Chapter 94: Control

Book 2, Chapter 56 - Control

The first of House Serene's cavalry units returned a nine day cycle following the siege's end. They were short a few hundred riders of the five thousand man group. They had sunken cheeks and dark spots beneath their eyes. Bloodstains on their cloaks had long since dried, becoming poor patchwork that one might find on a peasant's shirt. Evidence of mud were splattered against boots. The horses too were thin, ribcages pressing against their skin.

There was no sign of Elizia. This did not seem to be the group she'd been sent out with. Emeria watched from near one of the stables as her guard prepped their black horses for setting out. She pulled on a pair of tan gloves and pinned the ends of her blue cloak with a silver eagle brooch. Lord Serene met with his returned riders, taking reports from officers.

“We were met with an ambush that saw our wagons burn,” a grizzled man was saying. “We had more fall to pestilence and hunger than battle itself. Ended three different rebel battalions, all of them smaller in number than our own, but sizeable to ravage the countryside.”

The duke nodded. “You did well, soldier. Any reports from the other legions?”

“No, grace. I'm afraid not.”

“Very well. Rest up and bring me an account of the dead. Their families will need to be notified,” Lord Serene said. The soldier bowed before him and stalked off. Stable hands took care of the mounts as the worn soldiers filed into the castle.

The bell tower above the wall gates clanged again as they had when announcing the horsemen's return. “Black riders approaching!” the guard upon the tower shouted. “About two hundred or so. Queen's Guard carrying House Lakris' banner.”

Emeria's escort group. She walked up to the duke to bid him farewell. “Lord Serene,” she said, curtsying with her cloak.

He smiled. “That might be the second time you ever bothered to curtsy, your highness. The first was when you were as high as my knees.”

She blushed, recalling no such memory of her early childhood. “Don't miss me too hard, Your Grace. I will return soon. I won't have many visiting opportunities when I become queen one day. And…” she leaned in for a hug. “Don't worry either. Elizia will return. I know it. Lady Sar'tara will recover too.” The duke pressed a warm hand against the back of her head. Emeria squeezed her eyes shut and let a wave of nostalgia engulf her. It felt like her own father's hand.

“Give your mother my greetings. And apologies too for not doing more to prevent this rebellion.”

She nodded, head pressed against his chest. She quickly wiped the corners of her eyes and then pulled away. “Farewell, Lord Serene. This most certainly will not be the last time we meet. Where is General Rask, by the way? I'd like to say goodbye to him also.” Emeria didn’t recall seeing the Wolf of Metsiphon for several days in fact. He was usually around somewhere.

“Jengard has gone home to visit his family for a few days. I'll pass on your words to him.”

Emeria shrugged, crossing her arms. “Tell him I'll pay him back for kicking me when next I return.”

The duke frowned. “He what now?”

“Oh, you hadn't heard? That's right. He kicked me during our duel several months ago. Hard. Please do reprimand him on his return. He ought to be taught more than just manners.” Emeria bit her tongue. She wanted to tell the whole story, but she realized that she was only stalling for time. She wanted to stay a little longer and perhaps wait for Elizia to come back. But she was needed at the capital. She hadn't seen her mother in a long while and things couldn't possibly be completely stable after the riots in the city.

Azurus would also be at Exaltyron and Flames knew how fierce her desire was to see him again. She unconsciously touched her hip, expecting to run her fingers along the engraving on her sword hilt. But her blade was lost. She hadn't found it again after the siege's end, unfortunately. Some Empire soldier had likely picked it up and kept the beautifully crafted blade for themselves.

A group of black armored horsemen spilled through the open gates of the fortress walls. Sir L'Faleur greeted them, asking them about the safety of the roads, which they confirmed by the few words Emeria caught. They saluted Irus. It appeared that he would remain the head guard of her escort. Still no word on Radis Draumen…

Emeria boarded a carriage, less begrudgingly as last time. She wasn't much in the mood to ride a horse. But it would be a boring few days riding to Exaltyron again. No handsome blue eyed knight to tease. She half expected Azurus to be among her company of escorts, but no. She would have to ask him about that when she returned. Unless for whatever reason, he was not in Exaltyron.

Emeria waved back at Lord Serene one last time through the window of her carriage door. Sir L'Faleur then ordered the escort to move out.

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A somber atmosphere hung over Emeria's escort group. They rarely talked when breaking camp for the night. Rarely interacted with the original two dozen of her guards. Their eyes were always pointed to the ground when completing mundane tasks. As if they were ashamed of something and couldn't bring themselves to look up. The Queen's Guard were a well-disciplined bunch, but Emeria didn't recall them as having a complete lack of personality. Then, she never spent much time around them to begin with. She'd always had Azurus at her side rather than a guard unit.

The group reached Exaltyron a handful of days after setting out. Some parts of the city were in a state of rebuilding. There were half built houses and shops and inns that must have been destroyed during the riots. Emeria was surprised to be met with cheers from the citizens. She waved at them through the window of her carriage doors. She hadn't been met with this much enthusiasm before. Had they somehow heard of her feats at the garrison? Spots of embarrassment appeared on her cheeks. What kind of stories were being told in second hand about her for the people to revere her this much. She doubted her mother would garner this much attention from the people if she came out in public. It was like how Elizia described going home to Metsiphon after a battle. Lord Serene and Lady Sar'tara were said to always receive a hero's welcome.

So this is what that feels like. She wore a wide grin.

For all the wrong reasons.

The escort group climbed up the incline leading to the palace plateau. Emeria stepped out of her carriage once at the top, frowning at the scene before her. Something seemed overly plain. Yes, sowing season had barely arrived. The air continued to hold a chill dissuading flora from sprouting. But the courtyard felt barren. It wasn't at all like how Emeria remembered it. There should have been more trees. And hedges. Where were all the hedge fences around the corner of each path? Most of the trees near the front of the courtyard were missing also. There were only flat areas of dirt where she recalled trees being. Small weeds were sprouting from there.

“Did mother order the courtyard redone?” she asked a nearby knight. He shrugged, making his heavy armor rustle. Emeria waited for more. The Guard patrolled palace grounds. He had to know something more. But he said nothing and lined up at the side like everyone else, waiting for her to walk the white stone path leading to the palace. “Where are the gardeners? There are weeds growing around,” Emeria said to no one in particular, expecting someone to answer. No one did.

She frowned. She marched down the path and began climbing the short flight of stairs leading up to the open palace gates. Irus dismissed the other guards and ordered them to report at their quarters before following close behind her. He still had his helmet on but with the faceplate up.

“Something is making my hairs raise,” Irus muttered.

Emeria felt goosebumps form at his words. But she continued on. Her mother would have all the answers. Two lines of servants awaited Emeria inside the palace. All of them bowed as she walked past. Normal. She recognized most of the faces as being familiar. Some were new. Perhaps something had happened to the others during the riots?

Perhaps something has happened to Queen Dahlia.

No! Why would such dark thoughts ever surface? Emeria continued on, followed by Knight Irus. His metal boots clanked on polished floors. He removed his helm and held it at his side.

Emeria's heart started pounding when she reached the throne room where her mother normally awaited her when Emeria returned home, offering formal greetings before going about the day.

Two servants opened an ornate pair of metal gates. Emeria stepped on a long red carpet stretching to the throne. Her right hand, hidden by the blue cloak wrapped around her, moved to her waist by instinct. Right, my sword is missing.

Queen Dahlia was also missing.

The tall and cushioned golden seat on the opposite end of the hall was unoccupied. A line of familiar officials stood at the side of the hall. All of them wore the brooch of a three pointed flower rather than the lotus of House Lakris. And standing beside the throne with a red cushion in his arms was a man with combed back ash colored hair. The way his widow's peak stretched down part of his forehead nearly made his shining hair seem like a piece of carapace armor. A silver crown with violet gems rested on the cushion in his arms. And his clothes, a rich green coat, half unbuttoned to reveal a golden laced burgundy shirt, seemed eerily familiar. They were clothes any wealthy person might have, but Emeria couldn't help but feel a connection to them. Though recognizing that connection was something else. And recognizing that man was entirely lost on her.

“What is the meaning of this?” Emeria demanded, once she reached the throne. Her heart continued to pound. An empty throne and an unworn crown set before her. The answer was clear as day but she denied it. She so vehemently denied it, face twisting in uncontrollable grief and anger. “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?” she screamed. The officials shifted their feet and muttered amongst themselves. Irus took a cautious step around Emeria, slowly reaching for his weapon, keeping an eye on all his surroundings.

“A crowning ceremony, your highness,” the ash haired man said.

“I am not yet of age. Everyone here knows this. Where are Chancellors Adrian and Marco?” Emeria clenched her teeth. “Where is Queen Dahlia?”

“I'm afraid all of them are dead, your highness.”

Emeria could feel her eyes water. She couldn't keep it back. She stared at the throne. Her throne. She didn't want it. Not now. She wasn't ready yet. She turned to the officials, seeking a familiar face. Some she recognized, but faces was all she knew of them. She couldn't trust anyone here. Was this her dues for ignoring her studies and focusing on swordsmanship every chance she had? She could see the light in the eyes of all these old men and women. They didn't despair about the loss of their queen. They didn't share Emeria's pain. They wanted to be chosen as a regent or appointed chancellor. They wanted power.

She couldn’t allow that.

Emeria quickly wiped her tears, putting on a strong face. She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned to the ash haired man. “Who are you?” she demanded. “I think I'd remember one with such a bizarre hairstyle.” Strange. This man had smooth skin like that of a young man, but he felt much older than he appeared.

“I am but a humble priest of Trillia. Before Queen Dahlia's demise, she adopted the faith and I was placed here as her majesty's religious guide. Naturally, I do not expect your highness to follow in your mother's footsteps right away. But as far as customs go, the right to crown you as a new queen lies with the former queen's closest aide, which in this unfortunate case, is myself. Unless of course, you wish to honor old traditions and wait until your twenty-first birthday for the crowning ceremony.”

Emeria closed her fists. So that’s how it was. Everyone had known. Everyone but her. That was why the Queen's Guard were so silent. They hid their faces in shame because they couldn't bring themselves to tell Emeria the truth. They'd failed in their sworn duty. And the people of the city cheered her on because they saw her as their new queen. They saw her as the relief from whatever strife they'd come out from.

The people in this hall. They killed Emeria's mother and now planned to use her to gain power over the court. Mother was somehow maintaining balance with all of these corrupt officials? Or were there a lot of new officials replaced by the old ones? She couldn’t tell. Flames, why hadn't she stayed at her mother's side longer? I just had to go shirking my studies. There would be so many people counting on her to lead the nation rightly. So many burdens. Surrounded by enemies and pressured by a leader's burden. A monarch's job wasn't just to fight and bleed for her people. It was also making sure they were fed, and housed, and kept happy.

But I also want to be happy.

Emeria took a deep breath and stepped towards the throne. She flaunted her cloak and sat down, placing her arms on the golden armrests. “Carry on with the ceremony then.”

The ash haired man nodded. It occurred to Emeria that he hadn't given his name. “Emeria of High House Lakris, you sit here now, ready to claim your inheritance as the rightful queen of Xenaria. Your task will come with many hardships. Are you prepared to face them?”

What a farce. Emeria wanted to cry and scream. She met Irus' eyes. He nodded, hand still on his blade. He would turn this room crimson if she asked. He also knew she wouldn't ask. She would go about this the proper way, arresting and executing everyone complicit in her mother's murder. “I am.”

“Do you swear to serve the people and work for their benefit? Do you swear to protect the realm, now and always, for as long as you draw breath?” the priest continued.

“I do,” Emeria said, glaring at him.

“And do you swear to pass the crown to the next rightful heir when you are no longer capable of fulfilling the duties accompanying them?”

“Yes.”

“Then under Goddess Trillia's watchful eye, I, Odain, bear witness to her highness Emeria's crowning. I hereby name you Queen Emeria of High House Lakris, the Guiding Hand of Xenaria.” He knelt down and raised the cushion above his head, holding it out to her.

“Aren't you supposed to place it on my head?” she asked, crossing her legs. She clenched her fists, arms trembling, barely managing to keep her emotions from bursting.

“The choice is still yours to make in the end, your highness. You can deny your inheritance still until you place the crown upon your head.”

Emeria ground her teeth. She leaned in, reaching for the crown. “You would rather have me appoint a regent instead, wouldn't you?” she whispered. “They'd be easier to control after all. I won't just not be easy to control. I won't let you control me at all.” Emeria took the crown and placed it upon her head. She leaned back against the throne, sighing aloud.

She wanted to cry. And scream. And curse with the foulest of words ever thought of. But that would only add to the malicious stench clouding the throne room. All of it could wait for when she was alone.

“For my first order, I hereby appoint my uncle, Captain Eildred Aegis as First Chancellor.” Unprecedented and shunned was the practice of nepotism. But Emeria needed a proper adviser.

“Not possible,” the priest said. He stuck his hand in the pocket of his green coat and fished out a silver ring with a violet gem. Emeria finally realized why the clothing was so familiar. They were her father's.

“You… How dare—”

“Sir Aegis fell during the riots,” the priest said.

Emeria's eyes went wide. “What?” she breathed.

“Impossible,” Irus murmured.

The escort guards had known about this too, Emeria realized. And she hadn't been informed. The one they expected to serve, and they hadn't informed her in the slightest. “Then… then I appoint Duke Serene as First Chancellor,” she quickly said, mind emptied for any other possibly candidates. A terrible decision to pull Lord Serene away from his duties as Xenaria's bastion. But what choice did Emeria have?

And where was Azurus? She needed some sort of emotional support. She began to sweat, fearing for her own life. Only now did it dawn on her that she was surrounded by hounds with a single loyal guard present. They'd assassinated her mother. They could just as easily do it again.

They won't do it again, a small voice said. That would make Elizia the rightful queen. And a woman experienced in leadership and disciplined as a soldier would not go well for these cowardly officials. Assuming El is alive.

Which she was. Surely.

“Duke Serene…” Odain echoed. He slid that silver ring onto his left ring finger.

Horror dawned on Emeria at that moment. Her guards were traitors. They'd have informed the duke regarding Queen Dahlia's death otherwise.

“A rather unwise choice, but dangerous nonetheless,” Odain continued. “I'm afraid I'll have you rescind that order.”

Emeria frowned. 'And what gives you the authority to override the queen's orders', she wanted to say. “I renounce that order,” were the words that came out of her mouth instead. Huh?

Irus frowned at her. He looked to the priest, then back at her.

“Sir L'Faleur,” the priest said. “Her majesty wishes to see your sword.”

The knight's frown deepened. He stared into Emeria's eyes. “Your sword, Sir L'Faleur,” Emeria repeated, holding out her hand. But she didn't want to see it. Why were those the words coming out of her mouth? Why could she not speak anything else?

Irus unsheathed his blade and knelt before her, presenting the weapon to her with his nose pointed toward her feet. Emeria's hands took hold of the longsword. It was heavy, though not to the point where she couldn't balance it in her hands. She'd gained the right muscles while at Arcaeus Peak.

“Your majesty, if you could demonstrate your well praised swordsmanship for us,” the priest said.

Emeria stood and did just that. She walked over to a clear spot and began going through practiced movements. Her movements and footwork weren’t very refined. Her shoulders tired fast using a knight's heavy weapon. But she moved all the same and couldn't stop despite how much she willed herself to do so. Irus continued to stare at her with a confused expression.

“Stop!” the priest said, as Emeria was a few feet from the throne. She stopped. Froze. Completely still with her blade mid swing. The priest smirked, amused by the awkward posture the pause had put her in. “Now,” the priest began, smiling her way. “Kill the knight.”

“What?” Irus cried, turning to the priest and fixing him with a glare. “What madness is t—”

Blood sprung up where a head had just been. Sir L'Faleur's head dropped to the floor with a thud and rolled a few feet, leaving dark stains on the red carpet before the throne. The armored body collapsed with a crash as if it were but a puppet with its strings snipped. A red pool spilled out before Odain's feet.

Emeria stared in horror. What had she just done? Her eyes flickered back and forth between the bloodied end of the sword and her guard's fallen body. The room spun around her. Her sweat damp clothes stuck to her, closing off her pores and making her feel very hot. “What did I…” she muttered, finally capable of speaking. She dropped the sword and clamped a hand over her mouth.

Odain stepped into the pool of blood and positioned himself upon the throne, crossing his legs. He still smiled.

Emeria fell to her knees. She gagged, vomiting over the pristine black metal boots of her dead guard. The world shook. Reality felt a lie. Air was lacking. She clutched her throat, stinging acidic spittle running down her chin. Her gaze cleared and focused on one thing. On that white teethed grin of the man named Odain. Instinct took control of her body. She grabbed the sword and shrieked, stepping on top of Irus' body to lunge forth. The blade arced down. The shadow of its edge closed in on the priest's face until it was a perfect thin line stretching from his forehead down the tip of his nose and then chin.

“Halt!” the priest bellowed at the last possible moment.

Emeria stopped a fraction of an inch from splitting the man in half, one foot in Irus' blood and the other on his back.

Odain cackled. “Isn't this just amusing? Even I didn't know the Artifact had such precise control over a person's mind. This must be noted down. It seems I can also use its powers without speaking commands. I could have just willed you to stop. I do wonder what possible limits there are on this Artifact.” He laughed again, turning his attention to the court officials. “It is funny, isn't it? Why aren't you all laughing?”

Nervous laughter echoed through the hall. Most of them had their gazes turned away from the violent sight before them.

“Now, what was it you said about not being controlled?” the ash haired man asked, clasping his hands.

Emeria wailed like a child, still standing with the sword in her hands halfway down.