Around five bells, the Queen came by my rooms, waiting in the corridor until I could wash my face and put on something suitable for going armor shopping with a monarch.
I didn't know whether or not it was appropriate to invite her in once I was ready but I did anyway.
“Yes, of course, Mister Bascombe, valet, um Waldinor, correct?”
The young valets were always pleased as punch when the nobles knew their names, much less a Queen. “Yes, Your Majesty, just so!” he blushed.
“Go fetch a pot of Purcha Berry and service for Mister Bascombe and me. Sweet cream and honey, if you please, Waldinor.”
As the valet turned to leave, the Queen added “And shut the door behind yourself, and tell every single person you see along the way that there is no jig-jaggery going on in here!”
Waldinor and I both blushed like idiots. I had to laugh.
“Oh, you don't know what it's like being a Virgin Queen, Mister Bascombe …”
“I should say not, Your Majesty!” I interrupted.
She had a laugh at that and we both giggled like children.
“Please, Sir, allow me to ask a personal question. If it's too intrusive, tell me so. I won't pursue it any further.”
“Of course, My Queen, what is it? I'm single.”
“Don't be fresh, Mister Bascombe. I won't have it.” She said grievously and the moment of levity was over.
“Seriously, Sir. This whole episode seems to be affecting you greatly. You seem to have lost some of the joy you came here with. Is it your father? I know you have your suspicions about his involvement in all this.”
I had to think on it a moment. “Perhaps, Your Majesty, perhaps. There is just so much going on right now, I haven't thought on it in all honesty. My mind most recently has been on the young lieutenant who died trying to protect me and the wife he left behind. I don't even know his name, I'm ashamed to say.”
“It was Lieutenant Hevistyón, Sir. Alvil Hevistyón. Thank you for recognizing his sacrifice so. His wife, Clarest, is part of my court now, so she'll be well-taken care of. Perhaps she'll find a new husband soon.”
“Just like that, Your Majesty? No period of mourning?”
“Well, certainly, Mister Bascombe, she'll mourn for the rest of her life! Have you stopped to consider the ages we're talking about here? He was 102, she is 95. She has another 800 or 900 years to live. You don't know your ancestors from 200 years ago! That's an awfully long time to be in sackcloth and ashes, don't you suppose, Mister Bascombe? It's really all about context. The traditional period of mourning is ten years. Does that seem sufficient to your morally superior Human ideals?”
I had been dressed down pretty severely and she was right on every count as usual. “Your Majesty, please forgive me. I do forget the age issue. Even talking to you, it feels like I'm speaking with someone of a like age, not however old you are.”
“Your flattery is appreciated, Mister Bascombe. Now, here's an idea for you. I could send you to see your father if you thought that would be helpful. I think having some questions answered would be most beneficial.”
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“I feel my place is here, Your Majesty. By the time I get home and back, the war might well be over.”
“Don't be silly, Sir! I'm talking about having Ördelon teleport you there and back this evening. Would you be amenable?”
“Oh!” I chuckled, “I'm an idiot! Of course, My Queen, that would be most satisfactory! Excuse my mental lapses!”
“It's quite alright, Mister Bascombe. It's part of your charm. What little of that there is.” she said under her breath. That startled me.
“Oh, I'm jesting, Sir. You're plenty charming if you're nothing else.” And we both had a fine laugh at that as our tea service arrived.
“We will need to track your father down somehow, Mister Bascombe. You know he's like a wraith to us with his magical protections.”
“How will you do it, Your Majesty?”
“We will have to scan the minds of all in the neighborhoods he's typically found and see if anyone has seen him recently. It's a major fault in that magic. We won't know they've seen him precisely, but there will be a gap in their thoughts and that gap will likely be him. We can use common sense from there. It helps to have a very large number of spies out there as well.”
“If he's not at home, Your Majesty, he would be at our chalet in the Northern Peaks. He detests the city in the summer.”
Just then, Ördelon stuck his head in the door. “Your Majesty, we've found the elder Bascombe. He's at a chalet in the Northern Peaks with his mistress.”
I guess it shouldn't have been, but that was a shock. A mistress, the old scoundrel.
The Queen looked at me consolingly, “Do you still want to go, Mister Bascombe?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, that will actually be preferred. I'll have some leverage against him. He owes his current seat on the board of the Hard Coast Company to my mother's side of the family. I'll have him by his soft bits! The idiot!”
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“Very well, Sir, let's finish our teas and go take care of your armor fitting. You've a busy night ahead.”
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The armorer's shop was the first building I'd been to on the forest floor. I guess it being there was for obvious reasons. It wasn't busy. The Elf inside looked to be close to Greer's age, or at least what I thought Greer's age looked like never having actually met the Elf.
He was balding, his hair white, his ears starting to flop down a little, wearing a leather apron, leather gauntlets, and beating on a piece of orange-hot metal with a blacksmith's hammer.
He didn't see us come in. “Joakin!” the Queen called to him, but his hearing was failing as well it seemed. As he continued to hammer, she stepped over and waved her hand in front of his eyes.
Startled, he said “Your Majesty,” bowing as deeply as his ancient back would allow, “Are you here for the sword? It's not quite ready!”
“No, Joakin. Just let me know when it is. I'm here today for Mister Bascombe,” she said, indicating me.
“You likely haven't been told Joakin, but war is coming.”
“I have heard, Your Majesty. Would that I were a hundred years younger, I'd be on the wall. Might still be. I can fire a ballista.”
“I'm sure your services will be needed on the forge, Joakin. Mister Bascombe, however, will be with me, and he needs to be properly armored.”
“What's your fighting style, Mister Human?”
She smiled but corrected him, “It's Mister Bascombe, Joakin, don't be rude. He's a fencer, rapiers. I was thinking scale mail with plate cuisses?”
I was a little concerned. “That sounds terribly heavy and constricting, Your Majesty, if I may say so.”
“Of course you may, Mister Bascombe, but you've never worn mithril armor, obviously. There will be no expense spared in the creation of your suit.”
Ah, mithril, the legendary metal of the Elves, reputedly light as cloth. That would be interesting.
“Will you be wanting a helmet, Mister Buscoom?”
Queen May spoke sharply, “Joakin, mind your tongue, you knave!”
I thought it was funny. Whether a dislike of Humans and, or, of me personally, I couldn't tell, but the old man had spirit. “No, Mister Joakin, I won't require a helmet.”
“You've never tasted combat,” he sighed. “I'll make one for you that won't be very noticeable yet may still save your dome .”
Looking at my rapier, he asked “Set for weapons are we?”
The Queen spoke for me. “He'll be needing a back-up rapier and a good light crossbow with a bolt case and bolts. Anything magical would be preferred.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. So we have a padded cloth doublet with a scale mail tunic and plate mail cuisses for the thighs, a small helmet, magical rapier, and crossbow?”
“Just so, Joakin. If you can have those ready when my sword is finished, I would be most grateful.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing again deeply.
Back to the platform and up to the Palace, the Queen suggested “I'll send a good but plain crossbow around to your rooms this evening, Mister Bascombe, We've an indoor range not far from there. Just a level up.”
“Yes, Your Majesty, I've noted it in passing. I'm a fair bowman, if it matters. My father insisted on it, said arbalests were for commoners.”
“Did you get all the charm in your family, Sir? Your father sounds as if he is lacking.” We both laughed.
“Mister Bascombe, if we get to close quarters, you'll be thankful for how you'll be equipped. During the Siege of the Black Banner, I claimed twenty-five kills with my crossbow alone,” she got quiet, “and lost a stubborn friend who thought like your father. Every time you fire from the parapet with a longbow, you expose yourself much too much. Much too much,” she repeated with a sigh.
In the distance was the sound of six bells.
“Ah, here we are at your rooms, Mister Bascombe. I'll send Ördelon around to teleport you to your father's chalet, then I will see you on the morrow You may kiss my hand,” she said, presenting it to me.
“My Queen!” I said startled, “I'm honored!”
I took her fragile looking hand, kissing it gently, and looked up into her eyes. To call it a blush on her cheeks would be to call the red on an apple a hint of color. The crimson that bloomed there was beautiful and vivid.
“Mister Bascombe,” was all she said as she turned to go back to her chambers.
My head was absolutely swimming with thoughts both joyful and confused as I awaited the arrival of Ördelon and my trip to the Coast.
I was a wreck! I did not know what I should or shouldn't read into that interaction with the Queen, and I needed to get my head on straight before I talked with my father.
image [https://i.imgur.com/KPy5vnR.jpeg]