Book 6, Chapter 23: Obeisance
The ride took longer than he’d indicated. Their army wasn’t so near, but it was here. Or, the time passed slowly for the nervousness at soon being discovered, revealed. My mind flipped from problem to problem.
Serce had come to my kingdom an ambassador, to seal a marriage between me and his brother, the emperor. It would solidify the usurper Otholos’ claims to the Laemacian throne, since I was a direct descendent of the previous emperor. The rightful ruler, at least prior to Otholos overthrowing the throne, killing him and his family. All but me, tucked away as I was in another kingdom, trying to stay alive there.
And while in my kingdom, under my roof, and partaking of my meals, Serce had openly flirted with me, suggesting we have a tryst, that such extramarital affairs were commonplace in Laemacia. I gave him a barrel of whiskey and turned him down.
What a mess, this life. It’s possible I was now in Purgatory, paying for my sins and learning how to not enjoy helplessness.
What, oh what, would I do if he followed the same logic and decided I now had to marry him? No powers at my command, no army at my back, I didn’t have a lot of cards on the table. He might decide execution was a simpler path to retaining power than marrying a rather feisty teenage girl.
And that’s all assuming he wasn’t upset with me for killing his brother. And wiping out their other army, the bulk of their forces. Well, maybe I was looking at this all wrong. Maybe he owed me a favor! I did, after all, effectively give him the throne.
‘You’re welcome,’ I’ll graciously say, even giving him a curtsey, as he arranges for an armed escort to take me back to my own lands.
I sighed. Unlikely.
Before the trees broke, the scents of coriander and cumin filled the air, fresh tilled dirt, and then horses, and then we entered a large meadow sloping up a hill, where thousands and thousands of men were digging pits and installing sharp spikes, fortifications.
None of the rather repulsive smells of latrine just yet, so these guys had arrived not too long ago.
A horseman came to greet us, wearing their gilded chainmail armor, golden curved scabbard on his hip, red and gold boots, and cloak, which I thought must be hot in the summer, but he didn’t seem to mind. I knew him. This man had greeted me on the battlefield, just before I’d met Otholos for the first time, and taken me through hordes and hordes of jeering, spitting soldiers, to the emperor’s tent. Otholos wasn’t super nice, and I ended up burning him to ash and melting their entire army’s metal, be they armor or weapons.
I hoped most survived but knew otherwise. At the beginning of Otholos’ attack on my person, I’d slowly heated up the metal so that they’d get away from it, drop their weapons and armor, run away and leave the battlefield, but fell into the rage, the fire of the divinity, and melted everything at once.
I looked down, averting my gaze, hoping he wouldn’t recognize me. Perhaps out of guilt.
“My lords,” he greeted us, sliding off his horse, “and ladies, please dismount and follow me into the camp. The way is treacherous and uneven yet.”
I wondered at that, since he’d ridden to us, but this was all for show, probably. See how powerful our army is!
I didn’t mind – a real army. Finally. Building fortifications even! I hoped good Captain Gyges felt ashamed as we made our way through. He, though, was busy talking with our guide. The wizard followed, then myself. Cresida was somewhere behind us, along with the remainder of our troops.
With no wizards to protect their armies – or attack their fortifications – they’d learned how to construct them very quickly. Yet it’s never been hard for people to dream up ways to harm others.
As the ground gradually sloped up, we first passed pit traps, then heavy wooden spikes made from tree trunks twice the thickness of spear shafts, set in lines and rectangles to force us to follow a winding path up the hill. Standing at the top, archers and peltasts would have no problem choosing their targets.
After passing these, the trampled ground leveled off, and we came to rows and rows of tents, then long lines of fires, and cooks, filling the air with spices and oils and smoke. Beyond these, the tents became larger, and more extravagant. Probably those of the officers and nobles.
After the tents, we were greeted by a large, open space where phalanx stood in formation, spears up, cavalry in rows behind them, all dressed in silvery chainmail and purple vests, a show of force to greet us.
Our guide stopped us near the front of the phalanx, putting his hand up. A bit too close for my tastes and I tried to ignore the stares of the men, crossed my arms, looking elsewhere. A shadow passed over the ranks as a single, thick and grey cloud drifted above.
We waited.
After the cloud’s departure, sunlight glinted off the soldier’s armor. It pleased me to no end their spears weren’t as tall as my army’s. These were not the long and deadly sarissa, but shorter and narrower pikes, and my phalanx would chew them up. Still, each soldier carried a large, rectangular shield, reaching chest height, though they were resting it on the ground right now, and that might help them a little.
Between the rows and rows of phalanx, a banner appeared, coming toward us. It bore a golden lion on a purple background. Serce, I guess.
I stifled a yawn. Nervous. Bored. Terrified. Yeah.
The first row of pikes directly in front of me began to waver back and forth, almost like they were trembling. Elsewhere, they remained straight, spaced out in near-perfect geometry.
Then a pike dropped forward to the ground, bounced once, rested, forcing me to look. The soldier threw his shield down, then fell to his knees, helmet rolling off and revealing a scarred head, free of hair.
The men to either side of him, the whites of their eyes wide open, staring at me, released their pikes and fell to their knees. The phalanx leader stepped out of formation, yelling at them, telling them to get up. They all, every last one in the first row, had burn scars on their faces, arms, and when they pointed at me, the phalanx leader turned, froze, jaw falling open then, he too, dropped to his knees, going farther into full obeisance, hands forward. One by one, every man knelt, spears and shields down, the entire phalanx collapsing.
This spread among the ranks, probably thinking they were bowing to the emperor, which made his procession toward us all the more visible. But the group stopped, momentarily, while the wave of kneeling continued, until their entire army was on the ground. One by one, the empire’s proud colorful flags gave up their height and wind, to touch the ground as their bearers did, except for those directly surrounding the new emperor.
Damn. I stared straight ahead, trying not to tremble. Wondering what to do.
The horseman who led us here walked toward the army, as if he couldn’t believe what was going on, turned back to us, eyes finding me, then he took off his helmet, letting it fall away, took a step forward, then quickly sank to one knee, saying, “Princess Cayce, please. Please do not burn us. I humbly apologize for my mistreatment of you.”
I couldn’t stop my lip from quivering.
Captain Gyges turned to me, “Princess?”
Talaren, quicker, smarter, possibly putting two and two together, said, “You . . . ?”
A breeze blew past us, leaves rustling at the edge of the tree line, green grass bending, the wind moving over the backs of thousands and thousands of men. A cavalry horse pulled against its reigns, other horses idly slapped flies with their tails. The emperor’s entourage finally passed through the ranks of his kneeling men.
Dressed entirely in loose white cotton, a golden braided belt around his waist as if holding the outfit together, a thin, shining metal crown atop his head, Serce held up a hand, halting the others, then alone walked forward. No bow, he said, “Princess Cayce. This is unexpected. I have not,” he looked over his soldiers, “brought gifts befitting your station.”
Saying nothing, I took him in. Dark black hair, like mine, but light blue at the tips. Olive colored skin and eyes a lighter purple than my own, he was tall but not thick muscled. We stared at each other for a while before I finally decided.
“Empress Cayce. I am here to claim my throne.”
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