Before I realized the trip had begun, we were standing in the throne room at the Royal Palace in Nez Ambríl. Queen May was sitting on her throne, an elaborate thing carved from sugar maple and connected with bright silver. She looked bored and tired.
When Ördelon and I appeared before her, she jumped, startled, then sat up quickly, standing as we approached the throne. “What in the name of Élois took you two so long?” she bellowed at us. “I've been beside myself with worry!”
“Your Majesty,” Ördelon began, “we were…”
“Silence Ördelon, or I'll have your tongue!” She yelled over him. “Mister Bascombe, speak! What news have you?”
Count Pelisir, Mastil, Mal'friq, Margrin Ephisieryón, all were in attendance along with a young looking blonde Elf I hadn't seen before though he looked like royalty. I was guessing him to be King Fanrist, III of the High Elves. He stood immediately behind Queen May and beside Mastil.
Count Pelisir rushed to me, feeling my forehead and wiping my face with his handkerchief. “Your Majesty, if you please, allow them a moment to catch their breath. They've obviously been through an ordeal.”
“Very well, Pelisir,” she said, sounding none too pleased to have been interrupted. “Valets! Get them some water and bring chairs so that they might sit and tell us what has happened! Hopefully it's nothing urgent and we shan't cause them any further duress,” she said dryly.
Once we were seated and had some cool water to calm us down, I began the tale. There were gasps all around when I first mentioned Cralix. The story of her and Avricon was obviously known far and wide. I finished with the caution that I couldn't be trusted to handle any of the negotiations over the amber, and all gathered were nodding their heads as it all sunk in.
“Well now,” Queen May began, “where does that leave us?” There was quiet in the room.
“That will put her behind the mercenary army to the West. Has there been any enemy movement on any front, so far?” she asked Count Pelisir.
“Nothing to this point, Your Majesty. We do know that the mercenary army has had their pay adjusted by someone and there are seamstresses sewing large numbers of tabards through the night. Black with a white raven's eye. Is that Cralix?”
Ördelon interjected, “When she was a little girl I often told her she had the eyes of a raven. Always seeing things even when she shouldn't. It's her, to be certain. With what backing from the Hard Coast Company or if Feersland is involved or not, I cannot know. She may be merely a face put to their machinations.”
To Pelisir, Queen May inquired “What's the news on Mag'stula's army? Are they still on the move?”
Going to a table in the middle of the room and sorting through several maps laid out there, Pelisir pointed to an area to the northeast of the Taliswood, just south of the Azlit Mountains, a range that framed the continent in its North.
“They are here, Your Majesty,” he said, making a small circling motion with his index finger. The Clouds Elves and Snow Elves are doing a fine job of harassing them from their right flank, and the Sun Elves are giving them hell trying to sustain their supply lines. The Gnolls are too spread out trying to keep their force together to be an immediate threat. But, if they made a surge, they'd be in the North of the Woods in a week's time. The Sun Elf cavalry won't follow them in. They're not suited for that sort of fighting. The Sand Elves are besieging Yis-Gláz from the East out of the Wastes. That's further disrupting supplies getting to Mag'stula's forces. All in all, our strategy on the Eastern Front is going better than planned.”
Turning to another map, this one of the Southern Taliswood and points further South, he continued, “There are 250,000 crack Swalesian troops here.” He indicated an area between the Dwarven mountains and the Southern fenlands. “They bring in more by barge daily with significant amounts of food and materiel. It's a daunting sight you should take the time to see, Your Majesty, the next time our Wizards are scrying.”
“No sense in me trying to scare myself, Pelisir,” she replied. “We're facing them whether it be 250,000 or 500,000. I stopped being afraid of numbers when I was a child. Those Swalesian troops don't even know why they're fighting other than hearing the crack of a whip or the jingle of coin.”
“Fanrist,” she spoke directly to the High Elf King, “are you going to be ready for the mercenary army once they show their hand?”
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“Of course, Your Majesty. They're rabble. We've also brokered an agreement with the Moon Elves to come at their rear once they've approached Nez Clarë. The Moon Elves want a certain percentage of the amber concession, and that will need to be worked out, but they should be happy with two-percent of the gross. It's only fair given their support in the past and their continued assistance militarily.”
“Agreed,” was Queen May's quick assessment. “And, in the South, are the Sea Elves and Fire Elves making their presence felt?”
Pelisir was quick to answer, “Yes, Your Majesty, the Sea Elves are harassing Swalesian settlements along the South Coast and taking out as many barges as they can, but the port is very well defended. The Fire Elves are doing what they can to create mischief in the Southeast, burning crops, poisoning wells, freeing slaves where they can.”
“Our only hitch to this point, Your Majesty, is the Dwarves. They promise nothing until the Swalesian army begins to head North, then they can skirmish along the enemy's rear and disrupt supply lines. But they fear a head-on encounter, as well they should.”
Queen May looked stoically about the room. So much on her plate. “Fanrist, Mestil, we will keep the included amber here at Nez Ambríl. We will distribute amounts to each of your kingdoms for the purpose of experimentation as your Wizards call for it, but it will all be accounted for. I'll have none finding its way to Mag'stula or Cralix or whatever demon mages exist in Swalesia and Feersland. The stuff will NOT hit the market or I'll rescind the offer I'm putting into place now. Is that clear?”
Both Elves were calculating the scenario in their heads as May waited for an answer. Fanrist spoke first, “Your Majesty, I would put forward that we and the Wood Elves should be allowed to trade the included amber amongst ourselves as the situation dictates. We've many more magic-users than Mestil has in his population and they are much farther along in experimentation with the amber in question. I'm simply asking that we be able to buy any extra that the Wood Elves aren't using.”
“That won't be necessary Fanrist. The amber will be allotted according to need. We'll do those calculations at a later date. But I don't want too much unused amber to accumulate in any place, here as well. We've plans drawn up for a very secure system of vaults beneath Nez Ambríl in which it will all be deposited. It will be far enough below ground where we can destroy surplus amber as needed, if needed without risk of the Mana leaking into the environment.”
Looking to Ördelon, Queen May asked, “And on that front, Mister Ördelon, are there any further updates on your spell research? And I do apologize for snapping at you earlier, Sir. You don't deserve that.”
Ördelon blushed visibly, it's rare that a monarch will apologize to an inferior for any reason. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, Your Majesty. Apology gratefully accepted. And, yes, we have made several advances in our research. I'm hesitant to list them here, but know that there are some nasty surprises in store for any would-be attackers. Perhaps all we shall need to turn the tide of battle in our favor.”
Queen May smiled, “That's encouraging news, Mister Ördelon, and I respect your secrecy. We'll leave it at that.”
Surveying the room, she said “It feels like we're in good position, Count Pelisir, unless I'm missing something?”
“No, Your Majesty, I'm in full agreement. As we stand now, we are ready for what might be thrown our way.”
“And what time are we given, Sir?” she asked.
“We've at least a week, Your Majesty, barring any surprises or unforeseen circumstances.”
She smiled at the Count, “But that's your job, Pelisir, to foresee the unforeseen!”
“I jest, Sir, to a degree. You know your job as do we all. Very well. I need to rest my mind for a time, if you'll all excuse me.”
As the lot of us turned to exit the throne room, the Queen called, “Mister Bascombe, I need to see you in my quarters for a moment. It shan't take long.”
“Y-yes, Your Majesty,” I stammered, catching a brutal glare from Count Pelisir that made my face flush. Surely he didn't suspect anything between the Queen and I. He was likely just being territorial.
In the Queen's private rooms, she excused the valets, leaving just the two of us. In her bed chambers. Most unseemly, but she didn't seem to give a fig about appearances.
She went behind a dressing screen and began to disrobe, leaving me startled and confused. Her robe was draped over the screen and I could see her lithe figure as she donned a linen tunic and breeches. Her shape was stunning and I felt like an invasive child peeking in on the grown-ups.
“Do you find me attractive, Mister Bascombe?” she called from behind the screen still.
I was stunned, feeling as I did when Cralix cast her hold on me. I could barely force out, “Y-your Majesty, I hardly think th…”
“I'm not looking for a debate, Mister Bascombe! Just a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ will do. Be honest!” she interrupted.
Finding my spine, I answered, “Of course I do, Your Majesty! You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever had the pleasure of setting eyes on.”
Still behind the screen. “Well I find you equally attractive, Mister Bascombe. What say you to that?”
My head was swimming and I was beginning to sweat profusely. “Your Majesty, I'm flattered beyond words. Truthfully I don't know what to say but that it makes me incredibly happy to hear you say that.”
“What about the age difference, Sir?” she asked. “What is it, 400, 500 years?”
“I wouldn't care if it were 5,000, Your Majesty,” I pronounced, boldly.
“Oh, you do flatter so Mister Bascombe,” she said coming from behind the screen. She had let her hair down in loose braids over her shoulders.
She slowly approached me and I felt as if I would faint. The blood in my temples was certainly throbbing visibly as my heart felt it would leap from my chest. “Calm down, Mister Bascombe,” she said, placing her open hands on my shoulders and leaning up to my mouth, “You're safe here.”
She kissed me, slowly, deeply, tenderly, then backed away. Looking down and smirking, she said “Sheathe that rapier for another day, Good Sir! Twas but a kiss!”
I blushed like a virgin on her wedding night and tried to cover myself. “My Queen, I mean no disrespect.”
“On the contrary, Mister Bascombe. I'm quite flattered,” she said, smiling like the cat who's swallowed the canary. “And you may go now, Mister Bascombe. I truly do need to rest my head. But it feels good to get that out in the open, doesn't it?”
I was beaming, “Yes, Your Majesty, it feels amazing.”
“You can dispense with the titles when we're alone Tendil. Call me May. And now you're sworn to absolute secrecy at the risk of forfeiture of your life, do you understand?”
“Yes, of course Your M…of course, May.”
“Very well, Tendil. Now don't go thinking too far ahead on this thing. Élois knows where it will lead. Perhaps nowhere. Let us enjoy the now for now, shall we?”
“It will be a delight,” I said leaving the room but looking over my shoulder at her. Unable to take my eyes off her and confound this beautiful dream. She was smiling broadly as she laid down to nap, or whatever it is Elves do rather than sleep.
By the gods, what has befallen me? I'm beyond infatuated. My heart is this woman's to do with as she will. A dangerous place to be, but I feel alive in a way I've never known. Surely something dire is on the horizon!
image [https://i.imgur.com/XHKgGr1.jpeg]