RE: Monarch

If there was any universal constant in Uskar, it was that the sitting king loved the sound of his own voice. My father didn’t see it as ego, exactly. According to him, mockery, commentary, and intimidation all served as aspects of a whole, a battle of the mind that preceded the conflict of the body.

All this to highlight how strange it was to see him just standing there, illuminated by the ring of torchlight, saying nothing at all.

The moment of silence was shattered as Sera drew her weapon, prompting others in the regiment to ready theirs. Maya’s staff snapped into her hand, held loosely and non threateningly at her side. But the tension in her shoulders was unmistakable.

My father finally looked away from me, evaluating the variety of steel leveraged in his direction with mute interest. “Have to commend the discipline on display, considering how deeply some of them are shitting their britches. Miracle they haven’t broken ranks and run.”

I risked a glance back towards my regiment. “This engagement has been more than many of them signed up for. A sentiment with which I concur.”

The King raised an eyebrow. “Yet you rose to the occasion. As did they. Your mutt and infernal banner lieutenant deserve a great deal of credit. I haven’t had a fight that close to even in years.” His brow lowered. “Though it was you—or perhaps not you—who dealt the decisive blow.”

“Where’s Annette?” I asked coldly. He clearly had questions about the encounter in Topside. Good. The answers to those questions were leverage, not to be released until after we’d secured my sister.

“Somewhere no one will reach her until the morrow is long since passed.” He answered quietly. “A partial victory is the best you’ll achieve this day.”

“In your own bloody words,” Sera bristled, leaning forward in anticipation, radiating hate. “A partial victory is no victory at all.”

“Perhaps.” Gil nodded. “And if that is the reason you held your tongue so fervently during questioning, your tenacity is lauded. However, it is important in times such as these to consider the grand scope. And while your brother’s actions at House Westmore might have lost him a pawn, he secured a far more vital objective. The destruction and dissolution of a problematic House that would have undercut his rule.”

“You’ve spoken to Thaddeus, I take it.” I asked dryly, silently absorbing the implications. The most obvious being, he didn’t seem particularly upset about the fate of House Westmore. “Guessing his hands are full, finding a way to spin all this.”

“It’s mostly cut and dry.” The king shrugged. “That surly old fuck you humbled is long known for pushing boundaries. Occasionally at the expense of the crown. A few whispers in the right places, and the puzzle will assemble itself. House Westmore overstepped and attempted to leverage their influence to force their way into the royal bloodline. With no better option, I acquiesced. My heir, however?” He smiled. “Could not be swayed. And in the reflection of the tragic loyalty you displayed, they will see their future as your subjects.”

Maya stiffened. “It was your intention to unseat them from the beginning? Wouldn’t it have been far easier to handle them yourself?”

“He couldn’t.” I realized, before my father answered. “Before today, House Westmore was considered untouchable. And with the Noble Houses on high alert since the slavery decree, any further action towards them—especially against a House as influential as Westmore—had the potential to spur treason at best, a full-blown civil war at worst. Neither of which we can afford. He needed a proxy.”

“That,” Gil agreed, still oddly withdrawn. “And I wanted to be sure. Absolutely certain that the things I saw in you were not simply fantasy born from wishful thinking.”

“And?” I stared at him blankly.

“I am certain.”

It was dangerously close to praise. I shoved it away, trying to stay focused on the relevant. “Then your intentions are fulfilled. The absorption of House Westmore into House Vasemoux secures their supply-lines and gelds their ambitions. Now, as I’ve done you a service, it seems only reasonable to reply in kind.”

His expression oscillated between stoicism and something that was almost soft, entirely alien on his features. “And I would, son. Were this a time of peace? I’d hand her over to you in a second. But all princesses have a part to play in times of war. And it is not to play soldier in their brother’s army. She is too valuable a chit to surrender.”

My lip curled in distaste. Not simply because he spoke of my sister like she was property to be traded, but because this was likely the intended lesson. Sera’s interrogation wasn’t mere coincidence. He was using this conflict to reinforce the fractures that separated us, as a reminder of how our value varied and the rigidness of our hierarchy, pulling from the same box of tricks he’d used my entire childhood to teach the same lesson:

Blood or not, we were not friends. We were competitors. And while that sense of competition obliterated any fraternal kinship we might have felt to each other, it would eventually make us better rulers.

I didn’t buy it back then, and I certainly didn’t now. If anything, these last few weeks demonstrated how strong we were when working towards a common goal.

Zin, who’d somehow faded into the background as soon as the king appeared, approached from the side and caught my eye. I dismounted to meet him, keeping the King in the corner of my vision.

“All of my sentries are still in place. No unexpected arrivals or larger movements. He’s alone.”

Why.

It didn’t convey strength. My father could have summoned the entirety of his forces if that was his intention, really rubbed in the failure. Instead, he’d waited at our eventual destination, alone and bizarrely out of sorts. As insane as it felt to even consider, it was almost like he was creating a situation where violence was unlikely to boil over. That he’d put all this into motion didn’t matter. If we moved against him now, in the current context—one where he had yet to even draw a blade—it would be seen as an act of treason.

There was only one reason the King would go out of his way to avoid a fight.

Never become mired in a battle that will cost you the war.

The laughter started deep in my chest, bubbling out of me in a mess of relief and incredulity. Heads turned towards me as the laughter slowly ebbed. I wiped a tear from my eye. “Your confidence knows no bounds. I’ve spent the last few minutes wondering why, exactly, you would appear in this manner. At first I thought it was an ambush. Appearing isolated to bait us into a false sense of security, misdirecting our attention while your troops position, all right out of your well-worn playbook. If Zin didn’t have ample time to secure the area, I’d be forced to that assumption, discarding a far more likely possibility.”

“Which is?” Gil prompted, not rising at all to the mockery.

You don’t know where she is, either. But you’ve guessed the obvious. She’s too smart to go far.

I took a torch and walked several paces away onto the dock, slowly rotating in place as I searched, using wind mana to amplify my voice. “Well done, little sister. Illusion magic is your expertise. But slipping away unseen is difficult even with the assistance of magic, let alone from a vessel so large. It must have taken a great deal of effort to get off the ship. Even more so with the pressure you were under.”

No answer, no stirs of movement other than the King’s scoff.

My confidence waned. But only slightly. As I rotated, a pile of rigging stood out to me, what would have been a mess of ropes and bindings strangely ordered. I let my eyes slide off of it. “No matter what anyone tells you, it’s okay to be afraid. You’ve always known this was a possibility, but that knowledge was theoretical. You believed if you applied yourself, honed your mind until it was sharper than any sword, you might be spared from this fate. Yet unfortunately, today you were proven wrong. That would shake anyone with a heart in their chest. Even someone as calm and collected as you.”

Nothing. I grimaced. “Now you’re torn between two possibilities. To leave or stay. It’s a choice I’ve faced before, and a taxing one. Your magic will carry you far. Make it far easier to slip from town to town unseen, and if you travel lightly and abscond with only what you need, it could be months before luck runs out. But as someone told me once, magic has limits.” I glanced at Maya, relieved at her approval. “And luck can only carry you so far.”

I thought of my first life. How suffocated I was, ready to run with nothing but a horse and a box of valuables to my name. As bad as it was for me, it must have been worse for both of them. Far worse. Because unlike me, there was no eventual relief worth holding on for, no crown at the end of the tunnel.

“The decision is yours.” I said, staring down at the ground. “If you choose to stay hidden, I’ll gather the supplies and capital you’ll need for such an endeavor, and stash them where you hide the rest of your treasures.”

Sera wiped an unseen tear from her eye and stood beside me, addressing the abandoned dock. “And I’ll leave you a horse. Know just the one. Small, but runs like the devils of all the hells is chasing after it.”

I caught Sera’s eye and nodded in appreciation of her support, then returned my attention to the dock. “There’s no shame in it, if that’s what you decide. I… saw the way you were treated, when we were children. Both of you. I didn’t protect you then. Didn’t stand up. Didn’t fight. And I can scream to the gods until evening bell that I couldn’t, that I didn’t know how, that it wasn’t my fault. But the truth is? I was weak. Weak, and cowardly, and through twisted, selfish logic, justified my inaction purely because I was suffering too.” I glowered at my father. “But I am no longer the child I was. If you choose to stay, I will protect you. Even if it costs my life.”

“No matter what fantasies you spin, the princess knows damn well that her fate is inevitable.” King Gil growled.

“There’s some truth to that.” I returned, pacing. “History has shown that a key betrothal can be worth far more than its weight in gold. Political marriages are the way of royalty. That’s an unfortunate reality for both of us. The queen I choose will most likely not be the woman I love.” Somehow, I managed to not look at Maya. “To make such a choice emotionally could easily result in disaster. But whatever the reasoning, the final decision is mine. The least I can do is afford you the same.” I stared at my father flatly. “And I will turn the knife on myself before I see it denied.”

The King smirked. “Spoken like so many other men who thought themselves heroes, only to fold and bend the knee when their prattling was challenged.”

Casually, I drew my knife, inspecting it. “Another man tried to call my bluff tonight. Not unlike you, now. It did not end well for him. Do you intend to test my resolve as well, father?”

I left the threat implicit and braced myself for whatever came next, ready for laughter, mockery, threats.

None came.

For a moment, King Gil rose to his full height, face-brimming with the indignant rage I’d expected from the onset. Then all the fight seemed to drain out of him. With a tired look, he shook his head. And backed down.

What—

The box of tidy-rigging stirred, unfurling ropes coalescing into a vaguely human form. Annette brushed herself off and approached slowly, seemingly unbothered. But there was nothing she could do to hide the redness in her eyes. She stood before me, small trembles radiating through her body. “You… won’t abandon me again?”

It broke my heart. I reached out and tidied her hair. “Never again. If the fates take me elsewhere, you need only call for me, and I will come.”

Annette blinked, absorbing that as Zin guided Annette away, lifting her on the back of his horse near the center of the regiment. Several hands reached out to steady her, the gentleness and respect with which my soldiers treated her a quiet warmth in my heart.

With my sister settled, I turned my attention to the bigger threat.

Shadows covered the King’s eyes obscuring his reaction. I sighed and finally approached him. “A partial victory, partial no more. The day is ours. Which begs the question. Will you concede, father? Or is there yet another arrow in your quiver?”

He looked up at me, a single eye gleaming with reflected torchlight. “The composition of your regiment betrays much, boy. As the captain recruited, I couldn’t help but ponder your intent. There were better candidates. Men with more experience, storied soldiers who would have killed for a prime position in the army of a future king. Your captain ignored almost all of them, selecting instead from the dregs, the unwanted, and the disgruntled. The considerable time he spent breaking down their prior training forging them into a cohesive unit could have been better spent perfecting soldiers further along in strength and accomplishments. At the time I believed it was symbolism. Overwrought sentimentality. The fucker was getting surprising results, so despite my better instincts, I chose not to interfere.” He stepped forward, his boot bumping mine as he towered over me. “What a fool I was. Because it was never about sentimentality or making a statement, was it?”

“I don’t—”

“You saw the future.” The king continued. “And as you planned for disaster, you came to realize the hard truth. There was a real chance I would oppose you.”

I tried to back-pedal, feeling a rising panic. “Up to this point, you haven’t.”

“It was not a possibility you could ignore.” He scowled, scanning the increasingly nervous faces of my regiment. “An ugly truth. And instead of hiding from it, or pretending that wasn’t possible, you oversaw the assembly of a force that would remain loyal to you and you alone. Even in the face of treason.”

I grit my teeth. Was he really so low? Willing to punish, or even potentially dissolve and execute my regiment for nothing more than his suspicions?

Who am I kidding? Of course he is.

“Whatever Cairn’s ambitions, there’s been no seditious talk, my king.” Sera interjected stiffly. “My hearing is sharp. And if there was talk of rebellion or treason, it would not escape my ears.”

“Well… he is right.” I confessed, and both Sera and Maya turned to look at me sharply. There was no point in hiding it, when he’d already guessed so much. I swallowed and pushed on. “It wasn’t something I wanted. I’m not insane. I would never go out of my way to stir up conflict between us to expedite the passing of the crown. It was something I planned for because I had to.”

“Barely out of the cradle, and you were already preparing for regicide.” Gil shook his head.

“To be clear, my sister speaks the truth.” I clarified. “There is no plot. All the regiment knows of this is what you’ve told them. They are model soldiers, acting within the established hierarchy. The only one who has ever held treason in his heart was me. Any punishment should be mine, and mine alone.”

“How would you do it, if your hand was forced?” He asked, his tone dangerous.

Poison.

Excepting Thoth’s unnatural combat prowess, it was the only weapon his enemies had ever used that made a dent. Less than it should have, considering the lethality of the poisons involved, but the months of bed rest put him out of commission longer anything else ever had.

Aloud, I said, “Dishonorably.”

The shove came fast and hard, nearly toppling me as I raced backwards, attempting to right my balance. Several members of my regiment immediately moved to interfere, several stopping mid-step as I signaled them to hold.

“We should finish our spar from the morning, right here and now.” He growled, shoving me again. This time I was ready for it and planted my feet, sliding back a ways but keeping my footing. “See what your regiment thinks of their beloved leader, beaten black and blue.”

Thinking quickly, I tried to trap him in the proposal, limiting the damage. “If that’s your punishment, I accept it.”

“As you should.” King Gil put his hand on my breastplate again. I braced myself, preparing for another push. But it never came. He just held it there. “One can only fake their death so many times before it is expected as a matter of course.”

“I know.”

“Then here’s your fucking punishment. Never employ that strategy again. It is gone. Stricken from your book of tactics, banished to the dog fucking depths. Understand?”

He shoved me again, leaving me pinwheeling above the dock’s water and glaring at me with animosity, only pulling me back after I grunted out an assent. Before I could fully understand what was happening, enormous arms enveloped me, squeezing.

Is he actually… hugging me?

“I was twelve when I began plotting to take my throne from your grandfather.” Gil whispered, his voice raw. “And wasn’t a fraction as clever. I should never have doubted you, boy. I’m sorry this test came while you were at your lowest. Well-played.”

Gil released me and stepped backward. I couldn’t think, couldn’t even form a coherent thought beyond one.

He hugged me. And apologized.

Somehow, I regained enough lucidity to remember I wasn’t the only one who’d been wronged. “I… understand. But there are others you still need to make amends with.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll speak to the girls later. Bribe them with whatever they want.” The king had distanced himself somewhat, and was now staring up at the frigate with his arms-crossed, his face hidden. “Look at that gaudy fucking monstrosity. The egos on those bastards.”

A bribe wouldn’t fix everything. But in all honesty, the bar was on the ground. Even an admission that he’d been wrong was more than I could have hoped for. If my sisters got something for their troubles, all the better.

Bemused but still cautious, I walked over and studied the masthead beside him. “The oh-so-fiercesome Bear of Westmore.”

He looked down at me and nudged my shoulder. “Want to burn it down?”

I laughed. “Yeah. I kind of do.”