Red Queen

Chapter 1 – Throne Room

Queen Jesca sat on the ancient throne of Romitu, the eldest of cities and capital of the Second Empire, such as it was. Her eyes, too old for a face so young, looked out over her assembled generals and fumed. Is there no one who will relieve me of this burden? she asked again. They were all silent.

The Sword of State lay heavily across her arms. Out of fashion for the last few centuries of the First Empire, it languished in a museum until acquired by her predecessor. He had felt it a powerful and potent symbol. He used it to communicate the focus of the return of rule of law he promised as he ended the interregnum and reinstated the Empire.

My adoptive father spoke strongly of the benefits of limited terms of rule. The necessity of smooth handover of government, she tried. If he were alive today, he would expect any one of you to be ready for this duty. She looked long and hard at one general in particular, bearing the insignia of the ninth army. But the general remained stiffly at parade attention, avoiding her eyes.

The restored audience room was perched on the eastern side of the high city and caught the cooling breeze of the sea, barely visible on the horizon. A strand of her red hair floated down across her face. With irritation she launched herself to her feet, balancing the ceremonial sword somewhat indecorously over one shoulder and pushed her hair back with her other hand. Her armor glittered magical light as she paced up and down, it's freedom of motion betraying its extreme workmanship; its soundless operation betraying its magical enhancement.

I appeal to your patriotism, she said, giving another long look at the general in the insignia of the 22nd army. Would you let the empire fall into another interregnum after only two rulers? The coarse features of his Orcish face didn't move as he, too, stared fixedly ahead.

Fie on you all! Jesca swore in exasperation. Half the successions of the First Empire were from various generals fighting each other for the throne. And here, I can't even give it away!

Surely, Majestus, you aren't urging your generals to civil war? The voice was deep and smooth in a manner that many misinterpreted as fawning. The dwarf stood apart from the generals but not quite against the wall with the servants and staff. His clothes were well tailored, but unadorned. Jesca snorted in annoyance. The first empire was littered with tyrants and despots ripe for overthrowing and opportunistic commanders looking to grab their own glory. You are a just and fair ruler. Your generals are loyal, and your subjects love you.

Five years, said Jesca unheeding. General Scioni recommended five-year reigns. With succession to competent non-blood relations. She walked up and down glaring at them. Strongly. He recommended it very strongly. She caught the eye of one of the few generals who wasn't staring ahead. She wore the insignia of the 31st army. One of the reinstated Amazon armies. When she saw Jesca watching, a wash of emotions passed over her face. Desire, fear, hunger, and insecurity. Jesca looked away and the general dropped her eyes.

It's not like it's hard, said the Queen shrugging. The sword shifted to an even more casual angle. The Empire nearly runs itself. She continued in a lower voice Now that the slaughter is over.

Majestus, began the deep voice again.

Is that a volunteer? she asked, interrupting him, but not looking at him. I'll do it, she said, defiantly addressing the generals. I'll give the spymaster the throne. There was some uncomfortable shifting.

I would not accept, said the dwarf resolutely. She looked at him in annoyance as the shifting settled. I could not hope to do as good a job as you have done; given the circumstances. She paced up and down, not looking at anyone. As you say, Majestus, the Empire mostly runs itself. If we have no candidates and no discontent with your rule is it so bad to continue? She sighed heavily but did not stop pacing. Take some time. Walk amongst your subjects. All is not as dark as it may seem.

Is there no one in this room fit to rule? she asked, stopping before the throne. The light of the sinking sun had crept across the floor and left her a silhouette against the sky. The silence stretched on. Then may the gods that are left have pity on us.

Chapter 2 – Imperial Chambers

Queen Jesca strode at pace through the corridors of the palace in the high city. Although her stature was not tall, her pace was fast enough to keep her entourage struggling to stay abreast. She had shed the Sword of State to its appropriate keeper but remained dressed in her highly ornate armor. It did not appear to inhibit her progress in the least bit. My horse, a few lances, provisions. The normal kit for reconnaissance.

Yes, my Queen, said the man to her right. He was a head taller than her and similarly, although not as ornately, armored. His hand rested easily on his sword and his eyes continually moved around their area as they moved. I presume you mean your field horse and not your winged horse.

Yes, Clive Jesca nodded. I'd rather fly, but she can't carry as much and needs more specialized fodder.

Not to mention being a big target, said the woman to her left. She was the same height as the man but wore no armor and carried no visible weapon other than a large black bow slung over her back. I don't trust the misdirection magic we've placed on the saddle. It's good enough for our scouts but not for a high-quality target like you.

Thank you for your concern, Phyllis, said Jesca, I take it there isn't much point in asking you to let me ride this out solo?

None at all, said Clive. Phyllis nodded her agreement. We would be derelict in our duty if we did. Even more so than...

Don't start, said Jesca harshly. You couldn't have stopped it, only perished along with The General.

We'll never know, said Phyllis. But it's not an excuse to slack now.

We'll be discreet, said Clive.

Jesca snorted derisively and swept into her apartments. Clearly the room was not originally intended as a residence. It was one large space partitioned into smaller ones with free standing curtains, making it more resemble an army tent than a royal residence. She grabbed an apple from a table near the door and bit into it, holding it with her mouth as she unlimbered her personal sword. Phyllis and Clive moved in to help her with the straps of her armor. When that was removed and propped up on its stand they worked on her boots.

Thank you, she said, more calmly. I have no more need of the masters of my personal and household security.

The retinue took this their signal to leave, saluting. Phyllis and Clive closed the door but did not leave. They no longer stood at attention, however.

Not one! said Jesca again, shaking her head and finishing her apple in large, angry bites.

Are you really surprised? said Phyllis gently.

Oh Mother! said Jesca. I had hoped.

Clive shrugged and picked up a bunch of grapes. Your mother and I tried to retire once. Didn't work out so well. He studiously picked individual grapes, chewed each one, and delicately spit the seeds into his palm and placed them on the corner of the plate on the table.

Yes, said Jesca shortly, I've heard the story. How I was abducted from the womb as leverage for your continued service and how we owe everything to The General for his patronage in getting you out of that spiral.

He was a great man. And he's gone, said Clive. He continued to laboriously eat the grapes. He all but raised you. And you are a great woman. People see him in you.

But I'm not him, she protested. Not even close.

People see what they want to see he concluded, carefully placing the stems from the grapes back on the plate.

I know you are going to say it's not fair, said Phyllis. This isn't chivalry, this is government. There's too much at stake. You are too good a person to let it all drop because of personal inconvenience. No more than your father and myself in our turn.

So, no one will step up as long as they know I won't step down. Jesca sighed in resignation. They're right too. I'll keep doing it till it kills me. I was raised too well.

Chapter 3 – A fight on a road

The morning was bright. The sun shone clear over the deserted countryside. A few run-down dwellings could be seen on either side of the road, but a lack of smoke indicated their emptiness. Grain grew wild in the rich, fallow lands. Eight figures moved slowly along the verge, grabbing ripe stalks, rubbing the chaff from them for a coarse, uncooked breakfast. They wore chain hauberks in good condition, straight swords scabbarded, and shields slung for the march. One figure, on horseback, approached them unawares.

The horse was fine boned, and light footed, as it cantered its way towards the soldiers. Only the lightest of armor could be seen beneath its flowing mantle. The rider wore a surcoat in matching imperial colors, with plumes and ribbons sprouting from all surfaces. The horse’s footfalls were light, and the rider approached quietly, closely, before the soldiers, intent on their breakfast, started to notice. Once seen, he rose in his stirrups, spurred the horse to the gallop, brandished his sabre, and gave a high voiced battle cry.

The soldiers hardly had time to assess before the knight collided into their unit. The horse shouldered them aside as they struggled to free their swords from their scabbards, bring their shields to bear and take direction from their leader. The rider sidestepped his horse to the right and swept his sword up against one as the soldier tried to stagger backwards. The blade skittered up the hauberk, seeking purchase over the gorget on his neck. None was found by the time the stroke ended, so the rider leaned further from the saddle, gaining reach, keeping the tip of the sword in that precarious place. Like a coiled snake, when he had gained enough leverage, he let it loose, thrusting up betwixt gorget and helm. Something less than steel gave, and the knight drew back, regaining a steady mounting. No matter how great or small the wound, that soldier would not return to this battle.

Another soldier had freed their sword to the rider's left and used the space that had opened there to raise a cry and charge. But his footing was unsure, and the sun against him, and with his shield halfway between slung for travel and bound tight for defense, he had but his sword and his courage to defend him. The rider feinted a thrust from above, but crouched in the stirrups, bringing the blade easily around the soldier's, and connected with a solid thrust through his face grill, likewise removing him from consideration.

The downed soldier's bravado had bought the others some breathing space and they were collecting themselves. The horse swung back as they formed up. Dropping the reigns, the rider brought his shield to the fore, slowly circling. When his path intersected that of the road, he bore down suddenly upon them. No longer surprised, the soldier's training kicked in and they did not bolt. So, the rider turned aside at the last.

With his legs he guided the horse around and swiftly returned, passing again on the same side of them, though this time with his sword foremost. The greater reach, height and momentum of the rider exposed the soldiers far more than the knight and another soldier was nearly brought down with the blow delivered in passing.

Taking a much longer run at them, the knight positioned himself in classic cavalier pose. Leaned out over the neck of the steed, arm extended, the curve of the sabre bringing it perfectly down to eye level and pointed straight forward. He grinned as he closed, and the soldiers mustered their mettle to stay put. There is no harder thing to stand one's ground in the face of a cavalry charge. The rider's sword pointed to a target but in the last instant of the charge it switched. Their flinch as the hooves thundered close was enough to hide the action and the blow struck true. As the rider wheeled back around, there were only five left.

As the horse trotted around again, the soldiers moved off the road, to rockier ground. The knight noted this and dipped his sword in salute to them. It was a smart move, not an easy traverse for a horse. He walked the horse off the road as well, just out of the soldier's sight. He slid from the saddle and tethered the horse in a thicket. The cover was good, so he found a convenient rock to perch upon, letting it support the weight of the armor and resting shield against the ground.

Combat is all about marshaling your stamina. Healthy or weak, you only have so much energy. You can expend it quickly and flamboyantly in an attempt to decisively win. Or you can take it slow and steady, and hope your opponent wears faster. Each is right in the right circumstance. The knight rested in partial shade while they stood alert in the sun.

After enough time for the knight's heart to slow down, he heard their hesitant movement. By the noise, they had made the smart decision not to send a single person to check it out, but to move as one. They were well trained indeed.

In one motion the knight burst from the thicket hard upon them. His shield overbore the nearest on his left, confusing their close formation. The opponent to his right was caught between holding formation and bringing sword to bear against him. In direct contact, the knight managed to get his elbow past the inside of the shield of the hesitant one on the right. That was it for him. The leverage was all the knight's and it was a simple matter to prize his shield back to give room to bring the sword around in a close circle, pivoting on the elbow first up from under, then down from above, seeking concussive force where his mail was strong and cutting force where it was not. A good slice to his inner arm drove care of the battle from the soldier's mind, and, as he fell, the knight took the opportunity to quickly do a step and thrust at the, yet unprepared, comrade behind the soldier. A lucky shot to his groin also brought him down.

The knight's position was no longer viable. The shield charge had disrupted the soldiers, but they were well back to their footing now and clearly had the advantage over their single opponent. So, he withdrew slightly faster than they advanced. One soldier led, though, less hesitant than the other two and not aware of the increasing gap. Before he could be called back in line by the others the knight stayed his retreat and engaged him hard. From low to high he tested the extremes of the soldier's defense; aggressive enough that his own offense was token. Breaking pattern the knight repeated a second high attack, winning