“It’s all right, Abdel. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”
“I know, Your—” he began, then paused. “I know,Esther, but he was wrong. Those lives lie solely on the heads of the Madrausan invaders, not you.”
Tears welled up in her eyes again at hearing those words. She wasn’t sure that she believed them, but at least her First Officer didn’t blame her for the death and destruction that her choices would bring down up on them. It was all she could do to keep from sobbing again and she just nodded her head, looking down, biting her lip to try and hold in the tears. Finally, she looked back up at him. “You said you had something you needed to discuss?”
“Yes. We just received word from the Ardmorran diplomat’s ship requesting an audience at your earliest convenience.”
Esther nodded, bobbing her head up and down as she wiped the last tears from her eyes. “Send a message back to Ambassador Jacoby that if he has time now, I will grant his request for an audience immediately.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. It is growing dark out, so we will send a cutter to the Ardmorran ship with the message since they may not be able to see our signal flags. That should give you some time to recover before the Ambassador arrives.”
“Thank you, Abdel.”
A sudden gasp from the door to her sleeping quarters drew their attention. Marigold stood in the doorway, staring at the ruined makeup on Esther’s face. “Esther! What have you done?!”
Esther couldn’t help but laugh and she heard Najafi chuckle.
“Can you fix it, Marigold?” she asked. “The Ardmorran Ambassador has requested an audience and will be here soon.”
“Of course,” Marigold said, sighing and rolling her eyes. “Come on,” she waved, “This will be easier to do with you sitting in front of your vanity.”
Esther turned to Najafi. “Let me know the moment Ambassador Jacoby arrives,” she said, standing to follow Marigold back to her sleeping quarters.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
- - -
An hour later, Abdel Najafi stepped over to the starboard railing where the cutter was being lashed to the side of the Retribution. The light from the lanterns on the deck spilled onto the small hull, supplementing the glow from its own lanterns—one fore and aft. Though no formal side party was required for visiting dignitaries, it was still customary, and Najafi had asked a couple of marines and a few crewmen to be present as a sign of respect. They came to attention as the Ardmorran Ambassador stepped aboard.
“Ambassador Jacoby, welcome aboard the HMS Retribution,” Najafi said in his best Northern, holding his hand out to the Ambassador.
“Thank you, Mr. Najafi,” the man replied in unaccented Hadiqan, taking his hand firmly in his own, “It’s good to see you again.”
The Ambassador was a tall, middle aged man with the light skin typical of an Ardmorran, light brown hair greying at the temples, and grey eyes that likely made many a young lady swoon. “And you as well, Mr. Ambassador,” he said, switching back to the more familiar and comfortable Hadiqan. “If you will follow me, Queen Esther will see you in the great cabin.”
The Ambassador nodded and Najafi led him across the dimly lit deck to the door leading to the great cabin. The marine sentry standing guard opened the door and they passed into the dining area and through the door of the great cabin itself. Najafi cleared his throat. “May I present the Honourable Ambassador Jacoby of Ardmorr, Your Majesty.”
This time, Queen Esther greeted her visitor at the door instead of sitting on her makeshift throne. Najafi’s lips tugged up into an approving smile when he saw what a fine job Marigold had done restoring the Queen’s makeup to its original, breathtaking state. She looked marvelous and bright eyed, even though she had been sobbing not long before and must be exhausted.
She extended her hand. “Ambassador Jacoby, so good to see you again.”
“The honor is mine, Your Majesty,” Jacoby replied, clasping her hand in both of his, “Especially after what you did today. I received a full accounting by the Captain of my ship. That was a brilliant strike that you led, and, might I add, a very bold one.”
“Thank you, Ambassador. Mr. Najafi is an excellent Queen’s First Officer, and his efforts, as well as those of my escort ship captains, were what led to the plan’s success.”
Najafi cleared his throat, taking the brief pause in the conversation to excuse himself. “If you don’t need anything else, Your Majesty, I’ll go check on the progress of the repairs.”
“Of course, thank you Abdel,” Esther replied. Najafi turned and strode out the door.
Esther gestured to a small round table and chairs that Mac had brought back in after the Admiral had left. “Please, have a seat. Would you care for something to drink? My steward prepares an excellent cup of hot spiced apple nectar. Or perhaps some tea?”
“Tea would be great, Your Majesty,” said the Ambassador, walking over to the table. He waited for a moment as Mac pulled Esther’s chair out and she took a seat. “And might I say how radiant you look?” he continued, taking his own seat. “I just found out today that you are expecting a child. Congratulations.”
She smiled, dipping her head in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Ambassador, I hadn’t realized that the news would travel so quickly.”
Jacoby smiled. “News like that cannot remain a secret very long.”
“I suppose not.”
Mac returned a moment later with a tray of refreshments and placed a cup of hot apple nectar in front of her. The chill evening air had seeped into the cabin and Esther shivered, raising gooseflesh on her arms. She took a sip of her hot drink, its comforting warmth soothing the dull ache of anxious stress that seemed to be her ever-present companion of late. She looked forward to slipping into her winter nightgown and climbing under the sumptuously fine blankets on her bed. She sighed mentally, sitting up and placing the cup on the small saucer on the table. I have a lot to do before that though.
After taking a few sips of his own tea, the Ambassador returned his own cup to the table. “I won’t take much of your time, Your Majesty, but I did want to come and personally thank you for what you have done, and—now that the Madrausan fleet has been defeated—I wanted to re-extend my invitation to accompany me to Lancaster to discuss the terms of an alliance.”
When Esther had first arrived, the Ambassador had invited her to go to Lancaster and meet with Ardmorr’s King. She had realized, however, that doing so with a Madrausan invasion fleet poised to strike and the Hadiqan fleet doing nothing to stop the intermittent raiding squadrons made her look like nothing more than a figurehead with no real power. That would have done little towards negotiating a meaningful alliance. Maybe that’s all she still was—a figurehead—but at least the immediate threat of a Madrausan invasion had been removed and she could use that accomplishment to show that maybe she was more.
Sudden guilt pressed down on her like a weight upon her chest. Men’s lives weren’t spent to gain a list of accomplishments or medals. This wasn’t a game. She knew that. She felt that. But she also knew that to protect the lives of her people—all her people both Ardmorran and Hadiqan alike—she had to face political reality, and what people perceived about her had a direct effect on her ability to do anything.
“Thank you, Ambassador, I would be honored. Allow me to coordinate with Admiral Marsena and I will let you know when we are ready to proceed.”
“Excellent. I know you must be exhausted, so I will take my leave.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “Again, thank you. Your actions have made you every bit the Queen that your present appearance suggests.” He paused a moment as Esther stood and she saw a sudden sadness in his eyes. “You are mature beyond your years, my dear Queen Esther. I am thankful for that wisdom and how you have used it.” He seemed to want to say more, but simply nodded instead and walked over to the door. “I look forward to seeing you again when we arrive in Lancaster, Your Majesty.”
“And I as well, Ambassador. Thank you.”
She escorted him out of her great cabin and through the small dining compartment. The Ambassador stepped out the door and she watched as he walked along the deck over to the cutter which would take him back to his ship.
She turned to the marine sentry standing next to the door. “Corporal Dilshad,” she said, her voice suddenly flat. “Please have Sergeant Taavi escort the Madrausan prisoners to my cabin.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you.” Esther closed the door and walked back into her cabin, taking a seat on her cushioned throne. She felt exhausted and wrung out emotionally and physically, but there was still one thing left to do before she could retire for the night.
After a few minutes, Oluchi and Abdel entered, followed by several marines. They both nodded to her wordlessly and came to stand next to her. As she continued to wait, she noticed her fingers anxiously brushing the hilt of her dagger. She willed herself to stop and brought her hands in front of her, clasping them together, attempting to be patient. She could see how the power of a monarch could corrupt. Already she felt the need to be patient to be a burden, whereas the farm girl Esther had simply taken for granted that patience was a part of life. She smiled at the thought.
The door opened and Esther’s smile vanished as the captains of the defecting Madrausan ships entered with their marine escorts. They stared at her, their faces showing a mixture of fear, surprise, and awe. Esther frowned, puzzled by that last expression. Fear for their lives and those of their crews, and surprise at her youth she could understand—but awe? She didn’t have time right now to contemplate that information, however, and she forced a mask of calm composure onto her face as they stood in front of her, awaiting their fate.
She watched them shift nervously and her eyes grew hard as she thought about all the pain and suffering that their people had caused. She was quiet for a moment, enjoying their discomfort.
“You came to destroy and to maim, and just as we gained the upper hand, you turned on your fellow marauders,” she spat out the last word, perverting the word Madrausan into marauder. They flinched at the venom in her voice. “Tell me why I shouldn’t treat you as the traitorous mercenaries that you are.”
“Your Majesty,” said one of the Madrausan Captains, a middle aged man with dark hair graying at the temples and flecks of white sprinkling his goatee. That he had hair at all and hadn’t shaved his head as many Madrausan officers did distinguished him already. His firm and steady voice when faced with Esther’s scathing rebuke and possible execution only distinguished him further. He took a step forward, but two marines stepped in front of him, barring his path. The man put his hands up and didn’t try to move any closer.
“Your Majesty,” the man said again in almost fluent Hadiqan—that is, instead of sounding like he was speaking with a mouth full of rocks like most Madrausan’s did, he sounded like he had only one or two. “We are not the traitorous mercenaries you describe. We are the unfortunate men who have been put in the dishonorable position of choosing between defection, or following an impostor on an unholy quest of vengeance, greed, and destruction.”
Impostor? The Madrausan’s had always been a divided people with the various warlords fighting amongst each for scraps of power, but ever since this new Madrausan Emperor had united the barbarian kingdoms, there hadn’t been any indication of dissent. Perhaps the Empire of Madraus wasn’t as unified as they were led to believe?
“After you saved and married the Hadiqan King,” continued the man, “we gathered all those who felt as we did and now plead with you to allow us to join your efforts to resist Emperor Jahan. We are men who have sacrificed all and left everything behind to do the only honorable thing left to us.”
A moment compassion welled up within her as she contemplated the situation of these men. Her eyes grew hard again, however, as memories and questions entered her mind.
“If your tale is true,” she said, “then seeking asylum would be the logical course of action, but why would you actively seek to fight against and kill your own people? Perhaps you are simply trying to position yourselves so that you may do the most damage possible at a later time?”
The man shook his head vigorously, a look of disgust plain on his face.
“Who is this impostor of which you have spoken?” she asked before he could say anything further.
“The Madrausan High Warlord Emperor Jahan is the impostor. He is a treasure seeker whose ambitions have corrupted his soul and cause him to blaspheme by seeking the Priam scepter.”
“The Priam scepter?” Mr. Najafi said suddenly and Esther turned to look over at her First Officer, confused. “Jahan found the Priam scepter?” Najafi continued, his voice sharp. “Is that how he was able to unite the warlords?”
“Yes,” the man replied, nodding.
Najafi must have noticed the puzzled look on her face. “The Priam scepter is an ancient Madrausan artifact which is rumored to have been a relic of ancient Pax. It was lost four hundred years ago. Many thought it to be only legend. According to prophecy, a Unifier would find the scepter and unite the Madrausan tribes.” A sudden look of confusion crossed Najafi’s face and he looked back at the Madrausan captain. “But isn’t the word ‘Unifier’ from the prophecy used feminine? How could Jahan, a male, unite the tribes, even if he did find the scepter?”
“Indeed it is, sir, and thus you begin to realize that Jahan is an impostor, for he cannot be the Unifier because the Unifier—a woman—will not seek the scepter, but will find it. It is blaspheme otherwise. Your Majesty,” the man turned to Esther, “We did not leave everything we had behind to simply seek asylum. The reason why we would join you against Jahan is because we believe that you are the Unifier.”
Shocked silence filled the room.
“Me?” she blurted out incredulously, her mask of composure she had been trying so hard to maintain crumbling like a sand castle before an ocean wave. She struggled unsuccessfully to keep her surprise from showing. Once her composure had been cracked, however, other feelings and emotions surfaced as well. Suspicion, doubt, and anger at what the Madrausan’s had done and for the innocence that had been stolen from her surfaced, white hot and burning as fiercely as ever. She found that her hand had returned to the hilt of her dagger in its scabbard and she was grasping it so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the man continued. “In Dunai, the northernmost province of Madraus—just north of the Dunai desert—our tribe has an additional prophecy, telling us more about this Unifier. It says that ‘she is the daughter of our enemies, the kin of the dragon, brought forth from obscurity and crowned in glory, with wisdom’s seal, she will bring bitter peace’. When we first heard about you, we thought you were Ardmorran, but when we received descriptions of you that indicated your ancestry was likely Hadiqan and Kamakuran, the pieces started to fall into place. The daughter of our enemies…your Hadiqan ancestry. Kin of the Dragon…your Kamakuran Ancestry. Crowned in Glory…you were made a Queen in Al Farnaka. Al Farnaka means glory—”
“Stop,” Esther said quietly as sudden irrational anger curled around her heart and lungs, threatening to suffocate her.
The man stopped, now sensing her growing anger. His eyes flicked to her hand resting on the large dagger, then back to her face. His face paled slightly.
“Do you know what this is, Madrausan?” she said, her voice quavering as she slowly pulled the dagger out of its scabbard, her hand shaking slightly.
“It is a Madrausan competition dagger,” he said, his eyes focused on weapon. “It is a valuable and somewhat rare weapon worn by those who have defeated the previous owner. Fr…from its markings, I would say it was crafted in the Province of Coorg.”
Esther felt a bit of manic amusement touch her mind and a smile played across her lips. “I guess it’s fitting that I wear it then,” she said, “for it came to me when your people destroyed my home.” Sudden tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks and she stood, walking down the steps of the
small dais with very deliberate steps, using every ounce of grace she could muster to do so without looking down or stumbling as adrenaline blurred her vision, while keeping her eyes locked on the Madrausan’s face. “I took it out of the chest of a man who had come to murder and destroy my home…right after I put it through his heart.” The bitter tone in her voice was foreign to her own ears as it dripped with poisonous vengeance. She stood a few feet in front of him, heart pounding, her thoughts and emotions a maelstrom within her as she fought to regain her composure. What’s wrong with me?! Her hands were shaking so bad, she could barely keep hold of the dagger. I can’t do this, not right now. She had tried, but she couldn’t be objective about these men. Not right now.
“I don’t believe in your prophecies,” she said at last, trying desperately to keep her voice from quavering. “And right now, I cannot decide your fate. I will defer judgement until a later time. A mix of officers, marines, and crew will continue to assist your own people manning your ships while you and the other captain’s remain here. Sergeant, return these men to the brig!” Esther turned away, unable to face the Madrausan’s any longer.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Sergeant Taavi, stepping forward and taking the man by the arms, pulling him along towards the door with the others.
Esther turned back briefly just before Sergeant Taavi left. “Make them as comfortable as possible, Sergeant. They may be there a while.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Esther turned her back and the room emptied until she stood alone. She lifted her hand and rested it on the arm of her thrown, trying to calm the rapid beating of her heart. She pulled her dupatta off, laying it gently on the cushion. She walked aft, gently pushing the curtain of white translucent fabric that Mac had hung aside, stepping behind it to look out the bay windows lining the stern of her cabin. The stars twinkled as she gazed through the paned glass, trying to clear her thoughts. Tonight, they didn’t bring her peace, however. She turned away with a sigh and made her way over to her sleeping quarters to get changed for bed, sighing again when she thought about how long it was going to take to scrub off all this makeup.
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