Chapter 11 - The Council's Decision

  Does a person die ten times faster if each day feels ten times as long?

  Such were the questions that pestered Emeria of late. Thoughts her own, but never did she voice them herself. She hadn't that capacity. That privilege. Each day spent as a marionette, living, but not really. A prisoner had more freedom than she. They could speak, they could move, they could use the Flaming privy when they needed to. Odain wholly disregarded her needs, forcing Emeria in one place or another for his purposes. Two long years of this treatment. She hadn't endured it. Not at all. A month had been enough for her to attempt jumping off a balcony. It had not been allowed of course. So she lived as a body that breathed and thought but did naught else of its own will.

  Every waking moment was spent wondering when night would come. Nights were spent wishing the day following would be better. The cycle then repeated itself come sunrise. Today was no different. Emeria held her arms out, letting her lady in waiting dress her for whatever tasks lay ahead. The action was not hers. The puppet master was somewhere near, perhaps even right outside the doors to her chambers. Emeria shuddered. His presence left a sick, crawling feeling over her skin. She needed to bite her lip and squeeze shut her eyes but even that was not allowed. It was like knowing insects climbed up her spine but she could do nothing to be rid of them. She was instead forced to stare at her own hollow eyes in the dresser mirror before her as the maid fussed over her hair.

  “Your majesty, forgive me, you must be cold,” Meelo said. This maid was the skittish type, jumping at the slightest of changes. Not originally of the palace, this one. She was kind hearted, from what Emeria gathered, but she was brought in by Odain. Thus, she was untrustworthy.

  Emeria glanced at the goosebumps on her arm. “It's fine,” she was made to say. If only I was cold and nothing else.

  “But your majesty,” the maid insisted, “perhaps a long sleeved dress than a sleeveless—”

  “I said its fine,” Emeria said in a harsher tone. She cringed internally. He was here. Odain was in her chambers. He was close enough to have heard the maid's soft spoken tone and force the exact reaction he wanted from Emeria.

  The maid bowed her head. She did up Emeria's hair into a bun, sticking a faux lotus into it. A gold choker with several square emeralds was bound behind her neck to match the dark green gown she'd been made to wear.

  “Bracelet, your majesty?” Meelo asked, pulling open one of the drawers of the dresser.

  “Pearls,” Emeria answered sternly. She sat up a little taller and lifted her head in the air, as if examining herself in the mirror. In all, Emeria felt her appearance a mature one. The top was not cut particularly low and the gown itself was not too tight. The pearls on her left arm shone with brilliant lustre and added a proper accent to the refreshing look befitting Sowing Season. Odain, apparently, had a halfway decent fashion sense.

  Not that any of it mattered. Emeria did not care for how she looked. Not anymore. Not even for her beloved. Her proximity to Azurus was a greater torture than becoming a prisoner. To have him so near, but not have him at all… He served to perfection as the guard captain —even despite her occasional demeaning comments, but ever there lingered a fear that he'd eventually break and abandon her for another woman.

  Emeria stood up straight and waved her maid to the side. She turned and exited the dressing room, finding Odain standing just outside as expected. Run, scream, hide, her instincts urged. But no. The Lord Sun had complete dominion over her. He made a show of bowing his head as Emeria passed him by and left her chambers. Odain fell in step behind.

  “A meeting of the inner council has been called. You are to attend this morning,” he said. “Troubling news has reached us from the shores of Qalydon some days past and the lords of the table are in need of appeasement.”

  Emeria said nothing in response. A stream of curses begged to break free of her lips. Tears sought to pour out of her eyes. But no such thing happened. Troubling news from Qalydon. Something to do with pirates. Emeria vaguely recalled penning that horrid letter declining High Lady Coraine's plea for aid. It was but one of her many grave wrongdoings.

  The heels she was given clacked upon the lush red carpet lined along the palace's halls. The tips of the shoes squeezed her toes painfully. She wore a straight face regardless. Emotions were something Odain made her mask so often. She was his mouthpiece, ordering things he needed done and making appearances where deemed important. Most of her time was spent in meetings with nobles, merchants, or others of influence, hearing their pleas and desires, then repeating them back to the Vicegerent for him to ponder and make decisions over. Oft she'd attend balls of the city's most wealthy —those that had had little sway over the state's affairs in Dahlia's time.

  Odain had given them more power of late, though for what nefarious reasons, Emeria could not guess. There were times when she held balls of her own, luxurious and excessive, pulling funds straight from the kingdom's exchequer to do so. Mother did not hold balls except for celebratory events, and I've held several for no reason at all every other month.

  None of these decisions were Emeria's, but the orders came through her mouth. Deep inside, even if there came a day when she were rescued from this pain, she knew that she'd have to bear the weight of all the damage she'd done. No one among the common folk would accept 'magic control' as an excuse for all the ills done to them.

  Emeria hadn't that strength. The very thought made her knees quake. If ever the puppet master were slain and her strings cut, she feared she would not function at all.

  “Captain,” Emeria was made to say as she reached the end of the corridor where her guard awaited. Daylight bled through a six paned window behind him, highlighting his dark hair and the trimmed beard he now kept. Azurus fell in line behind her and Odain. Emeria needed her beloved closer. She needed him standing next to her, blacking out her sight from ever seeing the puppeteer again. That was all she wanted of him now. She did not desire his touch. She did not want to be held or kissed. She only wanted protection.

  Faithful guard though he was, this was the one task he failed to complete.

  ***

  'Captain' she'd said with complete apathy.

  Azurus stayed a measured five feet away from Emeria and Odain. He wore the deep violet uniform of the guard captain, House Lakris' lotus sewn into the coat's back. It was an old pair taken from Eildred Aegis' wardrobe. The clothes fit well, and gave Azurus a small amount of courage.

  Emeria walked forward without sparing him a second glance. She looked beautiful as always, and prideful. Her steps carried purpose and her sleeveless gown was fit for the season. Her delicate hands were clasped together, the left wrist adorned with a bracelet of pearls. She could wear just about anything and he would not care, but this wasn't the Emeria he knew. The woman he'd fallen for did not care to bedeck herself in jewels or wear perfect gowns for the right occasion. The Emeria he'd loved was free spirited and bold.

  Much had changed since she'd come into her title. She still wasn't of age as per Xenarian customs to be a queen, but she carried that crown atop her head everywhere regardless, as if it gave her the confidence to do all that needed doing. She'd certainly grown into her throne from what Azurus could tell, but she'd thrown away all her mirth for it. She threw me away…

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Azurus had stuck by her side, serving her as faithfully as he might, hoping that one day, she'd remember all their shared memories. That her spite for him was but a fluke, a compulsion perhaps come from circumstances unavoidable. But no. She didn't look his way with any semblance of kindness. She didn't ask him for aid, didn't even offer any sympathy from her actions. Rather, she demeaned him on occasion before other nobles.

  Lately, she'd been attending and hosting too many balls, dancing with too many other men. She was searching for a suitor. And still I stay. I cannot stop loving her.

  The day outside was full of splendor, and that light poured into the palace, beating away at all its shadows save for the ones not visible to the eye. It had been days like this one when Azurus oft spent time traipsing the open fields before Arcaeus Peak with Emeria and Elizia while the latter's mother led her horses through various drills. Of El, he now knew little. How he wished he had someone familiar to speak with, someone that could understand and care. But tensions between House Serene and House Lakris had not cooled since that day two years ago.

  Or at least, Emeria did not show any intent of trying to make up with her once dearest friend. In truth, Azurus knew little of the matters outside of the city. He was not at all well informed like his predecessor was. The queen had others doing that task for her. She keeps me around for what, then? As a pet? Is she really still so upset from two years ago?

  It seemed strange for her to have changed so much from just the losses she'd endured. But then, so too had Sir Draumen changed. The once noble knight and second in command of the guard had turned to insanity after losing his sister to rebels. Emeria was at least sane enough to wear her crown.

  The queen and the Vicegerent went down the grand stairs and turned several corners until they came to the chambers used as a gathering hall for members of the court's council. Those had once consisted of men and women adept at bureaucracy, and representatives of the city's most influential nobles. Nowadays, the latter held more sway and more members. While true that Emeria held ultimate authority, rarely, if ever, did she make a decision against her court's wishes.

  Wishes which were oft in poor interest of the peasant class.

  Two guards in blue uniform opened the chamber's double doors for their queen. They stood up a little straighter and saluted as Azurus passed them by. Emeria took her seat at the opposite end of the round table, facing the doors she'd come through, while Odain sat to her right as the First Chancellor. He was the only chancellor. A second one had not been appointed.

  Azurus took up position behind his beloved's seat. Emeria placed her arms on the table, fingers still clasped together. So delicate, those hands.

  “I believe there are matters to be discussed regarding Qalydon's recent predicaments,” the queen began. “Chancellor, would you please initiate us all with the exact circumstances surrounding the matter?”

  Odain sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat. Azurus watched his Chronary teacher as the man flexed his fingers and began speaking. “As it so happens, the pirates of Kovar launched an assault on our mainland's shores. They seem not content with what they have and are in search of more. As of now, we do not know their end goal, but it stands to reason that trade in the Aegis Basin continues to be affected by them. Qalydon's damages are significant and another plea has reached us from the High Lady Coraine for funds, resource, and soldiers.”

  “Preposterous!” one man said. Lord Rethram, a city noble whose primary business was fine wine and leathers. He'd recently secured a contract with Red Vine's winery since their halt in exports following the civil war. “Everyone here knows the wealth of High House Coraine. They mask their greed in the form of pleas.”

  Wealth that they've since failed to grow and only drained since the death of High Lord Coraine.

  Emeria nodded at Rethram's statement. “For their losses, soldiers perhaps, but not resources,” she agreed.

  Azurus felt hot around his neck. Sweat seeped from his pores and his garments stuck.

  “Do we know the extent of the High Lady's damages?” asked Lord Delain, an investor in textiles. He was said to own shares amounting to half of Sevanna's Needles —the city's most famous clothier with a legacy spanning over two centuries. The company had produced both Dahlia and Sar'tara's wedding dresses once upon a time.

  “Can it Delain,” said Pautridge, a city noble in the business of selling information and nightlife entertainment. “We've already agreed to not send the woman funds. You're trying to invest in their repairs. It's obvious.”

  Rumors of Lord Pautridge's dabbling in narcotics had reached Azurus. Such a man would never have sat at this table during Dahlia's time.

  “More trying to marry the woman and make a high lord of himself,” Rethram accused.

  Delain flushed but Odain held up a hand. “Gentlemen, if we could remain on topic.”

  “Nothing is set in stone until we leave this chamber,” Emeria said. “Though, I'm sure we all agree that there is no benefit in sending funds as aid to Qalydon. Of course, reclamation of the Basin would do much for trade and taxes for the Crown. The question remains on how much to spend on sending arms and men.”

  “With all due respect your majesty, the damages done to Qalydon are significant,” said Toraal, one pale man with a blind eye. He was the new financier, whose office saw no end of papers. He'd been a man working under the former grand chamberlain.

  Pautridge snorted. “Exaggerated no doubt.” The other lords mumbled their agreements.

  “I can spare a hundred of my bannermen your majesty,” said Lord Crombell. His was a family with distinguished military records of long past, though of recent they were heard of little. Likely he saw this as an opportunity to put his family name in the spotlight again.

  Emeria held up a hand. “Toraal, if you would please read out the extent of damages and their estimated cost.”

  Toraal nodded. The lords sitting around the table looked away, disinterested. Some had the nerve to groan. “Many buildings burned, dozens in fact. A storage of wines caught fire as well and went up in flames, the explosion catching nearby structures. The, uh, Trillian temple remains unharmed.”

  “The Goddess' protection no doubt,” Odain interjected. Nods were given in response to this.

  Toraal continued. “The refugee hovels were destroyed, along with two of Lady Coraine's warships. They've lost hundreds of fighting men and dozens of young women have been taken captive back to Kovar. Property damages amount to at least a half chest of gold crowns, your majesty. As for people and food costs…”

  “Half a chest… A cost Lady Coraine can likely afford,” Emeria said.

  Azurus sucked in a breath. He stepped closer to her chair. Emma…

  “Do you have something to add, Sir Aegis?” she asked, turning to face him.

  He flushed at the spotlight given him and stepped back. The lords sniggered. They all knew his true origins. Aegis was but a granted name. Nothing more. “No, your majesty,” he said.

  “Then on the matter of reclaiming Kovar,” Emeria continued. “Perhaps High Lord Serene would be up to the task. And I'm sure you all would give your support to the High Lord for this, yes?”

  “If I may add another suggestion,” Lord Rethram said. “These pirates clearly have no end goal aside from looting. We've lost to them once, and that was when we had a capable admiral and the Thundersword. Why risk wasting more bodies against obviously capable sailors?”

  “What are you suggesting, Lord Rethram,” Odain asked coolly.

  “Business. We hire them as privateers. They get their share in our affairs, we leave governance of Kovar to them and trade on the Basin renews.”

  “And what of the lives lost and the slaves taken?” Azurus suddenly roared. His hand was to the pommel of his blade.

  “Sacrifices for the greater good,” the nobleman shrugged.

  “No life is cheap, my good lord,” Odain said. “Least of all innocent ones.”

  “Yet the option remains a valid one,” Emeria mused. She rested her face on a knuckle, elbow to the table. Teal colored veins could be seen through her smooth skin, wrapping up her arms like delicate vines. “Do we risk more lives against said capable sailors and fighters, or do we hire them for our own purposes?”

  “And the taken slaves? Do we leave those hapless women to their fate?” Azurus asked. “Do we leave the captive citizens of Kovar to live under tyranny?”

  “The island may be out of our hands, but the Basin can still be reclaimed peacefully,” Rethram argued. “It may yet prevent future suffering of all those impacted by the halted trade.”

  Azurus' sweat bled from his palms and on to the hilt of his sword. Rethram had no interest in seeing Lady Coraine get back on her feet. It was in his interest to hold a monopoly on trade deals coming out of northern Xenaria. Northern Xenaria that was ruled by none other than a former pirate.

  Odain ran both his hands over his face and then his hair. He seemed despaired by this discussion. Talk of weighing lives to the religious leader was a burden, clearly. Azurus looked to him for support, but he had none to give. The lords were all considering what the downfall of a High House meant for them. Lady Coraine would never agree to a treaty with her husband's killers.

  “Is it agreed then that we prevent the loss of life and open negotiations with Kovar?” Emeria asked.

  Nods.

  No…

  “So be it. Lord Aegis here will lead a hundred of the capital's soldiers to Qalydon to aid in their repairs, and send the message of the Crown's decision to the high lady. Subsequently, I will send you with coffers of gold for negotiation purposes, Captain.”

  Azurus felt his mouth dry. No. Not me. Don't make me do this, Emma. She faced him with an emotionless look in her eyes. Flames, but even with eyes so hollow she was beautiful. He could only nod when confronted with her words.

  “I trust negotiations will not go sour, Lord Aegis. Or you will be held responsible for all subsequent consequences. If of course you have no choice, you may handle the situation as you see fit. But that’s only if you have no choice. Do I make myself clear?”

  Handle the situation with a mere one hundred provided soldiers… He nodded again.

  Emeria rose from her chair. “This council is dismissed.”