by Joseph Lallo
“Announcing, Heroine of the Battle of Verril, Guardian of the Realm, Royal Poet, Composer, and Painter, Ivy,” Croyden announced.
The crowd hushed to near silence as Ivy appeared, interrupted by the occasional nervous clap. Every attempt had been made to allow her to fit in. Her gown was made especially for her, and was every bit the match for any in the room, save Ether's. She walked with grace and regal bearing. Nonetheless, the distrust of her kind was a deeply rooted one. At best, her heroics were seen as a testament to the others for having coaxed such greatness from her. Despite this, Ivy walked to the dais with a wide smile on her face. If there was one thing she had learned in the months gone by, it was that society might still hate her, but individuals were easy to win over. As far as she was concerned it was thus only a matter of time and patience before she was as well liked as any other. She needed only make the effort. There was a dash of mischief to her grin though, as she took a seat.
“I cannot help but notice that your title is longer than mine,” Ether said as Ivy sat beside her.
“That's because I'm more talented than you,” Ivy said.
“You most certainly are n-” Ether began.
“Shh. This is going to be good,” she said, her grin widening as she watched Croyden swallow hard.
The herald read over the next line again, and eyed the doors at the end of the main hall.
“Announcing,” he said. “Heroine of the Battle of Verril, Guardian of the Realm, Myn.”
A gasp arose first from those people that recognized the name. A moment later a few stifled screams rose from those who didn't. Myn stepped lightly along the floor of the banquet hall, attempting to keep a watchful eye on all around her at once. Those nearest to the walkway shuffled and skidded their chairs in attempts to put some distance between themselves and the massive beast. Baubles of gold adorned Myn's head and neck in much the way a woman might wear earrings and necklaces, and her scales had been polished to a high gloss. She looked resplendent. Ivy applauded enthusiastically and raised her voice in encouragement. A smattering of the crowd weakly followed suit. Myn took her place at the end of the dais and sat on her haunches. Ivy threw her arms around the dragon's neck and gave her a kiss on the cheek. The audience turned first to the four remaining seats, then expectantly to the door.
“Announcing, Hero and Heroine of the battle of Verril,” Croyden said, raising his voice as a standing ovation began. “Full Master and Full Mistress of the Mystic Arts, Deacon, Duke of Kenvard and Myranda Celeste, Duchess of Kenvard.”
The pair appeared and made their way down the walkway hand in hand. The roar was deafening. Deacon was the other great hero of the day in the eyes of the people of the capital, and had been the first one offered the throne, but he had declined. The long disused title of Duke had replaced it. In the months since, he and Myranda had been a part of the peace talks, and helped to wipe away as much of the remaining scourge of the D'karon as they could. They were now equally beloved as warriors, healers, and diplomats. They took their place among the others.
The doors opened once more, and an honor guard of soldiers arranged themselves on either side of the walkway. Myranda recognized most of them. Chief among them was Tus, dressed in the unmistakable uniform of the Commander of the Royal Guard. The rest of the guard was made up of fellow members of the Undermine.
“Announcing, Her Royal and Imperial Majesty, Queen and Empress of the Northern Alliance, Queen Caya the First!” cried Croyden.
The mention of the final hero of the Battle of Verril roused all in attendance to cheers. Half of the people in the hall were present on that fateful day, and each told a different version of the tale. Only two aspects of the account remained constant. The first was that it was a glorious and sweeping victory. The second was that two great warriors, Deacon and Caya, were the greatest heroes of that day. While the defeat of the generals in the mountains to the north was known only to the heroes, stories of their deeds within the capital grew more spectacular with each telling. The dragoyles grew in size and number, and the nearmen gained all manner of gruesome descriptions. Indeed the nearmen of the recollections were massive, hideous beasts that clearly could never be confused with the soldiers that had patrolled the city each and every day for the decades prior to the battle.
Caya was radiant. She looked every bit the queen, dripping with jewelry, the freshly polished crown perched upon a bun of immaculately prepared hair, and a dress made of the rarest and most expensive of fabrics. One could easily envision her portrait hanging among the others that lined the walls, and indeed it very shortly would be. Her behavior, however, was another matter. Even now, rather than the stately and stoic approach to her seat of honor that the servants had prepared her for, Caya was eagerly shaking the hands of the dignitaries and aristocrats. Croyden had been carefully briefed on the proper protocol for the occasion, and tasked with seeing to it that Caya behave appropriately. He quickly approached her as she was nearing her seat. Her eyes were scanning the crowd, lingering with particular interest on the faces of those that seemed disgusted by the creatures who had been given seats of honor. She turned to Croyden when he arrived.
“Ah, Croyden, is it? Excellent work announcing us. I was thinking I might address my public,” she said. “Perhaps you would like to call them to attention?”
“Your Majesty, it is not traditional for the monarch to speak on the day of his or her coronation. Tradition states that, if speeches are to be given, they are to be delivered by high ranking members of your court on your behalf,” he stated politely but firmly.
“Is that so?” she asked.
He nodded. Caya turned to the rest of the banquet hall.
“The good Captain Lumineblade has informed me that tradition requires I not speak to you great people on this, the first day of my reign. I would say we are long overdue for a break in tradition,” she declared.
The response was an immediate and enthusiastic roar of approval from the honor guard and many of the other guests, and a somewhat more reluctant round of applause from the nobles of the audience. It was rapidly becoming clear to them that things were going to change a bit more than they would have liked.
“Take a seat,” Caya said to Croyden, indicating the position next to her own, which had been abandoned by its previous occupant in favor of one a bit further from the Myn. “You can come to expect this sort of thing.”
With that, she turned back to the expectant crowd.
“Let me begin by making my first proclamation as Queen. I hereby pardon the members of the notorious and subversive group known as the Undermine for all crimes and acts of treason committed on behalf of the group,” she began.
Once again the honor guard let up a cheer, while the nobles and the handful of military in attendance voiced their disapproval.
“With that out of the way, let me announce, once and for all, that until you good people saw fit to place the crown upon my head, I was the leader of the Undermine,” she said with a grin.
Now even the cheers of the honor guard could not be heard over the growls of disapproval.
“And yet I am now your Queen,” she declared. “Will anyone deny that it was I and my friends that liberated the capital from the scourge that had befallen it? Would anyone here have done the same? War has left its mark on us in many ways. It has thinned our cities to desertion. It has sapped the land of its bounty, and the people of their spirit. Perhaps worst of all, it has rendered our minds rigid and stubborn. The war only lasted as long as it did because we knew no other way. It is time for that to change. Look at the dais. On one side, huddled and cowering, is the old guard. The blue blood of this land. Aristocrats, nobles, and the privileged and wealthy. These are the people you have taken orders from, and have looked up to. Now look at the other side. Wizards and sages, yes, but also freaks, monsters, and rebels. They, along with every farmer, miner, shopkeeper, and commoner, are the red blood of this land. There are good men and women, but also scoundrels, sympathizers, and e
verything you have been taught to hate. And I gladly count myself among them. Because despite what I have said, which side contains the heroes? The red blood is the blood that is spilled. These people, these creatures, these great wonderful heroes, risked everything because they saw what needed to be done and vowed to do it. Sacrifices were made. Lives were lost.”
She turned to the others. A single seat had been left empty between them, a quiet nod to the hero who did not make it. She turned back.
“Some stories will never be told,” she continued. “But because of these hated dregs of our society the hold of war has been broken. For the first time we turn from the conflict we have faced so bravely to the terrifying prospect of peace. Things will not be simple. The way is uncertain. But for the sacrifices that have been made by your brothers, sons, sisters, and daughters, I don't think we have any choice but to try. We owe it to them. We must work together, as one, until the wounds left by the blade of war are healed. Red blood and Blue blood. Monsters and Men. Alliance and Tressor. For our parents! For our children! For ourselves! Are you with me!”
The crowd roared back in a single voice, leaping to its feet. It didn't die down until well after the meal had been served. With her words still burning in their veins, the guests looked to one another, then to the delegates from Tressor. Over the course of the meal, complements, discussions, and debates began to flow in fractured Northern and fractured Tresson. Wine was poured, hands were shaken. Over such delicacies as could be offered by the broken land of the North, ancient animosities were, for the moment, set aside. The road to a lasting peace was a long one, but on that night, the first steps were taken.
Caya was not one to let a good celebration end, let alone one in her honor. The sun was coloring the horizon before the final celebrants staggered to their rooms. Aside from the ubiquitous servants, only the Chosen, the Queen, Croyden, and the Ambassador remained. The latter had been impressed with Caya's command of the language. Furthermore, Croyden had proven to be skilled in diplomacy as well.
“I thank you again, your Excellency. I look forward to meeting with you again over the peace discussions. I would very much like to have an official treaty signed. Armistices are a bit fragile for my tastes,” the Queen said as a servant led him away.
“Until then, your majesty,” he said.
When he had left, Caya turned to Croyden.
“Well, Captain Lumineblade. I must say I was quite impressed with how you conducted yourself today. You are quite an able diplomat. And if the tales you told about your military exploits are any indication, you are quite the soldier as well,” Caya said.
“Why thank you, your majesty. I am honored to -” he began.
“Call me Caya,” she interrupted. “If you will excuse me, though, I must have a word with the other Guardians of the Realm. I shall see you tomorrow. Over dinner, perhaps?”
“Yes, your maj- Yes, Caya,” he said, taking his leave and shutting the door behind him.
“Flirting isn't a terribly royal activity,” Myranda remarked.
“Bah. Queen is just a title. Besides, it is very important to ensure the royal succession,” she quipped. “Lumineblade . . . Isn't that the scoundrel Desmeres’ surname?”
“Yes,” Myranda replied.
“Brother or son? It is difficult to tell with elves,” she mused. “Eh, regardless, it looks as though some things run in the family. Speaking of which, the Und-, er, Royal Guard have been complaining of weapons going missing. I must look into that . . . “
Ivy, rising from her seat, made her way over to the others. She had a vaguely yellow glow about her, and an unsteady swagger to her walk. Somehow, though, she managed to make even staggering seem graceful.
“Thank you for inviting me to your party!” slurred Ivy as she stumbled into a hug.
“Had a bit of wine, has she?” Caya asked.
“Yes. Thank heavens she is a happy drunk,” said Myranda, helping to disentangle the two. “Ether, look after Ivy, would you?”
Ether's response was a stern, unmoving gaze.
Myranda sighed. “Myn, would you?”
The dragon looked up from a third cauldron of mashed potatoes and licked some errant specks of it from her nose. Ivy scrambled to Myn's back and mumbled something about going out flying as the beast lumbered out the massive entry way.
“What is next for you, shape shifter?” Caya asked. “Now that the D'karon are gone, what will fill your days?”
Ether stared coldly at the Queen for a few moments, then shifted quickly to wind and whisked away without a word.
“She still hasn't mastered the art of social discourse, it would seem,” Caya said, adjusting her tousled hair.
“I am worried about her. She shows up when we need her, but mostly she spends her time at Lain's End, alone,” Myranda explained.
“Lain's End? Ah, the hole in the ground in the mountains. That's right. I wish you would have allowed me to acknowledge him more properly than naming the place of his death after him. He was despicable, to be sure, but he had a role in this,” said the Queen.
“Lain spent his life in shadow. It seems wrong to reveal him now. Better to let him remain the legend he built for himself. It is what he would have . . . “ she began, trailing off as a realization entered her mind. “No, there is something. Lain had spent his life trying to give the lives back to slaves, indentured servants, anyone who was forced into a life of servitude against their will, or without choice. If you could . . . “
“Consider it abolished,” Caya replied. “The Alliance is going to have to be rebuilt, and we shall need every able hand to do it.”
The doorway was pushed open and Deacon entered.
“The carriage is ready,” he yawned.
“Leaving so soon?” Caya asked.
“I need to get back to Kenvard. There are only a few weeks left before the peace discussions resume and there is much to be done if Kenvard is to be rebuilt. Father was not even willing to spare the time needed to join us here,” she said.
“I'd wondered about him. I suppose it stands to reason he didn't want to come back to the building he'd spend so many years rotting underneath, as well. Better reasons than my family had!” Caya declared.
“What kept them away?” Myranda asked.
“Business. What with the first trade lines finally opening up, they've got their hands full filling orders at the vineyard, and at my uncle's distillery too. At least they were kind enough to send us some of the better vintage,” she said.
“Indeed,” Myranda nodded. It was the first she'd heard of the family business, though it certainly explained where the funding for her prior exploits had come from, and more importantly, where the apparently endless supply of 'liquid courage' had originated.
The trio walked through the doors as the servants attempted to restore order to the banquet hall. They made their way to the entrance. The venerable castle, more ancient than memory, was scattered with signs of renewal. Cracked and damaged walls were patched, ruined tapestries were removed, but most notable were the doors. Shattered by Myn to gain entry to this place, the repaired doorway was now composed of gleaming metal and polished stone hung with glorious blue doors. Servants in attendance, only just closing them following Myn's exit, hurriedly began to open them again. A trio of other servants appeared with coats and cloaks for the travelers, and a fur wrap for the queen.
“Nice as it is to have servants, I have my concerns about being Queen. I didn't think it would be easy, but I certainly didn't think it would be more difficult than running the Undermine. Do you remember how long it took to find enough diplomats that actually spoke Tresson to begin the first round of talks? Egad. And without the nearmen, frankly, we are at Tressor's mercy. I know I sought victory at any cost, but that was before they put me on the throne. I would much prefer to gain my place in history as the greatest queen of the Northern Alliance, not the last. It is a dicey road ahead. I just wonder . . . after one hundred and fifty some odd years of war, is a la
sting peace even possible?” Caya wondered.
Myranda looked to the gates of the castle wall as they pulled open. Beyond it, the streets were packed, even as the sun was still breaking free of the horizon. There was a feeling of life in the city that Myranda could never recall feeling before. The land had its soul back. High above, Myn wheeled in the morning air.
“The D'karon are gone. That is the important thing. Whatever happens, happens. Pass or fail, win or lose, at least the shackles are broken. The people can make their own decisions. For the first time in ages they have the freedom to make a choice. Under your guidance, I believe they shall choose well,” Myranda said.
Myn touched down in the street as Myranda and Deacon entered the carriage. As the crowd parted around the creature, the heroes took their first steps along the long road ahead.
And so the tale is told. As I write this, a thousand different tellings exist, twisted by tricks of memory, misunderstandings, and occasionally deceit. In the years to come, the stories will no doubt pass into legend, then myth, and perhaps into obscurity. Such is the whim of fate. But you, dear reader, may count yourself lucky that you came upon this book. You, at least, know it all. You know the curse and blessing that was The Mark. You know the pain and joy that a true quest brings. You know not just the end, but the beginning and the trials between. You know the truth - and the truth is important - about what had occurred in this world once upon a time.
###
Thank you for reading the third book in the Book of Deacon series. If you’ve made it this far, presumably you’ve read the previous books. If not, you can find links below, as well as other books I’ve written. I hope you’ve enjoyed the tale. The story of Myranda and the others was envisioned as a trilogy, but after the fun I’ve had writing it and the positive reaction I’ve gotten from many of those who have given feedback, you may not have seen the last of the characters, and you certainly haven’t seen the last of the setting. As always, whether you liked my work or not I would love to hear what you think, so please leave a review. It will help me to improve the things that you didn’t like, and to give you more of the things you did.
