The empress knelt down and leaned in closer. “I’m going back to my chambers before all these formalities tire me out entirely. I’ll see you both at dinner.”
She smiled, far warmer and more conspiratorially than before. Leon and Schwartz turned to each other, sharing a knowing smile.
The Crimson Empress was nothing if not willful. She had never shown much respect for the rules of high society, and that had not changed after her coronation. She often went hunting without an escort or snuck away to visit to foreign nations and, on more than a few occasions, had even embarked on bandit exterminations. Her impulsiveness and disregard for her station earned her no end of reprimands from her retainers, her long-suffering chancellor most of all. Between the ordeal of childbirth and tending to her newborn daughter, she had been subdued in recent weeks, but those close to her sensed it was only a matter of time before her next daring escape.
“Aura. Rosa. It has been a while since you last saw your sons, has it not? Take this chance to speak with them.”
“What about you, Your Majesty?” the chancellor asked.
The empress smiled. “I think I’ll retire early today.”
“Very well,” the chancellor said. “Please be certain to return to your chambers.”
“Swiftly and directly,” the other woman added.
Duly warned and a little cowed, the empress returned to the keep. Leon’s and Schwartz’s mothers shared a glance as they watched her go.
“Chancellor Aura, dare I ask if you noticed anything amiss?”
“What a coincidence. I was thinking the same.”
“She never passes up the chance to train with the boys. She’s planning something, I’m sure of it.”
“Mother?” Leon asked. “Is something wrong?”
Leon’s mother—Rosa—turned to face him, her doubt written on her face. “Nothing for you to worry about. More importantly... Well, I won’t ask you to stop training, but do try not to get yourself hurt. You have too lovely a face to ruin with bumps and bruises.”
Leon could only smile awkwardly at his mother’s demands. Rosa reached out to stroke his cheek. She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him.
“Mother?” he asked warily.
“Never mind me. I was just thinking, you’re starting to look a lot like your father...” She cut herself off and turned to Aura, who was handing Schwartz a copy of the Black Chronicle. “Remind me, is he not presently in Baum?”
Aura nodded, comprehension dawning. “For their daughter’s baptism.”
All at once, they took off running. “After her!” Rosa shouted to the soldiers as they passed. “Her Majesty is—”
At that moment, a horse thundered past, heading for the gate. The rider’s crimson hair streamed behind her.
“Blast it, we were too slow! Catch that horse!”
The two women and the soldiers scrambled to follow. The two boys shrugged and sighed deeply.
“Schwartz,” said Leon, eyeing the Black Chronicle, “why do you have that?”
“It is almost time for lessons. Mother lent it to me for you to read. I shall have you write a report afterward, naturally.”
Thoroughly brainwashed by his mother, Aura, Schwartz was already too far gone. Leon bolted like a startled rabbit.
＊＊＊＊＊
On the eastern shore of Soleil lay the small nation of Baum. It no longer had a king. Its second and last had been King Surtr, the self-proclaimed Black-Winged Lord, who had been crowned several years prior. He had now stepped aside, citing illness. Yet while the throne sat empty, Baum remained stable, its peace preserved by the archpriestess.
There was only one town in Baum: a medium-sized settlement called Natur. In the center stood the temple complex of Frieden, within which was said to dwell the Spirit King, one of the Five Lords of Heaven whom Soleil’s people revered as divine. Baum was sacred ground for the spirit faith, and spirit worshippers from all across Aletia traveled there to pay homage.
Officially, the interior of Frieden was divided into four quarters, although there was a secret fifth forbidden to all but the archpriestess. The central quarter was known as the Baptismal Font, a place for newborn children and newcomers to Frieden. The eastern quarter served as the training grounds for the priestesses-in-training, barred to outsiders and forbidden to men. The western quarter was also barred to outsiders and housed the quarters of the knight-priestesses and their squires. Finally, the southern quarter was a place of respite, open to all. Here could be found food and lodgings catering to travelers and pilgrims, as well as rooms to receive visiting dignitaries.
The fifth archpriestess was in the western quarter. She was half álfen and half beastfolk, with distinctive furred ears. Prejudice against such half-bloods was still rife, and the world at large was not welcoming of her kind. Baum, however, had been founded by half-bloods, so it was an exception.
“Another audience? Haven’t I attended enough? I, too, would like to play with my daughter.”
“Please, Your Grace. Queen Claudia is waiting.”
Meteia protested as one of her knight-priestesses led her away by the hand, showing not a shred of an archpriestess’s dignity. Her tail drooped as she vanished through the door.
Huginn smiled wryly, watching from the garden. She turned to the child crawling by her feet and scooped them up in her arms.
“Look at that pretty violet hair, eh? Just like your mother’s.”
She looked behind her, stroking Claudia’s baby’s head. Behind her sat Muninn, now a plaything for two more children.
“Leave me, sister,” he groaned. “I wasn’t built for this...”
He sat in numb acceptance as they pulled his hair and pinched his cheeks. Huginn sympathized, but there was more than his dignity at stake.
“Just grin and bear it, would you? If you make ’em cry, we’ll have their mothers to answer to... Oh?”
Belatedly, she realized one child was missing. She looked around. Fortunately, it did not take long to find them. At the foot of the great tree in the center of the grove, a one-armed woman sat with a black-haired baby held against her chest. Both of them slept peacefully in the dappled sunlight.
“Miss Luka must be having a hard time of it,” Huginn said. “She did say all the crying’s been keeping her awake.”
“Her of all people winding up a doting mother... Who’d have thought?”
“I’ll tell her you said that.”
Muninn paled. “Don’t you dare!”
Huginn ignored him as she studied Luka’s face. It would have been impossible to imagine her looking so at peace ten years ago. Times truly did change. Huginn couldn’t help but feel a little old.
“Oh, right,” she said. “A letter came from Garda.”
Muninn perked up. “From the boss? Is he doing well? What did he say?”
“Says he’s grown a fine crop of eggplants. He’ll send us some when he gets the chance.”
“Right.” Muninn looked nonplussed. “Glad to hear he’s keeping busy, I s’pose.”
Several years prior, Garda had left the Crow Legion and traveled to Mille’s village in Lichtein. The villagers had kept a wary distance from him at first, but now he was their mayor and the proud owner of his own farmland. In the ten years since the war, he and Luka had perhaps changed the most.
“Say,” Muninn said, “where’s the chief?”
“Gone to the usual spot.”
“What, by himself?”
“With the little lady. And Miss Scáthach for protection, of course.”
Huginn turned to the eastern horizon. The sun hung high in the bright blue sky, and she narrowed her eyes against the glare. Above her, a bird wheeled gracefully, and she followed it. Where might it be bound, she wondered. The bird slipped between the clouds and disappeared. It had a long journey ahead of it—a journey to a place once promised, which had lain waiting through centuries of war and strife.
Beside the vast ocean on Baum’s eastern shore lay a meadow that a golden-haired álf had once loved. A carpet of vibrant flowers covered the ground. A gentle breeze stirred the blossoms, carrying their petals skyward in grateful tribute. A young man with black hair and black eyes stood amid their beauty, cradling a crimson-haired baby in his arms.
✦ ✦ ✦
