Euleilla stared at him pointedly. Her smile, which Maelgyn had long missed during her period of illness, tweaked up on her face.
“Oh,” said Maelgyn, his cheeks burning.
The journey to the border of Sopan was significantly shorter than Maelgyn had anticipated, though it did take some time. The llamas, while they lacked the burst speed of a horse, definitely showed themselves to be at least as fast over the long haul. A journey he had anticipated lasting a week on foot took less than a day, and Maelgyn had a hard time believing he could have done that even on a horse. Overall, he was rather glad to have won the support of the Dwarves.
He was significantly less pleased with the Sopan Province Army that now surrounded him. Since crossing the border, they had been gradually travelling to Sopan castle using well-travelled roads, and any passing travelers were informed of his coming, but it seemed his armies had yet to hear of his arrival. Maelgyn had expected that his “escort” might be taken as a threat, but that didn’t make him any happier to be right.
“Show the sign of truce,” Maelgyn ordered. “They don’t know who we are, yet.”
As the order passed from man to man, tall leafy branches painted white – the ancient symbol of a parley request – rose above the heads of Dwarf and Nekoji warrior alike. The Sopan forces surrounding them came to a halt, and after a few minutes three men on horseback, each in well-crafted armor, came forward to meet the parley.
Maelgyn eyed their armor critically, assessing it for signs of their rank. Some types of armor were generally inexpensive in Human lands – thanks to the relative abundance of magic, iron or steel armor could be mass produced for little more than the cost of the raw materials. That armor, however, was not the best available. Magic might be able to enhance some qualities of steel, but magical mass production typically lacked the quality of workmanship which custom smithing could produce. Furthermore, mages could not fashion cheap armor out of the materials often used against mages, such as bronze plate. The armor the three men were wearing did not have any magical enhancements to improve the quality of steel or the fit of the joints, but it was some of the best that could be produced without blending both magic and true smithing skills. It was steel armor, however, which suggested that it had not been purchased to prevent magical attacks, but rather to demonstrate affluence.
Maelgyn noted that they showed other signs of great wealth as well. Obviously, he was being greeted by some of the barony, or at least members of the wealthier set of the aristocracy. There were no obvious symbols to indicate which barony they ruled on their coats, and for that Maelgyn was grateful.
In Svieda, unlike some of the older Human kingdoms such as Poros or Squire’s Knot, the provincial governments issued relatively inexpensive armor to any member of the army as required: Leather armor (better against mages and more mobile, but less effective against swords and arrows) for the foot soldiers and steel (poor against mages, but otherwise significantly better defensively) for the officers. However, many of the wealthier officers, especially those in the barony, purchased their own custom-built armor instead. Maelgyn had mixed emotions about the practice. True, it relieved some burden on his own treasury, and it provided officers with more safety and a better fit, but usually the nobles Maelgyn had seen with their own armor eschewed Svieda’s colors in favor of their own crests. He always felt the Barons should have to wear the same colors as their men, and he was glad to see that at least these three did.
“Greetings,” one of the three barons said, addressing El’Athras. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your, shall we say, unexpected visit?”
“Well, we’re merely escorting a member of the royalty for our new allies,” the Dwarf explained, looking a little amused.
“Allies?” the Baron snorted. “Who? Is some member of the Caseificio Imperial Family in your company?”
“While the Caseificio is also part of the alliance and some of their representatives are a part of this party, none of the Imperial family are with us,” El’Athras chuckled. “However, His Highness, the Sword Prince Maelgyn, Duke of Sopan – your liege lord – is. I should add that, thanks to His Highness, you are now addressing the Count of the Sviedan Province of Mar’Tok. Caseificio is now a County of Svieda as well, and therefore there is no more Imperial family for Caseificio. Our alliance was more of a merger of our kingdoms, you see, and I figured it would be best if we provided an armed escort for our new Prince.”
The Baron’s eyes widened. “Sword Prince Maelgyn? Here?”
“Um, greetings,” Maelgyn said, finally making his presence known. Realizing how awkward that overly casual greeting sounded, he drew the heirloom sword of his rank, and presented it in a formal salute. “I’m afraid I’m a bit unfamiliar with my own Council of Barons. May I ask who I’m addressing?”
“We knew you were coming, my lord, but we never expected... that is, we didn’t know you had been in talks with the Dwarves,” the nobleman answered, looking suddenly out of his element when he recognized the katana. He looked in askance at El’Athras, but then collected himself to make formal introductions. “Please, My Lord, let us escort you – and the, uh, new Count – to your capital. I am Baron Yergwain, Colonel in charge of the First Infantry Regiment and acting as the General of your First Division. My companions are Baron Mathrid, Colonel of the First Cavalry, and the Honorable Sir Leno, my brother, who is also the Colonel in charge of the First Archers.”
“They may not need our aid, brother,” the one Yergwain had introduced as Sir Leno said. “My lord, am I correct in thinking you are a mage? And one of significant power, too, if what I have heard is true.”
“No, you aren’t mistaken,” Maelgyn laughed. “Although power is a relative term.”
“Yes, indeed,” Leno agreed, nodding. Then he noticed Euleilla and her ever-present cloud of magic powder. “You seem to have another in your company, as well. A powerful one, from that display.”
Maelgyn coughed slightly. “Yes, well... that would be my wife.”
All three barons froze. “Wife?” Mathrid finally blurted out. “I had not heard you were married, nor even courting, my lord.”
“I wasn’t,” the prince sighed wryly, shaking his head. “At least, not as of the last time a courier was able to pass here. Which reminds me – I have what is probably the latest batch of mail from Largo and eastwards. We may not get another shipment for some time, thanks to the war closing our sea lanes.”
“Mathrid,” Yergwain snapped. “Arrange for the mail to be distributed as soon as possible. Now, my lord, I’m afraid I don’t understand. Our last message from you arrived less than two months ago. How is it possible that you’ve gone from ‘not courting’ to ‘married’ in such a short space of time?”
Maelgyn fumbled for an answer, but Euleilla responded before he could. “It was... unintentional,” she said. “Maelgyn had need to travel incognito, and I was to be part of a cover story. Unfortunately, he was unfamiliar with the Largo law which states that, when two people register in the same room as one another, they are married by common law.”
“My lady?” Yergwain said, shifting uncomfortably on his saddle. “If what you say is true, then your marriage is merely a legal technicality. Surely you can get it annulled, if you so wish....”
“Following that event,” Maelgyn said, now that the ice was broken. “We began courting, since it would take some time to make the arrangements if we decided to dissolve the marriage. It seemed churlish to do less, given the awkward situation I had placed her in. Since then she has won a place in my heart, and so I will not request an annulment.”
Mathrid was the one looking most uncomfortable at that statement. “Er... is she a noble, my lord?”
Maelgyn frowned, allowing his displeasure to show through at the question. “Does it really matter? She has stood by me through hardship and mortal peril, lending me her strength and her love. I trust you will forgive me if I find the nobility of my wife’s birth a less momentous concern for our nation th
an I might have before Svieda’s king was assassinated and our castle overrun.”
“In any other nation,” Mathrid snapped, “this would not be tolerated at all. In a time of war like this, even we cannot afford to have the distraction of your marrying a commoner to add to our problems. The nobility, myself included, are... uncomfortable about those of the royal blood marrying outside of their class. The diplomatic consequences could be substantial, as well.”
“What’s all this about marriages between royalty and commoners not being tolerated outside of Svieda?” El’Athras snorted. “I would never have protested such a thing. Nor would the former Emperor Gyato.”
Mathrid frowned. “You... are not a foreign power, any more. But Oregal, Bandi, Poros, Squire’s Knot – none of those nations would accept the legitimacy of such a marriage.”
Wangdu laughed. “Well, I’m from Squire’s Knot, I am, and I accept it, I do. I think you’re mistaken, I do. And I am rather well acquainted with Lady Phalra of the Bandi Republic, I am, and she would be rather hypocritical to protest such a thing, she would.”
“Well, that is to say—”
“I find nothing wrong with it,” Leno broke in. “Anyone who is as powerful a mage as this woman is would be an asset to any throne, and Maelgyn will do well to keep her.”
“Thank you,” Euleilla interjected at last, acknowledging the young man. “Your own skill in magic is an asset to your barony, as well.”
Leno laughed, though he looked uncomfortable at the mention. “Milady is much too kind. I don’t hold a candle to yourself or your husband.”
“But—” Mathrid protested.
“Enough!” Yergwain snapped. “Lord Mathrid, remember your place. Is it your intent to make your liege lord and these dignitaries stand here all afternoon in the dirt while you lambast them? There are channels for such protests, but this most assuredly is not one of them. Now, gather those letters and parcels so we may distribute them properly, as I asked you to earlier!”
Mathrid stiffened. “Very well, milord. I will see to it right away.”
As he left to tend to the mail, Yergwain sighed. “I am sorry, my Lord Maelgyn, but he is a strict traditionalist. I shall see to it he does not continue to bother you.”
Maelgyn sighed. “Thank you, Lord Yergwain, but don’t worry – I was expecting some of this. To be honest, I don’t have time to worry about everyone who might be upset at my choice of wife. Svieda has been invaded, our navy has been shattered at sea, and we must act. I will need to talk to Lord Valfarn at once. It’s taken me far too long to get here, even if it was faster than I feared, and I’m afraid I’m not as familiar with the tactical situation here as I should be.”
“Of course, my lord. Leno, inform Lord Mathrid that we must move as soon as possible. I want us to be in Sopan Castle by nightfall.”
“Of course, brother,” Leno nodded, turning in the direction Mathrid had fled.
“If you’ll excuse me, My Prince,” Yergwain said, bowing his head in Maelgyn’s direction, “I must ready my own force to move.”
The baron rode off, leaving the men and women who had accompanied Maelgyn staring off after him.
“That went better than I hoped,” Maelgyn sighed.
“Better?” Doctor Wodtke scoffed incredulously. “One of them insulted your wife and damn near said she belonged at the same level as dirt. Another seemed to regard the Dwarves as worse than dirt! How is that better than you thought?”
“To start with, I was worried that they might think me an imposter and Mar’Tok’s presence an act of war,” Maelgyn noted. “Just being the man who holds the Sword is hardly enough for some. At least Sir Leno appeared... comfortable with everything.”
“True,” Wodtke agreed reluctantly. “I suppose I was just expecting a more pleasant greeting. This is my first time in the Human world in several years.”
“Eh, don’t judge them too harshly, love,” El’Athras sighed. “These are just underlings. Wait until we see what kind of greeting Lord Valfarn gives us – it’s his job to be the hospitable one. These boys were all military, and their job isn’t to make pleasant greetings. Rather, it was to see if we deserved a pleasant greeting, or an... unpleasant one.”
Euleilla frowned in thought, but it had nothing to do with concerns about their reception. “Like you, Maelgyn, Sir Leno’s more powerful than he thinks,” she warned. “Let us hope he, at least, continues to think we deserve pleasant greetings.”
“A man shouldn’t be kept waiting to enter his own Royal Hall,” Maelgyn complained, fussing with his shirt. It was the first time since the days before Gilbereth was assassinated that he had worn formalwear, and he had grown rather accustomed to the simple garb he had used to travel in.
“It’s just a bloody ceremony,” El’Athras pointed out, though he didn’t look any happier about it. He and Wangdu, both waiting to accompany Maelgyn to his introduction to the Ducal Court, had also been dressed in some rather uncomfortable formalwear by the castle steward for the ceremony. “You’ll have to get used to them. Once this shindig’s complete, you’ll be too involved in the war for anyone to worry about formal affairs like this. Besides, it’s giving your wife time to dress for the occasion.”
“Hah!” Maelgyn snorted. “And that’s another thing. Back in the royal court, I had a wardrobe full of clothing that may have been formal, but at least was comfortable to wear. Why do I have to wear this... this... mat of thistles!”
“It was the best we could find that fit you on short notice, your highness,” one of the attending guards suggested cautiously. “It’s not that bad.”
Maelgyn sent him a dark glare before once again fidgeting with his shirt. He was so absorbed in the uncomfortable cut of his clothes that he didn’t notice that the girls had returned until he heard several men – El’Athras and Wangdu among them – gasp.
He turned to look, and was stunned into silence at what he saw. For the first time since he’d met her, Euleilla was wearing something other than her leather armor and oddly colored vest. He figured there was no way she could have picked the dress she was wearing alone, in fact, since the color complemented her hair and skin tone perfectly. It was a deep burgundy, cut to expose a hint of cleavage without being improper, with a few gold accents drawing attention to the plunging neckline. It was very... regal, and for the first time Maelgyn realized just how well she was going to fit into her new role as a Princess Consort.
It took him a moment to notice, however, that she looked quite uncertain about where she was, and that she didn’t seem to have her usual cloud of magic dust around her. He frowned.
“Milady,” he said with a regal air, walking over to her. “Do you need an escort?”
Euleilla smiled at him, curtseying daintily. “Thank you, husband. I’d love one.” As he took her arm, she whispered to him, “I’m okay for eating dinner at the banquet after the ceremony, but I’m going to have a little trouble maneuvering the table in this thing without my magic dust until then. Dr. Wodtke assured me you could help, however.”
“Don’t worry,” he answered. “We’ll manage.” With a gentle tug, Maelgyn lead her to a nearby bench and sat her down. “What’s bothering me is the wait. But I suppose you might be able to help me stave off boredom until Valfarn is ready to see us.”
Euleilla smiled at him. “Maybe.”
When he realized that was all she was going to say, Maelgyn chuckled. “Back to your usual self, huh?”
“Yeah,” she answered.
“Well, that’s fine. I can enjoy silence, too.”
“Really?” she replied, sounding amused.
“Yes,” Maelgyn answered. “Though I’d rather have something to distract me from my uncomfortable formal outfit, in this case. Silence is most enjoyable when there’s nothing else to worry about.”
Euleilla laughed good-naturedly. “Very well. Perhaps, if you were to explain to me just how this ceremony we are about to participate in works, it may help distract you.”
“I’m a trifle curious about that, myself,” El’Athras, a formally-dressed Dr. Wodtke on his arm, agreed. “I mean, I’m not sure where I fit in on all this.”
“You don’t,” Maelgyn said to the Dwarf. “Provided I manage to hold my end of the ceremony, that is. If I fail, you will be received as any visiting Sword would – assuming your Countship is recognized – and invited to a formal dinner by the Regent. If I succeed, well, then I will formally invite you to the dinner myself.”
“Either way, I get to eat,” El’Athras laughed. “Well, that doesn’t sound too bad.”
“But you, Euleilla, may have a bit more of a role,” he said, turning his attention to his wife. “This ceremony is mandated by the Law of Swords. Specifically the Fourth Law of Ascension, which was written to limit the powers a Sword may have should he prove to be... unsatisfactory. It says that when a Sword first takes his seat in his Duchy, he is required to obtain the approval of either his Regent, his Council of Barons, or of the peasantry. If he fails to receive the approval of at least one of those three, he may never rule the Duchy and must appeal to the other Swords to remain in the line of Royal Ascension.
“To comply with this law, Sopan Province created three formal ceremonies – the Introduction to the Regent, the Introduction to the Barons, and the Introduction to the Peasantry. Should the Introduction to the Regent fail to go well, we will then have to move on to first the Introduction to the Barons and then the Introduction to the Peasantry. I think only three Swords of Sopan have failed to receive the Regent’s approval, but all three of them also failed the other Introductions as well.”
“And my role would be?” Euleilla asked.
“The Regent will ask me a set of questions designed to determine my fitness,” Maelgyn explained. “As you are my wife, he may also ask questions of you. If he is unhappy with the answers, he will either request that we correct any problem he finds and then submit to his Introduction again, or he may direct us to attend the Introduction to the Barons. While it’s important to give honest answers to Valfarn, it would be... unwise... to say something which may upset him.”
In Treachery Forged (The Law of Swords) Page 21