1.

“Erak, are you clothed?” Queen Victoria’s voice called out through the wooden door. Erak rapped his knuckles out twice on a wide, darkly stained dresser. The reverberations rang out and covered the sound of the door being opened as Victoria walked in, Lady Torpin only two steps behind her.

The room they had found him was a diplomat's suite, long since abandoned. A wide bed that looked much too soft with diaphanous peach curtains. Furniture littered the room, all of it old wood stained so dark it bordered on black. Clothing had been left in the dresser, rich green velvets and maroons with gold and silver piping that was several sizes too small.

His armor had been dismantled and put on an armor stand they had dragged across the palace. He had spent an hour cleaning it and then an armorer had come and whisked it away just to return it a few hours later with apologies. It was mildly repaired. The straps and bits of leather had been repaired, the worst of the dents had been hammered back into shape.

The dragonbone sword and the sword of discord were both propped in a corner while he kept the bronze knife strapped on his hip. They had found a few spears lying around but all of them were common grade and he had dismissed them. His shield was still with the armorer who was desperately trying to make it combat ready.

“You smell better at least,” Victoria said with a slim smile as she grabbed a chair from underneath the desk in the corner and sat on it primly. Erak went to parade rest, hands clasped behind his back and feet spaced shoulder apart. Torpin stood behind the back of the chair, right behind the queen’s shoulder.

“Stop that. You act like we haven’t been friends since we could walk,” Victoria said, waving at Erak. He let his hands fall to his front so he could talk to her.

“It’s hard being a leader, Erak. How can I send my greatest friend and ally away from my side. You have sworn to me to honor and defend me, to fulfill my wishes. But I still see that loud child you were when Father brought you to our home.”

“You must do your duty. And I, mine,” Erak said, trying to ease the queen’s mind.

“Of that I have no doubt. It makes it easier that we are under attack from monsters from beyond our realm. This is not some clash of ideologies or for resources. It is for existence. So I shall do my duty and your orders shall remain. Find the Emperor and bring him back if possible. We must have leadership.”

“Then take charge,” Erak said.

“Succession doesn’t work that way, Erak. It’d go to the first prince, who’s also missing. And then continue down the line until one of the Imperial bloodline takes the mantle.”

“Who cares? You have an army and a warship. That’s all the Conqueror had.” Lady Torpin rolled her eyes but kept her peace.

“Yes, well, he didn’t have to deal with a milenia of built-in bureaucracy and administrational stagnation. Blood wards protect most of the secure facilities, wards I can’t bypass. Regional governors won’t respond and local garrisons or generals will take their own chances that this invasion will falter and fail. That with their army and their warships that they will be the next Conqueror. We must have a continued line of succession.”

“Your will be done,” Erak said. Victoria sighed through her nose and shook her head.

“We will launch or counterattack in three hours. We have yet to connect and establish communication with the Sword of Empire, but we hope that she will provide aerial support. We make for the old dwarven claim. Ride with me until we break through the city limits and then split off and head to the pleasure villas. That is where the ambush happened. See if you can backtrack from where the ambush happened and find where the Emperor is.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“My duty is my honor,” Erak said. Victoria took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Clara, close the door, please.” Lady Torpin spun on her heel and closed the door, the moment the wood shuttered close Clara relaxed. Her rigid spin easing just a bit as Victoria let her shoulder slump completely, the veneer of royalty evaporating like mist before the sun.

“By the gods, Erak. What a disaster. I want my pipe,” Victoria said as she stood up. She stretched her back out, hands on hip as her chin pointed upward. Pomp slithered out from under the thick blankets of the bed and stretched out, claws extending to dig at the blankets.

“Erak, you have a fucking dragon,” Victoria said shaking her head and laughing incredulously.

“I’m a spirit of intellect that has taken the shape of a dragon. I’m not a true dragon,” Pomp clarified as he curled up into a ball, long white whiskers flowing over his arms.

“Oh, forgive me,” Victoria said with sarcasm thick and rich in her voice.

“I can see where Erak gets his sense of humor,” Pomp growled.

“Erak, tell me, is this not what nightmares are crafted of,” Victoria grouse. She flopped onto the bed and groaned, showing her age of only twenty-four.

“Erak says that this is a tragedy of monumental size. But he is enjoying the fights,” Pomp said. Erak was busy grabbing a crystal decanter and pouring a few fingers of amber liquor into two decanters and handing them to Clara and Victoria. Victoria sat upright to sip hers while Clara slugged hers back without hesitation, walking steadily over to pour herself another one.

“Of course he is. You should have seen him as a child,” Clara finally spoke with a laugh.

“I have minor access to some of his memories,” Pomp said. Both girls burst into laughter as they looked at each other.

“Did you see the first time he hunted across the ice floes?” Clara said, hunched over as she chortled.

“It was a successful hunt,” Erak defended himself.

“You went hunting for ice drakes. You came home with a fish,” Victoria said loudly between shoulder shaking laughs.

“A victory is a victory. I was only eight. Too small to hunt drake,” Erak said as he leaned against a dresser.

“What was a child doing hunting by himself?” Pomp asked, raising one of his snowy white eyebrows.

“He was mad at my Father and ran away. Father wouldn’t let him start training with his guard so Erak decided to show him he was an adult through the old ways. A successful hunt of an ice drake,” Victoria explained.

“So your father raised him?” Pomp asked, genuinely curious.

“Father did not raise children. He trained people. Whether they be diplomats, soldiers, generals, spies, or wives. Father made weapons to further his goals and the goals of the Northern Ice Caps. He is Lord of the Ice for a reason,” Victoria said bitterly.

Erak looked at the mirror in the far corner. He had moved it when he had first entered the room, shoving it to the side so he didn’t have to see himself. He remembered what the Lord of the Ice had done to him. What Erak had suffered in his service.

Erak looked at himself for the first time in days. The width of his shoulders was broader than they had been. He was trim, what little fat he had carried burned away to leave nothing left but rippling muscle. Even the baggy clothes they had found him couldn’t disguise his size.

He looked further up and met his own eyes. Dark blue like the ocean depths, they could appear black to those who didn’t look closely. His face was shiny and stiff scar tissue, his lips burnt away, the hair follicle destroyed. It was only through the greatest of reconstructive surgery that his face held some semblance of shape, his cheeks having been remade with light weight dwarven aluminum.

Victoria looked at him like she always did. No pity, just traces of sadness and guilt. It was for her he had suffered. It was the reason her Father had bought him. To be a guardian who could never be swayed, never be corrupted, and would never waver. A descendant of the roaming warbands raised under the tutelage of the most ruthless man in the empire.

“I hate him, you know,” Victoria whispered. Erak looked at her and let her continue talking.

“The world is ending and I’m a Queen and all I can think about is that I hate him. We should be back home on the ice. Instead we are in this cesspit, fighting demons while Father sits in his fortress with his legions. And here we are, we three. Tossed about like seeds on the wind to further his goals.”

“Victoria,” Clara said. She did not reprimand, but there was warning in her voice. Victoria stopped and nodded, the bitterness disappearing under the icy facade she wore.

“Our mantles need to be worn again it seems,” Victoria said. She drank down the rest of the liquor and put her glass down before rising to her feet.

“Prince Sammus would like to have a word with you I believe. He has a sister he wants to introduce you to.” With that Victoria crossed the space between them and hugged him tightly, her long arms barely reaching across his broad shoulder. He returned the gesture and then Victoria was gone, moving towards the door. Clara simply slapped him on the shoulder as she took her place behind the Queen’s shoulder. Then they threw open the door and all of them returned to being who they needed to be.