The Heir of Ænæria

by Thom L Matthews

  “What would you have us do if not march for their capital?” Morgiana asked. “Is that not the quickest way to ending the war?”

  “The quickest way to end the war is to lose,” Alejandra said. “That’s exactly what will happen if we go straight for Ignistad.”

  Morgiana sighed. “Then what would have us do? Keep waiting until we have no one left to fight back?”

  “No,” Alejandra said. “We have guild members remaining in Bacchuso after the annexation. They can march south as the Alliance’s armies go north, closing in on Ignistad. We just need to march forward in coordinated assaults at key locations.”

  “I think we should take Parvidom first,” Darius said, though his voice was less confident than usual.

  Rose still wasn’t sure how she felt about Darius. He was nearly the same age as Rose, but he seemed as cold and callous as Geon. She also knew that as a Rhion, Darius must have done terrible things. Just because he had changed sides didn’t mean he hadn’t been a murderer. Ben trusted him enough with his secret, though. That should be reason enough for me to trust him as well.

  “That’s an excellent idea,” Alejandra said.

  The fact that Rose didn’t know Alejandra’s true name bothered her, as did her constant changes in appearance. Knowing Alejandra had sent her daughter, Mandi, to keep an eye on Ben gave Rose even more reason to mistrust the woman.

  “Given our resources and timing, a targeted assault at the crossroads could turn the tide of the war before it truly begins,” Alejandra explained. “The town is perhaps the biggest trading route in southern Ænæria, and its town hall has one of the biggest treasuries in the kingdom. Rhion from all over travel through there to replenish their supplies and take a night of rest and merriment. Taking that away from them would surely cripple them.”

  “Wouldn’t that be an obvious target?” Geon asked. “If it’s so important to them then they will expect an attack and have it well defended.”

  “That’s why I didn’t suggest it before,” Darius confessed.

  “What if we divide our forces and attack multiple places at once?” Morgiana asked. “Parvidom is between Vestinia and Plutonua, no? Gatron has very little power, and Vestinia has a new legate. If we were to attack both provinces at the same time as Parvidom, we would simultaneous scatter their resources and distract them.”

  “We would be doing that to ourselves, too,” Darius said. “I don’t think we have the resources to take on three settlements at once.”

  “Then we send our army to assault whichever province will provide us the greatest advantage,” Geon offered. “With such a large force knocking on their doors, they’ll hardly have their minds focused on Parvidom.”

  Rose nodded her head. The plan was sound in theory, but Darius had already pointed out the major flaw: numbers. “Jarl Geon,” she said, looking at the fierce man. “We would need the majority of our army to come from Sydgilbyn for this to work. Are you willing to have your warriors march so far north in such a short time?”

  The man stroked his thin beard as if deep in thought. The silence was agonizing for Rose because she now realized Sydgilbyn could be the deciding factor in the war. She needed his full support.

  “It will take weeks to bring a host that large to the Ænærian border,” he finally said. “I can have word sent to my son first thing in the morning.”

  It was a better answer than Rose had expected, but then she remembered that Sydgilbyn lived for war. The fact that they agreed to be an ally with Freztad must have meant that Geon had tremendous respect for Lydia. Rose would need to capitalize on that respect and make sure the jarl maintained it.

  “My knowledge of warfare is naturally quite limited, but isn’t Vestinia likely less organized than Plutonua since they have a new legate? Perhaps we should focus our assault there instead.”

  Darius shook his head. “Vestinia has a stronger military force. Do not forget: Fenwin was their previous legate, and he was Julius’s third-in-command. Vestinia’s Rhion will know how to fight just fine with a new legate, regardless of how little experience he may have.”

  “She,” Alejandra corrected. “Their new legate is a woman.”

  “What are you talking about?” Darius asked, his face scrunched into a nasty frown. “Ænæria’s leaders have always been men. Julius was very particular about that.”

  “Julius is no longer king,” Alejandra said. “As we’ve already pointed out, King Randolph has changed quite a few things. Perhaps sexism is one of them.”

  “It’s not sexism,” Darius corrected. “Julius simply didn’t want the women of Ænæria to go into harm’s way because they are the purer humans, being closer to the Sun herself.”

  “This woman may indeed be close to the Sun, for she has hair of fire,” Alejandra said after a pause as if she had been considering whether or not to make the comment.

  Darius looked at her with a mask of confusion and wonder.

  Alejandra nodded. “My sources tell me that the new legate of Vestinia is indeed your old friend, Arynn of Vänalleato.”

  It was as if a stone had dropped in Rose’s stomach. Ben, she thought. Suddenly she could no longer take her mind off her cousin and how the news would affect him. He’s going to be devastated. She hadn’t yet used his raven, Müninn, to communicate with him because she knew he was busy and needed tremendous focus with his training. But this…this is a big deal. Can I share this with him?

  Darius slammed his fist against the table. “That traitorous—”

  “Restrain yourself, Darius,” Alejandra interrupted. “You may need to face her in battle. Don’t allow your emotions to control you.”

  “While I agree that his emotions must be kept in check,” Geon responded, “I must add that war commanders die in battle all the time. No army worth anything would suddenly lose all they’ve learned under a replacement—even if they are a novice. Plutonua is the weaker of the two. I suggest we start there.”

  “I’m in agreement with this plan if Morgiana is,” Thalia said as she looked at the thane.

  “Indeed,” Morgiana said. She turned to Rose. “Is this acceptable to you, Chief?”

  The situation had changed in Rose’s mind. Now she knew where Arynn was—and Ben had the right to know. They may not be fighting her yet, but they would be soon. Authorizing an attack against her could be sentencing her to death. She knew he had trouble controlling his new powers when his emotions got the better of him. This is a disaster. An idea sparked in her mind.

  “Agreed,” Rose finally said. “However, while we are all here, I think we need to discuss what to do with Vestinia’s new legate. Arynn is a citizen of the Penteric Alliance. When the time comes, I want her taken captive and interrogated. As a legate, she’ll know important details about Randolph’s new regime.”

  “I absolutely agree,” the Grand Elder stated. “The possibility that we have been betrayed by one of our own is disgraceful. The Elders will have a trial for her crimes, and the Ascendants will make the appropriate judgment.”

  Rose looked across the table to Kristos. “While our army attacks Plutonua, I think it would be best if you lead a band of sentinels to Parvidom.”

  “You read my mind, Chief,” Kristos responded. “We’re better trained for smaller-scale battles anyway.”

  Rose sighed. “Then it is settled. We’re going to war.” She lifted her gavel to declare the Summit over but was interrupted Alejandra staring at her, as though she needed to add something. “What is it?” she asked.

  “There’s the other matter to discuss, now that we’ve officially agreed to war,” Alejandra said.

  “Now’s not the time, Alejandra,” Darius interjected. “Can’t we go over it later?”

  Ah, so it has finally come to this. I should have seen it coming. “Darius, I think I have the right to make that decision for myself,” Rose said. “Go on, Alejandra.”

  “There are many in Ænæria who do not believe that Randolph’s claim to the throne is legitimate. Afte
r all, very few knew of Julius’s ravings of being an emperor before his death. They believe that Randolph orchestrated your father’s death and then murdered Rivers before he could take the crown.”

  “Make your point.” Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she won’t say it.

  “My point is Ænæria feels they need a worthy leader. ‘Xander’ was their Sun’s Chosen. Wouldn’t it make more sense if the blood of the Chosen were the ruler of Ænæria?”

  Her insides twisted as the words she feared were uttered. “You’re saying that I’m the rightful heir of Ænæria,” Rose said in as confident a tone as she could muster. “And that the Ænærians will rise up to defend their true leader.”

  Alejandra’s lips curved upwards, forming a devilish smile. “I’m not the only one who thinks it. Darius and your cousin have discussed it with me on several occasions.”

  Rose had known something of that. Ben had only kept a few secrets in his day, and this hadn’t been one of them. Rather than making a scene, Rose contained herself and looked to other Alliance leaders. By the Gjoll, I want nothing less than to be Ænæria’s queen—but nothing more than for my people to remain safe and free. This must be done. “Alejandra’s proposition makes sense. What are your thoughts? Would you name me queen and fight for the crown?”

  “Absolutely,” Sheika Thalia said without missing a beat. “It would be Mashariq’s honor to serve the first Queen of the New Age.”

  “Talamdor enjoys its independence,” Thane Morgiana said. “However, the terms can be negotiated at another time. For now, a public declaration of support for Queen Rose will surely grant us an edge in the war.”

  “Aye,” Geon said, though he seemed to bite his lower lip as he spoke. Rose imagined he, too, would prefer independence and no association with Ænæria. But as a warrior, he clearly saw the advantage that came with it. “Something like this will change the type of war. It will no longer be one of defense or retribution. No, it will become a rebellion—a full-fledged civil war. With any luck, that’ll even the odds. Perhaps enough to win.”

  The rest of the table looked at the Grand Elder. His face flushed as he realized all the eyes were on him. He stroked his beard and muttered a few words under his breath before finally saying, “If it is the will of the Ascendants then let it be so.”

  “I think that settles it then,” Alejandra said. “I suggest the Penteric Alliance leaders meet in private at a later date to come to a full agreement of the changes this will incur. But until then, may I be the first to say, ‘All hail Rose Limmetrad, Queen of Ænæria and the Penteric Alliance!”

  4

  Longinus

  White Tree, Bacchuso; Ænæria

  The estate oversaw the province’s capital, White Tree, from a tall and isolated hill. It was a manor comprised of white stone, marble pillars, and cedar roofs. Tall firs with narrow wooden planks beneath their crowns surrounded the estate as a series of walkways. Each fir acted as a watchtower from which the Rhion patrolled, monitoring the town below. Longinus peered out from the frosting windows of her cold solar, missing the days when she once had the simple task of keeping watch. Now she had to manage the entire province, and each of its natives wanted her dead.

  It had been a whole moon since Longinus moved to Bacchuso. The province lay on a massive landmass beyond a stretch of islands from the mainland of Ænæria. When King Xander had finally captured it earlier this year, Ænæria finally represented the entire realm, comprised of all fourteen of the former Northern Kingdoms.

  Why Randolph had chosen Longinus to govern it, however, was beyond her. A province so massive and fresh required vast experience and patience. It was an honor, nonetheless, to be one of the first female legates—even if she couldn’t yet reveal it. Soon, she reminded herself. No more hiding. No more using a false name. All that was in the way of finally being able to express herself was the war, and that would come to an end soon. The wait was agonizing.

  Her eyes scanned the arboreal town, the evergreens tipped with melting frost, and the people covered in warm leather hustling about to prepare for the next assault. The engineers in Vulcestus and Minervia hadn’t anticipated losing four airships in Svaldway. Now Ænæria made do with two: one that needed to stay in Bacchuso and another in Ignistad. The first had stayed in Bacchuso after Xander’s victory and remained to dissuade any thoughts of rebellion.

  During her first week as legate, she and her Rhion regrouped with the men occupying White Tree. They had met resistance every day. The natives fought with primitive weapons that were little match for the rifles and sungs used by Longinus and her men, nor the cannons raining fire from the airship. Though they didn’t have the firepower, the natives did have the numbers. With the grace of the Sun, by the end of the moon, nearly all of the rebels had been subdued—either killed or imprisoned. But Longinus was left with fewer than a hundred able-bodied Rhion in the entire province.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Enter,” Longinus said, making sure she deepened her voice as she had always practiced.

  “Sir,” a tall and skinny Rhion said from the entranceway. Nico, she thought his name was. “The sails of Neptuan were seen by the beach,” the Rhion said. “It seems Legate Thatch has finally arrived. Shall I escort you to them?”

  Longinus rose from her desk. She pulled a drawer and retrieved a bronze prosthetic hand. She removed the three-pronged metal hook from her right arm and replaced it with the bronze hand. The hook hand was hideous and often disturbed the Ænærian nobles, which made Longinus grin just thinking about it. The bronze hand had been a gift from King Randolph after he named her the legate of Bacchuso, thinking the aesthetic difference would serve better for diplomacy. It was a useless piece of metal. At least hooks could hold things or maim an enemy. The only time she would ever wear the bronze hand was when she needed to meet with someone important. Unfortunately, that included the other legates.

  She clicked the prosthetic in place around the metal socket on her wrist and lifted an orange crossbow hanging on the frame behind her desk. The weapon had been built using a sung she had retrieved during the slaughter on Svaldway. Like other legates, Longinus had modified her sung to suit her own expertise and style. She tinkered with the weapon during her spare time to make it act more like a crossbow than a gun. The standard sungs that had been retrieved from the Minervian Vault were exceptionally powerful, but their accuracy was laughable. She tightened the photon emission to expel smaller blasts with an increased focus and concentration. Standard sung triggers were too loose and didn’t allow for precision, so she increased the sensitivity to allow a shot as soon as she pulled it. Then she added a rail above the gun’s body to attach crossbow limbs, a bow wire, and a sniper scope. The result was a dual-action weapon that could accurately fire sung blasts over two hundred feet as well as crossbow bolts upon the sung’s need to recharge.

  The legate strapped the crossbow across her shoulder and followed the Rhion out the door.

  Bright blue water flowed over the rocky beach and jostled the fleet of warships in the Bacchusan channel. Standing in the coarse sand was the legate of Neptuan. Thatch was a sallow man with long, braided hair, blue lips, and a single gray eye. His left had been lost in a raid on Bacchuso’s shores some twenty years ago—back when he was nothing but a sea brigand terrorizing the coasts of the Northern Kingdoms.

  Indeed, it seemed to Longinus that the tales of the legate’s legacy had not been exaggerated; Thatch had brought with him a mighty fleet of three score warships. Now the remnants of the rebellion will be quelled, Longinus thought.

  “Legate,” Thatch muttered, his voice sounding like sand scraping against the ocean floor.

  Longinus extended her bronze hand. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but I think you’d find mine rather cold.”

  “I be a man of the sea. I thrive in the cold.” He shook Longinus’s prosthetic. “Ye be damn lucky ye be the king’s nephew. I could’ve used these men in the war.”

  “You won’t need
them,” Longinus said. “The southerners wouldn’t dare take to the sea. They don’t have the ships nor the resources.”

  “It’s not the southerners I be worried about, boy. It’s this island’s natives. The ones in Svaldway, too. Ye forget that I’ve roamed these waters since afore you were born. I’ve sailed with them, fought with them, and bled with them. They be a hardy folk.”

  “Then let’s crush their resilience,” Longinus said. “There aren’t many of them left. With my airship and your fleet, we can take them down once and for all.”

  Thatch spat in the sand, phlegm landing by Longinus’s boot. “Sure. Let me take back ye province for ye. Tell me, do ye even know where they be?”

  “They’re holding out on an island south of here called Yalliknok. My sources tell me their numbers are less than two hundred.”

  “Surrounded by water, are they? This is good. The island be as good as ours.”

  “Shall we go now?” Longinus asked.

  The pirate raised the brow above his good eye. “Now? Boy, me crew just arrived by sea. Ye can’t be expecting us to fight on empty bellies, can ye?”

  Longinus narrowed her eyes and frowned. Not just at being called ‘boy’ repeatedly, but at the legate’s arrogance.

  “Bring us to ye hall and show me crew that famous Bacchusan mead I been boasting about. Maybe some women, too—we’ve got coin to spare. Then we’ll set sail at dawn.”

  Longinus ground her teeth. Pretending to be a man meant she didn’t have to suffer the effects of the sickening and insatiable lust possessed by men at war; it also meant she had to watch her tongue at such comments to avoid the risk of exposing herself. Soon, she reminded herself.

  “I can supply your men with fish and mead, but they’ll have to wait until they’re home for women—for their own, perhaps. I’m trying to earn these people’s trust, and prostituting their wives and daughters won’t earn me that, will it?”