It bothered Rodgardae that no one had been able to find Mani that morning when Sentie appeared with the bad news. He knew he tended to be jealous of his consort’s time and attentions, and he also knew that Mani was utterly trustworthy in all regards. It was simply in Rodgardae’s nature to be possessive (as was true of most dragons), and when Mani was missing it made Rodgardae cranky. Mostly because he was mad at himself for being mad in the first place, which was a vicious cycle. He knew he could not hold his thoughts in check for too long and it was obvious to Mani that Rodgardae was not happy, above and beyond the unexpected attacks on Watt, so after a sparse lunch of cold cuts brought up to the map room, he made their excuses to his staff and Milles. Gathering up the correspondence from Watt, and sending his cousin off to sleep in a proper bed, Rodgardae left the war room with Mani on his heels.
Mani at least held his tongue until they reached their suite — it was stoked warm, the way both men preferred their quarters — and switched out his boots for padded slippers. “Ah, Ro. My darling. You’re mad at me.”
“Arguably, I’m mad at everyone right now, especially Emperor Rhezv.”
Mani nodded, although Rodgardae did not think it was in agreement.
“Where were you earlier?” Rodgardae asked, stripping off his jacket and waistcoat.
“Ah, now we get to it. You hate when I go missing.”
“It only disturbs me that you cannot be found.”
Mani cocked his head. “Is this a matter of language? Because that sounds like what I said.”
“I don’t own you, Mani. You are not something I misplace and call ‘missing’. I simply wish to know where you are.” Rodgardae sighed, running his hands through his hair. It was short enough that the cowlicks ruled and he was sure it was all sticking up in some crazed way. Mani seemed to like it, which was all that mattered.
“No, but it bothers you when I’m not at hand.”
“It bothers me when no one knows where you are. We’re going to war.” Rodgardae walked over to where Mani was sitting and crouched down in front of him, putting one hand on his knee. “War, with a sly and devious enemy whose goals are either obviously crazy or completely inscrutable. I do not need you tethered to me but please at least let Wildt or our staff know where to find you.”
Mani sighed, but covered Ro’s hand with his own. “Worthan found me. I was reading in his study.”
“You have a sudden interest in dragon physique?” Rodgardae stood up again, somewhat mollified but convinced that Mani was not telling him the full story. His consort was cagey at the best of times, but that was also the nature of a guardian, so he was told.
Mani snorted imperiously. “No. But he also has very nice volumes on culture and geography.”
“Of Watt?”
“Yes, of Watt. The land my lord comes from, and where we shall be going soon. I thought it fit to know north from south.” Mani studied his nails.
Sighing, Rodgardae took the wine decanter off the sideboard and set it on the table between the chairs, then fetched their goblets.
Mani eyed their drinks. “Early for such extravagances.”
“You are the one who always complains that we don’t start early enough in the day.”
“Yes, but after all, it is my charge to try and civilize you north-sea heathens.” Mani took his goblet of wine with animated pleasure.
Rodgardae settled back in his chair, allowing himself a similar enjoyment of the luxury. He usually kept his drinking habits to the social hours, but given the news of the day and the hard future that faced them, he felt he was owed at least a short moment of repose. “We face dark times ahead.”
“I know, Love. I try not to imagine it too clearly.” Mani studied the wine in his glass.
“What troubles you?”
Mani rolled his eyes, and Rodgardae laughed. “Aside from war, I mean?”
“You should use me better than you do,” Mani said.
Rodgardae’s eyebrows shot up and he knew he looked incredulous. They had nearly broken the bed that very morning, and he was not sure he could survive trying to meet his consort’s needs more than he already did.
Mani looked at him in confusion before doubling over laughing.
“Then what do you mean?” Rodgardae grumbled as Mani collected himself, wiping tears from his eyes.
“Oh, ha! What I mean is that, unlike the people of Kaaltendt, I was raised around dragons, and now I am guardian to one. I know them intimately, and in fact sat in the nursery dens many a time as a young man to oversee the kits. I do not know war, I make no pretense to soldiering, but I do know dragons better than most here, not counting the dragons themselves or Dr. Worthan.”
Rodgardae nodded in agreement, for there was nothing to dispute there. “There is nothing for you to do. The day-to-day tending to lairs, and any immediate needs we have, are in the hands of the dragon maids. Dr. Worthan is a most able physician, and I am the military head of this fort.”
“But you have no Matrica.” Mani spread his hands wide.
Rodgardae blinked at the archaic term for “Queen’s aide.” He knew that Akanata still had revered Matricas, or at least he knew that people held that position in their society, but he truly had no clue as to why. Given their rarity and, in his mind, uselessness, he had never asked.
Mani seemed to take his surprise as a question. “Every future dragon consort is trained to be a Matrica. My education is even mentioned in our contract.”
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“Our contract is six feet of rolled calves-hide and written in small script. My brother’s solicitors read it; I didn’t.” Rodgardae sipped his wine.
“You cared so little for it?” Mani smiled teasingly.
“The old Akanata tradition of guardians and contracts carry little weight for me. I cared so much for you that I had no concern for what the contract said, as long as it bound me to you.”
“Hm, I thought it was to bind me to you.” Mani sipped his wine, trying to hide his blush.
“Whatever it may say, I assure you that I am yours.”
Mani stared at his wine again. He was a proud and sometimes arrogant man but he always became bashful under the weight of Rodgardae’s affections. Rodgardae suspected that Mani had been the son with the lowest expectations in his family, although he would never ask. But he had seen how his own younger brother had chased approval from those he could never catch up with, and many younger nobles of Watt had burned their fires too hot and too fast in attempts to make up for being the youngest brethren. It was only a suspicion, but Rodgardae was confident that he was right.
“Back to our point: the fort lacks a Matrica. Such as it is, all of Kaaltendt outside of Queen Theaedra’s flight lacks a Matrica.” He sipped at his wine and stared darkly at Rodgardae. Then he set the glass aside, sitting up properly as if he had made up his mind. Rodgardae waited patiently as there was no use in pushing him.
“As for your mystery, I was taking lessons from Maid Aegirine on Kaaltendt etiquette, manners, and politics.”
Rodgardae bit his lip before answering. “She is a fine woman.”
“You’re a jealous nag,” Mani sighed, rolling his eyes. “But not a blind one. Yes, she is handsome and of a fine figure. I’m not without appreciation, Rodgardae.”
Rodgardae tried not to glare at him, but failed miserably. He felt lucky that Mani did not humor his jealousy, because it was a thing that could turn dark and nasty if encouraged, as Rodgardae knew too well from his youthful indiscretions at his brother’s court. Clucking his teeth, he shook his head.
“I am unconvinced of the need for a Matrica here, nor what your lessons with the entirely too generous Maid Aegirine might have to do with the matter.”
Mani leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Ro, have you any idea what a Matrica does?”
Rodgardae opened his mouth to give a witty reply, but thought better of it and simply shook his head instead.
“We are ambassadors for the dragons. They are our sole concern, above state or country or even the Gods. You are all forthright and honest, but it makes you appear blunt and rude to humans. A Matrica serves as the voice of dragons to the community, the smoother of dragon scales and human pride.”
“We get along well enough in Watt without them.”
“Nor do you have a queen.” Mani dropped the phrase as bluntly as any dragon would, and Rodgardae could not hold himself back from flinching. Mani sat back in his chair. “If dragons were as common in Kaaltendt as in Akanata, there would Matricas here. If there was a queen to give coherence to your five scattered clans of Watt, you would have Matricas there, serving as the bridge between her inscrutable dragon ways and the humans under her rule.”
Rodgardae did hold back his cringe, but not without a cost. He knew the history of his country since the death of Queen Esthae was mercurial at best, bloody at its worst.
“As Matrica of Fort Endestern I would be your representative to the dragon maids, and to your military, in all social and community matters. Since there is no queen of Watt for me to represent or speak for, I would naturally be beholden to your own prince, securing my loyalty beyond the confines of our contract. With Maid Aegirine’s assistance, I could perform such a role with dignity and efficiency within the mores of Kaaltendt society as well, assisting you in communicating with Queen Theaedra’s court. I mean no word against him, but Captain Wildt, for all his human-like charm, is still a Kaaltendt dragon in the end. Tell me you have not heard him explain dragon matters to your other military staff too plainly at times.”
“Roosting is rarely dignified, there is no other way to explain it than plainly. I feel that they think we are giant chickens sitting on the cliff, sometimes,” Rodgardae muttered, remembering just such a disastrous discussion with lower-level commanders that he had unfortunately been witness to. Mani started laughing again.
Rodgardae glared at him. “Five years we’ve been contracted and you have never brought this to me.”
Mani shrugged. “We have never been stationed at a remote military aerie getting ready to fight the hordes of Iskaryyva — and possibly the mythological giants of Khzern — before, either.”
“You have a point there.” Rodgardae waved a hand at him. “I am still not convinced this is necessary, but your timing, as always, is impeccable. I will need assistance in all matters as we prepare to sail to Watt.”
Mani did a double take. “Sail to Watt?”
“Your conclusions in the war room reflect my brother’s thoughts on the matter, and his letter was plain: the fall of Watt is nearly guaranteed.”
“If it’s guaranteed, why go?” Mani set down his glass with a heavy clink, anger coloring his expression. “It will be a suicide run.”
“Our goal is to delay the inevitable, I suppose. And miracles do happen in war, after all. My brother was not, shall we say, generous with specifics. It is much as Captain Wildt spoke earlier, though, and they demand every dragon to the front.”
“Kaaltendt keeps you here as guard of its coast. Taking your tiny flight of dragons, which need I remind you is not even a full wing, and heading directly into the war zone might be considered abandonment of post.”
“Rhezv has no shortage of dragons serving him, and neither does Watt. Kaaltendt alone is bereft of its natural defenses. Should Watt fall, then it will not matter if every dragon in Kaaltendt is ordered to fight, there will not be enough of them. One division of Emperor Rhezv’s army will outnumber them, and that’s not counting if the giants of Khzern are actually in the mix. No, the crux of this battle is Watt itself. Both for the defense of my home territory, and to obey my orders from Prince Tonae, we must go defend Watt.”
“You mean the whole compliment? Dragons, soldiers, dragon maids, support staff?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a long enough flight for a fast dragon! By sail it will take weeks!”
“Sentie flew straight through for four days without stopping. By ship it will take at least seventeen days, possibly three weeks if weather is against us. It will take us two weeks to prepare to leave.” He turned the glass in his hands around, studying it. “Which is why my brother called for us now. At best we can continue the defense. At worst, we will be turning around to help evacuate.” He knew, but did not add, that the entirety of the government had been moved from the capital to the most western outcrop, the Netherien Naval Base, in preparation for just such an eventuality. He fully expected for them to encounter passenger ships heading in the opposite direction toward Kaaltendt filled with the spouses and children of noble families. It would be a futile effort if Watt fell but both humans and dragons were equally prone to grasping at thin shreds of hope. He felt, sometimes, that Watt had been doing so since Queen Esthae burned.
Mani was still staring off into the distance, slightly stunned by the news. Rodgardae could not blame him, as he was not particularly encouraged by the thought himself. Rhezv’s forces were mighty in numbers and strength, and if their speculation about the giants being tamed to use as carriers was even close to truth, then Watt’s downfall was inevitable. The entire encampment of Endestern would be a pebble thrown at a tidal wave.
Rodgardae had considered sending Mani back to Akanata for his safety when he first read the orders from his brother. Consorts and mates would not be treated well by the conquerors, Rodgardae knew that for a fact. But given Mani’s proposal to take on the mantel of Matrica of Fort Endestern — a title that had maybe never existed before, or perhaps so long ago that no one remembered — he doubted that his beloved would leave his side willingly.
They stayed in quiet contemplation for a while, until Mani’s natural restlessness had them dressing for dinner. Rodgardae planned to regroup in the war room after the early meal, and would announce Mani’s new role to his staff at that time. He sent a message to have both Doctor Worthan and Maid Aegirine present for that. If nothing else, they needed to know what was coming for all of them.