Titanya

The steel sound of the boots echoed in the long hallway. The portraits on the wall kept staring at her as she marched down the hallway which led to the Advisory. The place where all of her counsellors discussed matters of state too complicated for her own ears. The light of the sun rose between the pillars on her left, hitting her eyes as she walked. But Queen Titanya of House Sacrabus marched on.

Two guards stood in front of a wooden door, the heart of her kingdom, and she couldn't do anything but hate them for letting everything go so wrong during her Coronation. In the distance, the voices of her advisors were still ringing, reaching her by bouncing off the white walls. She knew they were mocking her. They were mocking her for all the things happened.

Her memories of the events, as poor as they were, made her feel ashamed. Their pieces were still flying around her mind, unsure of where they fit.

As her boot tapped the white marble once more, she heard the guards whisper amongst themselves. They were telling stories of how she fainted during her Coronation, making her memories hit her like a tower falling on a horse.

She remembered the Wolf of Darlan, Caroline, falling down on the ground, with her shield pounding against the floor. She remembered the eyes of the Northerner, shining in the colour of ice under the shadow of his pointy hat. She remembered the fear in her soul when he used magic against her soldiers.

He was the only lowborn wizard she had ever seen and the idea of more people discovering abilities like that scared her. She remembered her Queensguard swarming the room, forcing the Northerner's men into a more defensive position. She remembered Angels dying everywhere, only her friend, Elyanna, managing to keep living. She didn't know how the rest of the Angels fell, but she knew they did.

She remembered a hand taking the Cup that held her father's ashes away from the altar. She remembered the hand throwing the ashes on the ground, a shade of purple smoke rising where they touched the ground, releasing a bitter smell of death. She remembered the ground shaking and cannonballs flying through the windows. War had reached her home... and she was powerless against it.

The doors of the chamber were pushed open in front of her. All of the voices she heard while she had been marching down the hall, into this room, were cut by her entrance in it. She threw her eyes around, trying to find the light of the sun, but the only light she found was one of a few aromatic candles, smelling like the well-dressed whores of Alexandria. The sudden change made her eyes sting as if they were being burned.

Her counsellors were all sitting around a wooden table, filled with foods and wine. Those petty men dared eat and drink during the most important meeting they had ever attended, just the thought of that made her former rage grow even further. Her blue eyes shining like the night in the candlelight, staring down at her Counsel.

She saw her Marshall, her Constable and the Master of Horse sitting on the right wing of the table. Their fingers were covered in grease and oil that ran down from the chickens and their beards covered with spilt wine from the shock of her entrance. Only the Spymistress stood out, her hand over a candle, ready to grip the flame.

On the left wing of the table sat her Doorward, her Treasurer, the Justiciar, the Almoner and the Falconer, who were all buried in their respective scrolls. She knew that they were trying to make sense out of all their collected information and report it to her, or at least trying to look as if they were.

At the very end of the table, sat her father's Hand, Lord Alcheor Albsburg of High Hall, distinguishable by his red whiskers and the green hue of his eyes that glittered in the dim light of the room. He was a fat man, with his fingers being thicker than the hilt of her father's sword. His head was shaved clean, letting only the whiskers connect under his chin. His ears were filled with tufts of red and yellow hair, dirty from the wax inside them.

This old, fat man was her greatest advisor, making most decisions for her father and now for her as she slept, ate and enjoyed the showers of the Summer. Shame ran through her like a jolt at the thought.

He was known as a warlord, second only to his brother, without ever entering the field of battle himself. Without ever raising a sword to protect his honour. He and her father were fostered in the same Castle so he was her father's only "brother", which made him the most plausible Advisor.

She noticed three of her council members were missing from the table. This brought a thought to her: How many more counsellors might just not be here? Counsellors I have never met and counsellors I will never meet after the fiasco that was my coronation...

But she knew the Legends surrounding some of the men present. Men who now looked like they were just old and incompetent if nothing else.

She knew the stories of her Constable, Archgeneral Zyon Lothbraeck leading her father's armies in the battles of the Woodstring and High Hall, personally killing the Usurper of the Alexandrian throne in the latter. She knew the stories of her Treasurer, Lord Boar Alchaer who seemed to be able to find Gold on trees. And most of all, she knew the stories of her uncle and Falconer, Lord Faemon Sacrabus capturing a giant within his traps, now too old to even move his own legs.

She couldn't spot the Captain of her Queensguard, or her sister, Harrietta the Mistress of Magic, in fact, she hadn't seen them at all in the three days that had passed since the incident at the Coronation.

"My lords," her voice was stiff and heavy as if she had drunk her father's ashes, for she hadn't used it in the past few days. Days which she had spent trying to find excuses to not attend her meetings with the peasantry. "it may be arrogant of me to ask, but I would like to know the situation in which my kingdom is right now", her tone was the one of pure anger, filled with sarcasm and hatred.

Those charlatans before her had brought her siblings to their deaths, that much she knew. She wasn't going to let them do the same to her. She was captivated by anger, her mind's eye only thinking about the various ways she could order them executed, yet, through executing them or even taking their positions away they would try to depose her with someone who wouldn't. Just as they did with her father.

Her head felt like a cauldron of thoughts and anger as if it had been swollen a thousand times its size. As if it was filled with her own blood and anger and then, before these thoughts had even been processed, her head shrunk again to its normal size, leaving her with drums in her ears and a cup of wine in her hand.

Lord Boar cleared his throat, before his childish voice rang in her ears, making her think that it didn't fit his wide shoulders and tall stance, "M'lady, it seems that some of your Vassals have stopped paying us taxes, yet, with the gold we seized from the Alchaeran Treasury our finances are doing better than they have been in the last century. This could allow us to pay back our loans to the bank of High Hall and be free of the burden that weighs us along with the rest of the Kingdoms", his face was long, like that of a horse and his crooked teeth seemed as though they would be blown off by talking.

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Like most people in her Kingdom, his hair could've once been the colour of the morning sun in the Summer. His eyes still had the beautiful colour of the bright blue sky, filled with soft white and grey clouds. The man wasn't older than fifty, yet he looked older than the most as if he were closer to ninety. He always looked so exhausted by the time he had spent in this counsel, so exhausted, in fact, that she thought of letting him go back to his home. But then she remembered.

She remembered that he was referring to a situation that had developed during the Alchaeran Revolt. It had been an attempt of some far relatives of her, men of House Alchaer, used their coinage to buy over Houses to revolt against her father. It had been his house. He wasn't to be trusted.

These wars had been complicated, she usually mixed up the names of Acheor Albsburg and many men of House Alchaer, but all she really had to know, is that her father had accumulated much wealth for her before her advisors ended the war to honour his death. "Well, instead, we could force our vassals to give us the taxes they owe us or find someone who will", she told him, "Lord Lothbraeck, how many troops are ready to march?"

But instead of him speaking it was the Spymistress' voice that filled the room. "Your Grace, my spies inform me that the Rebels prevent the Northeastern Houses from sending envoys and armies. If there is any need for bloodshed, these Houses, which include House Kilwin and House Thover will back us with everything they have to beat back the menace that is this Rebellion" her voice filled the room with darkness, even if her words were filled with light. They made her heart feel heavy in her chest and she didn't know why.

The woman was dressed in her red silks, with her golden rings on her fingers and the silver mask over her face, expanding outward in the shapes of the legs of a squid. Two eyes of violet shone underneath that mask, almost hidden by her black hair. The woman's brown skin didn't match her eyes, nor did her silks match the weather. But the Queen said nothing, she never understood foreigners anyway.

"Menace?" roared Lord Faemon, his brown eyes glittering under his thick white eyebrows, "My Beauties could take their armies down on their own. But of course, they aren't as incompetent as our good Archgeneral" he said, his deep hard voice mocking the other man. This man had seen winters come and go while he was out in the woods, training his beasts for war, and this made him the most trustworthy of her advisors. But her uncle was old. Too old and wild, having spent his life with animals and monsters.

And his beasts were never used either. Due to this, their Lord seemed to be was growing tired of the endless mind games of this council. Titanya looked him up and down, thinking how much he looked like a sorcerer rather than her Royal uncle who had refused to take the throne, even if he was older than her father.

A golden chain linked a brown cloak on his back and another was hanging around his neck with a closed eye carved upon it. It was fashioned in the shape of a tiny animal, something that looked much like a gryphon or a hound. But she couldn't see what it was. The only thing he could see was its crimson light in the darkness that surrounded it.

Unlike most of his family members, he had soft brown eyes that seemed tired. Having the face of a man who spent endless hours crying. Crying for his family. Crying for his people. Crying for the end of all wars. But for all his crying, he was a Firestarter.

Due to his words, all of the other Lords and Ladies started throwing insults at each other. Insults which were hidden behind sweet words of irony. Insults blessed by all of their Gods above. Insults blessed by Naem, Sarakh and the Night's Wolf. Insults on the name of the Kingdom of Alexandria. Her Kingdom.

The Queen cleared her throat and cupped her hands under her belt, her eyes swaying from one Lord to another. "My lords!" she said to them, her voice thundering and echoing through the room.

But they... they didn't listen and they certainly didn't stop. They seemed to think she was weak and powerless. And at this moment, the Queen thought the exact same thing.

"My Lords," chanted Titanya once more. Her patience was running thin, her blood boiling in her veins as she spoke, they were making their only ruler feel weak. She had to take action, she had to show them her strength. She had to surprise them. "How many soldiers can you provide me with within the next month?" she said, as loudly as she could without shouting.

Suddenly, all eyes turned to her. A hard silence fell upon the Chamber, captivating. It took a while before anyone said anything and it was her Hand, Lord Alcheor, "My lady, we can provide you with 30.000 war veterans from the war we just ended and 10.000 fresh recruits within the next month, including those provided by our vassals, enough to overpower our enemies", his voice was trembling, cracking... weak. This was a clear sign of his lies trying to overcome her.

She wasn't going to tolerate such lies!

"Make them 30.000 and one veterans, my good Lord, you shall be riding on the first line with your Queen!" she announced, a sadistic smile lining her lips. She finally had him but she knew it wasn't going to last long.

"But, my lady, you never had any military experience, why would you not let me lead your troops instead?" he tried, his voice now filled with fear and despair. His eyelashes started batting the flowing sweat away from his eyes. His skin seemed to turn pale and his eyes lost their life. She loved seeing this, as much as she loved a good tournament.

"A whole month is more than most people get to learn how to handle a sword before their first battle", said the Queen, before looking at her Marshall. "Ser Zaque, I suppose you will be the one training us?" she said, eyeing her Marshall carefully.

He was a huge man, with a black beard that covered half his face and raced down his muscular body. He couldn't be older than her father, a mere 18 name days older than her, but he seemed as if he could crush him in two if he ever wanted to. But her father had something that this brute of a man didn't. He had magic.

She looked over the table, at the end of the chamber, where the sigil of her House stood, unbroken. It was a golden Falcon, with its wings spread left and right. It was flying over a burning field, with ashes where the fire had started.

Those ashes simply marked two lines, one horizontal and one vertical, signifying the immortality of her house. She hated this sigil. It was perfect for her ancestors but not her. No, she was New Blood.

When all of her ancestors of the Old Ways died, she was going to change it into something more unique. She was surely looking forward to that day.

She eyed her advisors. Now, none of them dare speak, not her Hand, not her Archgeneral and certainly not the scorpion that was her Spymistress. They had underestimated her, started fighting in front of her, ignoring her questions. This would happen no more. Or so she hoped.

Finally, her Marshall found his rusty voice again, letting it cut through her like a sharpened knife as it echoed in her ears. "Of course, m'lady, yer command is me duty", he said, before standing up, coming closer and giving her a large bow.

His accent was that of a Northerner, thick and fast, with vowels being pulled here and there, stretched to match the zaniness of the words being spoken. It was lighter than the Northman's accent but still hard to understand. Maybe this was a valid reason to rid of him. Maybe not. She would have to wait and see.

Up close, she could see the parts of his bare skull in his thick black hair. She could see the scars across his face and hands. She could see the thick armour that was covering all of his body and the beard that was divided into three large braids, touching the floor as he bowed.

"Rise, my good Ser, for you are my master from this day forward. You are dismissed, for now, we shall see each other in three moments. My hopes are that you shall have something prepared", she chanted, watching him slowly rise and give her a small grin, letting her see a few missing teeth across his large face. His eyes glittered in a hue of blue, ice filling them as he raised his hand, maybe to place his hand on her shoulder, before putting it back down.

"Oh, I will m'lady, don't ye worry", he chanted, before rushing out of the room. His black furry cape rushing behind him. The cape that was the weirdest thing about the man. Even in the middle of Summer, when the sun could burn your skin off entirely, the man wore his cape, without a single drop of sweat falling from his chin.

She eyed the rest of her advisors and listened to them for next couple of hours, learning about her Kingdom's situation. They had 8 million Golden Darls in the Royal Treasury, which would be enough to get the Kingdom through twenty years of famine. Her horses had grown, her vassals were loyal and her laws were being followed. Everything else, except for the Rebellion seemed to go well, which made her mind start racing.

If everything went so well, why did they fight her in the first place? Why did the Rebels stand up and fight the first Queen of Alexandria and her father?