Chapter 36
A clash of mice, part 1
Arwintar, Imperial Palace
Dressed like that, Gazef felt like a clown.
The trousers consisted of a pleated 'skirt' about knee length, with a puffed trouser peeking out from underneath, fastened at the knees with ribbons. This included sumptuous decorations with dull-coloured silk tapes - at first the Queen's tailor had insisted on more liveliness in the color scheme, but the captain's resistance had miraculously managed to make him desist - and bows on the knees, stomach and around the waist. The lower trousers were trimmed with knee-length lace, as were the shirt cuffs and collar.
He also wore a short, open-front doublet, under which a puffy white shirt trimmed with lace protruded. A brown jacket completed the ensemble.
Had it not been for the sword hilt he wore around his waist, there would not have been much difference between him and the nobles who were gathering in the large hall set aside for the festivity. Tables were set and chandeliers formed rainbows of lights, welcoming him to a world that was totally different to what he was used to.
"Something is troubling you, Sir. Stronoff?" Queen Draudillon was radiant in her red velvet gown. Gazef's eyes were caught on the decoration depicting the symbol of the Draconic Kingdom, although different from the usual one seen in the official heralds. A stylised dragon whose scales shone in the colors of the rainbow, embroidered on the woman's chest. "Are you not comfortable, perhaps, surrounded by all these people of high rank?"
Slaine's captain quickly averted his gaze, having noticed where his sight had landed. In part for performing that unfortunate act, in part for not letting the Queen notice his disturbance. "I've always been more comfortable in simpler places. Even as a mercenary I always let my superiors bargain with the local princes or lords who hired us. On my side, I would rather prefer to stay in the background, whereas here it seems to me that everyone does their best to grab attention."
Both men and women engaged in long and apparently interesting conversations, each of them interested in establishing connections and establishing themselves as future partners for those present. His soldierly instincts, however, warned him that nothing in that place was as it seemed.
The flamboyant beauty of the women was no mere play on empty vanity, but spider webs finely woven both to catch the attention of future suitors and to distract from what were the real intentions behind those sugary facades.
Likewise, men did not flaunt wealth and success in vain exercises of vainglory, but to make themselves as attractive as possible to possible new business associates.
In that labyrinth of acquaintances and words that concealed double entendres, themselves masking subterfuges, a peasant of humble origins like him seemed the proverbial fish out of water.
"I understand you perfectly, Sir. Stronoff," the Queen chuckled, the lipstick on her lips making her even more charming. "I confess that even I can never quite fit in at events like this. If I manage to seem confident now, it is only because necessity dictated that I learn to disentangle myself in this nest of snakes."
If it was a lie, Gazef found it reassuring. He thanked Queen Draudillon from the bottom of his heart for stooping to show such consideration even to one such as himself.
"Now give me your hand," the fingers of the woman's left hand extended gracefully, waiting to be grasped. "You are my knight, and I command you to behave as such!"
That imperious tone was amused rather than authoritative. The man accepted that delightful order.
"That's better," the Queen commented, as their fingers intertwined. Gazef felt even the tip of his nose blush, but fortunately it seemed none of those present paid any attention as they walked down the central aisle.
"Announcing Queen Draudillon Oriculus and her escort, Sir Gazef Stronoff!"
The Emperor's crier sounded like thunder in the midst of the storm, in all the confusion. But such was the strength of his voice, that silence seemed to have entered with them. Or perhaps it was the splendor of the Queen that provoked that reaction, especially in the men, even though some of the women did not seem to mind.
The second option was by far Gazef's favorite.
"They are all looking at us," she whispered in his ear. "Maybe they are mocking an old woman posing as a princess," the tiara she wore on her head shone a clear, heat-bright light, making her auburn hair stand out.
"I have no reason to think that," he replied truthfully. "And if anyone should really believe such a thing, I am ready to repay this shame with the sword!"
"Take care not to soil your new dress. It would be a shame to see you soiled with blood in a lovely outfit like this," that friendly chortle seemed to have brought good humor back to the Queen's face.
They finished that awkward but not entirely unpleasant moment of introduction. Tables had been placed at the sides of the room, but there seemed to be very few who intended to use them. Instead, standing around to chat and make friends seemed the normal policy there, to Gazef's chagrin.
"Oh, Queen Calca is coming right now."
Draudillon drew his attention to the newcomer. A woman with long golden blond hair and cyan eyes was walking the same path they had taken a short while ago. Dignified and graceful in her white dress, she sported a not too ostentatious smile that exuded confidence and warmth.
"Who is the woman accompanying her?" But Gazef's curiosity focused on the attendant. Short brown hair framed a face that would have been charming, were it not for the serious, uncompromising expression that did not hint at backing off. More than a human being, she appeared to be a guard dog keeping a close watch on her master. "Of all the women here, she is the only one wearing armor."
"Remedios Custodio, grand master of the order of paladins of the Holy Kingdom," Draudillon gave adieu to his curiosity, as Gazef observed how that armored lady succeeded only by her presence to ward off any man who tried to approach Queen Calca. "They say her skill in the fighting arts is unmatched in the entire nation."
Slaine's captain was intrigued by that last statement. Judging by the way she moved, he considered that reputation not exaggerated. It would have pleased him to exchange a few blows with her. In a friendly way, of course.
"Queen Draudillon, it is a pleasure to see you in such good form," Calca and Remedios had approached them, not without many male gazes aflame with desire moving in their direction. "Long time no see. I have heard of the grave situation in your kingdom and am deeply sorry that I cannot provide adequate support. Unfortunately, the Holy Kingdom is also under constant threat from demi-human incursions and our resources are tight.."
In any other person's mouth, those remarks would have appeared false and mocking, but spoken by Calca they appeared truly sincere.
"It is also a pleasure to see you again," Draudillon replied, returning the other woman's concern with a grateful expression. "Yes, things in the Draconic Kingdom are not going very well. But the luck is not entirely gone. Thanks to the help of exceptional people like Sir. Stronoff here we continue to endure. I cannot sufficiently express how grateful I am."
When he realized he had been brought up, Gazef lowered his head, trying to hide the embarrassment.
"Your praise is undeserved," his heart skipped a beat at hearing those compliments, but for how much he forced himself, he could not consider them to be entirely true. "It is only thanks to your guidance that even weak swords like mine manage to be useful in times of need. Do not underestimate your role in all this, for you would be making a regrettable mistake."
"It is good to see that you have people you can trust, Queen Draudillon," Calca said. Was that a human being or an angel speaking? The differences from the celestial and the mundane at that moment appeared indistinguishable. "I myself could not have been more fortunate in receiving the blessing of such capable people at my side."
It was obvious to whom she was referring. Drawn in, Remedios for a moment lost the hardness in her gaze, revealing a soft and unexpected kindness that struck Gazef.
"My sister and I are the lucky ones to serve a magnificent ruler like you," those dark eyes that mimicked the sharpening of a sword, narrowed in a burst of devotion, not too dissimilar to what the captain had observed the inhabitants of the Theocracy perform when in deep prayer. "Your dream has given us something to put our lives on the line for! For that, we will be forever grateful!"
In that brief interaction, there was more than mere respect. The tender love that only exists between long-time friends and that showed up at unexpected moments was evident even to someone as awkward as him. A bond made of mutual cooperation, the object of an envy he described as unexpected.
Calca, probably used to that outpouring of affection, spoke softly: "No, it is I who thank you for putting yourselves at my service. If I am where I am now, I owe it also to your continued support."
"Your words do me honor. I hope I can continue to be worthy of your trust," the paladin returned to her normal stiff expression. "Let's cut to the chase," she said, her forehead twisted into a frown. "Sir. Stronoff," the harsh tone with which she apostrophised him might have sounded disrespectful, but to Gazef it was only evidence of the woman's forthrightness. "Allow me to offer you my heartfelt congratulations on your heroic defense during the siege of Gelone's fortress. Tales of your valor have reached even our lands. I am honestly amazed and in awe to meet you in person!"
They shook hands, Gazef not entirely comfortable hearing that account. Him? He was nothing special. Why had his very name been spread to the four winds? If it hadn't been for Captain Nigun, he wouldn't even be in that place now. It was the Sunlight Scriptures that had to be celebrated as heroes.
Feeling like an impostor walking among legitimate celebrities, he grew as small as he had never been before.
"I do not deserve all these compliments," was not false modesty his, but a mirror of what he perceived to be the truth. "The courage of my men and all those who fought alongside me should be commemorated. I was just one of many who put their lives on the line to defend something they believed was important."
"Humble," Remedios commented under her breath. "Humble. And maybe a little stupid."
"I don't think I heard you right."
"Recognising one's worth is important, Sir. Stronoff," interjected Draudillon, who had not been unmoved by the conversation. "I think Lady Custodio didn't mean to imply anything malicious. It is simply strange to see someone of your caliber continually trying to discredit his own achievements."
He could not see the strangeness in his behavior. If anything, it was that constant quest for exaltation that seemed out of place in his opinion.
"Let me clarify. As Queen Draudillon correctly inferred, mine was not meant as an insult to you," the paladin scratched her right cheek in awkwardness. She was not a person accustomed to apologizing, Gazef thought. "It's just that I find it peculiar to see someone try to elevate the merits of ordinary people so much. Such an action in our country would be viewed, I won't say with suspicion, but certainly not favorably."
Calca nodded in confirmation.
"Some of the nobility would frown upon such conduct," the Queen of the Holy Kingdom added, not without a hint of regret in her words. "They would seek to destroy the author, lest his attitude lead to subversive conducts. Or they would seek to use him, raising him up as a model for the people, but under the direct control of those with blue blood in their veins."
A target to be eliminated or a puppet to be maneuvered. Following that reasoning, their judgment of him had not been unfair. In fact, perhaps it had been far too generous.
"Nevertheless," Remedios looked at him with such intensity that Gazef felt himself falter. The woman's gaze burned more than the sun and stirred more than the current of the sea. A startling sensation at first, but one that was then replaced by a comforting feeling of security, after becoming accustomed to it. "I myself have been called stupid numerous times. And as much as I do not agree with your methods, I cannot help but find them undoubtedly appealing. As a commander on whose shoulders lie the lives of numerous subordinates, however, I cannot be of the same opinion."
"What do you mean?" Gazef asked doubtfully.
"I think it is better to adopt a tougher attitude towards those under our orders," she began to explain, without continuing to lose her composure. When she talked, she seemed to be the only person in the room, all the other nobles around them disappearing abruptly. "It doesn't matter if I have to be hated for it. There is little room for friendship or good feelings on the battlefield. Don't get me wrong, bonds between soldiers are extremely important. The lives of my men depend on me, and for that I am bound not to make even the slightest mistake. Insubordination or permissive behavior will not be tolerated."
Inflexible.
That was the definition that best suited that woman. To move her would have been like asking mountains to move, seas to rise.
"I understand what you say, and I largely agree," he said, smoothing his chin. "Although I prefer to establish a bond based more on trust and mutual respect than discipline and order. A synthesis of our approaches could be the ideal solution."
Remedios strangely brought her lips together in a thin line, which must have been a smile, however lacking in endearment it was. "In the end, the only thing that matters is the goal. The complete destruction of those who threaten our safety," her fists clenched. The sword she carried at her side shone with an imperceptible, blessed light. "Ours and that of those we protect. Do you not think the same, Sir. Stronoff?"
Gazef had the impression that he was on trial, at the mercy of a judgment that would not be appeased by empty turns of phrase or vague assertions alone.
"I have fought against the enemies that threaten humanity. Time and time again. Both when I was a mercenary in the south, and when I entered the service of Queen Draudillon," he paused for a moment, to gauge the reactions of the women there. The paladin continued to inspect him on every angle, from the height of his shoulders to the tips of his toes. "I am willing to offer myself whenever my services are required, without hesitation. I confess, however, that if another path is possible, one that would spare not only my people, but also those I now call enemies, pain and suffering, I would show no hesitation in taking it."
Draudillon shook his hand, as if to indicate that she approved of these statements.
"A world where no one suffers. That would be really nice, don't you think, Remedios?" Calca's eyes narrowed, caught by a sudden feeling of melancholy. But they immediately relaxed with renewed vigor. "I find myself agreeing with what you said, Sir. Stronoff. Our nation has forged bonds of friendship with certain demi-humans living in the seas around us. A sign that cooperation between different races is not impossible. One of them is even a member of our most capable warrior group."
Demi-humans and humans who not only lived in harmony with each other, but even collaborated! Such a notion would not have been looked upon favorably in the Theocracy. At the mere thought of how his subordinates would consider such a prospect, Gazef was seized with despondency. He groped for the Fire Goddess's symbol he used to wear on his chest, but only then realized it was not on his new suit.
"What my Queen said is right," Remedios seemed to finally begin to relax. Always hard as a rock, perhaps more to herself than to others, she now however smiled shyly, revealing an unexpected charm. "Once again I am compelled to apologize. I know I may sound uncomfortably direct, but it is only because I am keen to assess those who stand before me. It is a habit that many times is mistaken for arrogance, although I can assure you it is only dictated by genuine curiosity."
"I fully understand what you mean, Lady Custodio," he reassured her, awkwardly trying to communicate with body language that there was nothing to worry about. Failing. "If nothing else, it is reassuring to know that the Holy Kingdom has such an impenetrable shield ready to defend it. I would not mind, one day, drawing my sword along with yours."
"Likewise," a found understanding could be a precious treasure. Remedios exchanged a look of understanding with Calca, who, like her, seemed delighted by the interchange. "Should we find ourselves in difficulty, we will know whom we can ask for help."
"You are not attempting to pull my valiant knight from under my feet?" Draudillon joked, provoking an amused reaction from the other women. "It's not easy to find people of such rare skill. If only they grew like fruit on trees, ready to be picked..."
'So I would be like an apple?' Gazef wondered, reflecting on that analogy. What to think about that, he didn't know.
'Well, Draudillon, you said it yourself. People like Sir. Stronoff are a rare find. I don't see what's wrong with trying to curry favor with a darling like him," the Queen of the Holy Kingdom teased her, receiving a dirty look in return. "Seriously, should you pass through our Kingdom's precincts, don't mind requesting an audience, Sir. Stronoff. And the same goes for you, Queen Draudillon."
"And if you happen to mow down any demi-humans en route, all the better," Remedios added. Was that her way of jesting?
"Ah, I need a drink," Draudillon drew the attention of one of the waiters wandering around, carrying an assorted selection of drinks on a tray. The Queen of the Draconic Kingdom chose a glass of red wine, which she began to taste slowly. "Ah, refreshing! Jircniv knows how to choose wines, I have to admit it. Won't you take anything?"
Calca opted for a glass of sparkling wine, while Remedios and Gazef made do with plain water.
"So the rumors of your drinking prowess were true," Calca observed, not without first following the other woman's example. "Liver of steel, that's how I heard you being called in, admittedly, some unfavorable places. 'She who can delight in alcohol even in the most tragic moments'."
Although there was no malice in what he had heard, Draudillon grew gloomy, in the grip of an unpleasant malaise.
"I'm not surprised," but the mood returned serene in a flash, thanks to a fortitude that knew no surrender. "True, when times were hardest I found solace in the bottom of a glass. There will be joy even in agony with strong wine... no? But not for an instant did I let my vices take over my duties. Not for a moment. It would have been an affront to the hard work all my subordinates have done in these times."
Was she talking about him? Gazef noticed that the Queen gave him a couple of glances full of gratitude, but he did not dare to think that there might be something more than a simple misunderstanding.
"In any case," Draudillon continued, the tone of her voice proud and bursting. "It's worth noting that when in command, or in any other position of power, are placed women like us, Queen Calca, the backbiting tends to be more... harsh. Not that it is a written rule. But I'm willing to bet that Jircniv or most of the male nobles here have a higher tolerance for alcohol than I do. But surely no one will point that out to them."
"It's a truth I have to live with myself," Calca found himself agreeing with her. To Gazef, the placid calm of the ruler of the Holy Kingdom seemed replaced by a lively ardor. "I have had the displeasure of hearing some insinuations that some malicious tongues spread about me merely because of my maidenhood," and as she finished saying those words an air Remedios's expression grew -strange as it might be- even sterner. The paladin turned quickly to grab a canapé that was being served, almost causing a shock to the young waiter who was passing by. At least, she seemingly readjusted to the previous situation after that quick exchange.
"Exactly!" Draudillon exclaimed, her blue eyes as serene as the sky. "And don't think things would have been any different otherwise. When I was younger -not that I'm not now- I had to be constantly careful that my love escapades didn't become the subject of gossip. King Ramposa was a vigorous lover when he was young, but I don't recall anyone ever calling him 'The Slut King'."
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Gazef felt out of place in the women's chatter. It wasn't that he didn't understand the meaning or didn't share the reasons. But a fish out of water would have moved more nimbly than him in that situation.
"Speaking of reigning women," fortunately for him, Remedios launched the discussion onto another topic. "What do you think of this famous KingSlayer? She should be making her debut any minute now."
Indeed, by now the hall had filled up with almost all the guests. There were both the princes of Re-Estize and some representatives of the Union of City-States, as well as numerous other influential nobles from all parts of the Empire.
On the sidelines, the Slaine captain also noticed a small group belonging to the Theocracy. Leading them was Cardinal Raymond, with whom he had exchanged a few words before being sent to the Draconic Kingdom, accompanied by a woman who wore the same type of robes as he did. Next to them was a young guy whose face was completely covered in ink-black tattoos and a gigantic man, in comparison to whom even Gazef looked like an infant.
"I have no idea," doubt and another emotion crept into the folds of Draudillon's gaze. "Certainly, if the stories about her are true, I wonder for what the hell reason the Theocracy didn't think to put her in play before now. It's fine to keep one's secret weapon... well, secret. But how many lives they could have saved..."
That emotion was anger. It was barely imperceptible, masked so cleverly that it could not be noticed unless one had been in close contact with Draudillon for days as he had. But that quivering on her nose... those hands struggling to maintain composure... her voice growing slower... it could not have been otherwise.
But who was the ruler of the Draconic Kingdom really angry with? With the Theocracy, which had not used all its resources to save a friendly nation, or with herself, who had always had to resort to outside help to save all that she held dear?
Gazef never knew the answer. Although he could unfortunately guess it.
"What I care about," Remedios said, unconcerned about her interlocutor's feelings. "It is the military prowess of this renowned KingSlayer and, above all, understanding which side she is on."
"You're not going to replicate your attitude just now, Remedios?" Calca's intuition seemed spot on judging by the paladin's embarrassment as she struggled to hide it.
Gazef imagined the paladin making her way through throngs of curious nobles only to impetuously debut before the entire court of Baharuth and the Elf Queen.
He held back an amused giggle, to avoid sounding rude.
"Now, with permission, Remedios and I will head elsewhere. We have many more people to greet. I bid you my greetings, Queen Draudillon."
"'And the same to you, Queen Calca."
By now the room was packed with people. Gazef and Queen Draudillon followed Calca's example and went off to give greetings to several other important personalities. Between a count and a duke, they found themselves conversing with the Re-Estize delegation.
Of the three siblings present, only Princess Renner made a more significant impression. She was as radiant as he had heard and, judging by the way she conducted an amiable conversation with Draudillon, also a person of marked intelligence and personality.
The other two - Prince Zanac and Prince Barbro - gave him a completely different feeling. Especially the latter. He judged him as a poor sheep doing his utmost to appear like a proud lion, but whose roar lacked real authority and might.
Rude to both servants and other individuals of his social standing, he seemed like a balloon full of air ready to burst at any moment.
Flanking the princess of Re-Estize was a youthful-looking knight. Still a young boy, he would have been incredibly out of place between all the other men-at-arms had it not been for the shining breastplate he wore and carried with dignity and respect, like the most precious of treasure.
"Are you alright?" Gazef asked him, noticing an agitation that was struggling to be controlled. "If you're nervous, you have nothing to worry about. I too feel like a helpless little dog in the midst of wolves."
The young man teased his fingers, perhaps astonished by that unexpected consideration. "I cannot understand what a commoner like me is doing in a place like this. I'm afraid of making the princess look bad just by my presence alone."
Devotion to one's sovereigns seemed to be at home in that place. Unlike Remedios who was certain of her abilities, however, the knight of a few winters seemed in the grip of doubts that Gazef knew all too well.
"If your princess has chosen you, it means she considers you a trustworthy person," he offered him a glass of water to help steady his nerves. "Be proud and act accordingly. Your abilities have been recognised and it would be disrespectful not to value them."
With that advice that seemed aimed more at himself than the boy, Gazef got an uncertain smile in acknowledgement.
"May I ask you a question?" Polite and straightforward. If one was to judge a book by its cover, first impressions were great. "You are from the Draconic Kingdom, are you not?"
At the affirmative answer, the young man's emotion became charged with surprise. Lighting up like a stellar night sky, the tone of his uncertain voice was replaced by one filled with admiration.
"You are then the famous Gazef Stronoff? The one who repelled an invasion of Beastmen? I am a great admirer of yours!"
"That pleases me greatly," if he had understood one thing from that day, it was that he could cash in on sword slashes better than he could react to compliments.
"My name is Climb," no surname or suffix, a symbol of the boy's humble origins. "It is a great honor for me to make your acquaintance! I hope you will not be offended to know that you have been a great role model for me, along with the former Warrior Captain of the Kingdom. Every day I train with the clear goal of only being able to touch your great feats!"
"No offense taken. On the contrary, I am grateful," when, exactly, had he lost that enthusiasm that characterized Clim? In the knight, Gazef saw again a younger version of what was now a tired, old man but, at the same time, was imbued with an energy he did not know he had. A desire to prove himself, that that past ardor had not disappeared, only slumbered. "Compliments like this only entice me to give even more of my best, with the hope of one day living up to the expectations of enterprising young men like you."
"May I address a perhaps unexpected request to you?" An unjustified, but understandable shyness. Gazef opened his ears wide, inviting him to speak. "A rehearsal battle with me, if you have time after the ballet. Not that I believe I can even be your equal," he hastened to quickly wave his arms, to avoid any misunderstandings. "I just want to know how much further I have to go before I can touch the top."
"If there's a chance, why not?" He couldn't remember exactly when they were supposed to leave again, but he was pretty sure they would stay another couple of days after the ball. Finding a snippet of time to fulfill the boy's wish would not have been impossible. "But be warned. I won't stay just because it's a simple exercise. There is a risk that you could get very hurt."
"I can't ask for better!" Climb's soul blazed. They both shared a belly laugh, the seed of a newly planted friendship.
"I see you have made a new friend, Sir. Stronoff," Queen Draudillon interjected, approaching him. Evidently, she had finished his conversation with Princess Renner, and judging by the puffs of tiredness the woman emitted, it had not been very pleasant. "Ahhh. Every time I talk to that little girl, I feel like a fool. That way she has to turn her head after saying something unconscionable as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Is it me or is she the crazy one? I don't know... I don't know."
"You look tired, Your Highness."
"I'm just remembering how difficult events like these can be," if for Gazef that was just a way to make new acquaintances, for Draudillon there were numerous interests to keep in mind whenever she approached someone. He dared not even imagine how challenging it could be to always have a nation's destiny and future in mind. "And the guest of honor has yet to show up. I just wonder if..."
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming."
The woman did not have time to finish her sentence when she was interrupted by the ringing voice of the Emperor of Baharuth, placed near stairs adorned with expensive decorations that evidently served as an honored entrance.
"I know you have had to wait a long time, and for that I apologize. But now that you are all gathered here, let me introduce tonight's exceptional guest. The new Queen of the Elves, also known as KingSlayer and Devastator of Armies. Antilene Heran Fouche. Give her a round of applause, everyone!"
The sound of clapping became incessant as a graceful girl descended the red carpet that had been rolled out on the staircase.
Enclosed in a long black dress that reached to her feet, wearing a pair of heels of the same color, over a white tunic, she drew all gazes to herself, like sweet honey attracting a flock of bees.
Her hair was of an unusual coloring, part pure white, part deep black, entwined in a ponytail where the two tones merged in a vortex of contrasts that first joined, then parted in a divine and celestial dance with a rhythm that was now calm, now decisive, now explosive.
The expression on the face was serious and austere, but devoid of other emotions. Indecipherable. But the eyes... even the eyes replicated that exact same light and darkness pattern. Secrets of life and death in that gaze that seemed from another world.
There was no mystery to be revealed, therefore, in the fact that each of those present, when the figure of the newcomer stood out, ceased all clicking noises, in the grip of the greatest astonishment. Draudillon also shared the same fate.
And such a fate would have befallen Gazef himself, if his attention had not been caught not by the Elf Queen but by the elf woman who accompanied her.
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A sea of eyes watched her in the shadows. Faceless faces, whose glint of probing stares were the only thing she could make out.
Where had she ended up? In that place she did not recognise, surrounded by people who were not her own? Friends, enemies, had ever mattered as much as it did then?
Darkness was no more as she descended that staircase towards hell.
Wraiths who had decided to cover themselves with human flesh, disgusting and aberrant parodies of human life, writhing, moving in grotesque imitations of regular movements.
Antilene shook the hands of noblemen and noblewomen, over and over again. Words, words that never ended. In front of her, she could not see the end of the hall stretching into infinity, as the steps continued on a catwalk where only she went on.
What would she eventually reach?
Voices moving over other voices, speaking an unknown language. She heard and listened to what they said, stored it in her mind and immediately discarded it.
Emptiness. The abyss was empty. You looked inside and understood that from the beginning there was only one thing: you.
They had raised you to a blasphemous idol, a curse to focus their interests on.
The half-elf was their savior, and their tormentor.
The long shadows of the nobles forced the dream into a circle of voices. Then she saw that darkness change into a comet, and the stern faces became stone, their arms outlines of branches, calling her to herself, in the motionless gestures of another life, a life that was not her own.
'Stop talking to me. Stop looking at me. Stop listening to me.'
A novelty to be explored and then abandoned. What could that crowd see in her?
What was true didn't matter. What was a fabrication, could be attractive.
She hated them. She didn't know them, but she hated them.
Antilene hated being the object of their desires, their hopes, their ambitions. She hated those false smiles, passing off fraudulent intentions as requests for friendship. She hated those flattering compliments, born of envy and resentment.
And most of all, she hated herself, for she had become the central attraction of that masquerade.
To her who sought the reason for the deception expressed by those faces, she was offered only a restless memory, among the remains of a collected dream, which now seemed reality, now fantasy.
"Is everything alright? You look pale."
"I'm just not used to being in close contact with all these people, that's all," she reassured Agravaine, as deep breaths were taken to calm herself. "How long have we been here?
"It won't even have been ten minutes," her sister replied, motioning to other guests still approaching to give them some space. "Do you think you can make it or do you want to take a break?"
"I'm fine. I just need to get some air."
To the dismay of the other nobles who were still waiting their turn to make her acquaintance, the half-elf made her way to one of the adjoining balconies, stepping out onto a nearby terrace.
'Why am I here? What am I doing in this place?'
If only the stars could have given her an answer. But they remained in contemplative silence, while her pleas remained lost in the silence of the night.
"I know you are here, show yourself! Before I lose my patience."
The darkness took texture, revealing a man in a tight red suit reinforced with shining metal plating all over his body. At his forearms and shins, white bands waved lightly cradled by a gentle breeze.
"I did not wish to inconvenience you, Lady Zesshi, but Cardinal Raymond ordered me to follow you, to be sure nothing serious had happened."
The twelfth seat of the Black Scriptures, Heaven and Earth, bowed down on his knees in respect, taking care not to direct his head protected by that strange helmet in her direction.
"I just needed a moment to myself, that's all," though a little annoyed, she was nonetheless grateful for the concern that had been shown to her. "Are you sure you can show yourself here? If you were discovered it could be a problem."
"I'm pretty sure there shouldn't be a problem," he replied confidently, but without the presence of haughtiness. "This isn't the first time I've infiltrated the Empire, and no one has ever been able to sense my presence. Even during this reception, I was perfectly invisible to everyone except you, Lady Zesshi. Or shall I call you Queen Antilene now?"
The half-elf wondered how Jircniv would take that news, unable to help but be amused by that possible answer.
"Antilene will do just fine for the moment. We are old comrades after all," even though it now seemed like a lifetime had passed. More events had happened in a few weeks than in decades, for time knew how to be foolishly capricious. "So who are the attending members of the Theocracy besides you and the Cardinal?"
With all that confusion, she had not even had time to notice which of her old countrymen were present. Alah Alaf would have forgiven her for that sin?
"Besides Cardinal Raymond, Cardinal Berenice is also with him. As bodyguards Strongest Human and Divine Chain have been chosen from the currently free members of the Black Scriptures," he stood up, finally starting to stare at her straight on. "And me, of course."
"Of course," she turned her gaze to see if her absence had been noticed. The Emperor of Baharuth and Agravaine held back the nobles' incessant questions. From their point of view, the Elf Queen was probably an ill-mannered lady who had preferred to spend her time talking to herself rather than having deep discussions with them. If their opinions had mattered to her at all, she would have been almost regretful. "Oi, Giunio," the assassin was taken aback upon hearing his name, pulling back in surprise. "Don't you think I'm out of place among those high-class people? I just look like a clown there for their delight. Watch the freak perform for you, and laugh! Applaud, at the monstrosity posing as one of you!"
"I don't want to hazard any rash judgments," he said, running a hand over funny little green tufts that acted as the 'hair' of the protection he wore. "But I think you are being too hard on yourself. Are you sure there isn't something else bothering you and who is preventing things from being seen clearly?"
"Something troubling me huh," he might have been right, but she couldn't find a satisfactory solution to that query. "Maybe I should never have left the Theocracy."
"Do you think that returning home, to your old abode, is what would make you happy? He asked innocently. Someone of his profession was used to getting to the point.
No.
It would not.
"I'm going back in," strangely, that had been enough to calm her down. Just talking. That was all. "I guess this is goodbye for now."
"Should you need my help, please feel free to contact me, Lady Zesshi... Antilene."
The assassin returned to the darkness, and the half-elf returned to where she had been until some minutes ago.
To the nobles who approached in curiosity, Antilene merely explained summarily that she had been taken ill for a short time and was now feeling better. Although it was certainly not a sufficient explanation, the new Queen of the Elves did not worry too much. She saw Jircniv grinning smugly, as if he had already anticipated the victory of their little 'challenge'. She promptly ignored him, heading towards her sister.
Agravaine was engaged in conversation with a man whose tanned skin stood out as an unusual sight in that place. Standing upright, he could have blended in perfectly with one of the columns that supported the hall.
"Am I disturbing?" The elf opened her mouth slightly when she saw her sister coming, while the mysterious interlocutor stiffened. Antilene noticed that he wore a short sword attached to his waist, a symbol, in that place and occasion, of his membership to the warrior class. "I didn't want to interrupt something important, just to make sure everything was going well."
"No, indeed," Agravaine tightened her lips, trying to keep a straight face, but the symbols heralding insolent laughter were all too obvious. Her sister's cheeks were engaged in a tittering effort to not explode. "I've just been boarded with the oldest trick in the book. This charming gentleman... excuse me, can you tell me your name again?"
"Gazef Stronoff. Current guard of Queen Draudillon Oriculus, ruler of the Draconic Kingdom," a terse introduction. But it was the first time the half-elf had heard that name. Or was it? Unfortunately, memorizing what her mind perceived as trivial details wasn't her most remarkable skill. "It is a great privilege to make your acquaintance, Lady Antilene. Stories of your great deeds have reached even this humble villager's ears," having said that, he knelt down with an ungainly, but no less heartfelt, motion.
It had to be admitted that the supposed warrior knew how to make himself liked. There was an unusual kindness in the way the man posed himself to others, which made it easy to approach him as if he were an old friend one had known forever.
"Sir. Stronoff it is," the elf proclaimed with a friendly smile, a sign that there was no hostility in her words. "As I was saying, Queen Antilene, this gentleman approached me on the pretext of asking if we had met somewhere before."
"Scandalous! I didn't think my lady-in-waiting was capable of kidnapping hearts as deftly as she shoots arrows from a bow. Not that I expected otherwise..." The half-elf puffed out her chest in a gesture of only apparent pride, for that achievement was also hers. "I must be doubly grateful, though, Sir. Stronoff, as I never thought I would find anything even older than the two of us in this young royal court, but my skepticism has been swept away by the boldness of your approach techniques. I have to offer my thanks and then my thanks again to someone who didn't have me to remember the unpleasant truth that I am an old hag."
Indeed, only the imperial mage could have sported that boast, as far as Antilene information about the Empire went. Fortunately, she had not had the pleasure of meeting him; from what she had been told he abhorred official occasions such as this. To find out that she was older than a man renowned not only for his magical abilities but also for his wise and revered appearance would have been a blow to her self-esteem.
"I think there's been a misunderstanding," the soldier tried to explain, with a shyness unusual for that mighty body. "Mine was not a clumsy attempt to impress Lady Agravaine... Not that I don't find her charming, of course..." he lost his train of thought after the elf's smug reaction to those last words, but it didn't take him long to find it again. "I have no way to prove it, but I am sincere when I say that in her I saw an old acquaintance of mine, a person to whom I owe much. Indeed, forgive my impertinence, Lady Antilene, but I notice a small resemblance in you too, now that I can look at your features more closely."
He seemed strangely honest, which is what attracted the half-elf's curiosity. The best liars were the one who could make their falsehoods an impossible hypothesis for the listener, but hell knew if it wouldn't have surprised her if what he told them was just a scam.
"And does this mysterious acquaintance of yours have a name?" Waiting for an answer, Antilene grabbed a pastry the waiters were serving, before her stomach could embarrass her. With all the fuss, she hadn't put anything under her teeth for more than half a day and now the results of fasting demanded satisfaction.
"I'm afraid I don't know it," he huffed, more sorry for not being able to give a satisfactory answer than for his ignorance. "But I owe him a great debt, which I hope to repay one day. If I am here today, and not buried somewhere in the Masakan Desert, I owe it to him alone."
He came from the south, then. That explained his darker complexion. Unusual, but not entirely so rare. The same place Aeneas had headed for, if she wasn't mistaken. Perhaps it was true that the Gods did not play dice.
"I'm sure you will one day, Sir. Stronoff. Much sooner than you think, I dare say," Agravaine's was no mere attempt at comfort, but sounded an almost mathematical certainty. How was that possible? An idea flashed through the half-elf's mind. "The important thing is to have faith, isn't it? The Gods hear our prayers, even if sometimes they need a little nudge."
"Yes, you are right," the desired result was achieved in any case, as Gazef became more relaxed. "I demand your forgiveness for disturbing you over such a futile matter. Impulses prevailed over reason."
Antilene was on the verge of saying that these excuses were unnecessary, when they were joined by a woman who stood between them.
"I hope my knight was not too rude," she said. Long auburn hair fell loose over shoulders that rose proudly. "Though knowing Sir. Stronoff, I would be surprised if that were the case. By the way, let me introduce myself, Queen Antilene. I am Draudillon Oriculus, ruler of the Draconic Kingdom. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance!"
Maybe all that was just a parade to make the Queen's introduction more memorable, Antilene reflected.
"The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty!" A greeting that embraced formality with complacency. The two Queens smiled, both because they didn't know what other way they could communicate, and because they couldn't help themselves. "I have heard much about you. I am glad to know that your territory is safe now."
Blue eyes mirrored her duality. Placid and serene at first, a reflection of the beauty of the sea, they stirred and moved as churning water engulfs the gorges, retreats and rises until it swells on the hollow of the wave.
"All this was only possible thanks to the precious help I received from valuable friends. It is above all thanks to the intervention of your country that I am now here, and not in the stomach of some beastly man," a deep gratitude that clashed with a gushing denigration. But aimed at herself, not at others. Antilene read in that seemingly confident woman a desert whose grains of sand were made of regret. "My achievements are little, especially compared to those of the KingSlayer, Your Majesty. A Queen who is unable to defend her people is just an incompetent who deserves to be dismissed."
Sadness flew into her arms like a little swallow, and her fingers like tears, moving from eyelash to throat, suggested to her face the tenderness of an almost begged remorse.
"Is it really so?" Antilene's question intercepted the rebuttal Gazef was about to make. The knight silenced, waiting. "I am not an expert in matters of government, quite the opposite. What I have been taught, however, is that each of us has qualities that we are bound to make the most of. Qualities that are adapted to specific situations. It would be unfair to ask a guard to do accounts, a merchant to defend the kingdom against external enemies. Following the same reasoning, the task of a ruler is to govern. And in this, if the reports I read about you were true, you were commendable."
Even the army composed of the greatest warriors would have had difficulties if there were no capable commanders to coordinate their movements and define their strategies and tactics.
"Queen Antilene is right," Gazef exclaimed in agreement. "I can speak for all my men, and all the soldiers I have had the pleasure of fighting with, when I say that we are all ready to lay down our lives for you! And this only because your leadership has been excellent!"
Self-sacrifice did not arise out of nothing, but was a natural reaction to elements that triggered it. Devotion came with respect. And respect was earned with effort.
"The travails of war sometimes make me forget how lucky I am to be still alive. But I thank the Gods every day for the blessing of the ones at my side" the woman adjusted a few strands that fell across her forehead, regaining her good humor. A ray of light amidst the darkness dispelled the somberness. "It was not my intention to afflict you with my worries. Rather, tell me, what are your intentions now that you have also become part of royalty? You must have numerous plans, I imagine. I admit that the current situation in Evasha's forest is not very familiar to me."
How to explain that the same applied to her as well? Antilene tried to gloss over that last part. "I don't have many at the moment. I'm still trying to determine the best way to exercise these new responsibilities that have literally rained down on me from the sky," a cold shower from which she had not yet fully recovered. "Seeing the wonderful example shown by people like you, Queen Draudillon, is certainly inspiring."
"It would be nice if you too became a capable ruler like her," Agravaine added, somewhat oddly wistful. They both knew it would never happen, but evidently her sister still held vain hopes. "However, it would also be ungrateful to ask more of you than you have already done."
"Your words flatter me," Draudillon mormored embarrassed, but without failing to show a hint of complacency. "Why do you not visit me in the future? It would be pleasant to receive such a distinguished figure at my court. It is modest, but it can be welcoming," she raised her arms, caught by an unpleasant realization. "Not that I ask that only to receive your military aid."
"The thought didn't even cross my mind," Antilene lied. But she didn't care so much. Killing a few demi-humans wouldn't have been too demanding a task in any case. "I will treasure your offer, Queen Draudillon. In fact, it is in my plans to travel nearby, to continue my education in the arts of government."
"I'm counting on it, then!"
They said goodbye with that promise to meet again. Gazef faithfully followed his lady, addressing a lowering of his head as a greeting.
"They seemed like nice people," Agravaine commented, adjusting the hem of the green dress she was wearing.
"Yes, we will have to try to keep our word," agreed Antilene, feeling exhausted. "All these introductions are energy-draining. I could use a refill."
"You'll have one soon," that sardonic smile did not portend anything good. "You'd better get ready."
"What do you mean?"
"The dance is about to begin."
"Ah..."
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