Fable - Ask A Northern Kingdom

[Osha]

Queen Elentiya's dark eyes gazed across the boiling seas. In the light of the moon she could almost make out the shadow of Camelon. Her true kingdom. Frigid spray pelted her pale skin and clothing. Her hand curled against the stone ledge. A sneer present on her full lips. This little castle built into the stone walls and caves of Ellensea was hardly Camelon. But soon.

Soon she would get it all back.

Without turning to the guards she knew stood close to her she asked, "is the war-room ready yet?" There was an underlying threat to her tone that if it wasn't...unpleasant things would happen.

 

[Mendicus]

Elentiya

​

Morholt had found, through rigorous experimentation, that he could successfully resist the urge to shiver against the chill on this balcony if he stood a certain way: feet planted, hands clasped firmly like chains in front of him. This procedure similarly required the full clenching of his jaw. He imagined hairline fractures beginning to appear in his teeth.​

​

All this to oblige the usual ritual, wherein the queen and her trusted retainers glared sullenly at the larger island of Camelon before the usual war-room discourse, transmitting thoughts of vengeance through their eyes.​

​

He had suffered worse for worse people, or so he told himself.​

​

He cleared his throat lightly, and answered, "It is, indeed, your majesty."​

​

Morholt left it at that - unpleasant things tended to transpire when people went on too long.​

 

[Osha]

How did she know all her people were loyal to her? Because a blood oath was required to be in her retinue. If she gave a direct order and tugged on that invisible bond, obedience was required. One could always try to resist the oath. But most wouldn’t have a very high quality of live if they did. The pain would be subtle at first, only growing until the order was followed.

Unsettling eyes rested upon Morholt. He was a strange but fine little bird. With one last glance across the dark seas, she turned and ducked inside.

It was disgusting.

Plain, rough stone walls. Flickering candle and torch lights. Constant moisture on the stone. At least the war room was relatively dry. Guards stood at attention as she passed and wooden doors were swept open as she stepped inside a room with a long rectangular table spread down the center. Rugs piled over the cave floor and maps were spread upon the surface of the wood. It was almost cheery save for the pieces upon the map made from bones. With a sweep of the fabric of her dress, she lowered herself into a middle chair. Very clearly her chair. It was the only one that looked as if the wood had been charred.

“Report,” she almost sounded bored.

 

[Mendicus]

Elentiya

She looked at him for a long, painful moment and he did his very best to not look back. This was it. This was the moment she finally threw him over the balcony. Would the fall kill him, he wondered, or would he have to wait until he drowned? Maybe, if he could angle himself properly, he could clip the cliff face on the way down, and that would surely...​

​

After a painful moment, she swept gracefully away. Another night it was. He could scarcely contain himself.​

​

Morholt followed dutifully.​

​

The war room was a more pleasant place, but pleasant was a loose word on Ellensea. Morholt shuffled about the austere interior as she took her seat, collecting scrolls and letters for her consideration.​

​

"Commander Karre is still drilling the militia at Hornbrook, your majesty. He reports modest progress," he shuffled some papers, "The valley harvest has come in nicely this year, despite the inclement weather."​

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Another year without the looming threat of starving to death or being strung up by hungry, revolting peasants. Truly a dream come true.​

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"Regrettably, your majesty, we have yet to receive any response from the marcher lords to our north, regarding whether they may support your restoration to Camelon, and the treasury remains..."​

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Don't say empty. Don't say empty.​

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"...Stark."​

​

Sure.​

 

[Osha]

There was a long, tense moment of silence. Tense for all those in the room other than Elentiya, of course. Long-nailed finger traced a line of one of the maps in front of her. Down across the seas and into the mainland of Arethil. The sound her nail made against wood and paper was like bone scraping against bone.

"My dear Morholt," a gentle tsk of her tongue as her dark gaze slowly lifted upward to look at him. As if studying a bug specimen.

A tap-tap-tap of her nail.

"What have I told you about delivering problems without solutions, hm?" Her voice was light and almost-sing-songy. "Why don't you try again?"

 

[Mendicus]

Elentiya

​

Morholt thinned his lips. Swallowed audibly. He could feel the wind on his face, see the cold, tumultuous sea rising to meet him...​

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"I would... Suggest, with all due respect and... Deference to your most august self," he began, electing to purchase himself some time with a few extra words, "That the marcher lords are more inclined to respond to military feats. Some demonstration of our strength at arms might win their respect."​

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Enough to hear them out, anyway. Morholt was disinclined to promise anything further.​

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For the matter of money, there was precious little he could do. Morholt supposed he could turn out his pockets, but that would perhaps buy her majesty only a night at some rundown inn. In the stables, to be precise.​

​

He cleared his throat. "We may wish to explore the possibility of procuring a... Loan. The surviving merchant consortiums within Elbion may be willing to finance our cause, your majesty."​

 

[Osha]

"Well then," fingers steepled together. Her terrifying gaze lifted from the maps to look at her little bird, Morholt. "Have my carriage prepared for first thing in the morning. You and I will travel to the marcher lords, personally. I have much to," she paused, a wicked-little smile curving on her full ruby lips. "to show them."

Leaning back in the chair, she fanned herself with one of the maps, absently.

"Draw up a correspondence to send to Elbion. Perhaps a trip to the main continent will be also in our future."

Tone grew bored once again.

"That is all."

 

[Mendicus]

Elentiya

A carriage trip north to the marcher lords. Great. Morholt was finding it difficult to decide whether to shudder in anticipation or terror. He ultimately elected to just cleared his throat and say, "Yes, at once, your majesty."​

​

Morholt bowed politely. He then quickly, quietly, sidled out of the room. He would have to draw up the letters quickly if he wanted to at least attempt to sleep. Not that he ever found much success at Ellensea.​

 

[Osha]

The Queen finished studying the maps and other important, yet droll information, before retiring to her bedchamber. Guards were posted at her door, per usual. Assassination attempts from Camelon had risen in the past fortnight. They'd also caught two spies.

Oh how she tired of those peasants trying to end her.

Even though it was, perhaps, mildly amusing.

Slipping into a silken, ash-colored gown, she slipped between the sheets of the four-poster bed. Dark hair fanned across her pillow as she closed her eyes. Dreams were filled with beheadings and torturing the prisoners.

 

[Mendicus]

-----
​

The night passed as expected: work and restless sleep. At the appointed time the proceeding morning, Morholt found himself waiting just outside the castle gates by the prepared carriage. Damp and bitterly cold, just like everyone and everything else in Camelon.

He breathed shakily, pointlessly into his hands. Horses stirred restlessly.

Well. Whenever the queen was ready, she would doubtlessly appear. And all of their lives would be enriched for it, truly.

 

[Osha]

A thick, nearly black cloak enveloped her. If one looked close enough, it did have a deep violet sheen to it. The cowl of her cloak was down. The damp, frigid wind threatened to tug and pull at her dark hair. The gangly footsman shuffled into place and quickly opened the carriage door. The driver mounted the outside, taking the reins of the horses in his hands.

Elentiya nodded subtly to her little bird.

"In with me," clipped voice spoke into the dreary morning as she stepped inside the carriage. It was a command to Morholt.

 

[Mendicus]

Elentiya

​

Morholt politely nodded his assent and very quickly took his own seat in the carriage, across from her majesty, the queen herself. This would normally be a very grave breach of courtly etiquette, but between the exile, the assassination attempts, etcetera… Her majesty was very likely to be past such concerns.​

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As he greatly treasured his life, Morholt remained quite silent and did his best to avert his eyes.​

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The carriage jerked forward and began its journey at her signal.​

 

[Osha]

"My dear Morholt. You seem unusually tense this morning," the Queen crooned, while looking half-bored. Travel was always so drull. "Why are you here, again?" Sharp-gaze honed in on him like a cat honing in on an unsuspecting litte bluebird.

"You could've stayed in what was once my Kingdom. Could've left long ago." She studied her nails for a moment before her unrelenting gaze lifted again. 'Yet. Here. You. Are."

 

[Mendicus]

Elentiya

​

Morholt fidgeted, and the carriage hit a bump in the road and jostled, because of course it did. "It's only the chill, your majesty."​

​

One of his patented and perfected half-truths. Morholt attempted to square his shoulders and sit up a little more straightly.​

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"I am a loyal servant of the crown, not the kingdom. As my father before me. Should the crown... Depart, I am obliged to follow."​

 

[Osha]

As quickly as it held his, her dark gaze went to look outside the window of the carriage. “When we arrive at the marcher lords’ keep, I want you to start the negotiations. Let them think they’ve underestimated me and who I am.”

Long-fingers curled through dark strands of her hair.

“If needed, I will remind them of their mistakes.” For a moment, the darkness of the carriage seemed to move and shift as if it were alive and held by a leash of the queen.

 

[Mendicus]

Elentiya

He could swear the shadows were crawling. Whatever it was, if it was going to kill him, he only hoped it got over with quickly. Nothing long and drawn out, please. The less time he had to reflect on his life choices, the better.​

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"And what shall I offer them in exchange for their loyalty, your majesty...?"​