Chapter 30 - Riots

Dahlia stood before the window of her cluttered office room. She looked her guard up and down. His dark red coat had loose strings at the cuffs and looked a few centimeters too short. "What was your name again?" she asked for the third time that cycle, arms crossed, shadow extending to touch his boots. She knew full well what his name was.

"Arus L'Faleur, Your Majesty," he answered, with not a hint of irritation. He had a hideous scar on one end of his mouth that made it seem as if he were constantly smirking to that side. A mop of dirt colored hair and a milky eye he likely couldn't see out of.

And this was the man Eildred had chosen to be her personal guard in his stead.

"Right. Arus. Now, why do you suggest we can't have seamstresses brought to the palace for my wedding?" she asked, tapping her foot. The year had precious few months left. She'd promised Adrian to announce their engagement before its end. She at least planned to follow through with appearances, but this oaf here had been difficult since she'd suggested preparing for a formal engagement ceremony.

"I've suggested no such thing, your majesty." His voice was gruff and cracked at all the wrong times, making him sound like a lifelong drunk who'd seen ten dozen too many bar fights. "I've merely said that screening and background checking everyone will take some time."

Dahlia frowned. "Is there reason to screen anyone from Miss Sevanna's company? Or any company from the Nobility District outside of the plateau for that matter? They're all reputable."

"With all due respect, majesty, the Queen's Guard do not screen for quality of goods. Even those people that were trusted before will be checked again. Circumstances change with time. It doesn't take much to compromise a person."

Entirely overprotective and stubborn. She was the queen, and yet she felt two steps away from being in a prisoner jailor relationship. The messy room full of shelves and open books and loose papers did little to help that feeling. What was Eildred thinking choosing this man? "Arus, I hereby dismiss you as my personal guard," Dahlia ordered. "I want you replaced with your twin brother. And make sure he knows why you were replaced."

"I'm afraid that cannot be done. Irus is in Arcaeus Peak. He's part of the First Princess' guard retinue." Arus sighed. His expression didn’t look any less revolting. That scar still made it seem like he was smirking and belittling his queen. "Your Majesty, did you think the Lord Captain did not go to such lengths for you? The Guard are currently short of staff, as per your commands. We cannot conduct timely screenings of every little thing. If you must, I know a small shop south of the plateau. It is at the edge of the Nobility District. A little run down, but its run by someone I trust. Any orders may take some time to create but it's honest, hard, and good work."

Dahlia narrowed her eyes. She folded her arms again, switching up which arm was on top and which was below. Her skin itched from the poor cloth quality of her blue gown. It only served to deepen the lines in her vexed expression.

"I would implore you to not judge things by their looks, Your Majesty," Arus said.

She froze. Those words cut deeper than she expected. She was judging her guard by his appearance, uncaring for how he'd come to attain such wounds. Uncaring for his perspective on himself. And she was upset at him for just doing his job. Dahlia opened her mouth to apologize. She smacked her lips shut before any words came out, a lingering pride forbidding her, the queen, from doing any such thing. She took in a deep breath and met Arus' eye, stomping out that pride until no life remained in it. "Forgive me," Dahlia said. The only pride a queen should have is that of accomplishing her task as the people's guiding hand, not looking down in scorn because she stood on a higher pedestal than the rest.

"There was nothing to forgive," her guard said, his voice still haggard. His lips curled up, the scar making him look cold like the twisted branches of a barren tree. But it was a smile Dahlia could take pride in having caused.

"Don't do that," she said. "Don't feed my ego. There absolutely was something to apologize for. Hold me accountable when I err. It is in your right. Respecting me for my title is respect given out of fear. Respecting me for my actions is respect given out of admiration."

"Understood, Your Majesty."

"Good. Now, you were saying something about a seamstress you know?" It wouldn't hurt to help out a small business. Wouldn't hurt at all. "Can they be brought to the palace?"

"Er, about that. The owner is a bit shy. It would be better to visit the shop yourself." Arus scratched his head. "Under a hood of course," he then quickly said. "I don't think it'd be wise to announce that you'll be touring the city right now. Not with so few knights anyhow."

Dahlia nodded, a bit suspicious. But this was the man Eildred chose to protect her. She had to have a bit of faith. At least he wasn't suggesting she remain prisoner on the plateau. She could use a change of scenery also. The constant reports of Xenaria's turmoil was getting strenuous. There was only so many orders she could give. All she could do now was await Eildred and Azurus' return.

When was it I last went out shopping? Anyone trying to sell jewellery or clothing came directly to the palace. Her last outings into town had been during her late teens when she had more freedom. It wouldn't hurt to indulge for a half day. A new dress for her engagement and one for her wedding. It wasn't a façade. Not really. She would purchase them to deceive Adrian, yes. But Dahlia planned to use them still. Use them for Eildred. She wondered what expression he would make when she asked for his hand, because that lump of metal and muscle surely wasn't going to ask her first.

A forgotten longing surfaced to the forefront of her thoughts. Dahlia once again dreamed of looking pretty and dancing in another's arms as she had so many years ago. She vowed to impress that stonewall of a man until he crumbled before her beauty. "Right then, what is my schedule for later today?" Dahlia asked, looking out the window. It gave a view of the courtyard below. Blue uniformed Queen's Guard walked back and forth along a set path, the backs of their coats bearing the white lotus.

"You were to meet with a subset of the merchant's guild that moves grains across Xenaria. They worry about the roads with rebel parties roaming the lands."

"And there's nothing I can do until our soldiers return." Meetings such as these were usually handled by the chamberlain and his personal aides, but Finral and Dahlia had agreed that having the queen personally give out assurances to any grievance regarding Xenaria's current state would show confidence in how the situation was being handled. "It's settled then. Move my appointment to tomorrow. Let's go visit this dressmaker of yours."

"Er…" Arus trailed off, staring into space which there wasn't much of.

"We're going right now, Sir L'Faleur," she repeated. He eyed a stack of unchecked papers on her desk. Some were reports from the city guard or major grievances of the public that civil servants couldn't handle on their own. The usual. There were a few letters from Kalin which had gone unopened. Probably a response on Azurus' findings and Radis Draumen's thoughts on his sister's alleged treason. Dahlia neatly stacked all the papers together and pushed them to the side of her desk, waved her hand, and then flicked a lock of her hair.

They could wait. Everything could wait.

Looking at the pages made her head feel like lead. She felt a modicum of excitement for once. She was in love and she was going shopping because of it and no amount of work would stop her otherwise. Just this once she was going to indulge. Just for today. Just a half day. "Leaving now," she said again, fists closed. She had half a mind to throw a tantrum and release all the stress of the past three years bottled up inside of her. But no. A queen needed a bare minimum of dignity.

"Right, of course. As my queen wishes," Arus nodded. "I shall inform the Guard. They can shadow us from a safe distance." He gave a bow, revealing another scar on his scalp, before leaving the room. The embroidered white lotus at the back of his coat had some loose strings on it. The man could benefit from visiting a seamstress himself.

***

Dahlia had an urge to skip as she followed Arus down a clean kept, but busy street. The Nobility District, as the name suggested, was where most of Exaltyron's aristocracy and gentry resided or set up shop. Groups of ladies with parasols and bright colored dresses walked past, their polished shoes clacking against cobblestone. Some travelled with horse drawn carriages. Others shopped with a chaperone close behind.

Young men also roamed the streets, rich coats and high boots, arms linked with a woman's. Others walked in groups with matching uniforms of their minor houses and ornate swords at their waists.

Arus kept turning his head back leftward as if checking if Dahlia was following. The puzzling part was that his milky eye was on the left side. Could he see out of it after all? She shrugged the thought away and skipped to keep up with his long strides, humming. "Skipping down the cobblestones, window shopping as I go! Shadow stretching long and black, blooming noon sun at my back!"

Dahlia heard her guard cough as she sung the children's rhyme. She tugged on the hood of her forest green half cloak to hide her face which her skipping steps almost caused to slip off. They passed by a fountain with children running around it. Passersby flipped copper pieces into it for good luck. Arus turned a corner and she followed, taking a glance back at the gleeful children of her kingdom. She caught sight of multiple tall figures in long black cloaks just as Arus tailing them from a distance. Members of her guard.

Dahlia kept on humming, realizing she looked no different than a wealthy woman traipsing about with a chaperone herself. She repeated the rhyme again, wondering what the reaction would be if she were to sing a different version that she'd heard. A less modest version that adolescent boys sung often.

Arus stopped walking just before a steep decline that marked the beginning of the Commoner's District that made up Exaltyron's outer ring before the city's walls. And on the northwest corner of the city was the Impoverished District that was run by street guilds and housed a Shrine of Flames.

"We're here," the guard announced with his haggard voice, sliding down his hood.

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Dahlia looked up at the shop. No signboard. Blurry windows caked in dust. A dark interior. Cracks in the wooden planks making up the walls. A large difference to an inn that was right beside it with an alley in between, a building of stone with wooden support beams. A hanging sign creaked as passing wind made it swing back and forth, rubbing rusted metal against itself. The Ardent Socialite it read.

Dahlia brought a thumb up to her lip. She recalled the laughing children around the fountain. It had made her smile. But that was because those children could afford smiles. She looked over the shabby dressmaker's building again. Not everyone could afford smiles it seems. And there was only so much she could do for individual citizens.

She kept up her hood as she observed the surroundings. This shop was the only one that didn't stand out. One might consider it abandoned on first glance. Dahlia couldn't help but admit that a dark seed of bias was embedded in her heart. It made her doubt the quality of work that could come from here. She sniffed, the air seemingly thick with perfume. No one was near the shop, making her wonder where the scent came from. She froze, squinting through the open doors of a veranda on the opposite end of the street. Silk drapes hung at the door's sides. She flushed, averting her gaze.

Arus moved to open the door to the dressmaker's shop and Dahlia caught his arm. She pointed to the building opposite the shop, its size near twice that of the inn. "Is that…" she trailed off, frowning.

"A brothel, yes," the guardsman replied, expression blank. "Our esteemed seamstress provides most of their dresses."

"Sir L'Faleur," Dahlia hissed, glaring.

"Your Majesty, they don't only make revealing dresses if that's what you're worried about. It's honest hard work, as I said before."

Dahlia looked up at the worn down shop again. Then glanced back at the brothel behind. She sighed. Everyone had their own methods of filling their stomachs and maintaining a roof. Judging conditions was not her job. Her job was to improve her subject's conditions as best she could. Right now, that meant keeping roads safe and allowing goods to be moved throughout the nation. And of course, giving patronage to shops that could use it.

She shook her head, annoyed with herself for thinking of work when she was supposed to be out enjoying a half day off. This was her moment of respite. A moment where she could once again be a young dreaming girl. She let go of Arus' arm and followed him inside. A bell rung as he opened the door.

Dahlia crinkled her nose at the musty smell of the interior. Cobwebs were strung up at corners and old frilly dresses long out of fashion hung from racks, a layer of grey smoothed over the shoulders and collars as if someone had spread the dust along their surface as butter is lathered on bread with a knife.

"Oh, it's you," a feminine voice called from around a corner. She was short —shorter than Dahlia. She had a small round face and wore spectacles that didn't fit her small nose and looked on the verge of sliding down. They probably had many a time, one of the lenses being cracked. The seamstress had a head of brown tied in a thin braid. She wore a chic white dress that fit her thin frame well, and made her seem rather lovely in fact.

Dahlia gained a bead of confidence seeing her would be dressmaker be capable of dressing herself fashionably. But that didn't change the state of the shop or its products. If cloth material was poorly maintained, the finished product would be a failure no matter the skill of the seamstress.

"Lenuay," Arus said, offering a terse nod as if he were greeting a soldier.

Lenuay squinted, holding up a lantern. "It really is you," she frowned. "I mean, I knew it was you. Your voice gave it away. Grr. Where's Irus. He hasn't come to see me in months," she said, throwing up an arm and pouting.

So that's how it is, Dahlia thought, smiling beneath her hood.

"Irus is still at—"

"Arcaeus Peak, yes yes. Being important and all, protecting our esteemed princess." Arus coughed aloud. "Couldn't give less Ashes," Lenuay humphed. "I'll bet he's found himself someone else and you're just hiding it from me." She waved her arm. "Who's that? A customer? Has the esteemed knight Arus L'Faleur found himself a woman he fancies? Or did you just pick her up from the building across the street?"

The knight coughed again. Dahlia continued to smile, quite enjoying the interaction and not at all feeling insulted. Lenuay looked the shy type, but didn't come off as such when speaking to Arus. "This here is—"

"Dally," Dahlia said, cutting her guard off and pulling down her hood to reveal her gold locks. "I need an engagement dress. And a wedding dress. Before the year's end preferably."

The seamstress narrowed her eyes. "And none of the shops on your way here appealed to your taste?"

Arus coughed again. "I recommended your shop to my distant cousin here."

Lenuay shrugged. She pulled over a stool and sat atop, feet hanging in air. She took out a sketchbook from a shelf and a charcoal pencil. "Right. Anything you had in mind, or should I decide for you, Lady Dally?"

"Whatever makes me look beautiful," Dahlia said fiercely. "Not just beautiful, mind you. I mean beautiful. Something that can crack the hardest of shells. Because that's just the—" she cut herself off, turning away. Arus was supposed to be under the impression that this wedding was between her and the First Chancellor. Everything was supposed to be kept under wraps. She began chewing on her thumbnail.

Right now, Azurus should be on his way to the capital with Odain under custody. Hopefully Eildred returns before then to orchestrate Adrian's apprehension. The First Chancellor had many allies within the court, all of them brought together through religious zeal. A haphazard arrest without proper investigation from her best guards would only lead to strife within the palace.

Dahlia also wondered if Azurus had actually received the order to arrest the Vicegerent. She hadn't heard any reply from him. Roxanne Draumen's betrayal was a difficult development to swallow. But Azurus had done what he thought fit. She could only trust his judgement.

"…fits you better," Lenuay was mumbling. Dahlia hadn't been paying attention. "Something darker could have a seductive charm, or it might just come out grim and clash with the color of your hair. White is best, I believe. Any opinions, my lady?"

Dahlia's attention was caught on an insect struggling against a web it'd gotten caught in. The question registered a few seconds late. "Hmm? Oh? Yes. White. If you think so." Lenuay wasn't actually looking up. She head her neck bent low in what seemed an uncomfortable position, face mere inches from her sketchbook as she scribbled with intensity, stealing glances at Dahlia. She then stopped, peered, and blew on the pages to dust off excess black dust.

"Would this work?" the seamstress asked, holding up her paper. Dahlia gasped. The woman had drawn two like images of her in two different dresses. Lenuay pointed with her pencil. "I think for the engagement, we'll go with the one on the left. A tighter fit with a dragging dress length. Down here by your feet I'll stitch together red rose patterns for a bit of flare. For the wedding itself, a sleeveless white and wider and frilly skirt with layers of light cloth for ease of movement and dancing. A bit plain, this, but it will allow your hair to steal the spotlight and keep gazes fixed on your face. And if I had to recommend, keep your neckline bare. A plain silver might work, but necklaces usually clash with plain dresses. Earrings would be fine, however. Also, the women across the street tell me they're most frequently kissed on the neck and collarbones. I think keeping them bare has a certain appeal."

Dahlia flushed, more so at the thought of Eildred's scruffy face pressed against her neck rather than Lenuay's shameless comment. She mutely nodded, heart pounding, thinking up how she would coax that mountain into marrying her.

"Now then, just measurements and we're done. Oh, and I need the address to send it to."

"I'll come check in a few cycles to pick it up," Arus cut in. Lenuay frowned at him but shrugged again, motioning Dahlia to follow her to a backroom to get measured.

***

The streets were glazed with a deep gold of early evening when Dahlia left the shop. She pulled up her hood, smiling all the while and feeling light enough to fly. She started to hum again just as a hooded figure bumped into her. "Oof," she said, feeling something tug at her waist. A thief stealing her purse.

Arus was already giving chase before she'd recovered. They'd barely gone a dozen steps when the thief was caught. He pulled a knife from the shadows of his cloak. Dahlia opened her mouth to warn her guard, but Arus had the situation under control.

Something struck the back of Dahlia's head.

She fell forward, cheek hitting the road with a thump. Pain radiated from multiple points on her head. Her vision swam and tears gathered. A gag was shoved into her open mouth. Someone was on top of her, keeping her pinned and binding her arms.

"Quick, drag'er inta the alley," a voice whispered.

"My lady!" Arus cried, turning back with sword drawn.

Dahlia screamed into her gag, pain befuddling her thoughts. She bit down on the gag as if that might remove it. She was pulled up and dragged away, knees and cheek throbbing. She pulled against her captors, blinking out tears. Two hooded men blocked the path between her and Arus.

She was dragged closer to an alley between the inn and the building to its right side. Her captors suddenly let her go and she tripped over her own pulling momentum, falling to the ground again, wounding her kneecaps twice over. She whimpered as she tucked in her legs and tried standing with haste. Something warm sprayed onto her back and a bald man with thick arms collapsed beside her. Her binds were undone and four of her shadowing Guard surrounded her.

Arus ran towards her, his blade gleaming with a red sheen that dripped on the stones, two men behind him lying face down and unmoving. "Your Majesty," he breathed, half his face seeming relieved while the scarred half with the milky eye seemed as menacing as ever.

"What's happening?" Dahlia asked, her voice cracking with the phlegm that'd backed up in her throat. Even as she asked, the scene unfolded before her eyes. People screaming as figures in hoods attacked without discrimination, stealing from and stabbing at anyone decently clothed. Flaming bottles were thrown into windows and houses roared to life. Bleeding children were thrown into the fountain, turning the crystalline water red.

A dozen more of the Lotus Knights were on the street, slaying as many of these assailers as possible. "Your Majesty, stay behind me," Arus commanded. "We must return to the palace plateau."

"But the city—" she began. He already had her by the arm and was dragging her along, the other guards following. Exaltyron was lit aflame. Everything was happening in a dizzying blur as Dahlia ran forward, bruised knees screaming with every step. Her guards killed anyone coming at them with weapons in hand. They shoved aside citizens that were running alongside them seeking protection. Her people were suffering and she was running. She tugged against Arus' grip but he held on to her tight. "The people," she managed to say through her quick breaths.

Arus ignored her just as her protectors ignored anyone else, women and children alike, not stopping for a second for anyone in their path. Her life was more important than anyone else's. She knew that. But it was wrong, what they did. Entirely unbecoming of knights. "Sir L'Faleur, I command you to stop!" Dahlia cried, nearly choking over her own words.

"Commands refused," the knight bellowed, not turning to glance at her at all. He took a sharp turn and she stumbled, nearly falling. "The people won't matter if you don't exist. Your protection takes priority over all, my queen."

"But—" Dahlia began, coughing. She sucked air through her mouth, tears at the corners of her eyes, heart pounding. Her voice was drowned by screams and shouts all around her. Arus at last slowed as he approached the incline leading up towards the plateau. A handful more of her Guard were waiting there to receive her, long black cloaks veiling their blue uniforms. They surrounded her and escorted her up the road.

Dahlia glanced back at the city, many rooftops aflame. Luckily the fires weren't spreading yet. They'd been lit on individual structures. But the higher she got, the more fires she could see, the more crowds there were screaming at and fighting with each other. Armed men serving the city's nobility formed ranks and pushed back the attackers while calming the crowds. They formed a perimeter and slowly began expanding it as they reclaimed lost ground.

Dahlia stopped at the plateau's top, looking down at her city in despair. "Where are the royal soldiers of the capital?" she cried, despite knowing it would take a while for them to mobilise and force their way through such dense chaos. Riots were breaking out wherever she could see. She caught sight of a white flag with a burning lotus upon it.

"Flaming rebels," Arus spat.

Dahlia closed her fists. This was supposed to be her break. A moment of breathing. It turned out as nothing but a foolish dream. How had the insurrection spread to the city without her knowledge?

The unread reports on my desk… There had to be something there. She'd made an error because she was too drunk on a young girl's emotions. Or was it her fault from the beginning for underestimating the insurrection? Was this a deeper rooted issue than she'd originally thought? She'd reduced palace security, and half the city's troops were outside with Eildred. No better chance would arrive for rioters and rebels to take advantage of.

Dahlia smeared her tears against her cheeks as she turned around and marched back to the palace. Reports would be flooding in and decisions had to be made with haste. But her heart wasn't wholly in it. A queen's task was too burdening. Would the heavens not even allow her a half day's worth of joy?

She clasped her hands and closed her eyes, still walking forward with her guards around her. Eildred, come home. Please. I need you. I need you now more than ever.