by J. M. Topp
Bendrick had only visited Aivaterra twice before this: once when he was a small boy, and the second time when he escorted the then young Gwendylyyn to Weserith. King Elmeric LaFoyelle of the Aivaterrans realized the threat that King Ayland had become. After the Kingsfury War, King Elmeric decided to ensure peace between the Khahadran and Eldervale. His daughter, fourteen at the time, had been given to King Ayland who had just turned thirty-two. The years that followed guaranteed peace between the two countries, until now. The cold war that had begun to bloom hung like a dark cloud over the two countries. Bendrick furrowed his brow as they approached the city gates. Two stone angels stood with swords raised to the heavens and shields to their chests. One wing covered their nudity, while the other was stretched to the side, to touch the other’s wing. Bendrick stared at the statues as they passed beneath the arch of the gate.
The city guard glanced up at the travelers but didn’t pay more attention to them. Their clothes gave them away as commoners, not worth the attention of the guard. As planned, they passed through unnoticed. The dirt road gave way to perfectly-linear stone streets. Their horses’ hooves clattered upon them.
The royal belfry stood at the easternmost part of the city. They urged their horses through the main square of the city. Rows of coloured pavilions dotted the edges of the main square, each with their share of fish, swords, or precious necklaces to sell. Merchants and jester savants pranced through the square, laughing or selling their wares. Korhas rolled his eyes in annoyance as a merchant slammed a fat fish onto Korhas’ mare, begging for money in return. Korhas waved the fish salesman away. In the very center of the city square, a bronze statue of the Aivaterran god stood, staring intently at the skies. He held a winged spear in one hand and some kind of talisman in the other. His bronze robes draped over his shoulder and onto the base of the statue. Bendrick admired the fine craftsmanship and detail as they passed beside it.
Once they had reached the royal-belfry entry, the sun was beginning to set in the west. They dismounted just before the steps leading up to the castle. Korhas was to stay with the horses, and Bendrick and Sieglinde would meet the queen, a scenario about which Korhas was more than relieved. At the top of the giant staircase, four royal guards in blue armour stood silent against the setting rays of the sun. Their armour was thick, and their shields were as tall as they were. They held their winged spears on the stone pavilion without movement. Bendrick approached and placed his fist on his chest with a royal bow.
‘I am Bendrick Greystonne, sent by King Ayland to speak with Queen Gwendylyyn LaFoyelle.’
He looked up at the guards, who only responded in silence. Their enormous polished shields contained a large blue sparrow in a field of blue. Bendrick turned to look back at Sieglinde in confusion. Sieglinde only shrugged, and they continued up the stairs. They were about to pass the guards when they crossed their spears, almost cutting Bendrick’s face.
‘What the…?’
‘Bendrick. Welcome to Aivaterra.’
Bendrick and Sieglinde turned at the same time to a woman standing behind them. She wore a quilted blue and black doublet and tightly fitting black trousers. Her black hair was tied behind her head in a tight bun. Her red lipstick accentuated her pale skin. She smiled and curtsied to the travelers.
‘Queen Gwendylyyn has been expecting emissaries from Weserith.’
Bendrick quickly bowed in return.
‘We’ve come to speak with Queen Gwendylyyn LaFoyelle. These guards don’t seem to understand what I am saying.’
The guards held their silence, entombed within their helms. The dark eyeholes of their helms almost struck Bendrick as soulless. They didn’t even move to see through them.
‘That is because they cannot speak, Bendrick. Their tongues are cut.’ The woman walked up to the guards and stood before them, arms behind her. ‘Royal Crypt Knights stand as a testament of their loyalty to their queen. Fallen Holy Platoon Captains that redeem themselves have the choice to become Crypt Knights, lose their name and title, but remain ever loyal. Do not underestimate them; they are some of the best fighters in the kingdom.’
She walked up to them and raised her hand. A golden ring with the Blue Sparrow crest of Aivaterra glistened in the sunlight. The Crypt Knights stepped to the side at once, sighing audibly in their heavy armour. She beckoned to the travelers.
Bendrick turned to Sieglinde and whispered at her, ‘I didn’t recognize her, but this is the queen’s sister.’
‘Ah, you do remember me, Bendrick. Are we still friends?’ She smiled as they walked up the flight of steps into the palace. Her hearing must have been as good as the Crypt Knights’ ability to keep silent.
‘It is good to see you again, Audry. And of course, we are and always will be,’ said Bendrick warmly.
Once they had passed the Crypt Knights, royal guards in simple brass and silver armour opened a large engraved door, leading them into the royal chambers. Their boots prattled over the stone floors. Blue curtains adorned the walls, each stitched with the Aivaterran crest. Sieglinde caught up to Bendrick.
‘I didn’t know the queen had a sister,’ she whispered, taking care to not be heard by Audry, who walked before them.
‘Not many do.’
‘Doesn’t that make her a princess?’ Sieglinde glanced at the queen’s sister cautiously.
‘Not if the the queen’s sister is a bastard,’ Audry said, looking over her shoulder with a smile.
Sieglinde held her tongue as her face reddened. They reached the queen’s chamber, and a knight-captain stood before her chamber doors. The knight-captain wore a chestplate with a crest of an angel holding a flaming sword and had a halberd at her side. She nodded at Audry, but didn’t move out of the way.
‘I am Knight-Captain Elymiah Farnesse. I have been assigned as guardian to you during your stay in Aivaterra by order of Queen Gwendylyyn LaFoyelle,’ said the knight, putting her hand to her chestplate. ‘My deepest apologies, but only Bendrick Greystonne is allowed in the chamber. You must hand me your weapons, my lord.’
Bendrick nodded and unsheathed his sword, handing it to the knight-captain.
‘I would like to personally extend my quarters to you whilst the meeting takes place.’ Audry said with a warm smile and she turned to Sieglinde, taking her hand and squeezing it. ‘Would you like a tour of the palace, my dear?’
Sieglinde glanced at Bendrick but Audry dragged her away by the hand. Bendrick turned to the knight-captain who stepped out of the way, opening the door to the queen’s chambers. As Bendrick entered the room, he noticed the absence of aides or handmaidens. Gwendylyyn was alone, staring out the large glass window. Her hair had been made into a beautiful blonde crown. She wore a blue and white doublet and matching trousers. In Weserith, that would have been considered men’s clothing, but not here. She and Alvin both wore it excellently. Bendrick took a deep breath and tried to slow his thoughts. It would only do to speak as the king would. Any mistake in parley would be upon him. The time that he had upon the roads had allowed him to think deeply on what he was to say.
Gwendylyyn turned to look at Bendrick and studied him.
‘Bendrick Greystonne,’ Gwendylyyn said politely and curtsied. ‘One of my two true friends from Weserith has arrived.’
‘Queen Gwendylyyn LaFoyelle,’ Bendrick replied with a deep bow. She stared at Bendrick. Her brown eyes sparkled in the sunlight. Gwendylyyn’s makeup had been made to a particular shade of white, which only magnified her beauty. Yet even then, it could not completely cover the purple bruises beneath them. Her left eye still had the redness of a fist. Fewer than two weeks had gone by. It was no surprise that she hadn’t completely healed. Only the gods knew what other bruises she had under that dress and makeup. Still, she smiled. It was one of the few times that Bendrick had seen that smile.
‘Would you care for a drink, old friend?’ Gwendylyyn asked, pointing to a large red flask on a corner table.
‘Your Grace, would that I could, but I have urgent
business to discuss.’
Her smile turned sour, and she turned to stare back at the window. ‘I know. The King of Eldervale has sent you.’
‘King Ayland, Your Grace. He begs you to reconsider your declaration of war.’ Bendrick approached Gwendylyyn slowly. ‘He has seen the error of his ways. He desires a private meeting, in person.’
‘It is curious that the King of Weserith sends the Caretaker of the Athenaeum instead of coming here himself. Don’t you think? That’s his way. He talks through people.’ Gwendylyyn stepped from the large window and sat on a chair next to it, careful not to wrinkle her clothes. ‘Ayland is spineless. He gets his courage from slapping his queen and leaving her bleeding on the ground. He treats his subordinates in a similar manner, yet they love him for it. Ignorant fools.’
‘My Queen, I…’
‘I am no longer your queen, Bendrick. Ayland made sure of that when I nearly lost my eye. The healers say it was a miracle I was able to regain sight in it.’ Gwendylyyn touched her swollen cheek. From her eye ran a light scar down to her cheek. It wasn’t very easy to see in the light, but in the dark, the scar was whiter than her skin. She turned her head so that Bendrick wouldn’t stare.
‘Your Grace, think of the people. If you do march on Weserith, thousands will perish. Peasants and farmers are the ones that suffer the most during wars.’
‘Do you think I care about them? They never loved me.’ She took a deep breath and quivered it out. ‘Do you know what nickname they had for me, their foreign queen?’ Gwendylyyn asked, turning her head slightly. Bendrick knew well what they called her. A Queen, bought from Aivaterra to make an alliance, one that many in Weserith thought unnecessary. She had been the king’s trophy, and the Weserithian people had hated her for it.
‘Your Grace, I…’
‘I want you to say it, Bendrick. What was their nickname for me?’ Gwendylyyn stood and approached Bendrick. She touched his bearded face. To have her this close to him made his heart race. She was beautiful and dangerous.
‘Say the name,’ she whispered into his ear.
‘The Harlot Queen,’ Bendrick whispered back, his cheeks turning red. Gwendylyyn withdrew and poured wine from the flask into a small glass cup. She drank the spirits in one motion. The depth of the pain inflicted on her began to dawn on Bendrick. It was clear that she was in deeper pain than any kind of physical manifestation could show.
‘Your Grace, if only I had been able to understand, then I would have been of more help to you.’ Bendrick approached the corner table and poured himself a drink.
When Queen Gwendylyyn had still resided in Weserith, he would have a drink or two with her, as he was now. She had always held interest in books and philosophical ideologies, yet she hated the Athenaeum. It had been no gift to her, but a testament to King Ayland’s conquest of her. She had wished it to be destroyed many times.
‘What of King Elmeric, your father?’
‘What of my father?’ Gwendylyyn replied nonchalantly as she poured more wine into her flask.
‘I know he hasn’t approved the declaration of your reign and thus your powers to declare war. He was sick, was he not?’ asked Bendrick, studying carefully the expressions the queen was emoting.
‘The King Elmeric, my father, is dreadfully sick. Just last night, he took a turn for the worse and has signed me as Queen Regent,’ she whispered without looking up at Bendrick. She stared intently at the flask in her hands.
‘That…is a shame,’ said Bendrick.
‘It is, Bendrick, but that is the way Oredmere works. No good deed goes unrewarded, and no evil deed goes unpunished. Sometimes the way it plays out can be…poetic.’ Gwendylyyn set the flask down and stared into Bendrick’s eyes. ‘You care for your people, and it is not their fault that they have become decrepit and evil; this I know. It is the fault of their king. Oredmere has brought me His holy vision: to eradicate the unholy. I wish I had grown up hearing about the one true God. Ayland despises all deities and has brought forth logic and human reasoning to rule his kingdom. But what is human reasoning when compared to God’s reasoning? Nothing. Though I would regret killing thousands of peasants and farmers, it is Oredmere’s will, not mine.’
‘The blood of thousands will lay at your feet, regardless of who you think holds fate,’ Bendrick said as he set the glass down, ‘Think of what happens if you lose? King Ayland will attack the Khahadran and reduce Aivaterra to rubble. He will kill you and your entire family, burning the city to the ground. He will spare no one.’
‘I believe I understand that now. You were a friend to me in my darkest moments in Weserith. Yet, you are clouded by what Ayland has brought upon that damned city: chaos and self-righteousness. Do not be deceived. That is not the only reason that I abandoned Ayland and fled to my homeland.’
Gwendylyyn placed her hand on her belly in a way that Bendrick understood well. Bendrick’s eyes widened at the words he knew would come out of her mouth. Yet, in that moment, he clenched his teeth, not wanting to hear them with all his might.
‘I am pregnant.’
The queen’s words changed everything. Bendrick took a step to her, carefully choosing his words.
‘The king’s son?’
She shook her head and looked at Bendrick with deep pain.
‘It’s not Ayland’s son.’
Bendrick had to find a chair to sit in. He dropped in it and held his head. A child was growing in her belly that had come from another man. King Ayland would never forgive her.
‘I would tell you who, Bendrick, but…I fear for his life.’
Remy. It had to have been. He has always held the queen in high regard. Bendrick realized that he was the main comfort she was speaking of. One of two true friends.
Bendrick shook his head and stood. This meeting and the entire journey had just become irrelevant. Queen Gwendylyyn was declaring war because she had no other option. Once Ayland found out, he would attack without question. His pain would be channeled into anger, and that would cost Gwendylyyn her life and the lives of her people. Why did Remy never tell me? If Gwendylyyn was telling him this, she wasn’t about to let them return and tell the king.
‘I am afraid that there is no longer a point to these discussions,’ said Bendrick, crestfallen.
Gwendylyyn’s shoulders began to shake.
‘I am afraid, Bendrick.’ Tears began to flow from her eyes, making them redden. She put a hand to her mouth and began to sob. ‘I am afraid.’
In that moment, Bendrick felt sorry for her. Her life had been a mess since she was sold to the king. Abuse, both physical and psychological, had been experienced every day bfs her. Bendrick stepped to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. Gwendylyyn instantly draped her shoulders around him and began to weep. Bendrick held the sobbing queen and rubbed her shoulders. She felt so small and fragile in his arms. Her small frame was engulfed in Bendrick’s arms.
‘It’s all becoming dark, so dark.’
Gwendylyyn suddenly stiffened and wiped her tears rapidly. She wrestled herself from Bendrick’s arms and walked to the window, gazing at the setting sun. She sniffed and straightened her doublet.
‘Bendrick, you must go. Return to him.’
‘You are letting us return to Eldervale?’ Bendrick asked, taken aback by Gwendylyyn’s words.
‘You thought I wouldn’t let you return? Where was I to keep you? In the dungeons?’ She laughed curtly and touched her hair, moving it behind her ear. ‘I am not so barbarian.’
‘What if I tell the king?’
‘That is precisely what I want you to do. Tell the king that I am coming for him. My revenge will not wait.’
‘My Queen?’
‘I’ve told you, I am no longer your queen, Bendrick. Go back. Tell King Ayland that his day of reckoning is coming. Tell him that he will atone for all his sins.’ Gwendylyyn turned her back on him and snapped her fingers. The knight-captain entered the room to escort him out.
‘This man and his envoy are not to be h
armed. Let them return to their fated king.’ The knight-captain nodded and held the door open for Bendrick. With one last look, Bendrick walked from the queen’s chamber, uncertain of what the future would hold for King Ayland and for Weserith.
SIEGLINDE STARED IN shock at Bendrick’s words. Korhas shook his head and chuckled. ‘You’ll be the one to tell Ayland, Ben. Not me.’
‘By the abandoned gods.’ Sieglinde shook her head.
‘I didn’t know it was this bad.’ Bendrick broke a piece of bread and chewed on it slowly. ‘William was right all along. This was a waste of time.’
‘Don’t tell him that. He will strut around like a peacock.’ Korhas snickered.
‘What do we do now?’ asked Sieglinde. ‘Will they really let us go back?’
‘I’ve never known the queen to lie,’ said Bendrick, swallowing and reaching for some mulled wine. ‘Audry and that knight-captain have been gracious, as well.’
‘Gracious? We are prisoners here, Bendrick. I can’t go to certain places of the city, and I can barely leave this room without a guard on my ass. They think we might be spying on them.’
‘That’s what I would do, Korhas.’
‘If you had something to hide, you would,’ returned Korhas, folding his arms over his chest.
‘You think they’re hiding something?’ asked Bendrick.
‘Of course they are; it’s just a matter of what,’ said Korhas, rubbing his chin. ‘There is more to the story than what the queen is letting on. An affair? With Remy? Call me superficial, but he is an ugly fucker. No way Gwendylyyn would bed him. Never. Someone like General Mahkaman or even William—though I shudder at the thought—would make more sense. But Remy? Something doesn’t add up.’
‘We leave on the morrow. I don’t want to stay here with what we know any longer than we have to,’ said Bendrick, then downed his drink.
Queen Gwendylyyn was true to her word. Once the sun had risen, Bendrick, Sieglinde, and Korhas departed the city of Aivaterra without interruption. Bendrick looked back as the city began to fade in the distance. It was a sad outcome that they had witnessed. The trip had been a complete waste.