Warsinger James Baldwin (read this if TXT) 📖

when Vlachia was nothing but a savage frontier, and the Vlachians were nomadic hookwing-born savages. For another, he is your nearest neighbor, and perhaps feels somewhat ambivalent about having an immortal Starborn lord on his doorstep,” Ignas replied. “You must brace for the impact Baldr’s activities will have on your kind. I expect that after today, the White Sail Alliance will be far less hospitable toward self-described ‘player characters’.”

Chapter 13

I was still brooding on Ignas’ words when I joined the others in the scarlet gallery of the Senate Chamber. Everyone who had been in the ballroom had filed into here, taking positions on the fine walnut benches that encircled the Speaker’s Floor. Royalty sat closest to the front, nobility further to the back. Guests of the dignitaries had taken seats in the stands surrounding the lozenge-shaped chamber.

Suri had quite intentionally taken a seat right across from the Dakhari emissary, smirking at the stony-faced man as he glared back at her and mopped his sweating brow. I eased down into the chair on her right, giving him a stiff nod, and quietly munched down on a stack of sandwiches. Karalti wasn’t the only one who felt hungrier than usual.

“This is great,” Suri gloated to me via P.M. “Look at that Rashim’el bastard’s face. His skin is crawling right now. I’ve wanted to do this my entire bloody life.”

Still much, I shot a look at the Dakhari emissary again.”Why?”

“Because I’m Fireblooded, and he’s a fancy-pants little noble’s son whose prissy little slippered feet never touched a road before. His kind never come down to the ‘common’ parts of town except to gamble and fuck, and while they’re down there, they’re arseholes to the rest of us.”

“Define ‘arsehole’.”

“If a Shallatu kid crosses a nobleman’s shadow, he’s got the right to behead ‘em on the spot. Then he’ll make their parents pay to replace his sword.” Suri winked at the man as his eyes darted over to us. “Doesn’t stop ‘em from fucking Fireblooded girls, though.”

“Gross.”

“Totally gross. But we had namecards when we arrived, and that was his assigned seat. So here we are, breathing each other’s air, and there’s not a fuckin’ thing he can do about it.”

Everyone was just waiting around for Ignas and Rutha, so when the doors behind us opened, the whole chamber of people turned around to look. But it wasn’t Ignas – instead, a woman straight out of a King Arthur story strode through, holding her skirt in one hand. She was tall, slim, willowy, with a long straight nose and a woven crown of blonde hair, and strode in ahead of six knights. They wore tabards of white and gold, their armor polished to a mirror finish. Their pauldrons were styled in the shape of snarling lions, as were their open-faced helms.

“Her Majesty, Queen Eevi Leijona Aslan of Revala,” the butler sang out, gesturing to the queen’s assigned seat with a flourish. She was ahead of us at the table, but on the same side. “Her daughter, Crown Princess Sohvi Leijona Aslan, and attendants.”

Two of the Lion Knights bustled forward to pull chairs out for the ladies. The queen of Revala descended into hers with a wryly melodramatic sigh, putting her hand to her forehead before winking at me and Suri. To the room, she called out: “My dear fellows, I apologize for being so late. Our airship was caught up in that beastly squall coming in over the ocean. I pray we did not hold up the proceedings?”

There was a polite murmur of ‘No, your Majesty’ around the room.

“Wonderful,” she sighed again, happily this time, and leaned back to mutter to us out of the corner of her mouth. “Are they just being nice about it, or…?”

“No, it’s fine,” I said. “We’re waiting for Ignas to bring Rutha out to speak.”

“Ignas’? Oh my. How familiar of you.” She leaned over conspiratorially. “Well, between you and me, Lord…?”

“Dragozin,” I said. “And Countess Ba’Hadir.”

The queen wagged her eyebrows at Suri. “Well, between the three of us, I’m glad I skipped the reception. My dear Ignas is duty-bound to spread out tons of those awful little crab and asparagus sandwiches that are so fashionable right now, but they give me terrible gas. And as your lady surely knows, you never want to have gas while wearing a bodice.”

Suri and I both snerked out loud. The Dakhari emissary scowled.

The princess smiled shyly to the both of us as she descended into her seat in a froth of lace and diamonds, hugging a feathery little Compsognathus to her chest like a puppy. The Compy’s head jerked up as a door opened from behind the senate podium, something only it and I heard just before Ignas entered ahead of Rutha. One of his footmen wheeled the frail Lysian woman out, and several people – Queen Eevi among them – let out sighs of dismay or drew sharp, surprised breaths.

“Lady’s tits: what did those Ilian pigs do to her?” the Queen hissed.

“Mama, don’t swear!” the princess whispered back, scandalized. “We’re in Parliament!”

“Screw Parliament,” her mother scolded quietly. “And screw Ilia! Rutha is a friend of the court, and look at her!”

“Ladies and gentlemen of the Alliance, thank you all for being here today.” Ignas took his place at the podium, lifting his voice to be heard through the chamber. “We have all been concerned about the death of Warden Scandiva and the reinstatement of the throne under one Baldr Hyland, a petty nobleman turned dragon knight who has now proclaimed himself King of Ilia and ‘Emperor of Hercynia’. Rutha of Vasteau is known to most of you as an honorable and loyal public servant within the Kingdoms of the Alliance. She is here to speak today and give us more insight into what took place in Liren, and what may happen next. I would ask you reserve your questions and concerns until the end of her testimony. Thank you.”

The Volod offered Rutha a hand as the servant helped to move her from