Luanda’s marriage to a McCloud.”
“Yet it did not succeed,” Aberthol said. “We must learn from his mistakes.”
“Nonetheless,” Gwen said, “we must also learn from his efforts. I am not prepared to give up on peace so quickly. It may be harder, and messier—but it is longer-lasting, and it is the only path to our ultimate security. We must find a way to unite our two peoples. There is always a way. The question is how?”
She surveyed her men, and they all stood there, brows furrowed.
She settled on Godfrey, who stood there, bleary-eyed, unshaven, looking hungover.
“Godfrey,” she said. “You have not spoken today. You always have some nugget of wisdom.”
Godfrey looked up at her, caught off guard.
“Well,” he said, flustered, running a hand through his unkempt hair, “I’ve always known one thing to bring men together,” he, looking around warily. “And that is drink. Show me two men who hate each other, and I’ll have them singing together over a pint of ale.”
The room suddenly broke into laughter, and Godfrey looked around, unsure, then smiled self-consciously.
Gwendolyn smiled, as she looked him over. Her brother was kooky, and yet he held some primal wisdom. And he knew, better than anyone she knew, the heartbeat of the common man. Her father had taught her that sometimes the most complex solution came in the most obvious wisdom.
“You may be right,” she said. “That may just be the solution. And I am going to appoint you to find out.”
Godfrey’s eyes opened wide, looking astonished.
“Me, my lady?” he asked.
Gwendolyn nodded, as the others in the room looked on, astonished.
“You are the perfect one. Travel across the Highlands. Seek out Bronson. Tell him I’ve received his dispatches. Then establish drinking halls. Help Bronson do what he cannot: bring these men together.”
“My lady,” he said, stammering, “I am not a leader. And I am no politician. You know this. Father knew this. He tried to hide me from court. And now you want to give me a position? Did you learn nothing from father? He knew, at least, that I was good for nothing here.”
“Father did not see clearly in all matters,” Gwen said. “I see much more in you. You have talents that other men do not, and you vastly underestimate yourself. You can bring men together of disparate backgrounds, better than any man I’ve seen. You lack the haughtiness inherent in most royalty. I trust you, and I need you to do this. Will you accept?”
Godfrey reluctantly nodded.
“For you, my sister,” he said, “I would do anything.”
Gwen nodded and took a deep breath, grateful the matter was settled. She could not bear to hear any more scrolls from Aberthol, so she pre-empted it as she saw him reaching for another, and rose from her throne, shaky.
The room immediately rose with her, and it was clear the session was over.
Thor came and took her hand, as Aberthol slammed his staff and the room broke up into relaxed conversation.
“Are you okay?” Thor asked her quietly; he must have seen how pale her face was.
Gwen breathed deep, grateful for Thor’s support. She felt tired.
“I just need to lie down,” she said.
* * *
Thorgrin stood outside the main gateway to King’s Court, beneath the huge, arched stone entrance, holding his horse by the reigns, as did all his friends, each getting ready to depart for their journey on Departure Day. Beside him, Reece checked and re-checked his saddle, brushing his horse, preparing for his trip to the Upper Islands; beside him, Elden prepared to venture off to search for his father, while O’Connor prepared to embark to see his sister. Conven prepared to go to his hometown and visit his wife—while nearby, Erec and Kendrick prepared to set off to do the work of the Silver. Even Godfrey was gearing up for his journey to McCloud territory. They all were heading in a different direction, all hoping to catch the good luck of embarking on Departure Day.
Thor clasped forearms with Reece.
“I will miss you, old friend,” Thor said.
“And I you,” Reece said. “I’ll be back before the second moon rises, in time for our joint wedding. You need not worry.”
“The Upper Isles are not far,” Thor said. “But they are fraught with danger. Watch your back.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be going with him,” came a voice.
They both turned to see Krog standing nearby, smiling as he prepared his horse, stuffing a short sword into an extra scabbard.
“You are?” Reece asked, surprised.
Krog nodded back, standing there with a stern expression.
“But why?” Reece asked. “I thought you don’t even like me.”
“I don’t,” Krog said emphatically. “It’s something to do. And like I said, I owe you for saving my life back there. I need to pay it off.”
Reece shook his head.
“I don’t want anyone tagging along out of some sense of obligation,” Reece said. “You can join me if you want—but not because you feel indebted to me.”
“I will come for any reason I wish,” Krog said defiantly, then turned and stormed off, preparing his horse.
Reece and Thor exchanged a curious glance, and Reece shook his head.
“I swear, I’ll never figure him out,” Reece said.
“Do not worry, my friend,” he replied. “They don’t want a war on their hands they cannot win. They would never dare harm a member of the royal family. And if they do, well,” Reece grinned, “I’ve got weapons at my side, and I’m only too happy to defend myself.”
Thor smiled back.
“I know, friend. I’ve fought many battles with you at my back. I wish you were staying here to help me pick and train the Legion.”
“I suspect you will manage just fine on your own,” Reece said. “In fact, by the time I return I suspect the Legion will already be brimming with new faces.”
Thor smiled.
“We shall see.”
“Reece, may I have a minute?” came a female voice.
Reece turned and saw, standing behind him, Selese. She looked upset.
“I don’t want you to leave,” she added, her voice grave.
“But I am hardly leaving,” Reece said. “It is just a few days’ voyage.”
Thor turned away to give them privacy, and as he went he still heard their hushed voices, carried on the wind.
“Our wedding is but a half moon away,” Selese added.
“I am aware of that, I assure you,” he replied. “I did not volunteer this mission.”
“I do not want you to go,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m normally not like this, but I have a bad feeling about it. Just stay here. Help us prepare for the wedding. Gwen can send someone else.”
Reece shook his head.
“I would never turn down a request from my sister. It goes against my honor. Besides, it’s Departure Day,” he said. “It is an auspicious day to embark.”
She shrugged.
“Not for all,” she said. “My father embarked once on Departure Day. He never returned.”
Reece saw a tear on her cheek, and he stepped forward and stroked her face with the back of his hand.
“I am touched, my love, for how much you care for me,” Reece said. “And I promise you I shall return.”
“I love your sister,” Selese said, still looking down, not meeting his eyes. “After all, we’re being married together. She has become as close to me as a sister. And yet, in this case, I wished she would have chosen someone else to go.”