Book 2, Chapter 19: Day Nine: One More Journey

The fruit helped. I didn’t wake up hungover. I guess I had Morry to thank for that, and whoever circumvented all my attempts to get more alcohol. So, no blackout drunk experiment and no save screen, sigh.

“Good morning, Cayce. Care for a bath?”

“Morning, Brin. Bath? Shouldn’t that wait until after we get to your uncle’s castle?”

Smiling, she waved her forefinger in front of me, “You want to be at your best, don’t you?”

“I’m really, really, really not going to marry your uncle.”

“You know what they say, keep all your options on the table.”

“I’m just going to find my armor. Present the image I want him to see.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I sent it off for cleaning. Don’t look at me like that, it was full of blood! And your gambeson is nearly in tatters!”

“Brin! Stop deciding what I’m going to wear.”

She took me by the hand, clearly delighted in my response, “I’m the-”

We said it together, “Mistress of the bedroom.”

“And therefore I get to decide what you wear. You’re wearing a dress. Not so elegant as last night’s, but serviceable and noticeable.”

“I hate you.”

“Come on, you like it. I’ve seen how you sneak glances at the mirror, bat your eyelashes. You practice at being cute! But you’re cute already, so you don’t need to be so worried.”

I mumbled something about Satan while she dragged me off to the bath.

After she’d stripped me, I noticed the blood. On my hand, a wide cut. Entirely painless. Yet I was wrong. As I stared, I realized it wasn’t a cut, nor blood, but that odd red powder the girl had applied to my nails. Still there, each nail looked like a mini-sun, blazing away against my skin. On my hand, it looked for all the world like the galactic plane I’d been so eager to teach Morry about. Shimmering stars from the back of thumb to my pinky. It must have happened when I kicked them out of the tent.

“Cayce?” asked Brin, “You’ve been standing naked there for a long moment. Are you ok?”

“Oh my god, sorry.” I slid into the bath. “Hey, how long does this powder stay like this?” I flashed her my nails and hand.

“Oh no, did she get some on your hand? That clumsy oaf, I’ll give her a tongue lashing!”

“It wasn’t her fault, just let it go.”

“But it lasts quite a while. You won’t be able to get that off with soap.”

“Well, yelling at her’s not going to change anything. I guess my hand’s going to look strange for a while then.”

“Gloves. We’ll cover it up. I’ll go find some.”

After she left, I enjoyed my alone time, soaking in the hot water. Refreshing. It pulled a chill out of my bones I hadn’t been aware of.

Looking at my hands, palms, fingers, they felt like mine. I scratched up along my right arm, feeling the sensations. Pleasant, except for one slightly too sharp nail. Not as slender as when I first looked at them, little biceps, forearm muscles. I was toughening up. The training starting to pay off.

My stomach muscles seemed stronger, too. It might have been my imagination, but my hips seemed slightly wider. Had to be my imagination – no one could have noticed such differences in a week. I decided to ignore that, closed my eyes and sank further into the hot water.

I was not a little girl, I was not, this wasn’t me and I certainly was not growing. I repeated this mantra a few times. But I just couldn’t say it enough to believe it.

***

“Brin, where do you dig up all these dresses?” I asked out of exasperation. We had more dresses than horses at this point.

She smiled sweetly, “Why, the royal chests, of course.”

“Chests?”

“If you weren’t so busy playing at being a soldier all the time, you’d see how I, mistress of the bedroom extraordinaire, arrange for your tents to be raised, your dresses, make-up, soap and perfumes, jewelry and accoutrements all to be stored and stowed, carried and carted until you need them again at which point, I carefully lay them out, ensure they aren’t wrinkled, have them ironed and perfumed and, after bathing and preparing your royal body, assist you in donning them.”

“Ah. Yes. I, uh, thank you for your service.” She showed me her teeth, so I hastily added, “I had no idea you did all this!”

“Well, what’d you think happened? We just magicked your dresses whenever you needed them?”

“I, uh, well, huh. I just never gave it any thought. The princess side of things. I kind of just want to wear my armor.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that. And it wouldn’t be very princessly of you, now would it? That’s my other struggle. How would Morrentz put it? ‘You’re the worst princess ever!’ Oh, Cayce!” she threw her arms around me and kissed my neck, nuzzling in, “You know I love you. You are a bother, but I’m happy to serve you.”

I was a little stunned, so stunned I hugged her back, tightly. I didn’t kiss her neck, though. “Brin, I still need you to put clothes on me.”

She and the new ladies in waiting did so. A deep blue dress, with a dark blue wool overcoat. It was lighter than I thought, made for this weather.

“And, your parasol.”

“I need a parasol?”

“For today you do.”

“How am I going to ride a horse with a parasol?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Is this one of those ladylike things we do?”

“Yes.”

I sighed loudly.

“I’m going to give you another parasol to carry if you sigh again!”

***

As I approached the council, Brundle gave me the once over glance and almost, he caught himself before, almost rolling his eyes. “Princess Cayce, lovely to, ah, see you in this attire.”

Shaking my head, “I hate it, too, General. What have you got for me today?”

Rand and Gun were present, along with Etienne. No grand magister. Gun realized he was staring too long and looked away, trying to find anything else to look at but me. I pretended not to notice.

Brundle began, “It looks like we’ll be stationing the bulk of our army here, at the river and you’ll be taking a small contingent of cavalry to Castle Bechalle.”

“Looks like?”

“It’s what the duke ordered this morning.”

“I see. Who outranks whom here?”

“Well, you are the princess. But you’re not of age,” something that rankled me, “and we are guests on his land.”

“And he’s an adult male. Yeah, I got it. So, he gives the orders?”

“And,” Etienne smiled, “you aren’t technically in the command structure of the army. None of the, excuse me, none of your soldiers thought to tell you.”

“Wait a sec, what? How am I not in the command structure?”

Brundle didn’t say anything, so Rand jumped in, “Formally, Your Highness, you are a princess and so-”

“Alright, I get it. If not me, then who leads the army?”

He cleared his throat nervously. “Your husband.”

I sat back. Annoyed. Folded my arms across my chest. “Look, I very clearly don’t have a husband. I’m therefore in command.”

“Technically,” Etienne said, “the dowager-regent is in command. Until you are sixteen.”

“We went through this already. And she no longer has ‘regent’ in her title! Brundle and I, we discussed this. Military power-”

“Right,” said Brundle, “and now we are in your cousin’s lands. Listen,” he leaned forward, “the army will follow your lead. We are yours to command.” He glared at Etienne, “But in your absence, as you will be a guest in His Grace’s abode, leadership will temporarily be given to His Grace’s generals. We’ll come under their command structure. Part of it.”

Gun finally spoke up, “It works better this way. One organized army in case the Ketzillians attack instead of two armies having a power struggle.”

“Ok, ok, that makes sense. While we’re here, we’ll acquiesce to that.”

“That means, Your Highness, we must confer with the duke to continue this conversation.” Etienne was very much on my nerves this morning. I wondered why he decided to be so antagonistic.

“I see. Alright, let’s head over to their tent and get all this sorted out.”

“One last thing,” Brundle began, “I’ve sent a hundred men to look for your spear. They should find it because-”

“-because I added a mage to their party.”

I resisted saying ‘Did the duke ok that?’ I didn’t want to be catty, but I was becoming catty in my head. Arg. “Thank you, Wizard Etienne, thank you General Brundle. Oh!” I snapped my fingers, “I just remembered. The special forces. Uh, the new regiment you were going to make me.”

“Out of the crucified troops, yes.”

“Not a sentence I ever imagined being uttered, but If you could get on that, it’d be great.”

“I’ve included those men in your cavalry allotment. Under Morrentz’s command.”

“Oh?”

“Well, who better?”

“I think that’s a fine idea. Where is Morry anyways?”

“Getting the unit together as we speak.”

“That means we have to give him a rank.”

“Yes, perhaps captain would be appropriate?”

“Ok, ok,” I smiled, “but let’s not tell him. It’ll go to his head.”

***

We took horses to reach the duke’s tents. They weren’t so far that we couldn’t walk, but from there we were heading to his castle, so needed them anyway. I was on his gift, my new and large horse. We seemed to get along, but what did I know about horses? It didn’t throw me on the way.

“Princess Cayce,” Bechalle said, standing upon my arrival, “you are most welcome to our council.”

“Your Grace, generals,” I nodded, closed the annoying parasol and left it outside the tent. I might have, possibly just a little, left it leaning to the side, hoping it would fall into the mud. “Please, continue.”

“We were just discussing the captured baggage trains.” He turned to his generals all seated around a circular table, “As I was saying, divide the proceeds equally, leave all sustenance here, and give the captured gold to Princess Cayce’s General . . . ah, General . . . “

“Brundle, Your Grace.”

“Yes. In the care of General Brundle.” To me, he added, “We’ll be leaving shortly. My army is assigned here, to prevent the Ketzles from entering my duchy. You’ll be bringing 1000 of your cavalry I presume?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. If it pleases you, your generals can coordinate with mine in joint defense.”

“I . . . I’d assumed they’d be working under your general’s instruction.”

“No need. With proper coordination, the two armies can effectively monitor this area and prevent incursions. I trust your military has a good command structure for you to have made it this far.”

I was wondering what the hell our meeting was all about back at my tents. Was Brundle or Etienne trying to make me look bad? I brushed off this feeling. Brundle himself looked puzzled and Etienne was just smug. Maybe that was his normal, though. He’d almost certainly be that vegan Hollywood movie star who got busted eating a hamburger. At least, today he would be. He wasn’t like this before. Did I kill his friends?

They talked further about setting up patrols, sharing intelligence, daily meetings and so on. I zoned out, staring at the faded green canvas walls. Eventually, the meeting came to an end. I only noticed because Bechalle stood, “Thank you Princess Cayce and gentlemen. We are in good hands. Cayce?” Holding out his arm, he waited.

I rose, thanked everyone, gave Brundle a puzzled ‘What the hell’ look to which he returned with a ‘No idea’ look, and thanked everyone, then put my arm in Bechalle’s and we exited.

“I trust you slept well?”

“Oh,” I said, “very well. First time in more than a week, what with being pursued and all that.”

“I can only imagine. Your men are reassured about your person?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Your safety.”

“Of course. They know I’m perfectly safe under your protection.” And, I silently added, they’ve warned me about you repeatedly. I’m probably in more danger now than at any point in the last week. So much for safety.

“Excellent.” He took me to my new, impressive horse, “Then I hope to not see you worry about them so.”

“Excuse me?”

“Allow me to help you up.” He cupped his hands I mounted the horse. It was suddenly uncomfortable because I’d sat down incorrectly. The dress and shift somehow caught on the corners of the saddle, leaving my bare bottom directly on the leather seat. I couldn’t immediately rearrange my dress with the duke there, so I flashed him the best and nicest smile, thinking ‘go away, go away, go away’ the whole time.

“Let us ride together and I’ll describe to you the sights.”

“Sounds great!”

“You’re sure you’re comfortable not riding side saddle?”

“I’m perfectly fine.” The moment he left to get his horse, I jumped up and pushed this annoying dress under my bottom. Much better!

“Princess Cayce?”

It was Gun. “Yes?”

“Your parasol.” He passed it to me, smiling.

“Thank you, Gun. Definitely would not have wanted to leave this behind.”

“A pleasure. Take care, my lady.” He took my hand and kissed it a little too long, but all I could think was ‘damn parasol, foiled again!’ It wasn’t even a little muddy.

***

All my generals and Etienne stood by the side, waving as we left. I stopped the horse next to Brundle, “Looks like it’s in your charge after all.”

“My lady, I didn’t know it would turn out like that.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m getting weird vibes, be careful Brundle. Keep it together.”

“Weird vibes?”

“Uh, a strange feeling.”

“A premonition?”

“Just a bad feeling, ok? Something bugs me about this whole arrangement. Keep the men in practice, stay on your guard.”

“I will. And you, too.” He leaned in close, “For all his politeness, don’t trust him. I worry that he’s planning something . . . that doesn’t align with your interests.”

“Back into the fire, eh?”

“I fear this one is a slow burn. Take care, Cayce.”

“You too!” As I rode off, I realized that he’d forgotten his honorifics. That left me smiling. Even more so when I saw Morry and Tread at the head of my accompanying cavalry. My new captains. Well, Morry was. Had no idea about Tread. Head guard? Gopher? Lead chair-puller-outer for Brin?

Anyways, it was kind of my deranged tyrant cousin to allow a protective guard for my person. Of course, so far, he was anything but deranged and tyrannical. Not what I’d call marriage material, but polite and friendly, certainly. To me, to people on his side. As far as I’d observed, I reminded myself. I’d have to pay close attention to his behavior, the people around him. If they were scared of him, that’d be an ominous sign.

***

It was well into late morning, and we’d caught up to, and passed, our baggage train. Morry and Tread were leading the new elite unit made from those who’d been crucified – how many living people can claim that? – and the duke and I were riding ahead of them, the duke’s cavalry leading this excursion.

“These woods on the left, excellent grouse and rabbit hunting.”

“Oh?” I hadn’t been paying much attention. Bechalle had been going on and on about the specifics of his land. Types of forestry, the logging they did and where and who they sold it to, various crops we’d passed, taxes levied. I should have, I really needed to be paying attention. Here was a ruler pretty much telling me how to rule and I was ignoring it like a, well like a child. Arrg! I hated myself sometimes.

“I imagine you don’t do much hunting?”

“Honestly, I would love to accompany you on a hunt, cousin-”

“Please, call me by my first name, Albian.”

“I apologize. Just, my whole life,” I mean, technically true if by that I meant my entire time on this planet, “my whole life I’ve called you cousin.”

“Between you and I, it’s not even true.”

“Excuse me, what? You’re not my cousin?”

“Cayce, I was there. On that campaign.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Brundle had explained this very thing to me just a few days ago. He was about to tell me that I wasn’t the queen’s daughter. Which, fine, but I was the king’s. I didn’t see the issue.

“I’m not, strictly speaking, your cousin. You see, your father-”

“Even if that’s true, and I’m not conceding it-”

“I was there.”

“Yes, but even still, you are the king’s, ah, my father’s nephew. So, you’re still my cousin.”

“I’m the queen’s nephew. Well rest her soul.”

My jaw dropped. One of my main objections for marriage had just crumbled. Of course, he hadn’t mentioned marriage yet, so this could be some other thing. A warning? Perhaps he was planning to take the kingdom. “You . . . aren’t . . . my cousin?”

“I never was. I was, however, there when you and Rimley were born.”

“Oh fu . . . fudge.”

“Fudge?”

“I’m cutting down on swearing!”

He smiled warmly and, dare I say, prettily, reaching almost to his eyes, “Excellent, for a young lady such as yourself, swearing is a sign of bad character.”

“Just for young ladies?”

“Hmm.” He cocked his head, “A good point, I concede. Yes, a bad character trait in general. Common, almost.”

“So, if you’re not my cousin,” I stupidly said and should not have said, “then . . . ?”

“Yes. Were we to marry, our children would not be beset upon by the ill favor of the gods.”

“Oh. What a relief.” I felt small in this dress next to him. I ducked under a few branches. The tree itself had white, peeling bark. A poplar among many others.

“And you, Cayce? Do you have plans for marriage? Suitors?”

“Honestly, it’s the furthest thing from my mind. I’m interested in martial, not marital, aid.”

“Often, amongst royalty, those are entwined.”

“Uhm. Entwined.” I slumped a bit. “I just . . . marriage isn’t something I-”

“Yes, your childhood has been rudely interrupted. It’s hard, to be forced to grow up so quickly.”

“I wouldn’t call myself a child.”

“I stand corrected! Of course, a young lady. Who could deny that? You’ve been leading your father’s army since that fateful battle.”

If I had a mickey, I’d down it in one go. Why did I have to dig myself into these holes? Ego? Insecurity? I should have remained in the child’s role.

He continued, “Perhaps you should stay and rest, recover what you can of your childhood, indulge in innocent activities, as long as you can. My home is open to you and at your disposal.”

I changed topics, needing to get away from this line of reasoning. “If I’m understanding you correctly, you were present at my birth?”

“Yes.”

“And I was born on a battlefield?”

“Yes. But not exactly.” He paused, cocked his head, looked back at me with his dark green eyes, “The campaign was longer than most people remember now. I was sixteen when it started.”

“Wait, sixteen? I was told the, uhm, Laemacian barbarians attacked your castle.”

“Not entirely untrue, for it is my castle now, but at the time, it was my father’s. He, however, died in the initial assault. I was training in your father’s army when the news came. Upon my father’s death, the castle became mine.”

“That must have been awful news.”

“Indeed. The king mustered two armies quickly, and we set off to meet the invasion.”

“So, the king, ah, my father,” I didn’t like saying it, since I’d never met the man. He was just backstory to me in this awful game, or awful reality, “found solace in a camp follower?”

He laughed at that, “No, no, where did you get that idea? Your mother was a princess, fourth in line to the Laemacian throne.”

“What?” The implications were stunning. I couldn’t get my head around them. “I’m an heir to two thrones?

“Yes, Cayce, you’re the only surviving royal for two kingdoms. Well, one kingdom and one empire.” He leaned in, “The Northern Barbarians aren’t really barbarians. They’re quite civilized.”

“Jesus fucking Chr-”

“Excuse me?”

“Fudge, I mean holy fudge. This just keeps getting worse. Wait! You said ‘only surviving’ – what happened to the ruling family in Laemacia?”

“You hadn’t heard? Why are your councilors keeping this information from you?”

“No, I hadn’t heard!”

“The northern barbarians have fallen into civil war. Most of the royal family has been killed. Some assassinated, some in battle. The rebel king, well usurper from your point of view, has been gaining ground this year.”

“If I am understanding you correctly, I am the rightful heir to the Laemacian Kingdom?”

“Empire.”

“An empire, I see.” The trees opened up to a large meadow. We clomped along the road.

“I suspect that’s why the Ketzles attacked the kingdom. They either have an agreement with the usurper, and would benefit from your death, or were hoping to force you into marriage with one of their princes.”

“Does this also explain why the Barclay duke would be working with the dowager?”

“Possibly, but for them to wrest control of the Laemacian Empire, they’d need you alive. Better as a willing partner. Until your first child of course. But doing away with you would be tricky, even with your child. There are a lot of potential claimants who are offspring of direct heirs. Also, they’d either need my involvement or my dukedom’s, and the latter would require my removal.”

“This just keeps getting better and better. Ok, Albian, I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to do.” I shouldn’t be asking him, he probably had a stake in this battle for crowns, but he was the only one around. At least I now figured out why he sided with me against the dowager. But then, wouldn’t he also benefit from my marriage, heirs, or death?

“The obvious solution would be to marry someone with a strong military. Wait,” he held up his hand before I could protest, “calm down. That’s not the only solution, just one of many.”

“Oh? What other solutions exist?”

“You could raise your own army. But you’ll need money for that. Either from investors or pillaging.”

“Yeah. My army doesn’t seem big enough anymore.”

“It’s not. Combined with mine, it’s stronger. But, still, I’d have to call my bannermen in.”

My shoulders slumped. “Maybe I could, I don’t know, go into hiding?”

He seemed taken aback, “Would you be happy with that life, though? A peasant when you’re meant to rule two states? Or are you thinking to be cloistered?”

I was really just looking for the save and exit button. Maybe it’d be easier to find while hiding. All this running from danger into more danger wasn’t giving me any time.

“Cayce, you’re young. I understand that marriage isn’t attractive, perhaps even frightening. But I want you to know that if you were to entertain the idea, if you were to marry someone my age, for example, you wouldn’t have to consummate the marriage for several years.”

“Oh?” That would be good.

“Not at all. You’re too young for such a . . . bonding to be safe. Why, were I to wed someone your age, I’d insist on waiting at least four years.”

“I was unaware that weddings worked like this. I had hoped to-”

“Marry for love? Don’t we all, but that’s a fantasy for people of our station. Marry for power or economics, let the rest sort itself out as you age together. Now, I’m not saying I want to marry you, but perhaps it’s something we should both consider.”

“Oh?” I brightened up, not wanting marriage was great! “You don’t want to be married?”

“It’s something I’ve resisted over the years. I’m old enough now that I should have wed and, like you, have councilors and family pressuring me, but it’s just not . . . me.”

“Forgive me, but that’s a relief! Here I thought you wanted me to marry you.”

“A marriage of convenience perhaps. I’m not sure it’s in my best interests. You offer power, but also years of war and the potential for disaster.”

“This is so confusing. I, uh, you know I hate this damn parasol!” I closed it and threw it into the woods. “Alright, cousin, let’s gallop a little!” I spurred the horse on, leaving him behind, whatever surprise on his face going unnoticed by me as I sought to get away from his voice. Maybe he grew angered, yelling at me to not call him cousin, but I didn’t hear anything. I hoped so, as my horse raced along.

***

Racing off like that gave me the lead. Foolish, I know. Childish, I hoped. I didn’t want him to see me as adult enough to marry. But who am I kidding? I was trying to justify my spontaneous actions. I did that just to get away from him and this convoluted talk of politics and marriage. Blach!

I sped passed the lead soldiers, who shouted at me, but I didn’t pay any attention. Soon, they were chasing me. But wherever he got this horse from, well, it was a good horse. Strong and fast, we were far ahead. And everyone else was wearing armor and were full grown men.

The road turned uphill for a bit, my horse tirelessly galloping along, we crested the hill and before us stood a village. Or a hamlet. A number of houses bunched all together, with this road going through them. I slowed to a walk to take in the sights.

A creek ran alongside the village and women were there, rubbing what looked like cloth onto wooden boards. Some looked up, some kept busy. Children played nearby. Some men stood nearby, holding spears and looking around, bored.

They passed out of view as I moved into the town center. There were more buildings than I could see from the road, and they stretched on for quite a while. On my left was a pen with a bunch of sheep baaing and so on. It was an open-air building, support pillars and a ceiling, walls that didn’t fully enclose the space. People were shearing the sheep inside.

I stopped, dismounted, and walked the horse over to look. I’d never seen anything like this before and curiosity got the better of me.

Despite being an open-air building it was still darker inside than out. No candles or torches. A man sat at a bench, sheep in front of him, and he patted it with his left hand, clumped up a bunch of hair, then used large sheers to cut off the mat. A young boy picked up the mat, brought it to a barrel and dumped it in. Further in were more barrels and a couple women stirring with what looked like huge wooden beams.

“You want something miss?” asked a teenage boy.

“Oh, sorry, no. I’m just . . . walking about.”

“You’re dressed pretty fancy for here.” His eyes widened, mouth dropping, “Your eyes!” He backed up and ran back into the building, shouting something at the people, who turned to stare. The sheep-sheerer stood, staring at me, walked over to a pitchfork.

I backed up, waved at him, “Sorry, sorry, just curious.”

“How many with you?” he half shouted.

I didn’t feel like staying was a good idea, so I led my horse on. The ringing sounds of metal on metal emanated from the next building. A blacksmith! It, too, had large, open spaces in the walls. Teenage boys were hammering something into an anvil, each using one side of it. A couple of hits, they’d use tongs to place it aside, then grab another small metal object out of the hearth. I couldn’t quite see what they were, but they were long and thin.

Horses rode up behind, finally catching up. “Your Highness,” one of them began, “it’s not safe to be riding out alone like that. There could be-”

“Assassins. Yes, yes, always the assassins.”

“Princess Cayce!” Bechalle rode up, snarl on his face, eyebrows furrowed, “Whatever possessed you to leave our entourage behind? Do you understand the danger you put yourself in?”

“Surely there’s no danger on your lands.”

Narrow eyes and angry face, “You’re a brash little girl.”

I tilted my head up at him as sweetly as possible, “What danger is that? From the sheep?” I hastily looked behind to double check the pitchfork wielding man wasn’t around to contradict my incredulity, but he’d since left. Hopefully, gone back to shearing.

The duke looked off toward the houses along the creek, eventually the anger dropping from his features. Then he dismounted, handed the reins to a soldier and walked over to me. “Come, let us walk for a time.”

“What are they hammering?”

Bechalle looked for a moment. “Nails. Probably getting ready to construct another building.”

“Oh.” Imagine having to make each nail by hand. How time consuming!

“You haven’t seen a blacksmith working before?”

“Uh, no. These past few days, well since the war began, really, I’ve learned just how utterly sheltered my life has been.”

Bechalle brightened at that, actually smiled, all anger apparently forgotten. “Allow me to show you how a village works.”