by Alex Avrio
“I’ll get her,” Regina said. She went outside where Charlie was already wiping her tears and her nose on her sleeve.
“Why?” she sobbed. “Why are you halfwits still here?”
“We have to return Rosamynd and Emilia to the Winter Palace to have the contract fulfilled,” Regina explained.
“They’ll have you shot the minute you set foot through that door,” Charlie said. “Why don’t you cut and run back to Merrovigia?”
Regina sighed. “The Merchant Blades are not all swashbuckling adventures. We are considered impartial. Mercenaries, yes, but we get the job done. We sign a contract: we fulfil the contract or we die. It’s harsh, yet there’s reason behind it. After the war everything was in disarray, with many surplus officers and soldiers let go on both sides. Some became robbers and pirates. Some of us, wanting to neither hang nor let ourselves sink so low, banded together and formed the Guild, the Merchant Blades. It’s quite a feat that it’s grown so large in such a short time. One reason is that it is one of the rare organizations nowadays that is a meritocracy. The people running it are capable, and no one cares how they began in life. The other reason is more pragmatic. How would people trust us with their valuables or themselves? Before the war, mercenaries were considered sellswords, murderers and rapists, so a clause was put in the contract: fulfil the contract or die. It makes you think twice before accepting jobs, you try not to take anything you’re not certain you can handle. It’s enforced by our own guild. If you run, they will come after you and find you, however long it takes, wherever you might go. Charlie, much as I’d like to run, as fast and as far as I can, I fear the best is to accept with dignity. The others feel that way too.”
Charlie grabbed Regina and gave her a hug. Regina put her arms around Charlie’s shoulders, returning the hug. She knew how Charlie felt. It was unfair to lose a family just as she’d gotten it.
“First Franz, then you.” Charlie sobbed. “I find one decent man and he gets gobbled up by mist monsters. Now you. I thought you had more brains between your ears than hunting dogs.”
Regina laughed and patted her head. After a while Charlie pulled herself together. It was easy to forget that Charlie was young, barely a woman.
“We’ll make some provisions for you and Thomas before we go,” Regina said.
“We don’t need nothing,” Charlie shrugged. “I’m going with Emilia as her lady-in-waiting. I’m a Countess now.”
“Was that for real?” asked Regina.
“When an Eressian Royal Princess makes you nobility, you’re nobility,” Charlie said seriously. “That’s why Jaeger was so angry. He’s been busting his backside for years to pay his debts, and I get a title in a moment on a whim.”
In the carriage they'd hired to transport them to the palace Regina, Jaeger, Morgenstern and Schaefer made their farewells.
“We’re not letting you lot go, not after all we’ve been through together,” Emilia said. “No reason for goodbyes.”
Jaeger took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Of course, Royal Highness,” he said.
Emilia laughed. “Oh Max, you are such a tease. We’ll have a ball for our return.”
There was sadness in Jaeger’s smile. Schaefer focused on a spot on the floor; Morgenstern looked outside the narrow windows of the carriage. Both Eressian officers wore their uniforms, carried in their traveling bags throughout. Crumpled, creased, battered and smelly, but they were still officers’ uniforms that would carry enough prestige to get them through the gates of the palace.
They had to wait for twenty minutes in a drawing room. The butler looked down his nose at them with a slight sneer, yet didn’t dare dismiss them out of hand in case the ladies really were nobility.
“I would like to see Colonel Meyer,” Morgenstern told him dryly.
The butler’s mouth turned downwards in distaste. “Colonel Meyer is dead, sir.”
Jaeger exhaled loudly.
“But how, why?” Emilia asked.
“Because he lost two princesses, one a royal one, madam,” the butler replied.
Ten minutes later the door opened and three people entered the room: Baron Schafer, Baron Orsy, and the latter's wife. The men bowed; the baroness curtsied with some difficulty, seeing as her bump was becoming larger.
“Your Majesties,” Baron Schaefer said, “Arlanza. It is a wonder, a joyous occasion you are here.” His expression was a mixture of relief and agony.
“Baroness Orsy, we are so glad you are well,” Emilia said. “Rosamynd and I were very concerned about you.”
“Your concern does me honor,” Baroness Orsy said. “Your ladies-in-waiting will be down shortly.”
“Lieutenant,” Baron Orsy said to Schaefer, “may we have a brief word?”
Schaefer got up and bowed to Emilia and Rosamynd. “With your permission,” she said, and left the room. Her father and sister swiftly followed. All the formalities of court had returned as soon as they’d stepped into the palace.
Orsy’s and Schaefer's voices could be heard from the next room, snippets of the conversation carrying through the thin wall.
“I have this under control,” Schaefer’s voice said.
“Are you delusional?” Orsy’s voice hissed back. “Do you have any idea of what we’ve had to do to contain this?”
Their voices lowered, and rose again a few minutes later. “The more people involved, the worse it is. More unpredictable variables in the mix,” Schaefer’s voice came through. “Let them go. They’re just hired help.”
“Are you getting sentimental, Arza? We need someone to take responsibility.”
“We’ll call too much attention to ourselves. We don’t need the Merchant Blades Guild poking their noses into our affairs.”
“They are in gross breach of contract. The guild has no say.”
“Technically,” Schaefer corrected him, “they’re not. And the guild is not stupid. They’ll realize they’ve been stitched up. We don’t need them asking questions. We can still pass this off as incompetence.”
There was more murmuring. Morgenstern’s name came up twice but much was indistinct. Then, “Just give me the contract. Morgenstern will sign it in lieu of Meyer. Get rid of them as fast as we can, they’re a liability.”
“I wish I had it,” came Orsy’s exasperated voice. “Gunther’s got his claws in it. Along with warrants of execution for all of you. All they need is signing.”
“He wouldn’t dare sign them.”
“He wouldn’t, but the Emperor would. He’s here at the Winter Palace and in a bloody bad mood. He wants answers, and I assure you he’ll get them one way or the other.”
In the waiting room deathly silence reigned. Emilia was as white as a sheet, hands pressed to her mouth. The door opened and a middle-aged lady entered.
“Your Royal Highness, your Highness,” she addressed Emilia and Rosamynd, ignoring the others. “I beg your forgiveness for making you wait. Please follow me to your rooms. Your Royal Highness,” the woman went on, “needs to, er, freshen up immediately. The Emperor requests your presence as soon as you are ready.”
70 THE EMPEROR OF ERESSIA
AS soon as Emilia was bathed, dressed and coiffed, Prime Minister Gunther knocked on her door and asked to see her in private. To get ready had taken hours, hours in which Emilia knew the others were stewing in the small drawing room. She arranged for refreshments to be sent. Her heart was sinking rapidly. Poor Colonel Meyer had been killed. There were warrants on all her friends. A horrible suspicion about the monument they’d passed was nagging her, though she didn’t want to admit it was possible. Lothaer could get violently angry, yet surely even he wouldn’t do such a thing as that.
The old Prime Minister gave her a stiff bow, this affair seeming to have added to his years. Brilliant blue eyes stared at her under bushy white eyebrows. Magnificent white whiskers covered the lower part of his face. There was something of the benign grandfather in him: the man holding Eressia together with spit and a prayer.
“Your Royal Highness,” he began.
“Oh, stop it, Gunther,” Emilia said. “You’ve called me Emilia since I could understand you.”
He nodded. “Emilia, things are serious. Your brother is beside himself. I have come to give you warning. Agree with everything he says. Do everything he asks, or the consequences will be most severe. As they already are for many people.”
Emilia paled. “But this wasn’t my fault at all. I was the victim. I was abducted. Major Morgenstern, Lieutenant Schaefer, and the Merchant Blades did everything in their power to get me back. It is because of them I am here. I owe them my life.”
“I understand, my child. Yet, please, for all our sakes, do as I ask. There are so many things at stake here. You are young. You do not understand yet.”
“I would, if only someone told me what is going on,” Emilia protested. “May I present the Countess Charlotte,” she suddenly added as Charlie came in from the adjoining room and curtsied to Gunther. He bowed slightly. There was a glint in Emilia’s eyes. “Please Gunther, I have suffered so horribly these past months. I don’t want to argue. We have always been friends. I will do as you advise.”
The old man nodded, and didn’t object when Emilia embraced him. He bowed again and left the room.
Emilia was holding a folded parchment with a self-satisfied grin. Charlie gave her a nod of admiration. Emilia opened the parchment and read.
“It’s the contract– What!” she exclaimed. “This is an affront to me and the whole of Eressia! Only this much? Myself and Rosamynd are surely worth considerably more.”
She went to the writing desk in the corner of the room and found a pen, dipped it in ink and added one more zero on the end of the fee, taking care to match the handwriting. She threw some sand on the paper and then tapped it.
“Pickpocketing and forgery. I'm so proud of you, Emilia,” Charlie commented.
“As needs must,” Emilia said, a spark in her eyes. “Charlie, take this to Rosamynd and tell her to sign it. Since Meyer is dead, both she, as the subject of the contract, and Morgenstern, as second in command, must sign this. Get Morgenstern's signature and give it to Jaeger. Tell them to leave the palace and the city.”
“How do you know about contracts?” Charlie asked.
“I’ve read law books, and the Merchant Blades adventures. Tell them to leave the city. Lothaer can get incredibly angry; but usually if he can’t see things, he forgets about them.”
“Won’t Gunther be angry about the contract?” Charlie insisted.
“It won’t cross his mind that I took it. He’ll think one of his aides might have mixed up the papers and processed it. In any case, he can’t admit he made such a mistake, so he’ll have to act as though it had been his order. Now go. In a few minutes I’ll have to see my brother.”
Emilia entered the grand library with trepidation. Her brother was sitting behind a large mahogany desk beneath his own portrait. Gunther stood a few feet behind. The air was filled with the smell of old leather and beeswax. Emilia crossed the space to the desk, curtsied, and waited for the Emperor to speak.
Lothaer raised his dark blue eyes from the documents in front of him. There was a spark of joy at seeing his sister returned unharmed. It was soon lost in a maelstrom of cold simmering fury.
“Finally she appears,” he said, voice deep and dangerous, “gracing us with her dear presence. How have you been, sister?”
“Brother,” Emilia began, voice trembling. “May the Mother and Child always light your path and shed their blessings on you. I have missed you so much. I have suffered horribly these past months. It has been beastly. Ghastly. Only the sages of our Faith have gone through more suffering than I.”
A shadow of concern passed over his face, a glint of worry that was soon eclipsed. He cracked his knuckles. The sound made Emilia shiver. The Emperor interlaced his fingers and rested his hands on the desk.
“Pray tell, dearest sister,” he said softly. Emilia knew to tread carefully. She’d seen this before, the calm before the storm. Should she mention that they’d been to Korthi? That they’d been captured by pirates? Definitely nothing about the mist creatures. “Come now. Don’t be shy. Enlighten us of your whereabouts.”
Emilia raised her head and stood proudly, a small measure of defiance in her bearing. She had done nothing wrong. She had conducted herself with the dignity required of her station. It was only concern about her friends that made her reluctant to tell everything. If he tried to find a way to blame them for this, she wouldn’t let him.
“I was to escort Rosamynd to meet her suitor at the Winter Palace. You must remember I asked your permission.” A deep crease appeared in Lothaer’s brow. “I wanted to give moral support to Rosamynd. I only pretended to be a lady-in-waiting so I would not take attention from the bride-to-be. It would be poor manners, towards one - alas - not blessed with the good looks of our family. I think she takes hers from her father. Dear, ugly man.” Emilia used putdowns deliberately. She’d seen how Lothaer used them, and how often they put him, for some reason, in a better mood.
“How charitable.”
“We went through some villages but then, oh–” she paused. “I feel the vapors coming on at the memory.” Gunther made to go to her side but a searing look from the Emperor stopped him in his tracks.
“Would you like to sit down?” Lothaer offered. He gestured to an armchair opposite his desk with a high back. Emilia gracefully sat and snapped her fan open, sending cool air towards her face.
“I do not like to dwell on it. I only repeat this because it is my duty since you ask, dear brother. We were snatched, abducted by a gang of ruffians. I scarcely knew what was happening, I was frightened out of my wits. They took us to a clearing, made us sit on the ground, our only warmth from open fires, they gave us disgusting dirty food. Major Morgenstern and Lieutenant Schaefer saved us, with the Merchant Blades at their side; they fought so bravely It was truly worthy to be made into a play or an opera. Heroic. I cannot thank them enough.”
“Is that so? Maybe we should erect a monument to their valor. These ruffians held you for three whole months?”
Emilia cast her eyes to the floor. “I had no way to measure the time.”
His smile was tight, the corners of his mouth barely rising. “Very well. I have just one question dearest, precious, sister. Why did the Duke of Korthi think you were going to marry his brother-in-law?”
The walls of the library danced for a moment and Emilia was glad to be sitting down. She was tempted to let the faint take hold, but she knew nothing would avert what was coming and it would be interpreted as an admission of wrongdoing.
“Well?” His voice was cruel now. Emilia began to speak but stuttered. “You have nothing to say? Nothing?” he said, his voice rising. “Do you know what I had to sign to shut the bastard up? Do you?” he shouted. “Promising to marry a Korthi noble, being bought from the merchants of Korthi, eloping with an officer. This is not the conduct of an Eressian princess, it is the conduct of a harlot.”
There was no color left in Emilia’s face. Surely her brother had a better opinion of her. “That is not what happened. I was sold to the merchants of Korthi by the outlaws. Many nobles have passed through there.”
Lothaer’s face turned a violent shade of red. “Nobles, not a princess of the blood. If it becomes known that Eressia can’t protect its princesses, our enemies will descend on us from all sides. From the Eastern Steppes, from the Ice North. The Southern Duchies. Merrovigia will squeeze harder. She’s already sucking our marrow dry. We have enemies within as well.” He paused. “This has left an irreversible stain on your character. Your reputation is ruined. You are no better than a streetwalker. Worse, for a streetwalker hasn’t killed her mother.”
This time the world faded at the edges, small lights like stars danced before her.
“You killed our mother,” Lothaer shouted, “with your crying and whining. She couldn’t bear it and came in to give you a hug to qui
et you and she caught the disease that killed her.” A vein throbbed in his temple. “To think that she died for nothing.” Such disappointment in his voice. Tears ran down Emilia’s face.
“Don’t you dare cry,” Lothaer screamed. She hastily wiped the tears with her handkerchief, swallowing her sobs.
“How can you say these things?” she whimpered.
“Because you have destroyed everything. You. Stupid. Little. Whore!” Lothaer roared, rose up in anger and overturned the mahogany desk, sending papers flying. The desk crashed to the floor, the inkpot shattering, ink spreading like a dark bloodstain. A footman opened the door, took one look and immediately closed it again. Emilia had jumped up in terror, stepping away from the desk. “I had negotiated a treaty with Merrovigia,” Lothaer continued. “We were to resume trade. The terms were good. Most important of all, Nassay-Beden would be returned. Our brothers could have been returned to the embrace of the motherland. All that was required to seal the deal was that you marry Prince Michael of Merrovigia.”
Emilia was a statue.
“Now it’s all off. The offer has been withdrawn. I do not blame him, not wanting a trollop for a wife!”
“I didn’t know–”
“You didn’t need to,” Lothaer snarled. “All you needed to do was your duty to the motherland and marry the man. But you ran off like a bitch in heat. There is no hiding it, however we try. The palace said you were unwell. That you went to a shrine of the Mother and Child to give thanks for your recovery. That princess Rosamynd joined you to give thanks for her wedding. Whatever nonsense we could think of. The Duke of Korthi might stay quiet, but too many others know. The treaty - and you - are utterly and completely ruined.”
“It is all a lie. I have done nothing wrong,” she protested.
“Shut your mouth. Was it worth it? Opening your legs to the first man that came along? I should throw you to a whole regiment and see how you like it.” Lothaer’s features were contorted with rage. Emilia had never thought her brother could be ugly before now.
