3.39: The Crown’s Thorns

Aldersthron, Nahnon

As the Royal carriage rattled over the cobbled roads of the capital, Reshma whispered something besides Laira, too soft for her to catch.

“I didn’t hear you, dearest.”

“I shouldn’t be here.”

Her voice was so weak that Laira almost missed the words.

“We’ve already talked about this. I’m not letting you spend the rest of your life hiding in bed.”

“You know what I mean! I shouldn’t be outside the castle with you. Not in public!”

“It’ll be fine.”

“What if—”

“No what-ifs. We have already replaced dozens of officers that were more loyal to their purses than to the Crown, and Sir Korrin’s men are on constant lookout for new threats. If your uncle has sent any assassins, they will find their usual methods rather difficult.”

“There shouldn’t be any risk at all!”

The taller woman almost shrieked, then her voice broke, as she began to sob.

“I’m sorry. I’ve put you and all of Nahnon at risk.”

“You haven’t,” Laira whispered, sliding an arm around her shoulders. She gingerly wiped a tear on Reshma’s cheek with a thumb. Then she took a long breath.

“Whatever he is, your uncle is not an idiot. He would not risk worsening the relationship between our realms at a time like this. Besides, a failed attack on you is as good as openly acknowledging that you are the former Maharajah’s daughter.”

Reshma nodded silently, wiping her tears messily. “Still, my presence alone weakens the relationship between the two realms,” she said, voice trembling. “Right when it needs to be the strongest.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is!”

“Do you wish to sit on the throne of Sindhu?”

“We both know it doesn’t matter.”

“Claims, and blood don’t decide who sits on the throne, dearest. Armies do. You want me to march mine to Suryagarh?”

“No, but that does not matter. If not him, someone else will use my existence to their advantage. I should have never joined the court or held such a visible position. Someone must’ve recognized me.”

Laira couldn’t see how. Reshma had been only thirteen when she was forced to flee her home.

The carriage lurched as its wheel rolled from stone onto wooden planks.

“Whatever happened, we can’t take it back,” she said, pulling Reshma against her.

The poor girl hadn’t been herself after losing her pregnancy, even though it had been less than a month old.

Laira felt a twinge of guilt.

Maybe she shouldn’t have told Reshma about her cousin.

No.

She was no child to be kept in ignorance. What was done was done.

Laira exhaled the thoughts away, looking at the mess Reshma had made of her face.

“Your kohl is ruined. Let’s fix it up.”

By the time they reached the docks, the two ships flying Chadom’s flag were already gliding into the harbor.

The smell of saltwater, wet timber and rope filled their lungs as they stepped out. The sailors turned the ships with expert precision into berths next to her own. Her own soldiers stood alert, surrounding the docks to make sure no civilian could peek into the meeting. She wanted to keep the weapon delivery as much of a secret as possible.

Laira couldn’t help but notice the canvas furled along additional lines at the front and a small mast added to the rear of each ship. Those must be the sails that Jack had promised would let her ships travel where others could not.

That’s all it takes? Some extra cloth?

While she mulled whether her soon-to-be husband had hoodwinked her, the ships hit the berths with a light thump and came to a stop.

She glanced to the side.

Reshma was standing straight, with the poise of a courtier, yet she couldn’t hide the sorrow in her eyes.

She hadn’t wanted to come at all, but Laira thought meeting Jack would do her some good. She refused to let that petty Princeling’s threat shrink Reshma’s life to a bedroom.

Sadly, when the gangplanks thudded onto the piers, it was two military officers who descended on them, and not Jack.

One was tall and thin, his features severe, like a whip ready to lash out. The other was older by a few years, barely managing to hide his boyish swagger behind the discipline of a soldier.

Laira thought she recognized him as one of the men who had arrived with Jack.

Reshma would know him, after spending much more time around them in Nobhart.

She glanced to the side.

Apparently, Reshma did.

A contingent of soldiers followed after the officers.

Every one of them wore restrained, well-fitted dark navy blue uniforms. No capes and no elaborate heraldry. No ornamentation beyond what looked like an insignia denoting their rank, pinned to their chests, and a coat of arms on their backs.

A shield, with the scene from their flag embroidered on it; a silver spear rising from a green valley, a stream of red cutting through it.

She counted almost a hundred of them, every one armed with a repeating crossbow.

A show of force, or necessary precaution?

They did have to sail through Stormhaven’s waters.

Her eyes were drawn to the men’s eyes. Every pair was light-colored and hard, many of them clearly suppressing various levels of their dislike of their surroundings.

Her own soldiers had stiffened in response.

They’re all Cha.

She let out a slow breath.

So Chadom was indeed just Jack and the Cha refugees, and now some of her former people.

Laira could only hope the whole realm wouldn’t have to pay for the Church’s lax attitude with its zealots.

She took a step closer to the two Royal Guards, Sirs Grimhart and Hagen, who had spent almost two months with Jack.

“Do you recognize any of the men?” she whispered.

“Only Captain Jaklen, Your Majesty. None of his personal guard are among them.”

He’s such a paranoid.

Maybe not the worst trait to have in these times.

The two officers walked towards her, stopped at a distance and saluted sharply.

“Welcome to Aldersthron,” the Queen said, inclining her head.

“Thank you for receiving us, Your Majesty,” the younger one, but apparently the higher ranked of the pair, answered. “I am Commander Rafiel, and this is Captain Jaklen. We come bearing the Supreme Leader’s gifts for you.”

His hand went to his jacket, which made the Royal Guards stiffen, their shining armor clinking softly.

Laira suppressed a smile.

Good. They still remember Jack’s thunder weapon.

What the officer produced was just an envelope, which he proffered to her with both hands.

“A letter from the Supreme Leader.”

Stepping forward, she took it herself.

“Thank you. I hope your travel was uneventful?”

The two men exchanged glances.

Her heartbeat quickened.

“It was, Your Majesty,” the taller man almost whispered. “We were told to be careful in the waters surrounding Duke Stormhaven’s lands, so we remained as far from the coast as possible.”

“Good. My people will see to it that you and your men are taken care of, though we hadn’t anticipated such a large contingent. I hope you won’t mind a bit of delay.”

“I thank you for your offer, but our orders were to return immediately.”

She narrowed her eyes.

Clearly meant to make sure nobody gets a chance to talk freely with the sailors and soldiers.

Jack still wants to keep Chadom a mystery? Hmm. Not a terrible idea.

“Then let me at least provide you with some refreshments to ease your way back.”

He paused, glancing at his peer, then nodded sharply.

“We would be happy to take your reply back to the Supreme Leader.”

She nodded.

As her people scrambled to make the arrangements, she went back to her carriage and opened the envelope.

A faint smell of pine and coal wafted in the cabin.

She couldn’t help but smile, as she began reading.

“

Dearest Laira,

I hope you and yours are doing well.

I have sent most of the wedding gifts with my trusted men. The rest I will bring myself upon our wedding. I hope you don’t have to use them.

Each of the four hundred is marked with a unique number. Please put them in the hands of only the most trusted of your soldiers.

I can’t wait to see you and start our life together.

Take care of yourself.

Yours desperately,

Jack Nobhart.

P.S.: I hoped you enjoyed my special gift. I’ll bring more when I arrive.

”

She lifted the letter up to hide the red creeping up her face, as she shifted awkwardly in her seat.

He just cannot help himself, can he?

“What is it?” Reshma asked.

Laira reluctantly handed her the letter.

As her eyes glided over the words, the taller woman couldn’t help but twitch her lips.

Laira smiled. She considered sending Reshma to Jack with the ships. It would do her good.

But her heart wouldn’t let her.

It’s too dangerous.

Putting her guilt-ridden justifications aside, she looked to the side, and found Captain Korrin standing at attention. She gestured to him.

The perceptive man was immediately at her side.

“Make sure every one of those weapons is accounted for and safely secured.”

“I will, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing low.

Within an hour, the crates containing four hundred repeating crossbows had been unloaded from the ships and transferred on a train of guarded wagons.

In exchange, barrels of drink, baskets of fruits and platters of food were loaded onto the two ships.

Laira had another talk with the Cha officers before bidding them farewell.

As the ships sailed away from the harbor, she had her carriage turned to the Old Fort, the Royal Army’s headquarters.

The large dirt ground outside it still smelled of fresh rain.

There, she found Commander Brenn, the broad man and his subordinates overlooking the training of five hundred men.

A battalion of slum dwellers picked to swell the ranks of the Royal Army, which had been sarcastically named the Crown’s Thorns.

They certainly are thin as thorns.

She dearly hoped the gamble would pay off.

Brenn met her halfway.

The four Royal Guards nodded to him, which he mirrored. Despite his humble birth, he and Sir Korrin had rightfully earned their respect by saving her life.

Now if he could just loosen a bit.

“How are the men doing, Commander Brenn?”

“Well, Your Majesty…” he said hesitantly.

“You may speak freely.”

“They… they are not in the best condition. Physically, I mean. Years of poor food has left them weak. We’ve been focusing on building discipline over endurance, as their bodies cannot withstand much strain.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“On the other hand,” he hurriedly added, “they are quite motivated. Very motivated. Once they are ready, you will find them to be the most loyal of your servants.”

“When might that be?”

“In… a few months. At least four.”

“That is too long.”

She looked at the men, practicing shield formations, and mostly failing. Men who had been ignored by the realm, who were now expected to defend it.

“I don’t expect them to win duels,” she continued, “but they need to be useful sooner. What about crossbows? Could they handle them?”

Brenn rubbed his chin, before realizing what he was doing and pulling his hand down quickly.

“I suppose,” he said hesitantly. “It depends upon the prod’s draw.”

“I will have some released to you. Make sure none are lost. It is extremely important.”

His eyes widened.

“Would those crossbows happen to be the same ones that Count Nobhart displayed at your betrothal?”

“The very same. I wouldn’t give them to just anyone.”

He bowed deeply.

“I am not worthy of such kindness, Your Majesty.”

Laira sighed.

“I don’t need more simpering men, Commander,” she said sharply. “I am already surrounded by plenty of them. I thought you were one of the rare ones who showed their loyalty through actions.”

He straightened, red creeping up his rugged face.

“Understood. I will do my best.”

“I know you will.”

With that, she turned and began walking towards her carriage.

Please let us be ready before our enemies strike.