by J. D. Wright
The room smelled of old leather books, dust, and dirt. Bree stood for a moment, looking around the octagonal room, no larger than ten feet from one side to the other. The walls were completely covered from the stone floor to the ceiling with shelves of books, bottles, and boxes, in complete disarray with no organization at all. Even the large wooden table in the center of the room was covered with books, stacked so high that Bree could barely see Elric on the other side of the table.
Seeing that her presence had gone unnoticed, she lightly cleared her throat. Elric gave a quick yelp, then hurried around the table to greet her, bowing and placing a gentle kiss on her hand.
“Your Majesty, My Queen. I am most delighted that you were willing to speak with me. I promise to keep our conversation brief. Would you please follow me up?” He pointed to the floor above and gestured to the stone stairs to her left, “I am afraid this room does not provide adequate comfort for you, m’ lady.”
Elric led Bree up the round stairs and into the room above. This room was entirely different from the first. Though the size was the same, it was polished clean and organized to perfection, with large soft chairs and hundreds of bottles, potions, and ingredients, lining the wall shelves above. Elric motioned her to a chair and took another across from her. Bree sat down, gracefully, straightening the skirts of her gown.
“I will have to beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness, in my poor demeanor of late.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I am afraid that my many years of casting have begun to weaken me, physically and magically. I may not be of very much use to you before long.” He paused, sighing heavily. Bree could see poor Elric’s hands were shaking. He continued, “I asked you to come here today so I could recommend, privately, that Your Majesty would consider implementing my replacement.”
It was hard for Bree to tell exactly how old Elric actually was. In all the years she had known him, his face had been wrinkled and his long hair and beard had been silver and gray. She did, however, notice his posture had changed in recent years. The Elder Mage, who had once walked tall and proud, with his robes swaying majestically, had now come to walk with his back bent slightly and his robes trailing the ground. While Elric didn’t appear to be ill, Bree could see the man before her looked very tired and drained of light. Perhaps aging was different for wizards, she thought. And she hated to see him feel so disheartened.
“Now, Elric,” Bree began, speaking pleasantly so as not to upset him further, “you have been my father’s most trusted and loyal friend for most of his life. We consider you to be family. The people of Junacave, myself included, owe their livelihood and survival to you. I can most assure you that we appreciate any service you can provide to us, even if it is only as my council.” Bree smiled, then decided to add, “However, if it is your wish, I will consider a replacement though I hardly think we will need one. Junacave has been at peace for many years, and hopefully will continue to be for many years to come.”
“Yes, perhaps,” Elric replied, then quickly glancing over to his scrying mirror, murmured, “Perhaps, not.”
~*~
Bree soon found out what Elric had been referring to, when just after supper, a guard came rushing into the castle, panting and yelling.
“A head. There’s a head!” The poor man looked as if he were about to faint.
Sir Nicholas flew in front of the queen, sword unsheathed and armor clanking. Bree stood quickly as Nick motioned the two guards behind her to help subdue the panicked guard. Once he was calm enough to speak, Nick questioned him
“What head? Where?”
The guard simply pointed towards the door in which he came.
“In the noble courtyard! Someone has defiled the king’s grave with a head!”
Before Nick could even turn around to stop her, Bree had rushed past him and out of the hall, followed by several guards. Cicilly, having just entered from a doorway on the side, looked startled by the commotion and yelling coming from Nick.
“What is the matter?” she asked him, but he breezed past her. So she followed.
Bree froze at the corner of the noble courtyard, staring at what most certainly was a severed head, that of Sir Colbert, a knight of Junacave. Bree had been at odds for many years with Sir Colbert’s daughter, Penelope. However, Sir Colbert had been nothing but kind to Bree. Now the knight’s head, still dripping with bright red blood, was sitting on top of a stake outside her father’s tomb. His body was nowhere in sight.
Cicilly gasped when she saw it and Sir Nicholas tried to cover her eyes by pulling her into his chest. He could feel her body shaking, and ordered a guard to take her from the courtyard and find Princess Sarita. When he turned to take Bree’s arm, she pulled away, rooted where she was.
“Sir Nicholas, do not attempt to remove me,” she said, firmly. Bree could smell the blood, which was beginning to make her queasy.
One of the guards stepped forward to examine the head and noticed a piece of parchment, rolled up and sticking out of the mouth. Slowly he pulled it out and opened it up. It read: “I am the rightful heir of Junacave, and I will have it. ~ King Silas”
How incredibly barbaric of a king to send a message in this fashion, Bree thought. What kind of monster is he?
Apparently there was some concern from her uncle Silas, after all. Bree turned to the guard who had reported finding the head and questioned him.
“When did you last patrol this courtyard? How long has the head been there?”
“I did a sweep of the grounds just before supper, Your Majesty,” he replied, “and there was nothing and no one here.”
“Then it has happened recently,” Nick said, “and the conspirator could very well still be on the grounds. Your Majesty, please allow me to escort you to safety until the castle and grounds can be cleared of danger.”
Bree allowed the guards to escort her back into the castle while Nick shouted orders to find Sir Raymun, sweep the area, and report back immediately. Bree was led to a room in the knight’s wing of the castle, where she found her mother and Sarita already waiting by the fire, puzzled looks on their faces.
“It will be alright,” Bree tried to assure Sarita, who was looking rather pale.
It had now grown dark outside and Bree was becoming frustrated at being locked in the room for so long, with no word of the progress. Just then, Sir Nicholas opened the large wooden door and stuck his head inside.
“Please come with me, Your Majesty. The council is waiting,” he said. Then he turned to Cicilly and Sarita. “Queen Mother and Princess, the guards outside will escort you back to the hall, or to your chambers, if you wish.”
“No,” Cicilly replied, “I would like to sit in the council meeting if it is permitted?”
Sir Nicholas began to tell her that it was not but stopped short. It was the queen’s decision of who may attend the council. Even though King Frederick had not allowed Cicilly to be involved in these matters, it was no longer his decision.
“That would be the choice of the queen, m’ lady,” he said.
Bree glanced back at her mother, unsure as to why she would want to attend. Unwilling to waste time she turned back to Nick.
“I will allow her to attend. Please escort Princess Sarita to her chambers and send the maids to fetch her a warm bath. This could take a while.”
~*~
The council was waiting for the queen in a room on the second floor of the guard house. Bree knew that this room was used for planning military strategies, voting on legislation, and other private matters, but she had never actually been inside the room, itself. The council must have arrived recently as the air in the room was still cold despite a fire burning on the far end of the room. The walls were covered with shields and pennants of past kings and queens of Junacave.
In the center of the room stood a very long table, with five seats on one side, four on the other, and one at the head of the table, which she was led to. She knew that the council would al
ways consist of eight council members plus the king or queen, making a total of nine members present to vote. This was purposely done, so that in the event of an equal number of votes on a matter, the king or queen would be the deciding vote. The Royal Mage had a seat at the table to offer advice but could not vote.
Looking around the table, Bree recognized each individual present. To Bree’s right was Elric, followed by Fortin, the Kingdom Chancellor, who handled the administrative duties. Beside him was Arthur, the Kingdom Financier, and then there was Marshal Garret, who was in charge of the stables and horses of the cavalry. Sir Nicholas, the First Knight, was to her immediate left, and Sir Raymun, Head of the Castle Guard beside him. Next were Sir Ainsley and Sir Luthias, both high-ranking military officials. The last seat beside them was empty. Sir Nicholas mentioned it briefly while escorting Bree into the guard house. The empty seat had belonged to Sir Colbert, who was in charge of the kingdom’s archers.
“I assume that Sir Colbert’s family has been informed of his passing? And proper arrangements are being made for a full military funeral and just compensation to the widow?” Bree asked, frowning.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Nicholas replied.
“I should like to give his family my condolences in person. Please make arrangements for me to do so, immediately following our meeting,” she added.
Just then, the door across the room opened slightly and a dark cladded figure stepped in. It only took Bree a moment to recognize that it was Rowan. Bree stiffened at the sight of him, tilting her head slightly, wondering why he was here.
Sensing the queen’s confusion, Sir Nicholas quickly interjected, “My apologies, Your Majesty. I have asked my son, Rowan, to join our meeting as we are short one council member. With Rowan’s position in our military, I thought his knowledge would be most beneficial.”
Bree hadn’t taken her eyes off of Rowan, their gazes locked. For the second time in one week, Bree found herself face to face with the one person she had been longing to see. And again, his presence made her feel weak at a time when she needed to appear strong. If only she could feel anything other than pure aggravation at his constant interrupting, she may actually be glad to see him.
“Forgive me, Sir Nicholas,” Bree said, “for I am not yet familiar with the procedures of a missing council member.”
“The procedure is to appoint a temporary member, at your approval, until one can be voted in officially, Your Majesty,” Nick replied, trying to hide his pleasure at seeing that his son had actually come. Nick was sure that Rowan would refuse the invitation.
Bree broke their stare and nodded slightly, “Very well.”
Rowan crossed the room and took the empty seat at the table. For the first time, Bree noticed her mother sitting in a chair on the far side of the room, eyeing Rowan intently, and looking very confused. It seemed her mother wasn’t aware of Rowan’s current profession. Perhaps, that was for the best.
~*~
The council meeting had not been as productive as Breestlin would have liked it to be. Sir Colbert had been escorting guests out of the kingdom to the north and had been nowhere near the south, where the kingdom of Sire was located. There was no word yet, from our scouts in the south, as to any unusual activity around Sire, or if any of Sire’s soldiers had been in the north recently. All of this came as news to Bree, who was unaware that Junacave had even been watching Sire.
The message from Silas, short as it may have been, was very clear about his intentions. Junacave could simply ignore the threat, but that certainly wouldn’t stop Silas from attacking if he chose to. Bree had also considered a suggestion to invite Silas to discuss conditions of a possible treaty. Surely there was something she could offer him to make amends, for what, she wasn’t sure. Another option was to retaliate in a strike against Sire, but being unaware of his capabilities made most of the council members leery of this strategy. And Elric, in his aging condition, would be of no help in penetrating the magical boundaries surrounding Sire, for Larkin, Silas’ royal mage, was very powerful.
Elric did offer a small flicker of hope, however. He suggested that the council locate his grandson, Dagan, whom he may be able to convince to assist them. Bree was not aware that Elric even had a child, let alone a grandson. She was surprised to learn that Dagan had lived in Junacave for a short time, when he was a young boy, but chose to leave with his mother one day and never returned. Elric had visited his daughter-in-law and grandson, teaching Dagan to develop his magic over the years, but when Dagan was twenty-one years old, his mother was murdered. In his grief, Dagan had preferred a life of solitude ever since. Five years had passed since Elric had last seen Dagan on the day of his mother’s funeral.
Unfortunately, Elric had little insight as to Dagan’s whereabouts at the moment. The council learned that Dagan preferred to live alone, in areas that were hard to reach, thus guaranteeing his privacy. Elric did mention that Dagan was a lover of women, but would commit to none. Therefore, it may be possible to track him by the numbers of scorned women he left behind. Bree decided not to press for details.
Sir Nicholas recommended the queen send someone to track down Dagan’s location. Bree asked Rowan to do so, and he quickly accepted, happy to finally have a reason to leave Junacave. As daunting of a task that it may be, if anyone would be able to find him, it would be Rowan, Nick had advised. And besides, Bree thought to herself, at least this would put some separation between them and allow her to gather her thoughts. Perhaps, given some time, she may be able to formulate a strategy for dealing with Rowan without feeling like a foolish little girl again.
Chapter Three
Silas walked into his throne room at sunset, excited by the activities planned for the evening. Tonight he would choose a new mistress among several village maidens. His previous lover had an unfortunate meeting with a blade when he had found her on her knees before one of his soldiers, sucking merrily away. It was unfortunate, because, until that day, it was the longest that Silas had kept a specific woman. She had been a great pleasure for him, with her long golden locks and ample bosoms. It was a shame for him to have to do away with her.
For the past several days, Silas had been limited to entertainment from his wife, Vallica, who was still a wildly beautiful and sexual beast, even in her early forties. However, Silas now preferred the company of women much younger than his wife. Women who were vibrant, full of life, and most certainly more impressionable.
Silas’ faithful soldier, Simon, stepped forward to greet his king, kissing Silas’ rings, one at a time. Simon was a very large fellow, with a full, shaggy beard, desperately in need of a trim. His size alone was a rather intimidating characteristic, so Silas had trained him to use his size to his advantage, and he was quite pleased with the ruthless brute that Simon had become.
Simon’s scruffy appearance, however, was quite the opposite of his king. Silas had a very sleek and sophisticated aura about him. He dressed in fine clothing that accentuated his muscular male physique, his long smoky black hair neatly slicked back behind him and his perfectly trimmed facial hair, framing his mouth. While he was almost a foot shorter than most of the men in his company, there was nothing small or insignificant about him. He wore his arrogance loudly and found pleasure using his slick tone to manipulate and control.
For all of his personal misgivings, however, Silas was quite a fruitful ruler, with one of the wealthiest kingdoms in the realm. Even if most of their takings were by other-than-honest means, the people who inhabited the Kingdom of Sire had profited from their king in one form or another. Sire was also a highly reputable harbor on the coast, being one of only three ports in Everealm, making imports and trade their most profitable source of revenue. And so merchants knew that if they wanted to sell their goods in southern Everealm, being allies with the kingdom of Sire was a necessity.
Silas looked around at the selection of ladies before him, varying in both height and weight, hair color and complexion. It was like pickin
g fruit from a tree. Though they all looked the same from afar, each piece was entirely different but equally delicious. There were six women lined up for selection this time—one more than last time. Most of the women looked at him with sheer admiration, for being chosen as his mistress was a great honor. The fathers of the women picked for selection would receive a large sum of money, for simply presenting their daughters to the king. And the family of the one that was chosen would be lavished with gifts and compensation for years to come. Every girl had been stripped down and dressed in white sheer gowns, revealing their desirable forms, with curves aplenty. Silas walked the length of the room to get a quick glance at them all, then went up to the first one to get a closer look.
She was dark skinned, with very large breasts showing through her dress. Silas flicked a finger over her nipple and it hardened. The woman smiled at him. She has a beautiful smile and large mouth, which could be useful, he thought. Moving on to the second woman, who was particularly shorter than the rest, which could propose a problem for some of the sexual positions Silas preferred. However, she did have fantastically smooth and shiny black hair, which reached just below her bottom. That could be beneficial, he thought.
There wasn’t anything special about the third or fourth women, both with brown hair and fairly decent bodies, but Silas required something more intriguing. When he reached the fifth woman, he found it. This woman had skin so fair that it was almost translucent, and hair such a bright red that looked as if it were on fire. Her breasts were smaller than the first few women, but her hips were much wider. He ordered her to turn around and she did. Silas bent down and ran a hand over her buttocks, then giving it a small slap, rose and declared, “She will do.”
The last woman, who never even got a second glance from Silas, stomped out angrily, following the rest of the women.
“Take her to my chambers, and fetch Vallica, Simon. I believe she may wish to partake in this one. She has a soft spot for red hair.”
