by M. D. Laird
“You’re interfering now.”
“I know, but I’m not suggesting what you should say…just that you should say something.”
Thomas huffed and made his way to the throne room. Eve followed, pulling her Cloak around herself and her guards as she entered the room to observe the proceedings.
“You need to stand down,” said Rya. “I have a mandate to rule Axandria.”
“You have used us for your rebellion.” Jack snarled. “We are not about to stand aside.”
“You must,” said Rya. “I have a mandate to rule.”
“Then why aren’t we feeling that?” asked Hannah. “We should know for certain that you’re the Crown and I feel nothing.”
“We won’t stand aside regardless,” Jack said. “We have worked too hard.”
“Why not compromise, Your Majesty?” said Prince Thomas, entering the throne room and looking thoroughly unmoved by the death of his wife.
“What sort of compromise?” asked Rya. “Wealth? Land? Titles?”
“If you like,” he replied. “Though I was thinking of influence in your court. You could have something similar to Arkazatinia’s rule…a democracy of sorts.”
“You mean you want a say in court?” She sneered.
“Why not?” he asked. “Demons live here as well…and the sons would provide balance.”
Rya sighed. Maol felt her annoyance ripple, but she relaxed her expression and turned to the rebels. “I want to resolve this peacefully. If we could come to an agreement, then I will offer you positions in my court.”
Jack looked at the brotherhood soldiers surrounding Rya. He bit his lip, perhaps thinking of the army that waited outside, the army that outnumbered them considerably and of the angels and demons who could not support a republic even if they wanted to. Even with their newly acquired blades, they could not win. Jack turned to speak to the other rebels for a few minutes before turning back to Rya.
“It seems as though we have no choice but to surrender,” he said sullenly. “We will accept your offer, though we want a real say in the running of the country, not just a token gesture.”
Rya nodded.
“We also want to take care of the families of the men who were lost. We can establish a more long-term solution, but for now, we want a payment of fifty thousand mirs to split between the families as an interim measure.”
“That’s thirty thousand marcs!” gasped Rya. “We don’t have that much.”
Jack frowned. “You have just captured the Crown. You have the entire treasury.”
“I don’t know what state the treasury is in. I can’t commit to spending it yet.”
“You have assets.”
Rya thought for a few moments. Her fingers twitched as she performed calculations in her head. “I can spare some ships—you could sell them for a fair price.”
“That’s a good start, but we need coin or something we can sell fast.”
“I only have a small amount of coin—I may need it to establish the Crown.”
“There are families who need to eat. The nobles destroyed the flour reserves when they realised war was coming and are driving up the prices.”
“I can spare weapons—good steel.”
“We have adamantine weapons. We don’t need your steel.”
Rya frowned again. “You can’t keep the adamantine weapons. They belong to Hell.”
“Fine, we’ll take some weapons, but it’s not enough. People are starving, food is a priority. Weapons will be difficult to sell quickly.”
“I have slaves,” she said.
“Rya, no!” said Maol. “You promised you’d free them.”
Rya ignored him and looked forward as shame flashed across her eyes. “I can give you a hundred hominem men, who I paid one hundred marcs each for, and Maol here, who I paid ten thousand marcs for.”
Maol gasped. “No!” he shouted. “You can’t do this! You can’t sell the slaves. You can’t sell me. Princess Eleanor freed me!”
“I have never received the money, and now she is dead,” said Rya, turning to Jack. “Do we have a deal?”
Jack frowned, and the rebels twitched. Maol felt sick.
She is selling me, and she is carrying my baby!
One of the rebels, Hannah, spoke up. “We don’t deal in slaves, Jack.” She snarled. “Why are you even considering this?”
“Quiet, Hannah,” Jack replied.
“You can’t do this, Lord Amarya,” said Hannah. “I won’t let you do this. This is a disgraceful way to treat people, especially the father of your child.”
“This is between your leader and me.” Rya snarled.
“Rya, please,” said Maol. “We’re having a baby.”
“Maol, I’m sorry,” she said. “I have already told you I can’t marry you and I can’t raise a family with you. I meant it when I said I’m going to give the baby up.”
“And suddenly the opportunity to sell me has come along, and you no longer have to worry about me making things difficult for you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Quit saying that.” He snarled. “You have lots of things you can sell. You promised the slaves we would be free if we helped you win.”
“I will make a real difference once I am queen, I promise, but sometimes a few have to be sacrificed to save the many.”
“One hundred and one men is not a few!”
“They’re hominem,” she said. “Their lives are short.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You make everyone care about the hominem when you care nothing for them.” He felt sickened by the thought of his young friends being sold. The young men who he had worked hard to train and become fond of were going to be sold at a market like cattle.
“I do care for them,” she replied. “I can make a difference to future generations.”
“Your logic is twisted. People are alive NOW. Lives matter NOW,” he raged.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated. Maol was not convinced she was sorry at all. This was another of her lies. Another of her ruses.
“I have done many cruel things in my life, Rya, but this is cold even by my standards. Perhaps I deserve it. Maybe I deserve slavery after the way I have treated slaves. Maybe having taken loved ones from others I deserve to lose someone precious to me.”
“Maol,” she said softly. “We barely know each other.”
“I wasn’t talking about you!” he shouted.
Prince Thomas stepped forward. “Before Princess Eleanor died, she asked if she could borrow money from me to buy this slave’s freedom and a home to raise his child. I agreed. I will honour my word.”
Rya flashed towards the demon. “Maol cannot raise the child alone. The princess was going to help him; she can’t do that now.”
“I’m sure he will manage,” said Prince Thomas disinterestedly. “People do.”
“It’s still not enough,” she said. “Are you willing to buy the freedom of the other slaves?”
“She never asked me to do that, but I do hear that you have a rather extensive collection of valuable alchemical rocks.”
“I need those.”
“You can surely spare a few.”
Maol glared at her but stayed silent. He had his freedom. He could have his child. He wasn’t going to argue with Rya about anything else. He couldn’t risk angering her. He ignored the guilt he felt for Zayn and Karim.
I have to think about my baby.
He hated Rya. He despised the woman. He couldn’t imagine that he had ever wanted to marry her. He couldn’t imagine that Axandria had chosen her to rule.
“The lands need to be worked, or we will have no food,” said Rya. “I will make up the difference in rocks, and the slaves can earn their keep working the land.”
Maol winced. Many of the slaves wanted to return home.
“I won’t let you do this,” said Kyle, angrily entering the guild having heard of what was taking
place inside. “I only agreed to your plan on the condition that you freed the slaves once we were done.”
“I am giving them employment.”
“It is forced labour, and you know it.” Kyle spat. “Free them like you said you would.”
“This won’t work,” said Hannah. “I say we go back to the original plan. Do we really want a person like this on the throne?”
The room was silent.
Rya cleared her throat. “I have done many ugly things to get here,” she said, “but I promise to rule justly from now on, and you will have a say in my court.”
Hannah frowned. She resented accepting the deal but seemed to see no alternative. The rebels knew they couldn’t take on Rya’s army.
Maol turned to Rya. “I will stay by your side to protect you until the baby is born, then we will leave.”
“And what if I decide to keep it?” Rya snarled.
“Then we will have many awkward years ahead of us as we raise our child together.”
“Fine,” Rya replied. “But I don’t need you to guard me, just come to me in seven months.”
“Fine,” he said. “I want my papers.”
“I will send the papers to Prince Thomas as soon as he hands over the money to my friends here.”
Maol glared before leaving the throne room. He needed air. He needed to think. He stepped outside the Guild of Rexalis and into the courtyard. The cool breeze hit his face but did little to refresh him. He ran his fingers through his hair.
How could I be so wrong about Rya?
He had actually been right about her but was convinced to change his mind. He was a fool. He had trusted her. He had felt that he was free and that his fate was in his own hands and all he had to do was stay out of trouble. Would he ever be free? Would Prince Thomas free him? What if he couldn’t pay back the money fast enough? He might refuse to release him.
He considered heading for the ship to pack his belongings.
What belongings? I have nothing.
Three changes of clothes, a washcloth, a comb, a toothbrush and a razor were all he owned. They didn’t even belong to him—nor did the steel he used to forge Rodor. He took a seat on the steps to wait for Prince Thomas.
Maol looked up when he heard footsteps heading towards the guild’s entrance. Samuel, still wearing an ill-fitting and rumpled uniform, was rushing towards the door.
“Has the throne been won?” he asked Maol.
“It appears so,” said Maol, confused why the blacksmith would need to arrive so suddenly.
Samuel rushed past Maol and entered the guild. Feeling curious, Maol followed him to the throne room. The rebels appeared to be still arguing the details with Rya when Samuel entered.
“Is it done?” he asked Rya.
She nodded in reply. “I am just going over the final details with the local rebel groups. We are trying to reach a compromise to suit everyone.”
“Never mind that,” said Samuel, reaching into his pocket and removing a blade. It was small, something one might use to peel vegetables. Once Maol saw what he intended to do with it, he wished he was peeling vegetables. Samuel rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, he raised the blade above his forearm and stabbed himself before tearing the edge along the length of his forearm.
The audience gasped as Samuel cast the knife to the floor and began to remove something from under his skin. He removed an item around two inches in length, though it was impossible to see what it was for the blood, which was now covering Samuel’s lower body and the floor beneath him.
Rya looked unfazed as she handed him a cloth and two bottles of balm from her pockets. The room stood in silence as Samuel mopped up the blood and applied a balm to stop the bleeding and another to seal the wound.
The atmosphere had changed in the room and not just because of the bloody display from the blacksmith. A realisation had dawned on many of the thorian members in the room, and they began to kneel before Samuel.
“What is going on?” Maol whispered to the person, one of the angels, nearest to him.
“I think he must be the Crown,” he replied.
“But Rya said she was the Crown,” said Maol in dismay.
The angel shrugged and looked forward as Samuel approached the dais.
“Ladies and gentleman,” he said. “Thorian and hominem, angels and demons. I am your Crown and your king. My daughter Rya has kept me safe from the Lord of Rexalis by using alchemy to disguise my Crown and has, in turn, convinced others that she is the Crown to act as a decoy.”
Samuel is Rya’s father! She isn’t the Crown!
Maol tried to piece together everything Rya had ever told him.
That was why he ended up on The Fortitude with the leaders.
The exchange between Samuel and Rya was an act.
“We have worked hard to raise an army to defeat the lord,” said Samuel, “We have worked tirelessly to restore the Crown to Axandria. Whilst I am sure that you’re all anxious to know how we accomplished this feat, I do not have the time to tell this story now, but I shall release a book detailing our achievement.” Samuel began to raise his voice excitedly. “This day will go down in history as the day the Crown was won.” Samuel stopped and appeared to be expecting a jubilant response from the audience but was instead met with silence. Slowly, some of the members began to applaud politely and those who had not knelt—the Vernasian thorian, and the angels and demons—began to kneel. Maol joined them.
“Rise, my loyal subjects,” said the king. Each person stood and listened as he continued to address them. “We have much work to do to reinstate the Crown and fix the damage that has been caused by thousands of years of inadequate rule. First, we need to deal with the issue of inadequate food supply. This is something our brotherhood tried, unsuccessfully, to resolve. Now we are in a position to make a real difference to the people of this country.”
Maol looked around the room and people, including the rebels, appeared relieved.
“We have an army,” continued Samuel, “of hominem slaves who will be put to work on your lands ensuring a plentiful supply of affordable food.”
The crowd gasped, and the relieved faces turned to horror once more.
They’re still having slaves! This must have been the plan all along.
“I know slavery is not something you are accustomed to in Axandria and it was my intention to free them, but we must use every resource to make Axandria a success and ensure its people are well cared for.”
“Your Majesty,” said Kyle. “I must protest. I only ever agreed to work with the slaves because Lord Rya promised they would be free to lead their own lives once the battle was won. She told them they were joining her ranks of their own accord; they should be able to return home if they want to.”
“But the battle has just begun,” replied the king.
“No,” stammered Kyle. “You have misled everyone. The hominem are not even of Axandria—they shouldn’t be forced to work the lands here. They agreed to fight for you, they swore their lives to you—many died—but now that job is done. You need to free them.”
“Do not tell me what I must do, soldier,” snapped Samuel. “I am the king, and I will decide what must be done. I own the slaves. I have paid Vernasia for them—they are mine.”
“I am Vernasian.” Kyle growled. “I owe you no loyalty. You are not my king, and I will tell you what I think when I have devoted years to the brotherhood and to training your hominem army. I will not stand by whilst you enslave them further. There are enough people in Axandria to work the land—employ them.”
“That will make the food costlier. And if we are to advance as a society to rival Arkazatinia then we need a cheap and efficient way of producing food.”
“This is outrageous.” Hannah declared. “We did not remove the king to replace him with another tyrant!”
“Silence or I will have you executed,” barked Samuel. “You will speak to me with the respect I des
erve as your king.”
The crowd remained horrified and confused. Maol could not understand what had happened. The Crown was supposed to be a just ruler—they were not meant to be like this. The Crowns were removed because they were incorruptible not because they were corrupt. He felt sick as he regretted his part in placing Samuel on the throne. He had regretted his part when he thought he had placed Rya on the throne. Not that he had much of a choice. He had been enslaved and deceived like everyone else. He glanced to Rya who looked unmoved at Samuel’s side.
How can she allow this? She is his daughter. She must have known what he was like. She must have known that the gentle and unassuming act was merely that—an act.
Maol bristled.
She is just like him. She is just as cruel and as toxic as he is.
Maol suddenly felt terribly sad for Princess Eleanor. The girl had conspired against her own father to provide a better rule for Axandria, she had given her own life for the cause, and everything she’d hoped for had failed.
Kyle was balling his fists at his sides and appeared ready to punch something. The rebels stood silent, their expressions a mix of sadness and betrayal.
I have to do something.
Maol rarely did anything for the good of others, but he suddenly felt like he needed to.
This will get me killed.
He had to do something. He had to create a better world for his child.
He looked to the sword at his side. It was his symbol of his physical strength. Now he needed it to be a symbol of his mental strength. His strength to do something terrible. Something that will condemn him further. Condemn him to death. Condemn him to Hell. Something for the greater good. Before he could have second thoughts and before anyone could react, Samuel was laid in a pool of blood with Rodor in his heart.
Rya screamed as she dropped to her father’s side. Her guards were a mixture of panic as they rushed to identify the assailant who had thrown the blade. Rya pulled the sword from Samuel’s chest and immediately recognised Maol’s sword. Her gaze fell to Maol who was detained by her guards. Maol did not expect to have the chance to explain before she ordered his execution.