Chapter Twelve

Fit For A King

 

At first, Vera and Clarus had been waving at the crowd, feeling like it had been the right thing to do. However, it quickly became clear that the people in front of them were barely paying attention to the people on the stage anymore. So they’d sat down behind some of the large tables and began ‘diplomatic talks’ which, it turned out, consisted of eating and drinking a lot. 

All around them, the crowd was doing the same thing. In front of the large table, the fires now roasted all kinds of meats, vegetables and mushrooms, servants handing out bowls of food to the hungry and the should-have-really-stopped-eating-two-servings-ago.

“So,” King Leonald said as he wiped his mouth with the tablecloth, “I hope my son has been the good host I have failed to be?” He raised his flagon, which was quickly filled by one of several people running around the stage to keep everyone topped up. 

Vera smiled graciously, looking around while Clarus made it clear that their reception had been wonderful, absolutely delightful. After the raising of the torch and lighting of the bonfires, several dozen nobles had joined them onto the stage. Other than proximity to the king, there didn’t seem to be any real difference between what was served on stage and what the populace got. On top of that, it didn’t seem like anyone was being charged for the food. 

“It’s been a delight, Your Highness,” Vera said when a lull in the conversation made it clear her input was expected. “Fennian has been kind in every respect.” She raised her glass, quickly mirrored by Clarus, at King Leonald, his son by his side. Fennian gratefully lowered his head, but the King looked at him with a raised eyebrow. The Prince smirked at her from under his brow. 

“He likes you,” Aesling said.

“Really? Well, I suppose it was a matter of time, hmm?” The king chuckled as he landed his hand on his son’s back, who laughed along with him. A piece of pork was deposited on a plate in front of him so unceremoniously, Vera almost thought it had been an accident. King Leonald didn’t even blink. “My son tells me you’ve had questions regarding magic and the like,” he said as he cut the pork to pieces. “I’ll thank you for your patience. After the war, magic has become a contentious subject, and there are things to be discussed that we shouldn’t under an open sky.” He waved his fork around generally, but his eyes landed on the many noble families who were gathered and, clearly, trying to hear the King’s words if they couldn’t bend his ear. 

“Of course, Your Highness,” Clarus said. “And we are grateful, of course. We will be happy to leave such matters to quieter times. In their stead, might you… elaborate somewhat on the nature of the festival?” He looked around. “It is strange to see a King sit and dine so close to his people, let alone share their meals with them.”

Leonald nodded solemnly as he looked out over the crowds. Nobody was even looking at them. People were talking, eating, laughing, dancing. Children sat on their parents’ shoulders holding floating lanterns and candy. Clarus had never been this invisible, but going off of the wistful, curious smile on his face, he didn’t seem to mind. 

“Indeed,” King Leonald said. “It wasn’t always like this, of course. My great-grandfather will go into history as a cruel man, but in truth, he was simply scared. “Fear,” he said, waving a large mushroom, “makes for poor council. Now progress, there’s a teacher. Unwise at times, yes. Foolhardy and quick to fall, but just as quick to rise.” He winked at Vera, who was so taken aback she almost choked on her wine. “From what I’ve heard, your Queen is not unfamiliar with the concept?”

Clarus smiled at King Leonald, and then at Vera with all the radiance of the sun. Every time he smiled at her like that, she felt like she had the first time they’d met, falling head over heels in love with him all over again. That bastard was so damned proud to be her husband it made her heart hurt. She resisted biting her lip, and turned back to King Leonald. “I have built up something of a reputation,” she admitted. “And an unflattering but perhaps not wholly inaccurate moniker to go with it.”

Prince Fennian and King Leonald stared at her for a moment, then both burst out laughing. Nobles at nearby tables all turned to look at what could have so amused the King, and more than a few glared at her in envy. “Hah!” King Leonald said. “So I’ve heard. You are upsetting the nobility so much, the rumour of it has reached even us!” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “It seems I’ll have to annoy mine more. I can’t have the young Queen from across the mountains outdo me, even in my old age!” He leaned back and laughed again. Ripping off a piece of bread, he dipped it in the grease on the plate in front of him. “What I’ve been told, however, has been sparse. Other than magic which —“ he waved the piece of bread around, “— we will not further discuss here, I am told you are gathering funds for institutes of education for children?”

Vera nodded suspiciously. This wasn’t rumour, this was something she’d only spoken about with some close confidantes. Either people talked more than she gave them credit for, or King Leonald was playfully reminding them that he had spies in her court. Regardless, there was no point in denying it. “It is true, Your Highness. It’s my belief that younger generations are the future of our nation, and investing in them, recognising their abilities and their identities, is something I care deeply about.”

Clarus put his hand on her arm and gave her a warm smile. “Plans for such schooling have been tentative, of course.” He sat up a little bit straighter. “Would Raasland be willing to join us in this venture?” he asked King Leonald to her surprise. “Sister schools in both nations would lead to an exchange of culture and talent that might well enrich us both. Not to mention bridge the gap Aporus has left. We must avoid war while we remember the last one.” Vera could kiss him. She would. Later.

“You bet we—“ Aesling started. “Hmm. I feel a bit strange.” Vera burped, causing Clarus to look at her with an amused smile.

“You are wise beyond your years, King Clarus,” Fennian said, bowing his head. “It is easy to forget that magic has kept you youthful.” He grinned. “I keep thinking we are the same age.”

King Leonald nodded. “Indeed. Clarus was there. Well, not quite. He was here, if memory serves, when Caligon first landed. And I agree.” His expression was stern, thoughtful, but there was a warmth in his voice. He seemed to Vera the kind of man who was always thinking forward, of tomorrow. It seemed to weigh on him, but it wasn’t a burden he was unable — or unwilling — to bear. “Sister schools are a fantastic idea. I can not proclaim here and now that we have the…” he paused for a moment, “the support for public schooling as you describe it, but an exchange of young minds and hearts will be exactly the way to test the waters.” 

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Vera said, practically giddy now. She’d almost forgotten about the fact that he shouldn’t have known about her projects. Almost. Of course, the children admitted to those schools would be given questionnaires. Tests. Instead of going to individual noble houses, she might be able to find and potentially help so many more people. And she hadn’t lied, children really were the future in her eyes. She just also had some ulterior motives. 

“You could be a teacher,” Aesling said happily. “I think I would enjoy passing on knowledge of tree and branch, root and stem to young, eager minds, as well. Nature is everywhere, all around us!”

“As to Aporus,” King Leonald continued, “the land should be used. It is strategically advantageous, and therein lies the rub.” He scratched his beard. “Perhaps we can continue this idea of joint projects, King Clarus? Create several trading posts — locations to be determined by men with small spectacles and large maps, I am sure — to ensure that we have a secure trade route between both our realms, and incentivise our citizenry to live along the routes.”

Clarus nodded, and the two Kings began spinning ideas. Vera observed them with a wistful smile. These two grown men, the most powerful people in their respective nations, were excitedly bouncing ideas back and forth like teenage boys building a raft or a treehouse together. Her love was a good king. It was her fortune he was an even better man. 

She looked around at the party. Even with the night having fallen, it was still warm, the air just cool enough to keep the atmosphere from being stifling. She would have to come here again, she thought. The colder climate agreed with her. 

“I still feel strange,”

Aesling said. Vera wondered if they were going to have to burp again, but nothing came up. She frowned and spoke internally. Sitting at the King’s table, the last thing they needed was for people to see the Mad Queen Vera muttering to herself.

“Strange how?” Vera asked. “Magic?” After the meeting between their royal houses, she had almost forgotten that they’d come here because of it. There was a nod from Aesling, Vera’s neck tensing just a little bit as her body tried to mimic the motion. 

“Yes,” Aesling said. “The kind that might give a child green eyes. Old, with deep roots.”

“Like you,” Vera said. Aesling herself wasn’t that old, she knew, a young forest spirit, a guardian of nature. But her kind was older than mankind itself. 

“Yes,” Aesling said. “I’m worried, Vera. I’m worried we made a mistake coming here.”

“What do you mean?” Vera looked around. The noise all around them was making it a bit hard to think, the voices from the crowd like a wall of sound. Even trying to keep in mind King Leonald’s words of fear, it was hard not to notice how it easy it would be to for attackers to remain unseen if several revealed themselves at once. 

“I don’t know,” Aesling said. “The children… we shouldn’t have brought them. I can feel something. Something is hunting, Vera. I think it’s hunting them.”

“Who? What’s hunting them?” she asked, but Aesling withdrew into herself. Vera reached out, and she could tell the dryad was doing what she could to help, to feel what was happening. She would answer when she knew more. Vera was shaken out of her reverie by a touch on her shoulder. Clarus’ concerned eyes met hers, and she tried to give him a reassuring smile. Tried, because she caught something in the corner of her eye. Reflexively, she ducked, and a raven, larger than a dog, flew past where she had just been sitting. 

The sounds of revelries gave way to screams. Vera looked around. The sky was filled with wings. Bats. Birds. Several winged lizards she had never seen before. People started to run in a panic as the animals dove down, pecking first at food and then at heads and hands. 

Vera, Clarus, Fennian and Leonald all jumped up. Clarus had already requisitioned a weapon from a guardsman and kept many of the flying assailants from getting too close. Prince Fennian quickly joined him. “What’s happening?” Vera mumbled to herself, and cursed the dress she was wearing. She could barely move in the blasted thing.

“It’s coming,” Aesling said, her voice increasing in volume. “It’s here!”

A shadow moved across the stars, blotting out the moon. Something much, much bigger than it had any right to be. Vera had never seen anything of that size move before, let alone fly. But fly it did, each beat of its wings causing lanterns to go out, caught in gusts of wind strong enough to throw grown men off their feet.

The dragon landed on the rooftops of Suddenne and roared.