XIII. SILENT DEATHS, CROWDED LIVES

  After over a week of constant banquets, balls and general merriment, the wheels of government turned once more. The corridors no longer bustled with drunken revelers, but rather the subdued tones of policy and the harried footsteps of servants echoed the cavernous halls of the palace. The Queens cabinet was small, and many jockeyed to fill its vacant spots following a mass dismissal after her rise to power. Aislyn spent much of her time attending to mundane matters herself, sequestered in her study to read over letters and reports regarding the governance of reclaimed cities and suggestions to maintain the continued prosperity of the capitol.

  She folded her arms over her breast as she paced before the great window that overlooked the city below. She had taken to wearing her hair down, having grown accustomed to the freedom the style offered during her time on the road. The style was quickly picked up and emulated by the nobility. She rubbed her arms vainly against the cold, and tightened her cloak, which was as red as blood with gold fringe. Upon her brow was the silver circlet studded with rubies, a symbol of office as well as an heirloom of her family.

  She absently began to fondle the cameo necklace that was nestled between her bosoms. It was a simple copper coin with the image of a sylph pressed into it, cheap flecks of emerald were set where the eyes should have been, and its chain was some tarnished imitation of silver. It was an utterly worthless trinket to a Queen of her wealth, but the sentiments it represented being a gift from her husband long before they wed, made it a priceless treasure.

  Aislyn turned with a slight frown to her desk, piled high with tablets, ledgers and quite a few still unopened letters with wax seals from various noble houses. She took a deep breath in an attempt to steel herself for the unpleasant task ahead. She lamented the fact that she lacked a staff to sift through the chaff and forward only the most pressing matters. All that had served Laelianis before her had been relieved of duty. All that she had presently were a few old men that were loyal to her departed father and a handful of untested upstarts. She was forced to rely solely on Aichlan and Alice for information; she didn’t fully trust Siegrun and that worm Orson would latch his lips to the posterior of whoever held power at the moment.

  The only real bright spot was Séverin, he had been invaluable along with that mage Senka in keeping her abreast of the Sorn situation. Senka, like many of Duchess Templeton’s mages, had no real desire to use her craft in combat. As she had done for the others, she would extend an invitation to join her court and replenish the mage corps demolished by her father in his paranoia. The rumors that the woman had a penchant for overindulging in the opium pipe mattered little; so long as she continued to deliver she could have her vice. Séverin was another matter; he seemed to only be bound to his sister and The Cardinal. If one or the other could be convinced to stay, perhaps she could convince him to as well.

  A knock at the door snatched her from her thoughts. She looked to the large decorative clock above the mantle; it was forty-five minutes after one.

“Enter.”

  A young mage opened the door with a sheepish grin on his face. Was dressed in the black robes of his office, in addition to the insignia of her House upon a red sash.

  “I summoned you over an hour ago.” Aislyn said crossly, more of a show of power than any real annoyance.

  “My apologies Madame, I was delayed by—”

  Aislyn held up her hand, uninterested in his excuses. “Do what is required and be on your way, I’ve much still to do.”

  The young man nodded, unfazed by her curtness, and began to weave elegant patterns in the air before him. He pulled the glyphs apart, creating two identical, three-dimensional copies. He took one in each hand and cast them on opposite walls of the cavernous study. They glowed as they affixed themselves to the wall. The central symbol in each flashed several times as it spun, slowly at first, but rapidly picked up speed. The air before them shimmered with heat as the dull roar of a furnace filled the room. Aislyn watched with interest as the man approached the glyph closest to the door.

  “Should the air become too warm,” He tapped the edge of the glyph and it abruptly ceased its rotation with a tinging sound like a struck crystal. “Merely touch them.”

  He tapped the glyph once more and the rotation began anew. “The same to get them going again. They should last the remainder of the day and into the evening.”

  Aislyn nodded and tried to hide her awe. The few mages that had remained in her father’s employ weren’t nearly so skilled.

  “Will there be anything else I can do for your Highness?”

  “No, that will be all.” She replied with a curt wave.

  “By your leave then.” He bowed and left, closing the door gently behind him.

  She turned her attention back to the desk littered with unanswered correspondence. She sighed and took a seat, most of the letters were complaints, and nearly all concerned the Sorn refugees in some way or another. The rest was bookkeeping, such as treasury records, storehouse level reports et cetera et cetera. Hopefully these issues would be resolved soon, at least where the Sorn were concerned.

  The fallen nation was essentially deserted, and great efforts had been made to clear out The Dusk born from the border towns and cities. Efforts were already underway to return its citizenry to their homelands, voluntarily or otherwise.

  Aislyn looked up and jumped with a startled cry upon seeing Siegrun stand before her. She placed her hand to her heart and swore under her breath as Siegrun bowed, her face expressionless. Aislyn nodded with a grunt as she wondered how the woman had entered as silently as she had. Perhaps such things contributed to her father’s paranoia regarding mage folk, it would have certainly been understandable.

  “Is all well your Highness? She asked innocently.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Well enough.” Aislyn spat in annoyance. “I haven’t the time for you however; I’ve a kingdom to run.”

  Aislyn snatched a letter from the pile at random and tore into it with a bejeweled letter opener. If her tone offended Siegrun, she made no outward show of it.

  “Then I shall be brief.” She said, undaunted. “Though forgive me for asking, but should his Majesty, King Odell not be helping you with this royal burden?”

  Aislyn’s face twitched in a spasm of rage. There was a glimmer of…something in Siegrun’s eyes, something that betrayed the faux innocence of her question. There was no doubt that she knew as well as the other nobles that Odell was illiterate. He was barely qualified to run a farm, let alone a kingdom. Though bright and a quick, eager study, his knowledge base was limited to oral traditions of eastern Aes Sidhe and the labors of a common man.

  Aislyn shifted uncomfortably in her lavish armchair as she perused the letter. “He is at his studies. He must become acclimated to the Kingdom's language, culture, and history before all else.”

  She shot Siegrun a challenging glance, but as usual the woman was as stone. She tossed the letter into another pile and began to sort through another. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to humor this woman with explanations, and it caused her already foul mood to further sour.

  “He does quite well. Speaking of which, why are you here?” Aislyn said with the not too subtle subtext of ‘leave’.

  “I suspect he does.” Siegrun mused. “He was illiterate in his own tongue; it should be as teaching a babe.”

  Aislyn’s face flushed red with anger and embarrassment. Though spoken coolly and with innocence, she knew when she was being goaded. Despite this, she was unwilling to let the slight go unchallenged.

  “His ignorance is not due to lameness of mind, but rather the circumstance of birth!” She spat hotly as she shot up from her seat.

  Odell was a bright man, eager to learn and shamed by his own ignorance. He didn’t need others commenting negatively on a fault he readily addressed. She wouldn’t allow it.

  Siegrun held out her hands in a halfhearted attempt to convey sincerity. “But ignorant he is, hardly fit for the role thrust upon him.”

  “I am Queen!” Aislyn shouted, the ferocity of it caused Siegrun to flinch. “Odell is my husband, and this is our home, our kingdom. You were a guest to the traitor, not me, it would be best that you remember this should you wish to continue being the beneficiary of our hospitality. It would be all too easy for me to assign you more appropriate quarters in the lower levels.”

  Aislyn expected some sort of response, but received none. Surely the woman knew of the atrocities often committed in the dungeons, and Aislyn had issued no bluff to be called. As it was, she was the only connection they had to the council in Briternica. She was far too valuable an asset to kill and she knew it. Aislyn hoped the woman was intelligent enough to not get complacent, there were plenty of ways to make a person’s life miserable without killing them.

  “My apologies, your Majesty.” Siegrun said as she bowed her head in deference.

  Aislyn regarded the woman hotly for several moments before she took her seat again. “Why have you come Siegrun? Surely not just to test my patience and invoke my ire.”

  Siegrun stood at ease. “Negotiations with the mercenary group have completed.”

  “Ah yes, Aichlan’s little project. Very well, you may leave now.” Aislyn looked up from her paperwork, annoyed by Siegrun’s continued presence. “I said you may go.”

  “There is still the matter of support units promised to his campaign. He has reached a deadlock with the Duke of Gardenia without your input. There is also the matter of the troops being amassed along the Sorn border.”

  “I gave the Duke my blessing on the night before the wedding, if negotiations have since fallen through, that is no concern of mine. As for the troops on the border, it is my prerogative. Is there anything else lieutenant?”

  A hint of a frown crossed Siegrun’s lips. “You gave your word that—.”

  “Are you implying that I didn’t hold up my end of the agreement?” Aislyn hissed, cold fury in her eyes and upon her voice. “I gave him my blessing, if Duke Laurent does not wish to give support to the cause any longer, then that is something that must be discussed with him.”

  Siegrun sighed and straightened her posture. “Once again, I apologize, your Majesty.”

  Aislyn sat in silent appraisal of the odd woman for several tense moments. “Is that all then? I’ve far much to do for further dalliances.”

  Siegrun paused, seeming for the first time to be at a loss of words, if only for a moment. “General Izarius wishes to remain apprised of the situation, I feel it prudent to be as forthcoming with my intentions as I was with Laelianis.”

  “Forthcoming indeed.” Aislyn sneered. “Master Séverin has already apprised me of the situation.”

  Siegrun’s expression gave nothing away. “I see. Then I feel that I must voice my concerns.”

  Aislyn stamped two documents in rapid succession. “Very well then.”

  “I do not feel it wise to be wise sending the refugees back into Sorn. We are not certain of the location of Major Fiora’s expeditionary force, not that she would have been able to accomplish much in clearing out The Dusk born with such a small detachment. I also question the logic of amassing an army on the border, but sending the Sorn in with a minimal guard detail.”

  Aislyn finished signing several more documents before she looked up into Siegrun’s eyes. “I am afraid you are mistaken, there are no refugees. These people are immigrants who abandoned their homeland. Osric and his army of Dusk born filth decimated the entire population of Sorn; as such, the land is undisputed. The Sorn immigrants have volunteered to return to their former homes and prepare it for annexation. As for the army amassed on the border, they prepare to rendezvous with the Briternican Alliance, and lay siege to the former Capital of Sorn.”

  Siegrun felt her blood run cold. The arrogance of the woman seated before her was palpable. She had just admitted to callously sending the Sorn off to their deaths in an attempt to claim their lands with absolutely no remorse. Siegrun swallowed hard and began to rethink her approach; perhaps it was not wise to provoke a woman such as her.

  “I see, so I was.”

  “Indeed. Is there anything further?” Aislyn smiled, it was a challenge.

  “No, your Majesty.”

  Aislyn harrumphed and returned to her work. “Good, then be off with you.”

  Siegrun bowed and turned to leave.

  “Oh, and Siegrun, please send for my husband; tell him I desire his company.”

  “As you wish.”

  Siegrun felt chill as she hurried out of the study, despite the heating glyph that bellowed forth warm air.