Broken Crown

by Drae Box

  “How’d you know I was here?” asked Raneth. He turned his gaze to the buildings around them. They were near a cross-junction where four wide roads intersected, and with it being nearly midday, there was no shortage of men and women breezing through the streets, nor carriages clattering along the roads. Looking at the nearest buildings’ windows, Raneth saw no curtains or blinds twitching, nor eyes staring back at him, but he did notice where the yellow brickwork had been blackened by soot smothering their surfaces. Other buildings had suffered worse — their rooftops had collapsed, and the black tinge of fire warned what had happened. Brethren; Broken Crown’s gift-using bullies that had been trying to corral the Giften people into accepting Broken Crown’s rule. All they’d truly done was murder innocent lives, cause riots, steal, and do massive structural damage throughout Giften. “I didn’t notice anyone overly watching me,” added Raneth.

  “Word got around that a red-and-white griffin landed down the street and that word reached me. Everyone knows that’s you, boss.”

  “Word?” asked Raneth warily. Rumours were not a good source of intelligence unless you had nothing else to work with.

  “Icoque is looking out for royal officials. Reporting them to Elenee when they see us. She then has me check it’s the real deal, not a Brethren in disguise who’ll shi—”

  I understand,” said Raneth. He hadn’t even considered that dead royal officials could have their uniforms stolen by their murderers. Irritation chomped at his lack of forethought. At least Elenee, Icoque’s young and inexperienced village leader, had thought of it. “How’s the assignment?”

  “Icoque seems to be settling back down nicely,” replied Enos, slipping a hand into the hip pocket of his trouser before training kicked in. His hand slipped to the guard of his sword instead. “When I’m not checking royal official sightings are legit, I’m verifying intel dropped off at Elenee’s about recognised Brethren and Guardsmen the villagers are seeing here. The numbers are starting to drop, so they’re either fleeing or being rounded up nicely.”

  Or being murdered in back alleyways.

  A few Broken Crown members that had been more notorious in Wisner City had met vigilante justice but Raneth opted not to ask Enos if that had happened here. His friend would put it in his report when the time came. “Not everyone’s happy I’m here though,” stated Enos.

  “What?” asked Raneth, yanked back from his thoughts of reaching Wisner in the middle of Denzel Leoma’s brief illegal reign, when Raneth had found himself portrayed as Aldora’s kidnapper. “What do you mean? Broken Crown members?”

  “No, not BCMs. Those posters. The ones that went up in all the settlements Broken Crown tried to seize… Some of them stuck. I’ve heard licensed murderer more than once this week, and I’ve been scowled at. I was never scowled at before. Smiled, greeted and waved at, or looked at without an expression, but never scowled at. It was weird.”

  “It’ll die down,” said Raneth, giving Enos a half-hearted smile as he gently patted his friend’s arm. “Aldora’s been spat on a few times. It will sort itself out once Giften is stable again. Once people see we fail the kingdom twice.”

  Even though we have. Cray’s...

  “You sure? You know Newer hasn’t recovered against its propaganda about us from two centuries ago.”

  He’s got a point. I’ll have to find a way to fix trust in royal officials, but that’ll take time and has to be something I deal with later, when this is all over.

  “I’ll fix it,” Raneth assured Enos. “Don’t suppose you know where Rider is, do you? I may have some intel for his assignment. Koyla’s potential last name. Rifthold.” Raneth pointed with a thumb over his shoulder. “And if we have the right Koyla, he may have inherited that house. Might even have been there recently but I can’t be sure whoever has been was actually him.”

  Enos eyed the house behind Raneth, then whistled. “Fancy.” To Raneth, he added, “He’s probably asleep on Elenee’s sofa. That’s where we’ve both been staying when we’re not working. She ordered us to...” Enos eyed the house again. “If Koyla really was a tribune, there’s a chance he has friends who knew what he was doing, had contacts, and warned him about Rider. Or maybe he knew about Rider before all this. Rider’s royal official record speaks for itself, and with his dad being the First Legate, word’s probably gotten around all the kingdom’s tribunes that Rider loves being a royal official and the challenges that come with following execution orders. If he knew the royal official that’s always the most eager was sent after him or in the same area, he’d be an idiot not to flee.”

  “You’ve got a point, Enos.”

  “With updates out of the way…” The blond royal official looked up at Raneth, frowning.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Raneth, feeling his stomach getting tight. Enos was laid back, so for him to give him that look, as if he was contemplating if a platypus was real...

  Enos slipped a hand to the back pockets of his trousers and withdrew a folded newspaper. He held it out to Raneth. “Front page. I’m guessing this wasn’t you. You’ve never been interested in power.”

  Raneth took The Giften Daily and unfurled it. “What?” His mind tumbled to a blackened husk as he looked at the headline; King Philander almost murdered by royal officials! He checked the issue’s date — it was today’s. “No. That wasn’t me,” Raneth managed to utter, quickly reading the body of the article. “I… That’s…” He looked up at Enos, his eyes salting as he pieced his mind back together. To the task. “Somebody killed our royals last night. With Barbaric assassins. Tried to take me out too.”

  Enos stilled. He didn’t even breathe. “What?” he said after a moment.

  Shame skewered Raneth as he realised he should have told Enos as soon as he’d seen him. He’d never met a royal official that didn’t love Cray as their officer and as their friend. “It has to be connected,” said Raneth, pushing through the news, hating how he felt off-balance from the newspaper’s report. He’d have to talk to Southern Kingdom’s king. Check in and explain what was going on.

  Enos’ lower lip was trembling, and his eyes were glassing up. “I never thought… I mean… It’s Cray. I never thought… He’s definitely dead?”

  Inhaling sharply, keeping back the tears that were tightening his chest, Raneth nodded. “I saw him myself. The others too.” He paused, stiffening as the memory assaulted him again.

  I have to get this memory under control. Raneth imagined shoving it into a lockbox at the back of his mind, and breaking the key. Stay away. Yet his chest was still tightening, as if it were filling with the tears he was refusing to cry, and Enos’ too.

  Enos blinked, and this time, tears escaped. The shorter man sniffed and raised the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I’m not crying.”

  “Yeah, you are.” Raneth pulled Enos to his chest and hugged him. “We’ll be alright.”

  “Alright for you to say. You always have it together,” murmured Enos.

  Raneth drew back, holding Enos at arm’s length. “No, I don’t. I just hold it in.” He let go of Enos, wishing he had a handkerchief his friend could use when the royal official instead wiped his eyes and his nose against his sleeve. “I know it’s bad. He was a friend to us all,” said Raneth softly. “But we can’t stop. We have to keep serving the Three Ks.” He tried for a comforting smile but Raneth wasn’t sure if he pulled it off. “I wish we could take time off to mourn him, Alagar and the others, but we can’t. Not with everything that’s happened.”

  Enos sucked in a loud sob before it could pull the tears from his eyes. “Does that mean—” He sniffed. “Does that mean you’re king? You’re royal blood too, aren’t you?”

  “My dad. He survived the attack. Only one.”

  Enos rubbed at his eyes, his breath a shudder. “So what does that make you? What are you going by? Captain, centurion, acting regent, prin—”

  “Raneth.”

  Enos nodded, his breath still shaky. “Alright, boss. So what’s the plan
… with Cray and his family?”

  “I have one of the Bayre servants helping me from the palace. She’s organising retrieval. I’m keeping it low-key until my dad’s ready to tell the newspapers.”

  Enos nodded with his eyes upon the ground between their feet. His hands were fluttering to each of the six regulation throwing daggers around his belt.

  Cray helped Enos be a royal official, remembered Raneth, watching Enos’ calloused hands going through the motions of checking his blades’ positioning, a common practise amongst royal officials. Enos had to be doing it because of the news — to comfort himself. Cray took Enos in as he trained to be a royal official, because otherwise Enos wouldn’t have been able to graduate, not with his parents dead, and a sister to care for… I should have broken the news more gently.

  He stopped his thoughts. Thinking of Cray’s good deeds would make him cry, and if he cried, Enos would lose it again too. He was Enos’ captain. His commanding officer. He had to keep it together for his sake. “If Giften’s going to survive the next few months, it’ll be because good people have stuck together. I’m going to need both of you. You and Rider.”

  “I’ll stick by you, Raneth,” promised Enos. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else to see us royal officials safe, but… I hate to bring you more bad news, but...”

  Oh no. It felt as if somebody had wrapped the world’s heaviest chain around Raneth’s neck, shoulders and ribs as he watched Enos giving him that worried look again. Why couldn’t they greet each other with some good news? Why was everything always pushing at him, at all the royal officials, to excel, be great, and save everyone? Why did everything have to rest on his shoulders? This mission was too much for him. He could feel it closing in, squeezing him. Burying him alive. Raneth plunged into his training — that of his father’s — for help, to escape the overwhelm, and found a gem of advice; remember the goal, then take action and keep taking action. He could fix this. He could save Giften from the mess Broken Crown had left it in, and from what they were doing to Giften now. His father probably hadn’t meant keep yourself busy, but Raneth opted to interpret it that way, and the way his father probably intended. “What is it, Enos?” asked Raneth.

  “When I was making my way over here, some civilians came up to me and said they’d been on the beach last night. When they woke this morning they saw ships with unfamiliar sails in the Giften-Barbaric Stretch, and they seem to all be in a line.”

  Giften’s sodding soil.

  “Like a blockade?” asked Raneth worriedly. His stomach gurgled, but he wasn’t sure if it was because he hadn’t eaten anything since dinner the day before, or if it was the worry that was electrifying his veins.

  Enos nodded.

  “Grab Rider, check out the beach and then make your way back to the palace. If somebody’s running a blockade, we’re in for more bad news,” said Raneth.

  “Sorry, boss.”

  “Not your fault. I need to get back to the palace. Where can I rent a horse?”

  “Erasmus might be able to lend you one from the fire station,” said Enos.

  Chapter Five

  Aldora

  Where was Raneth? Her stomach growled as she looked towards the doorway. A short plump woman stood there, talking in hushed tones with a man Aldora hoped was a doctor. She’d woken to the man poking, prodding and listening to her body, before he had retreated without a word to the woman in the doorway. Aldora glanced at the other sofa. The muscular form of Dragon Bayre lay on it, eyes closed and the top of his curly short black hair pressed against the side of the sofa’s arm. His clothes were bloodstained but as Aldora watched, the Master Bayre’s chest lifted, and a small snore wrenched free from his open mouth.

  Aldora drummed her fingers against the sofa’s arm, taking small comfort from Pedibastet’s warmth seeping into her lap where he lay. “Who is that woman?”

  Pedibastet looked up at Aldora, purred, and rubbed a cheek against her torso. “Cally Bayerson,” he said, his voice soft, “and that doctor just found nothing wrong with you other than a few bruises.”

  “Bayreson.” Aldora frowned at Cally, who frowned back briefly before plunging into more hushed talk with the doctor. “A Bayre servant, then?”

  “The head Bayre servant, and the sorceress who taught Raneth his good manners,” whispered back Pedibastet. “She’s ancient compared to us, so her magic doesn’t affect Raneth’s MIR. No doubt that’s why he called her to help him manage things.”

  “Where is Raneth?” whispered Aldora.

  “Icoque,” stated Cally as she strode into the room.

  Aldora blinked. Nobody normal should have been able to hear her and Pedibastet’s whispers. Except maybe Dragon, but he was still snoring. She glanced at the doctor, but he was leaving. “We found some information about Koyla and he went flying off in his griffin-self to tell that knucklehead, Rider,” said Cally.

  Aldora gently pushed against Pedibastet until he stepped off her lap, and she stood up. She could breathe. Her body wasn’t resisting her and her knees weren’t trembling under her own weight. The doctor was right, she thought. I’m fine. She ignored how her arms ached from the short fight she’d had with the assassin. It had barely been a fight. She’d screwed up, but if Cally and Pedibastet could be believed — which they could — Raneth was running around, fulfilling his duties to the Three Ks, which must mean he was fine too. Aldora sucked in a grateful breath, enjoying the cool air gliding down her throat. She stretched her arms. “I should go and join Raneth.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” snapped Cally. She pointed at the sofa.

  Aldora frowned. I’m not going to sit on a sofa when Raneth needs me. She folded her arms, ignoring as Pedibastet poured himself off the sofa and stood at the side of her feet.

  “You can’t be trusted. You led my Rannie into an ambush,” said Cally.

  Her ‘Rannie’?

  “We both chose to go and save my sister. I didn’t lead him into anything he wasn’t willing to do.”

  Why does everyone think us saving Alika was me dragging Raneth into a trap? Aldora’s scowl deepened. She’d been in Icoque since her uncle’s fall, whilst helping Raneth in the settlements near the palace in whatever ways she could, despite no longer having the Dagger of Protection. More than a few people had spit venomous words at her, or just their spittle. It seemed the whole of Giften had an opinion on her, and it wasn’t as nice as the saviour they’d once thought she was.

  “Cally, mind your manners.”

  Aldora rushed to look at Dragon Bayre. Blue eyes that matched Raneth’s looked back at her, before they swept to look at Cally.

  “Mind yours,” ordered Cally. “You shouldn’t be pretending to be asleep, and not that well either.”

  “I was asleep, until you started being a cow.”

  Aldora watched as Cally sucked in a breath, muttered something, and then turned her glare onto her. “Everything I do is for the benefit of my Bayres, not you. So don’t expect any favours.”

  “I don’t,” said Aldora. Raneth never warned me you were so… prickly. She heard Dragon grunt as he eased himself to sit up on the sofa. “Dragon, what happened to you?” asked Aldora softly. “Raneth was so… I’ve never seen him like that before.”

  The royal carriages came under attack,” explained Dragon.

  What?

  “It just happened. We didn’t have time to react. They used Eastern Barbaric tactics on us. Shrapnel bombs.” Dragon shook his head, winced, and raised a fisted hand to his mouth. Aldora heard him swallow.

  “Need a puke bucket?” asked Cally, her voice sickly sweet.

  Dragon waved off her question.

  Aldora looked at Pedibastet. He was still by her side, his green eyes looking up at her as the reddening tip of his black tail twitched side to side. She didn’t know much about Eastern Barbaric military tactics or strategies. She didn’t even know much of Giften’s, but she’d heard stories of Giften soldiers coming back from scuffles with the Barbaric Empire that w
eren’t quite themselves when they came back. That they had nightmares and acted out, or seemed to lose themselves permanently to their thoughts.

  What did Raneth see when he grabbed his dad?

  “Cray, Lemuela and Louise are dead,” stated Dragon, his focus upon Aldora. “We’re in Raneth’s worst nightmare — we Bayres have become active royals again.”

  The Dagger Bearer felt a shiver that started at her elbows and rushed into her back. She tightened her folded arms as her stomach clenched, freezing, as if a ball of ice in her gut had exploded and thrusted the ice shards throughout her stomach and up into her chest.

  Everything Raneth knows. His whole life. It’s… Gone.

  Where did that leave them as a couple?

  She grappled with the idea of Cray dying. He’d been kidnapped three years before, and security had tightened around the king. With Raneth’s close attention to Cray and Giften, Aldora had always assumed Cray was untouchable after that. That Raneth and the other royal officials would prove themselves a force to be reckoned with, as royal officials were trained to be.

  By the Goddess’ dying breath. Aldora swallowed. Raneth was feeling the pressure these past two weeks just to fill in for Cray. She looked at Dragon as she nipped at the inside of her left cheek. That pressure is going to push down on Raneth.

  Sorrow filled Aldora. Sorrow for the pain Raneth was likely going through, both by the deaths but also from the weight he was carrying, and for the royals themselves. Aldora hadn’t known them as well as the Bayres had, but she’d had dinners with Cray, Queen Louise and their daughter, Lady Lemuela. She’d liked the future queen of Giften. And Aldora had adored how laid back and friendly Cray was with her. He’d never once even insisted she call him king; he’d gone so far as to tell her to call him Cray. Just Cray.