Book 4, Chapter 4: Laemacian Ambassador Serce

He was standing in the hallway, dressed in his pants that I so admired. Slacks, I guess they were called back in the day. Black, straight, with real belt loops and a real belt holding them up, dark, dark red and not even a little shiny. His billowing, silly striped silk shirt kinda threw off the whole cool, edgy artist thing, though. But I was happy for the genuine pants. So far, I’d been unable to address the law my body’s father enacted that forbade women from wearing men’s clothing. It was like I was living in the dark ages.

Serce bowed, taking my hand in his, but not quit pulling it to his lips, “I’m sorry you couldn’t make it for dinner. I was hoping to spend some time alone with you, go over our agreements, discuss the problems your kingdom faces. Perhaps I can offer solutions.”

“Well, Your Excellency,” I said, taking the ambassador’s arm in mine, “I’m almost sad that you’re leaving.”

“Almost?”

“I’m definitely going to miss your pants and those spectacular belt loops.”

“I’m not sure how to respond, my lady.”

“Let’s walk for a bit. It’s chilly.” We set off down the hallway. That was a benefit to castles, lots of hallways to walk through. He was leaving, his entourage was somewhere outside, getting the horses and wagons ready. We took a roundabout path.

“That’s one thing I’ve been meaning to ask. Why aren’t your stone walls covered?”

“Covered?”

“With wood or plaster, even wattle and daub would be warmer. They don’t have to be ugly, you can paint the plaster. Or even paper over them. Then paint the paper.”

“Wait, castle walls aren’t usually stone?” All those pictures I saw on the internet of bare stone walled castles . . . lied to me? I was a bit stunned. “I apologize for my ignorance, but what is wattle and daub?”

“Perhaps it’s a technique limited to Laemacia. We are more sophisticated than you imagine, you know.”

“So it seems, but what is the technique?”

“It’s similar to plaster, except that straw is mixed into the mud, and supported by a wooden lattice.”

“Oh. That’s, uh, some pretty high tech.”

“Hitek? Is that a Breadamont word?”

“I mean, yeah, that would be great. I’ll have to get some people on it here.” If I could explain it to anyone here. I mean, explaining stirrups was quite the struggle. And the new saddle makers still hadn’t worked them out.

“I suspect if you visit over the winter, you’ll come to appreciate it as the insulation it brings greatly warms the castle interiors.”

“Well, we have fireplaces here! I’ll have you know those . . . devices . . . warm up rooms.” No idea why I was defending Bechalle’s castle or this kingdom’s level of technology. I mean, I came from a place where we simply told the computer what temperature we’d like our tiny, little cubic space to be and, well, it became that with no smoke or even argument. Though I’d come to enjoy wood smoke.

“Indeed.”

“Ok, yes, that makes a lot of sense. Insulation. I wonder why we’re not using it here. We do have, uh, tapestries hanging all over the place, but they can only do so much.”

“Yes, your tapestries. It’s almost like being in a library.”

I suspected ‘museum’ would be closer to his sentiments, but it wasn’t something I wanted to explain. Or, rather, it was closer to my translation of his sentiments. “Bechalle was fond of tapestries.”

“You’ve never asked about my brother.”

“What?”

“Otholos. The emperor, the man you’d be marrying.”

“That’s not quite accurate. I once asked if he was more handsome than you.”

“Right, right. But you’ve never inquired more about him, his character.”

“I don’t think I need to. He took an empire by force, eliminating the previous power holders.”

“That is true. So, you’ve deduced that he’s ambitious and competent.”

“I suppose those were, well, uh, my relatives. The man who killed off all my cousins and half-brothers and such, for some strange reason, thinks it’s a good idea to marry me. A safe idea.”

He stumbled in our walk, muffling a cough or perhaps a guffaw, but I held onto his arm tightly and didn’t bring attention to the misstep. Looking away, slightly amused lilt to his voice, “Yes, that’s – ahem – accurate.”

“And he has three wives and demands another through threat of war. I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that he’s not a nice person.”

“Ah. And is that a requirement for your future husband, that they be . . . nice?”

“Nice used to be high on my list of qualities in a spouse. But, yeah. I take your point. This would be a marriage for survival.”

“And power.”

“I guess. I suppose that’s accurate. Power.” If only he knew the awesome power at my command. I could literally fire lasers out of my palms. It was a thing I didn’t want, was desperate to control, power. “Let me ask you a question. Do you want to rule?”

He stopped. “My lady, are you asking me if I want to overthrow my brother?”

“I’ll tell you a secret. I didn’t, you know, want to rule. Not a thing I wanted! Ending up the leader of a kingdom was never something I imagined.”

“Losing your entire family must have been awful for you.”

“Yeah. Certainly.” I shook my head, thinking that I didn’t know any of those people. Or the relatives his brother had killed. But I guess I did lose whatever family I had in my previous life. Along with their memories. “Yes. What I mean to say is that I’m doing this all to stay alive. This princess thing. Ruling. Ruling, I mean.”

“We all are. In our high station, the gambits carry greater consequences.”

“Well, your brother kind of proved that with all my relatives. On that side of the family.”

He coughed lightly, covered his mouth.

“And knowing that, the precarious position I’m in, you generously threatened war against me, to save myself from all these troubles in marriage, and protect my kingdom.”

He stopped there, turned toward me, forcing me to as well, our arms drifting apart, but he held onto my hand, reached out for my other, and I gave it to him, “It is a rude thing, to be sure, what my brother has offered you.”

“Offered?”

“Though, you and your lands would be protected.”

“I just want to be clear on one detail here. You’re claiming that Laemacia can easily beat Ketzle? That somehow my kingdom is at the bottom of the power heap and our only choice is to submit?”

“You and I know it’s not that simple. Your earls are nearly in open rebellion. Your sole remaining duchy is.”

That gave me pause, and I looked up at his face, searching for any hint, a clue, but of what I didn’t know.

He continued, “Yet allow me to again offer our support. If you won’t allow Laemacia to help with your spring conquest-”

“Campaign. Not conquest. We’re retaking our lands, not taking someone else’s.”

“I stand corrected. We could station forces here to protect your interests. This dukedom. If you cannot find a worthy duke to lead it.”

“How do you know about the earls, their contentions about the duchy?”

“I have been here for weeks. You haven’t appointed a new duke.”

“Hafthon has approached you, hasn’t he?”

“As I was suggesting, we could station an army here. If you would declare your intentions to wed the emperor.”

“That’s the crux of it. Trading myself for peace and safety.”

“As far as I’ve seen, my lady, you consider promises in high regard.”

“Look, I did promise to visit after the campaign, and I will. Let me think about your generous offer of assistance. But, you have to know, it almost seems like you’re taking advantage of a young girl’s naivety in the promise of stationing, shall we say, peace keeping soldiers here.”

“It wouldn’t be enough to take these lands, only enough to protect them. Perhaps ten thousand troops.”

“Enough to cause real problems if you marched your full force down here.”

“We wouldn’t need inside help if we marched our full force on you.”

“And why, my lord, would you not wish to rule such a powerful empire?”

Still facing me, holding onto my hands, he took a deep breath, looking downward, “Princess Cayce, you know that’s not a fair question.”

I smiled as prettily as possible, probably overly blinking, and said, “Your brother didn’t come down here in person, so how am I to know who I’m dealing with here?”

“I promise you that I serve the interests of Laemacia.”

I couldn’t help but wonder how many people have believed exactly that while conflating their personal interests for their kingdom’s. I certainly was. Yet I hoped, at some point in the future, I could offer these people more. More what, exactly, I wasn’t sure. I had gotten them off lead-acetate, though. Or at least warned some of them about it. Ok, just a handful of people. Still, that was a start!

He continued, “Listen, you don’t know how close you are to losing these lands. You’re outnumbered greatly. Your earls, excuse me, the earls, have a force exceeding your own.” I opened my mouth to contradict him, but he pulled on my hands, “Let me finish. They’re waiting. Just waiting for you to leave and then they’ll declare themselves king. You know who I’m talking about.”

“I already said it. Hafthon.”

“Laemacia hedges its bets.”

“Is that how it is now?”

“If you’ll allow me to serve your interests, we can protect this land for you. But you have to offer something in return.”

I dropped his hands, took a step back. Turned around and walked a bit. What would happen if I accepted his offer? Laemacia would send more than enough troops to hold the duchy. And I’d have little bargaining power and this time next year would be a pregnant, powerless wife of a man who was selfish and egotistical enough to take an empire. And murderous.

“I’m not going to marry your brother.” I closed my eyes. Why, oh why, did I have to give away my hand at every goddamn conflict? I could have told him, ‘It’s not your brother I’m interested in,’ or ‘If you take the empire, I’m yours,’ or something – ugh! I couldn’t play these people. Open book. That’s what my Civilization Game Name will be, ‘Princess Cayce the Open Book.’ Ranked slightly higher than Nero the Idiotic. At least he had the fun of racing a horse up and down all the ships in his harbor. Probably the only person to do that in history.

At least, I hope I’d be ranked higher than Nero.

Serce crossed the slight distance between us, placed his hands upon my shoulders. I should have flinched, or pulled away angrily, but I didn’t and looked down the otherwise empty hallway. “Cayce, marriages aren’t so . . . closed in Laemacia. We could-”

Ok, that was enough, I spun around, brushing his hands away, “Look, grow some backbone, man the fuck up. I’m sorry,” I shook my head, looked at the floor and then into his eyes. “My no swearing rule. Man up, take the empire. You know, or don’t. Do what you want, but I’m not marrying your brother and seeing you on the side. That’s not happening.”

He took a step back, a somewhat confused look on his face. “I think, I think it may be time for me to take my leave of you.”

“Yes. Great. Alright.”

He gave me the oddest look and then we walked out the doors, toward what I thought of as the driveway of the castle. Not arm in arm, not saying anything. Perfectly fine with me. After he left, one less pressure I had to deal with, one less person I’d blast by accident.

On that thought, quickly checking my hands, no magical energy to worry about. For that, at least, I felt better.

***

I’d expected him to be leaving in a carriage, for no reason other than movies and videos and documentaries and wasn’t disappointed. It was handcrafted, of course, with long wooden arches that doubled as stairs, spires running up each door frame to hide the hinges, and many carvings of people and animals, even a demon or two, on the doors themselves, all in black lacquer. The demons’ eyes and horns were painted gold and glittered in the daylight. I couldn’t help but marvel at it, leaned down to touch the shiny, black glaze. It was as smooth as it was shiny, like touching a grand piano.

He broke our silence, “I see you appreciate the finer qualities of our workmanship.”

Stunned at this ancient piece of artwork, I blurted out, “Oh! It’s a marvel. Beautiful.”

“This is lacquer. Thicker and stronger than paint and reflects the sunlight so pleasantly.”

“Yes, I know what lacquer is.”

“You do? It’s only made in Laemacia and rarely exported. I didn’t see any examples in the castle.”

I turned around to face him, back to the carriage doors. “Uh, I’ve had a diverse education. Forgive me, but I can’t recall how it’s made.”

A win for him, he smiled. “From the sap of a tree found only east of here.”

“Ah. What are the demon images for? Keeping out evil spirits?”

“To remind us that humanity has a varied temper.”

“Artistic purposes then.”

“Your Highness, allow me to gift you the carriage, seeing as you enjoy it so.”

“What? No, I couldn’t. How would you get back home?”

“Horseback, of course. At least until I get to my troops. I have other carriages there, and wagons aplenty. You needn’t worry.” He stepped forward, lifted his arm tentatively toward me and slowly stroked my face.

The urge to pull away was strong and sudden, but I fought it and forced a smile. Hadn’t we just solved this issue? Once again, he took his hand in mine, and I had nowhere to back-up to, being against the carriage, and he was saying nothing, not quite smiling, but looking into me, so I babbled, “Uhm, ah, if we are, seeing as we are trading gifts, I had something made for, well it’s a gift for you and your brother and it’s probably too big for a horse.”

“Oh?”

I ducked under his arm, stepping away from the carriage, but since he hadn’t released my hand I pulled him along with me, then had to whirl about until I stood beside him, facing the waiting boys, gesturing them to bring their load forward. The two of them pulled a cart towards us, two quarter barrels atop it.

“It’s whiskey, my first batch. Better than Bechalle’s nasty stuff and better still if you age it.”

“It could only be better than Bechalle’s . . . liquid.”

“I should apologize for forcing that on you when we first met. Here,” I signaled to a third boy, carrying glasses and a bottle, “a toast to our future friendship.”

“Friendship, family or . . . adversaries?”

Lovers, I was sure he was going to say lovers. Adversaries would do. Looking away, trying to remember my position, then into his light lavender eyes pointedly, I said, “The best I can offer you is a visit. As you know. We’ll see how that goes.”

“I accept the best you can offer and look forward to your visit.”

Extracting myself from his hand, I poured two glasses, handed him one with a little bow, “Be careful, this stuff is strong.” It was yellow in color, after the ale it’d been distilled from. And new. This bottle hadn’t been casked at all, and I’d personally mixed it with water. As close to 40% as I could guess. The best I could do in such a short time. Behind us, the boys grunted as they loaded the barrels onto the carriage, but neither of us paid attention.

He raised it to his lips, took a sip, shoulders curled inwards, frown on his face, and said, “Ah. Yes. Not like the alejack.”

I took a swig and savored the burn, vapors just harsh enough, closed my eyes as it sank through my throat and warmed my belly. Caramel overtones, sweet yet strong, no hint of smokiness and definitely too young. But, whiskey! A smile crept across my face, “Isn’t it though? Entirely unlike the alejack.” Suddenly feeling decidedly vile, I took a step toward him, took his hand in mine, glint in my eye, “Shall we make a toast?”

“My lady.”

“To the future, may you be brave and gain all that you desire.” I lifted my glass and downed the harsh, but sweet, liquid, enjoying it burn all the way down.

“To your kingdom. May you retake it swiftly and easily,” he tossed it back, face scrunched up, raised my hand to his lips, he bowed, handed the glass off to a boy, another someone opened his carriage door, and he stepped in.

That was it. He didn’t say anything else. Perhaps the whiskey was too harsh. Perhaps I was.

The driver atop got the horses going and, as it moved away, I couldn’t help but say aloud, “Didn’t he just give me that carriage?” I sighed. The Laemacian ambassador and prince just stole my first carriage. My favorite carriage even! Huh. I handed my own glass to the same boy waiting nearby, “You guys, feel free to finish off the bottle.”

They were all smiles, taking the empty cart away. I probably shouldn’t encourage underage drinking, but as far as I knew, no such legal or moral code governed that here. Or child labor, as they were certainly performing for the dukedom. For me. Huh. I’d have to address that at some point.

I turned back to watch the prince’s entourage, his honor guard and all that, atop their horses, spears pointed straight up, polished chain armor glistening in the almost winter sun, leave through the gates. With him gone, I wondered if I’d just given up my safety. Or potential back-up plans.