by K. M. Shea
The king was once again grazing from his cheese platter and seemed generally unconcerned.
Lis reluctantly spread a towel across her shoulders to catch water from the sopping tresses of her curly hair, then tried to discreetly rub down some of the more expensive pieces of her traveling armor.
“Well, now that you aren’t in danger of catching a chill, welcome, Warrior Princess and her student, to Mersey!” King Albion smiled as he looked back and forth between Lis and Vorah. “My instincts tell me…you are the Warrior Princess?” He cocked his head as he addressed Lis.
Lis dried off the hilt of her sword and keenly felt the cheekiness of her nickname as she sat before real royalty. “It is an unfortunate nickname, Your Majesty.”
“One she earned,” Vorah managed to say before Lis sharply elbowed her.
“Then that must make you her student?” King Albion asked as he fixed his curious gaze on Vorah.
“Indeed, I am,” Vorah said proudly. “Vorah, at your service, Your Majesty.”
King Albion leaned forward on his elbows. “And how did you come to apprentice to the Warrior Princess Lisheva?”
Vorah also leaned forward, making her dusting of freckles glow in the firelight. “I challenged her to a fight two years ago when she was passing through Ringsted. She was already famous by then, and I foolishly thought I could best her and earn recognition for myself.”
“Vorah,” Lis hissed and was thoroughly ignored.
“She knocked me unconscious in two minutes!” Vorah said proudly. “When I finally came around, I knew I had much to learn, and Lisheva the Warrior Princess would be the best sort of teacher.”
“It is admirable of both of you,” King Albion said. “Lisheva for her skill, and you, Vorah, for your acceptance of your loss and your intelligence in becoming the student of the one who had the strength to defeat you!”
“She is not really my student, Your Majesty,” Lis was quick to insert.
Vorah shook her head. “I am in every way,” she said with false humility as she built upon her act and gave Lis a gaze that was worshipful.
Lis ignored her. If she had not become such a good friend and proven herself in combat, I would have left her story-telling, empty-headed act months ago.
King Albion laughed. “It has been said you can best judge a man by the people who follow him. Based on your companion, I think I chose well in hiring you, Warrior Princess.” He returned his gaze to her, and a small smile settled on his lips. “I look forward to introducing you to my son. I believe you would be a good match for him!”
Lis stared at the king as her hair still dripped with water and her boots squeaked and sloshed. Never before had she more closely resembled a wet rat, and the king thought she would be a “good match?” Perhaps it is a custom in Torrens to joke with guests? Lis thought desperately. A king really would not act in such a way—even in my homeland of Baris, the birthplace of informality!
“He is such a shy boy,” King Albion continued. “He needs a strong woman—like yourself—to protect him, you know. A true princess.”
“My title of Warrior Princess is but a poor joke, Your Majesty, meant to mock my gender,” Lis said. “I am not of royal birth.”
King Albion squinted at her. “What does royal birth have to do with being a princess?”
Only everything? Lis glanced at Vorah and was glad to see her friend was also taken aback—though it was only noticeable by the slant of her eyebrows.
Clearing her throat, Lis ventured, “Is that not what it means to be a princess? To be born into nobility?”
King Albion snorted. “Load of posh,” he said. “To be a true princess requires valiance, honor, bravery, and sensitivity to your people.” He raised his eyebrows and studied Lis as if he could discern the state of her soul. “Are you sensitive? If so, perhaps you really ought to marry Channing after all.”
Desperate to change the topic, Lis awkwardly cleared her throat. “You have not yet told us what sort of contract you are offering, Your Majesty.”
“Ahhh, yes. We must wait until Channing appears, I’m afraid. But in the interim, why don’t you tell me of your various exploits as a fighter?” King Albion folded his hands on the table and smiled cheerfully. “I’m sure it must be a fascinating story, for there are not many female warriors, and both of you are known to be among the best of either gender!”
Lis opened and closed her mouth, far more disquieted by the king’s informality than she had ever been by any physical opponent.
Vorah, apparently, shared no such hesitation. “My master first rose to prominence in her home country of Baris,” she announced as she leaned against the table, her eyes bright. “Once she mastered the sword, she began traveling and gained a reputation for fighting—and beating—anyone who challenged her, though she was also known to aid cities and people upon request.”
“Yes, Channing once saw her fighting a goblin pack that was bothering an Erlauf mountain town—it’s how we decided upon your master for this important contract,” King Albion gossiped.
Behind Lis, the feasting hall doors opened again. “Prince Channing,” the Chamberlain announced.
“Wonderful! Channing, come in, my boy! Did you already send word to your mother? Perfect!” King Albion laughed and slapped the smooth, polished surface of the table.
Lis stood so she could bow to the prince, but when she turned to face him, she almost lost control of her emotionless expression and gawked.
Prince Channing was everything his father was not: Tall, limber, broad through the shoulders, and dressed in chainmail and armor. His face was handsome and princely, though his features looked like they had been chiseled in rock, and he lacked King Albion’s deep smile lines. Though his hair was a pretty russet brown color, it was cut the no-nonsense straight cut that seemed universal to all warriors who embraced rigid simplicity. And his eyes were an unusual shade of honey brown that could have mistakenly been called gold in the firelight.
This is the “boy” who needs a strong woman to protect him?!
“Your Majesty,” Vorah politely inquired. “Do you have problems with your sight?”
“Eh?” King Albion blinked.
Lis rushed to speak before Vorah could shoot off her mouth. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” she said as she bowed.
Prince Channing nodded once as he walked around the table—his footsteps surprisingly light for one as tall and muscled as he—and took up a position at his father’s right side.
“Channing, you recognize Lisheva and her lovely student, Vorah, don’t you?” Without waiting for a reply, the king continued. “And now we can begin to discuss the matter of your contract, Warrior Princess.”
Lis’ mouth twitched in a frown before she smoothed it over. I wish he would stop using that ridiculous nickname. “Yes, please.”
“We called you here to request that you protect one of our country’s famed treasures. Though we’ve kept it in these halls safely for the past decade, it was only recently discovered that it is of a great deal more value than originally estimated, due to the nature of the charms imbedded in it,” King Albion said.
“What treasure are you referring to?” Lis asked.
“A gem: The Pea of Primeorder.” Prince Channing’s voice was deep and a little rough—like the choppy waters of white-water rapids.
Vorah blinked. “I’m sorry…did you say the Pea of Primeorder?”
King Albion chuckled ruefully. “He did.”
“It is called so because of the jewel’s deep green color,” Channing said.
“And because the wizard who originally made it was a regular peabrain,” King Albion added.
“You said it was enchanted. What is it capable of?” Lis asked.
“The Pea of Primeorder bears a number of simple charms—a heat charm, a charm to resist water, and even a spell to make you sing on key at all times,” King Albion said. “Ingenious, I say—and it is possible only because of the size and purity of the jew
el!”
“The charms are little more than afterthoughts,” Channing said, proving to be far more focused than his father. As King Albion thoughtfully tapped his lower lip and furrowed his brow, Channing was as blank-faced as Lis. “The jewel’s real potential is in the magic stocked within it. In recently rediscovered ancient texts that record nearly as far back as the time of the Snow Queen of Verglas, it is explained that the jewel actually serves as a magical storehouse of sorts. It contains all the magic of an extremely powerful sorceress who had abused her magic for dark purposes,” the king said.
Vorah whistled; Lis frowned. “How is that possible?” she asked.
King Albion combed his fingers through his beard. “That long ago, the practice of sealing the magic of a rogue mage was not yet invented. Instead, they would remove the magic user’s powers and imbed them in an object. That is what was done to this particular sorceress—her powers were placed in the Pea of Primeorder. Having magic available at your fingertips makes the Pea a temptation, certainly, but given that this rogue sorceress was extremely powerful—she likely would be considered a Lady Enchanter by current conventions—means the jewel is worth a great deal and could be terribly used or abused.”
“Yep, that would make the jewel a prime target.” Vorah nodded as she drummed her fingers on the table.
“This rediscovery of its powers is why you require our assistance?” Lis asked.
King Albion nodded eagerly. “Since we have uncovered this information, the Pea has been targeted. In this month alone, our castle has been breached by brigands three times.”
Three times? Lis rubbed her sword’s scabbard with a thumb as she thought. That’s quite bad—particularly when guarding such an explosively powerful item.
Prince Channing’s golden eyes glittered as he frowned at his father. “We are working to find the source of the holes in our security.”
“Do many know of the…Pea of Primeorder’s true purpose?” Lis asked.
“We have tried to keep the discovery hushed.” Channing rubbed his jaw—finally proving he wasn’t merely a statue capable of speech. “But while we have managed to keep the exact powers a secret, it seems news of the jewel’s increase in worth has spread.”
Thinking of the bandit ring that had harried her and Vorah during their journey, Lis thoughtfully pursed her lips. “Do you know if multiple groups of bandits have learned of it, or if it is merely one?”
“We haven’t been able to catch any of the rogues, so I’m afraid we don’t know.” King Albion sighed. “But we assumed it has been targeted by multiple groups. Particularly given we just received a notice from the legendary thief, Apex, not five days ago.”
“Apex…is he not the thief famous for stealing long-lost treasures of Torrens?” Vorah asked.
“Indeed,” Lis said as she studied the guards, trying to gauge their skill. “We heard of him when we traveled through Sole; he stole a famous painting by a Torrens artist from a local lord.”
“You do not seem overly worried about him,” King Albion said.
Lis shrugged marginally. “You said he left a notice?”
“A letter, informing us he would soon steal the Pea of Primeorder, yes,” King Albion said.
“Do you know what sort of thief sends a notice?” Lis asked.
Prince Channing raised an eyebrow—which managed to make him look scornful and unimpressed. “A legendary one.”
“No, a very poor one,” Lis said.
King Albion had been in the process of eating another piece of cheese, which he choked on and wheezed—though it almost sounded like laughter.
Prince Channing frowned.
“You don’t say?” King Albion asked mildly after he recovered.
“Sending a notice means he is not merely content to take the item; he wants public praise and admiration for his ‘daring’ feat, which is nothing but common thievery,” Lis said.
“He is known to steal only from rich lords,” Prince Channing pointed out.
Lis raised her eyebrows. “Naturally, only rich lords could afford to own treasure.” She tapped the hilt of her sword as she once again glanced at the soldiers.
We’ve seen a fair number of guards since we entered Mersey, but if they are terrible at their job, they will be more of a hinderance than a help.
Ruthlessly, she continued. “In addition to obviously selfish and prideful motivations, he is sloppy at his chosen career. Daring thieves who love their infamy leave something to identify their work by. Apex sends notice before his jobs, making it far easier to catch him.”
“But none have caught him yet,” King Albion said.
Vorah rested her hands on the table. “How many lords have done more besides consolidate their forces as if preparing to face an army? A single thief is not an army to be overwhelmed by numbers, Your Majesty.”
Lis smiled slightly. “Well said.”
Vorah grinned. “I was taught by the best, Master!”
Lis grunted. “I didn’t teach you that.”
“It came as an epiphany to me when I was considering your character one fine morning,” Vorah joked.
Lis ignored her. “My companion is correct. Catching a single thief involves a different tactic than most have used, which is why he has evaded capture thus far. But I am far more concerned about the previous break-ins to your palace than Apex. What have you changed since then?”
King Albion beckoned at his offspring with a piece of cheese. “Channing?”
Channing folded his hands behind his back in a stance that looked military trained. “We’ve increased the number of guards on duty, changed their patrol patterns and rotations weekly—on different days to remain unpredictable—and increased security at the Mersey city gates.”
“Have you hired any new guards?” Vorah asked.
“No.” Channing shifted slightly. “Given the nature of our enemy, now is not an ideal time to welcome unknown guards into the ranks, as we cannot be certain they are not one of the bandits.”
That’s understandable—particularly given that they must have a bandit informant somewhere in their castle, but citizen loyalty is not my business.
“What other warriors or mercenaries have you hired?” Lis asked.
“Only you,” King Albion said.
“Pardon?” Lis politely inquired—though she wanted to gape at the king.
After three separate castle breaches and an unknown number of bandits drooling after the gem, they hire TWO warriors to guard the thing?
“We’ve only sought out the two of you,” King Albion said.
“But you intend to hire more, right?” Vorah asked.
King Albion ate another piece of cheese. “I wasn’t particularly planning on it, no.” He offered his plate to his son, who shook his head in silent refusal.
Lis briskly stood. “Then I’m afraid I will have to refuse the contract. Though Vorah and I are both skilled, properly protecting the Pea of Primeorder would require many more warriors just as talented as Vorah and I, if not more so. Perhaps you should seek help from the Verglas Assassins’ Guild.”
Channing slightly narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said you were not concerned about Apex.”
“Apex is not the only foe you face,” Lis said. “And while I am certain Vorah and I are all that is needed in order to fend him off, I cannot say the same for the rest of the bandits that will certainly make another attempt on Mersey castle, nor can the two of us properly patch the holes in your security.”
In particular, I am not capable of rooting out your mole and disposing of him.
“But that is perfect!” King Albion said. “If you two warriors fend off Apex, we’ll handle the rest. Channing is already working on tightening up our defenses. Apex is truly our main concern. If you can fend him off and buy us even a little time to prepare against the other bandits, that will be exactly what we need! With your abrupt entrance, it is unlikely the bandits will rush to attack. By the time they’ve adjusted their plans to include the
two of you, you can be off on your merry way.”
It was a good point—the bandits that had hurried to attack them on the road obviously knew it would be far more difficult to stop them once they reached Mersey. Still…Lis pressed her lips together and glanced at Vorah.
Vorah scratched at her nose and discreetly shook her head, though she said for show, “Your call, Master.”
Lis opened her mouth to refuse when Prince Channing took a step towards the table.
“We can adjust your contract to stipulate a shorter amount of time,” the prince said. “Apex is likely to strike soon, and we don’t need much time to address the problems with our security. We will, of course, double your usual rate,” he said.
Lis shut her mouth with a snap. They give us a short job and double our pay? It’s too good of a deal to pass up on…suspiciously so. It feels like they are overly eager to hire us for a task that shouldn’t be difficult if they planned correctly.
Lis once again glanced at Vorah, who was now scrunching her nose, making her freckles brighter than usual. When she met her gaze, Vorah shrugged. “Seems like an easy job, Master.”
“…Then I suppose we have no reason to refuse,” Lis said reluctantly.
“Excellent!” King Albion laughed and wiped his fingers off on his fine robe. “My wife should arrive soon—she’ll have both the jewel and the contract with her. As long as you protect the jewel, you’ll stay here in Mersey—in the palace with us, naturally!”
“Naturally,” Lis murmured. She glanced at Prince Channing, still trying to get a read on him.
When the prince met her gaze, he put a small but sincere smile on his lips. “We are pleased you have agreed to our request.”
If he was so offended by our disregard of Apex, why does he seem truly happy to have us stay on?
When the door opened again, Lis twisted around to peer behind her, then stood when she saw a lovely woman who surely had to be Queen Theodora.
The queen was elegant and beautiful. She had the same copper-toned hair as Channing, though her eyes were gray, and she was tall and slender, like a flower.