The Road of Kings: A Strong Woman in the Middle Ages (A Medieval Tale Book 8)

by Lina J. Potter

  A Medieval Tale

  Book Eight

  The Road of Kings

  By Lina J. Potter

  Translated by LitHunters

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  A Medieval Tale: The Road of the Kings

  Contents:

  Welcome

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  From the Author

  Book Recommendations

  About Lina J. Potter

  A Medieval Tale: The Road of the Kings

  A Medieval Tale of Lilian Earton is coming to its end. All mysteries will be unraveled, all questions will be answered right here and right now.

  The Road of Kings is the 8th and the last book in the bestselling Amazon A Medieval Tale series by Lina J. Potter. The #1 Amazon bestseller series in multiple categories continues. One of the top 10 Amazon authors with a huge fanbase all over the world, Lina J. Potter finally reveals all the secrets of her heroes.

  Prologue

  The cart that Lilian had already cursed a thousand times in rather flowery language once again hit a bump, causing a knot in the wood to poke her hip. It hurt so much that she almost wished she had never lost weight; at least with a layer of fat protecting her insides, it wouldn't be as painful. She promised herself that when it was finally over, she would personally break that wagon apart. Nope, no entrusting it to someone else—she'd swing an axe with her own hands, then gather the fragments and burn it down while performing a traditional Sioux dance. Or Mioux. Hell, even Meow! In any case, it would be sincere and full of joy.

  Next to her, Milia whimpered something, and Lily grasped her hand to cheer her up. That's it; be patient. Hold on, just a little bit.

  And to think that it had all started so well.

  Really, what was so bad about a family trip to Wellster for His Highness' bride? It almost served as a honeymoon trip, except for bandits, accidents, annoying leirs, and other trivial matters. On the other hand, Lily had managed to find common ground with her husband. It turned out that Jerisson wasn't such an ass as she had thought—or maybe not even an ass, but another, handier, type of livestock. He even loved his wife and refused to take a mistress. She wasn't sure how long that would last, but it did feel nice.

  It all started when they reached Wellster, at a ball in Cardin. Who'd ever expect such villainy? All right, messieurs conspirators, so you wanted to stage a coup d’état. Was it so hard for you to wait a few weeks, when the Ativernans would have been long gone, putting everything behind them? Instead, they had to run around Wellster saving their own skin. So much for attending a party.

  And that's exactly what happened. Lily and her husband came to a ball, Jerisson was sent to entertain Her Highness Maria, and Gardwig asked Lily to attend to his wife, remembering her healing skills. After all, she had managed to help him—why not consult his wife as well?

  The world Lily was in might be different, but people were the same, as well as their actions. So a good doctor showed up nearby? Grab them and make them tell you everything about what ails you! Oh, and your wife, your kids, your dogs...and quickly, before the poor medic is gone. In this regard, Gardwig was the same as Aliya's neighbor Uncle Grisha, who had always gone running to her mother for help if something happened. Ah, whatever. It's not like Lily minded that much.

  She examined Milia, who was expecting her third child. Giving birth too often wasn't good for a woman's health in any era. The verdict was clear: rest, rest, and more rest. The next child would have to come after a three-year-long pause, or even better, five; otherwise, she risked not carrying to term, if not dying herself.

  Who knew that right at that moment, the conspirators would launch their attack?

  Lily got lucky, though. Gardwig, who was just going to his wife, took the first blow. Instead of bursting into the nursery and cutting down the queen and her children, the conspirators ran into the king, who took the offensive. He immediately realized everything, shielding everyone with his body. He died but gave them time to escape.

  The royal nursery wasn't a simple room—it had secret passages of its own, in case the children needed rescue. Thankfully, Milia knew her husband's secrets. All of them managed to flee: the queen herself, her two kids, and finally, Lilian Earton, thanking the heavens that her own sweet daughter was home, at the embassy, instead of with her and her murky prospects.

  And then it happened. Scared out of her mind, Milia went into labor. Once again, they got lucky: before the culmination, the ladies got out of the passage and found shelter in a house. A little sympathy and some gold went a long way, and they didn't have to deliver the baby on a trash heap. Now that would have been truly Shakespearian: a king born in a dump! Fine, fine, a prince, but still!

  Maybe someone would write about it yet, though: a three-act play. The world, after all, was small, and if you got into a mess on one side, they would inevitably tell a pack of lies about it on another.

  Milia successfully gave birth to a boy, and while Lily pondered their next move, the Virmans found them. It was no accident, either—she had managed to send a message to them, and her loyal men rushed to the side of their countess. They did not come empty-handed, either, but rather with a clear plan of action. The goal was to escape the city. Let the Wellsterians sort out their own problems. They also needed to rescue the countess, the viscountess, the dogs, and preferably themselves...

  Oh, so there was a queen with her children? Oh well, then let's take them, too!

  But how were they supposed to get that motley crew out of the city? The rest was a matter of morbid Virman imagination. So who'd be the first to be searched at the city exit? A merchant, a salesman...even a nobleman's carriage would be checked. A gong farmer's barrel or a garbage cart, though? Unlikely. Few guards had the desire to rummage through trash or poop.

  The Virmans managed to avoid taking it to the extreme by diving into a barrel of excrement. Instead, they procured a wagon of garbage—several of them, actually—and smuggled Lily, Milia, Miranda, the princes, plus a group of Eveers out of Cardin. They couldn't very well throw them to the wolves, could they?

  The entire procession headed to the Summer Palace, where the Armored Regiment was quartered. Its commander Count Chaintaine would definitely support the queen in the coup, and a thousand soldiers were sure to come in handy. All they had to do was to get there and come to an understanding with the count.

  Lily recognized that Milia's skills were somewhat limited. Honestly, she was a wonderful woman, w
hom Lily genuinely envied. Soft, kind, warm... It was understandable why Gardwig had fallen for her. She could make any place into a cozy home, but fighting? Signing death warrants? Sending scum to the gallows by the dozen? She'd falter, leaving conspirators alive and well. Best-case scenario, maybe five of them would be sentenced, with the rest of them running away. What would happen then? Obviously, another plot would spring up in a couple of years. Take two, so to speak. Only that time, nobody would be there to save Milia and the children: Ed, Cor, newborn Gard... Yes, even a mother hen could become a beast to save her offspring, but what good would that do?

  And so, Lily was going to take something into her delicate hands.

  War? Oh, no, please! She could strategize as well as a ballerina could load trains. She wouldn't be of much help with it; her father might have told her a lot, but... Have you ever tried removing an appendix using a book as your only guide? Lily wasn't going to attempt it. War wasn't for her. They could handle it themselves and crush the bastards for good. But dealing with them later?

  If needed, Lily would strong-arm Milia into signing sentences, following the classic doctrine of a good healer: better remove the affected organ than lose the entire body. It would probably hurt, yes, but dying hurt more.

  There was one other thing, too. Lilian Earton lived in Ativerna. Aliya, however, had lived in a country that had survived a revolution and a war and knew very well that it was the people who always paid the price for the noblemen's amusements. She felt sorry for Wellsterians. She'd never wish such life on anyone.

  Therefore, as soon as they reached Count Chantaine... Oh, by the way!

  "Milia! Milia?"

  "Wh—"

  "Where's Count Lort?"

  Lily knew the count only by correspondence, as well as from the stories told by her husband Jess, Hans Tremain, His Majesty, Her Majesty... Basically, the count was a real prick, and that wasn’t saying much. If she could sic him on the conspirators, she could rest easy while watching the poor bastards squeal and whimper as they scurried away. Well, those who remained alive, that is. But the count was nowhere to be seen—definitely not at court, or he would have been introduced to Lily. Could he find a worse time to go wandering about?

  "Gard sent him to the estate for half a year."

  Lily's answer was succinct.

  "F...!"

  Milia signed guiltily, although she clearly wasn't the one to blame.

  "Edward insisted."

  Lily expressed her reaction in a somewhat longer phrase. Then she paused.

  "Is there a way to send him a message?"

  "I-I guess. From the royal pigeon coop..."

  "And from another?"

  "I-I don’t know. It would take longer, and then the time on the road..."

  "It doesn't matter. Let's send a message, and he'll arrive when he can. Having him won't hurt. The king trusted him?"

  "Altres is his brother. Milk brother."

  It wasn't much proof for Lily, who still remembered the story of Caine and Abel, but Milia was supposed to know what was what. Well, maybe. She also had to discuss it with Jerisson. He knew much more about politics.

  Jess!

  The thought that Lily had been painstakingly dismissing sunk into her just like that wooden knot, hitting her heart instead of her hip.

  Jess had been inside the palace with the princess. He might not have escaped. Worse, he might have rushed into action like the king and died right there. What would she do then? Bury him for the second time in a year? Miranda would go crazy. She still hadn't forgotten the first time.

  Lily took a deep sigh, calming her throbbing heart. Hush! Maybe they wouldn't kill him right away. Maybe he had managed to escape. If Jerisson was alive, she would devise a way to help him. If he was not... For Miranda's sake, she'd take such revenge on his murderers that history would remember her as Lilian the Bloody! Even Countess Bathory and Vlad Tepes would envy her.

  What about her own sake? Well, fine. She'd take it personally, too. She had spent so much time treating her husband, teaching him, training him to understand her. For him to die after all of that would have been too much! She'd never let him hear the end of it! The conspirators would answer for her wasted time!

  And no, she wasn't crying. Her eyes were just watering, period.

  Another bump in the road made the cart shake. She couldn’t even cry out to her heart's content, though—it ran the risk of unmasking them all.

  "Just thirty minutes, Your Grace, and we can get out."

  In Lily's view, that was the best news she had heard in a year. All that remained was to survive those thirty minutes... Oh, for crying out loud, the damned knot is back!

  Chapter 1

  Wellster. Cardin and around Cardin.

  Robert was listening to the reports.

  It was nice, seeing the results of his own ingenuity. The capital had fallen, bending down before him. The Arsenal, the bridge, the treasury—everything deferred to him; his people were everywhere. He hadn't needed that many people, either. His calculations proved true: another sign of his genius. All those years spent hatching plans, pouring his heart's blood into them, and the results were plain to see.

  Fort Shedar was still silent. Robert didn't know if his men had prevailed against the Ceruleans. In any case, they would send a pigeon. Most likely, the battle was still going strong; not much time had passed.

  Capturing the fort, purging it, sorting out the mess... It would be good if they contacted him by noon, if not evening. Robert wanted to celebrate victory, but in real life, things never went smoothly.

  The thing that was really eating at the duke was the missing queen. Where was that bitch? If he could show the people not just Gardwig's dead body, but also the corpses of his wife and children, nobody would dare to object. The dynasty would be over. King Gardwig is dead, long live King Henry. Yet instead of lying down and dying, that skank had run away. But what could she do?

  How had she managed to escape? Robert knew that she wasn't anywhere inside the palace. Baron Fremont had searched the place from top to bottom, and neither the queen, nor her children, nor Princess Maria, nor Count and Countess Earton were there. Where could they go? Were they together or apart? What was he supposed to expect?

  Robert knew what he would have done. By any means available, he would have reached his people, rallied the soldiers to fight the usurper, blocked the capital... There were many options. But what would Milia do?

  He had seen the queen; he had gathered information on her. The best that sheep were capable of was to die on the king's body, sobbing. She was pliant, clueless, stupid... Instead, she ran away, taking her pups with her, leaving Robert's men none the wiser.

  No, that was not Milia's doing. Whose, though? Who dared to disrupt his plans?

  Robert had only one version: Count Earton. Who else could it be? Countess Earton, that high-society whore? What could she do, she was a woman! Women were unable to think with their heads; they had another part for that, the one in the nethers... Count Earton, however? The man who had incidentally disappeared together with the queen?

  Robert needed a plan.

  "We could block the embassy of Ativerna and take it," Edwin Fremont suggested. "If Viscountess Earton is there..."

  "We'll get a great hostage," Robert nodded. "Do it. The count is trouble."

  The baron seemed in no hurry to leave, hesitating and shifting his feet.

  "Well?!"

  "What about the countess?"

  "The countess?" Robert Alcine was genuinely surprised. "What about her? She's probably holed up somewhere... We'll find her eventually."

  Edwin shook his head.

  "Your Excellency, she's a smart one. A dangerous one... If she were here, I'd put her down first."

  Robert chuckled. No surprises there; he knew about the relationship between the baron and the countess. She hadn't just sent him packing, she also made him look like a fool. Who would ever like that?

  No real man would swallow such
an insult, and if Edwin had decided to settle an old score on the quiet... Let him.

  "If you find her, kill her."

  "She was with the queen, I’ve asked around. She left with her, too."

  "Just as well. Does she love her daughter?"

  Edwin nodded. There was no doubt about that; she doted on her.

  "Get into the embassy. Now."

  ***

  Having finished with the orders, Robert returned to the Ativernans. Seizing them had been his first command: all fourteen people found in the palace. Sorting them out came later.

  The Roivels, the Elonts, and Marquis Erando were left for questioning, while the youths got thrown into prison. There wasn't much to be gained from them; let them stay there for the time being. They didn't know anything, and Robert had no use for them. Why leave them inside the palace?

  The elders, however, could come in handy. Let them know what lay in store for them.

  Robert entered the room where five people waited for him in fear, gave them a friendly smile, and even bowed slightly.

  "Ladies, gentlemen, I'm happy to welcome you to my home."

  Marquis Erando glared at the duke. A veteran diplomat, he hadn’t missed the hint. Knowing that they would never leave that place alive and well, he decided to test the waters.

  "Your Excellency? Have you forgotten your crown?"

  Robert nodded at the closest mercenary, who stepped forward and gave the marquis a hard blow, jabbing the shaft of his spear into the man's ribs. Erando Losan doubled over and sank to the floor.

  "Don't you dare!" Priscilla Elont yelled, hurrying to his side. "You're a brute!"

  Robert smirked.

  "Curb your tongue, Marquis, or I'll rip it out together with your head."

  "What do you want?" Count Roivel asked, sullen. He understood everything as well, but people often kept hoping until the end.