As he watched, working drafts of each document were decided upon, and the relevant personages signed the bottom of several long sheets of paper, some of which were surprisingly large. Thea rolled up the documents herself, stashing them in the sleeve of her simple gown. "Excellent, everyone!" she said, "It would seem now that all that remains to be discussed is a crest, a symbol, not of the Kingdom, but one that Farlan can claim alone."
There was a low humming from the tables as the council members murmured ideas to one another.
"However, such an item, while important, is the sort of topic that can take hours to discuss, especially if the members are unprepared," said Thea dryly. "As such, unless any of you already has some symbol in mind..."
"I do." Dorran said loudly.
Everyone at the table, including Thea, Adhara, and Nora, stared in astonishment at Dorran, whose legs had pushed him out of his chair almost without his own volition. It was, he realized, the first time he had ever spoken to all of the council directly. He swallowed quickly, and then described the idea that had come to him.
"I was imagining the two moons of the southern mountains," he said, raising his voice so that all of them could hear him. "The two moons in the southern lands of Farlan are legendary in their beauty, and unique in all the lands. I believe they could be a suitable symbol of the hope and beauty we find in the country of Farlan...and of the good faith we have in the Queen and her daughters to lead us to a bright future."
There was a long silence, during which Dorran took a long look at the faces turned towards him and then sat down once again at his place.
Thea's voice sounded slightly strained when she next spoke. "Very well. Keeping in mind that it is the first option we have heard for Farlan's crest, all in favor?"
A chorus of ayes and raised hands rippled around the table. Dorran couldn't believe his eyes. The vote was unanimous.
"Very well, then," Thea said. "I will ensure that this crest becomes a banner to fly high in the face of the King, to show him Farlan's pride. You are dismissed, we all have plenty to do to prepare and little time to do it I would believe."
Even though the meeting had been dismissed, there were still hundreds of tasks to complete in and around the castle, and many of them could do with some supervision of the soon-to-be-royal variety. Dorran, however, dodged every attempt to ask him a question about issues ranging from politics to proper decorations for the coronation. Instead, he shamelessly relegated any questions put to him to his mother, sisters, and Myriel and continued to his room, where he donned the formal armor he had received several years ago. Without his tabard, which had showed the crest of the King and then, after pacing for almost an hour his nerves nearly reducing him to a puddle of useless mush. He slapped himself in the face a few times Dorran took a deep breath and hurried downstairs to the barracks.
He had to talk to his future soldiers.
When he walked into the barracks training hall it was only one or two hours after noon. Perhaps half of the full membership of the muster was present, trying to practice as ever, though Dorran heard the hum of voices far more frequently than the clacking of practice blades. When he entered, however, the fighters inside nodded to each other and stood straight and ready, watching him, waiting for him to speak. He thought he saw a new kind of fear flitting from face to face. He suspected that he understood it, and indeed felt it himself. It was their combined fear of the King, and of the consequences of fighting him.
"All right, men," he said calmly. "I intend to keep this short, so I hope you will pass it along to the others. Do you understand?"
They all nodded or some saluted, and yet others waited at alert but still attention and Dorran continued. "My mother, Thea Farlane, intends to declare Farlan’s independence. It shall become its own nation, independent of the Kingdoms. Her reason for this, among others, is the ongoing war for succession that has drained Farlan's men and resources for so many years; in order to rectify this, she has created a new standard of succession so that the right to the throne can never be questioned. From this day onward, all noble houses it shall be the daughters that shall inherit the titles from their mothers, so that no allegations of illegitimacy can be made in the first place. Luckily for me, this means I have neatly dodged the line of succession." He waited for some response, perhaps laughter or muttering disbelief, but it would appear that his audience didn't know what to make of his words yet, so he continued, hoping his words, small and unimpressive as they felt, might convince them to fight at his side. "From now on, I'll be able to focus on what I've wanted to all along and that is to help keep my family and all of Farlan, if indeed, they are not one and the same, safe from all who wish them harm."
"Now." Dorran paused for effect, and also to catch his breath; this was where the speech making got difficult. "I know that many of you were prepared, with varying degrees of willingness, to serve Farlan by aiding the King in his conquest. I also know that some of you may see what we attempt as treason, or you may simply never have wanted to come here in the first place." He paused, looking at the small clumps of faces staring at him. "All I can say is that if you wish to go there will be no punishment. I hope though I will see you all stay with us, to support us, and to fight for us if need be. Farlan is my birthplace, my home, and my heart, just as I know it is many of yours'. I hope you will join me in my efforts to defend it."
There was a silence that resounded in the chamber as the men watched him carefully.
"Oh, and finally," he added, "please make a point of giving every female fighter you come across the same message. Queen Thea will want every able-bodied and willing adult, male or female, to work together in protecting Farlan's future as a newborn nation."
There was another short pause, but as Dorran stepped back, a cheer started up, and then a wave of applause rippled through the audience. Dorran was taking a shaky breath of relief when he first heard a thin voice winding amid the thunder of clapping hands.
"Sir, what about us?"
Scanning the crowd, he saw Marcus shake free of the quiet restraining grip that had been placed on him by some of the other fighters and walk forward. He looked distinctly nervous, but his voice, when he spoke, was full of determination.
"You will allow women to fight among you, but can I fight beside you, my lord? And my friends? We...we are children in your eyes. But Farlan as a nation is even younger, and in need of all the swords she can get," Marcus argued.
Dorran was surprised by the boy's eloquence, but did not expect children to be capable of much more than getting killed on a battlefield facing full-grown men, and was about to say so when there was a sudden, smart rap on the door.
All the fighters, remembering what had happened the last time someone interrupted a practice, jumped and stiffened, a reaction that didn't go away when Nora peeked around the corner.
"Excuse me," she said politely, directing her words to Dorran. "Would it be all right if I made a short announcement?"
Dorran blinked at her. "Nora, what are you doing here?"
It looked like Nora winked at the younger fighters, though Dorran thought it might only have been a trick of the light. "I was listening in to check on you. You give a rousing enough speech, Brother especially given the fact it was on such short notice."
"I try," he said flatly, trying to avoid flushing at her teasing. "Now, what are you doing?"
"I'm here to poach some of your soldiers," she told him sweetly, and then called out to the crowd. "If you fear being kicked out of Farlan's newborn army because of your youth, please step forward!"
There was some foot-shuffling and rebellious muttering, and Nora put on a sardonic smile. "Good, good. You have good reason to be wary of an adult giving you such an order at this moment, so let me explain the reason behind it: I wish to command some fighters of my own. If you believe you can avoid being sent home, then feel free to stay with my brother. But if you want a chance to fight for Farlan, to win our victory at any cost...then come with me. I promise,
I will put you to good use."
Higher-pitched murmuring filled the hall as the younger boys talked among themselves, either wary of being tricked or Dorran suspected, already wisely leery of Nora. As he scanned the crowd again, he saw Marcus's face meet his. Instead of the suspicion he had expected, however, he saw an agony of indecision on the boy's face. Marcus met his eye, expression pleading, and Dorran realized what he missed. He coughed to dispel the treacherous lump that was trying to form in his throat and began to speak.
"My sister, Nora, is a terror with a knife," he said, and almost heard the blinks of surprise around the room. "She's also a terror in many other ways. She may be my little sister and she may be trained in only the basics of fighting, but I believe she has the potential to become one of Farlan's greatest fighters, if she has not already achieved that status. To fight under her is to have the potential to learn what she knows, which is a powerful potential indeed. And if you fight under her, you need have no fear of anyone, even my mother, dismissing you because you are a mere child. If you truly wish to fight, no matter what the cost..." As he said this, he locked eyes with Marcus again. Go, he thought, trying to convey the subtle meaning behind his words. It is no betrayal to me, to fight under my sister, even if she may one day take what would have been my place. "I have the utmost faith in my sister," he concluded, "and may she lead you well."
Marcus gave him one last searching look before setting out, walking to the front of the hall to stand before Nora. He bowed to her, and she gave him a searching look, which he returned. After a long moment, the corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk and she looked to the other young people who began to gather, some as young as nine or ten years that began to join her ranks.
After several minutes, when she was confident she had gathered them all, she smiled down at them with a slightly cold look in her eye. "Good. Now, how many of you have sisters?"
As Nora left with the children, all of whom were conspicuously dead silent under her care, Dorran turned uncomfortably to the rest of the soldiers and cleared his throat. "In the future, we will have further preparations to make," he said, "but for now, just continue drilling as we have been. Thank you."
That had not gone entirely the way he had expected, he thought as he walked back up the hall. It had not gone terribly bad, either, and it would appear he already had the beginnings of a loyal force of soldiers to help defend the capital. He could always wish for more but he had learned life rarely made this easy.
CHAPTER XVI
The morning before her coronation, Thea took a small entourage to the dungeons with her as witnesses in her second attempt to speak to Lady Beatrice Alven and Lyrre. Dorran was in this group, along with both of his sisters, several of Thea's guards, and a handful of prominent council members.
Their few days in the dungeons had already left the Alvens looking neglected and woebegone. Lady Alven's hair hung limp where once it had curled down her back, and Lyrre's was a tangled mess which she picked at as though expecting to find hay sticking out of it. Dorran, looking at the interior of their cell, was unimpressed; aside from the hardness of the bed and the coldness of the water in the pitchers, the accommodations were not so different from his own in the barracks. Still, they looked out from behind the bars balefully as Thea and her companions came into view.
"Lady Beatrice," Thea said as she stepped up to the bars. "I trust our guards were kind and courteous to you?"
"As much as could be expected," Alven said woodenly, and Dorran, looking at the blankets spread on the two different cots in the cell, had to agree. He wondered if the guards knew that these women were suspected of involvement in a plot to kill Thea and her family; if they did, he could imagine where they had summoned up the patience to deal with them from, if only for one night. Or perhaps just with Alven, he corrected himself halfheartedly, looking over at Lyrre. She looked as though she were focusing on doing her best imitation of a half-drowned kitten, but at least, he thought uncharitably, she was quiet about it.
"Now, Beatrice," Thea said, her voice hard. "I will repeat my question. Will you or will you not confess to your involvement in a plot against my life?"
"What evidence do you have of my involvement?" Alven asked stiffly.
Dorran watched Thea's nostrils flare in barely contained annoyance, but she decided to play along. "You were found fleeing the castle mere minutes after a failed attempt on my life. Moreover, I have a reliable eyewitness who reports hearing you speaking with a band of unknown men in the lower levels of the castle."
"In other words, you were spying on me," Alven said with an affronted sniff. "How dare you? You invite me as a guest into your home, plant spies on me, and throw me into the dungeon without a second thought! What would my late brother think?"
A muscle worked in Thea's jaw. "I think, Lady Beatrice, that he would consider himself ashamed to be your brother." She watched Alven's mouth open and close several times, like that of an extremely offended fish, before smiling thinly and continuing. "At the very least, I will ask you this? Was the King involved?"
"The King?" Alven said, eyes wide. "Whatever are you talking about? Why would the King want you dead?"
Thea looked utterly unimpressed by the older woman's theatrics. "I see," she said. "Then I wonder...were you hoping to gain the King's favor by winning him the duchy for himself? Or did you simply hope that killing me would place Lyrre in the position of being a future duchess someday?"
Alven just stared at her, face blank.
Thea sighed. "I'm sure you believe the king wants to keep you on his side, Alven. I know you have been funneling money and supplies to him for a long time, but in return for what? Protection, should he decide to take over Farlan firsthand? No..." she paused thoughtfully. "You are the king's through and through, I know that. Anyone willing to serve him after the losses you have endured will not be swayed by mere words. Now the only question that remains is what you would like me to do with you."
"What does that mean?" Alven asked suspiciously.
"It means that you are free to leave this land," Thea said. "Of course, when you do, your remaining rights and properties will default to me, but your only alternatives are to remain incarcerated here, or to pledge your loyalty to me as Queen."
"Queen?" There was a wild look in Alven's eyes again, but it still didn't look quite like surprise.
"I see that he knew," Thea said calmly. "I'd hoped that my aspirations might come as a surprise to him, but some of the preparations required taking some risks. Regardless, your options are the same." Thea stepped away. "Your property, your loyalty to the king, and your freedom. I will allow you two of them, but not all three. Select which you would most willingly part with." With that, she turned and swept back down the hallway, her entourage following quickly behind her.
Dorran had expected her to leave the dungeon then, but instead she paused to talk with the man in charge of the dungeons. "How are my would-be assassins doing?" she asked.
"They're unharmed, Your Majesty," the man said cautiously, careful to get the title right. "They seem unlikely to cause trouble here."
She nodded approvingly. "Good. If they seem interested, tell them that I will extend them their freedom or their protection. Have them questioned, but then, if they wish to leave, they will be escorted to the border at our convenience. If any of them wish to stay, they may do so. I will place them in households willing to accept them as temporary servants, until they have shown their loyalty."
The guard bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."
Thea graced him with a smile. "In that case..." She turned to the others. "I suppose it's time to make that title official."
The ceremony was planned as a simple affair. Almost everyone in the capital was working together, desperate to complete preparations for the coming siege; atop their ongoing efforts to house and look after the refugees that continued to swarm into the country and the capital, there was barely enough time to spare to have Thea's finest clothes aired and the hall decked
out to suit the solemnity of the situation.
Between nailing garlands to the walls and helping to beat the hall's carpets, Dorran checked in several times on Myriel as she completed the small repairs that had been needed on a handful of formal gowns. There had seemed no end of work to be done, and almost all the inhabitants of the castle seemed filled with the same drive to make it as impeccable as possible for what could be called the most important moment of Thea's life, and in Farlan's history.
He stood in the corridor outside the main hall, not looking at his mother or sisters as he watched the doors. The half-dozen guards who had been given the day off to participate in the ceremony filed in first, flanking the chair that was to become Thea's throne. Dorran waited until they all stood still and at attention in front of the crowd before entering after them.
The hall, for all its solemn crowd dressed in their dusty finest, was dead silent his steps reverberated on the thin carpet as he continued forward, eyes fixed on the battered wooden chair. He passed Myriel on the way in, and saw that her eyes following him, expressionless. When he reached the front row of seats, he sat halfway down the row on the right.
He did not turn his head to track his sisters and mother as they filed, one by one, into the hall. It did not behoove a prince, even one out of the line of succession, to gawk.
Prince, Dorran thought with amusement. It wasn't as though the title actually fit him; it was strange, though. How such a stuffy-sounding title was actually a relief compared to the heir of the duchess.
After his sisters had settled on either side of the dais and his mother was standing before the crowd facing her newly re-polished throne, the remainder of the ceremony was fairly short. Prominent members of the council took turns reading aloud the proclamation of Thea's crowning as Farlan's Queen, and each asked her a series of questions about her dedication to Farlan and its people, which she affirmed shortly. Then a few of the younger servants, stiff with nervousness, came forward and garbed her in a long-flowing, fine-woven cape and a simple but impressive golden crown. She turned and curtseyed deeply to the crowd.
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