Crowned in Black: Chapter 6

Karalti burst out of the air into a howling blizzard. Winter had already set its teeth into Revala, and the miles of private evergreen woodland that surrounded Lord Torquist's safehouse were thick with snow.

None of us really felt the cold. Ebisa was inorganic. Mehkhet was dead. Karalti burned so hot that the snow hissed on contact with her scales. Vash was hardened against the icy mountain weather through decades of training and sheer badassery, and I was hardened via my mutations and Tuun ancestry. And maybe some badassery.

Karalti touched down in a spray of snow, sending it flying. As she did, I made a go-around motion to Mehkhet. "Mekh, I want you to merge into any and all shadows, and remain unseen. You’re our secret weapon on this mission.”

"Pah. Do this, do that... listen to you, a green boy barely out of his diapers, ordering me - Mehkhet the Illuminator - around like some common fetch!" The dead sage pursed his lips so tight they looked like a cat’s asshole, even as he drifted off and vanished into the deep shadows under Karalti’s bulk.

The steward who came to greet us boggled at our light outfits. He was dressed like a laplander in thick furs and fleece, while Vash wasn't even wearing sleeves.

"Lord Dragozin?" He struggled to tear his gaze from Karalti and orient on me, eyes bright blue and anxious under the shadow of his hood.

"Sir." I nodded to him. "We’re here to see Lord Torquist."

He looked over the group of us. "Shh. Not so loud. This is not the lord's home, and we are trying not to use names… we believe Ilia has mages scrying on us."

"Would have been nice to know that BEFORE I flew right in!" Karalti craned her head down and snorted a blast of hot air over the pair of us. "Ilia wants to capture me and lock me in their Eyrie like a breeding sow, you ass! This is risky for us, too!"

The man's eyes widened until they were white and round. “The… the dragon, she…?”

"Talks, yeah," I reached back to rub the edge of Karalti’s nostril, grimacing. "And there’s always a risk of being spied on, sure, but I think you’re giving Ilia too much credit. If anyone’s spying on you, then it’s someone here on site.”

“As you say," The servant swallowed nervously, and motioned us to follow him. "The lord awaits."

The inside of the keep was as cold as the outside. Snow choked the entry to the gatehouse and the bailey beyond. We followed the steward in the dark, heading up a chilly wet stairwell to a heavy wooden door. There, the servant knocked, waited, then unlocked the door and waved us into the much warmer, cozier den behind.

Lord Torquist was definitely Revalan: tall, very pale-skinned, blond, with light blue-green eyes that were bright with excitement and nerves. He was younger than I thought he'd be, early 20s at most, with the lean, hard body of a habitual athlete. He wasn’t handling his combat high too well, though - the guy was sweaty, and looked like he was just about ready to leap out of his own skin. There was half a bottle of brandy on a small table next to the chair where he'd been sitting, a used glass, a pipe, and sheafs of maps on the floor.

"Just the four of you? Lord and Lady, the Prince spoke true," Torquist groaned. He extended me a slim, well-groomed but callused hand. "Lord Dragozin? No offense, but I was hoping for an army.”

"Voivode Hector Dragozin, Duke of Myszno and bonded rider of Karalti the Black Opal Queen," I corrected him, shaking firmly. I'd already learned that no matter how nice, foppish, innocent or dumb a noble seemed, you never let them get away with talking you down or getting one up over you. "The army is waiting for us to rescue them, Lord Torquist. We’ve done it before, and we’ll do it again."

I'd made the right move: his respect for me visibly increased, and he stopped looking quite so nervous. To him, we probably seemed like foreign rabble: two Tuun men, one of them with obvious dragonrider mutations, the scowling and scruffy as a billy goat; one small but dangerous Tuun woman, and one Mercurion with her face concealed. To this guy, in his fine doeskin, ermine and fleece, we probably looked like a band of pirates.

Torquist began to pace once the door was closed. "The Kingsmen told me you were hoping to rescue Ignas. Haha... well... let me tell you know, Voivode, that hope is getting slimmer by the hour, and not just for Her Highness and His Majesty of Vlachia. We’re all in terrible danger."

"Just call me Hector. And why?" I frowned, watching him as he began to grow increasingly agitated. “What’s changed?”

"This monster, Lucien, is holding a 'celebration banquet' in the Royal Palace to commemorate his ‘victory’ tomorrow night. All the lords and ladies of the realm must attend. As in, it is compulsory for us to attend. We have been ordered to assemble under the watch of Ilia's army, or our homes and lives are forfeit," he said, spitting every word. "There’s not a single noble in the realm who is not panicking. It's widely expected that one of two things will happen: either we will be forced to watch this… this cretin execute our queen and be made to swear fealty to him, or we and the royals will be the barbeque at the banquet, torched to death by dragonfire.”

“Why not band together and take Lovi back?” I asked.

“There is a resistance formenting among the lords of the land, but he has hostages.” Torquist looked stricken. “Every one of the noble houses has loved ones stationed at court. My own nephew is there. He’s only twelve, a squire to one of the royal knights.

“Jesus Christ,” I cursed.

“The common folk are also cowed. Little Lord Lucien's first act of governance was a mass execution of prisoners of war, our soldiers and Vlachia's," Torquist continued. "The first hundred prisoners were executed by feeding them into those twisted Mercurion war machines. Feet first. They killed others using all manner of means. Ax. Firing squad. Hanging. Some were apparently eaten by the dragons. The rest were hung around the city from gibbets, like... like festival decorations."

Lord Torquist had to pause, pinching the brow of his nose.

“By Burna’s will do we stand here,” Vash said roughly. “We hear the horrors inflicted on your nation and grieve with you. What else can you tell us?”

“I can tell you that those of us who have openly resisted Ilia have been murdered. Those who fled the country, successfully or not, have had their kin thrown into the maws of one of those Mercurion war machines. And so with few exceptions, everyone has pledged to attend this ‘celebration’ and submit.” Torquist dropped his hand, and looked up at us fiercely. “But I refuse. I'll fight... I'll fight this marauder until my dying breath, even if…" he trailed off, not able to finish the thought.

"Try not to focus on it right now. Lucien’s the kind of degenerate who’ll get everyone to bend the knee to him, then kill their families anyway.” I clenched my jaws, rocking the crowns of my teeth together to vent the anger rising through my body. “This country needs brave men like you, Lord Torquist. I don’t know if we can help everyone, but if we can rescue Queen Aslan, the princess, and Ignas, then Lucien loses some of his leverage against you all. Do you think you can get us into the palace?"

"Into the city, yes. Into the palace, no." Torquist was rallying with the encouragement, his pale eyes glinting as the will to fight began to replace fear. "The whole western wall of Lovi is wrecked and still on fire. There are ways in and out, legitimate and not. But the palace is far from the walls, heavily guarded by dragons and soldiers. They are trying to place Lovi under lockdown, with limited success. But we expect security to be at its peak tomorrow night.”

“For the banquet and/or execution, right.” I frowned, thinking.

"Well, Torquist, we might not be able to kill or capture this little rotzloffel tonight, but we can definitely set him up to fall," Vash said, after a pause. "What is your plan to get us into the city?"

Torquist was clearly struggling to take Vash seriously. The Baru was, admittedly, picking his chipped teeth with the point of a small bone, one of the many beads plaited through his tightly-woven hair. He was scruffy and scrappy, with one mechanical arm and a face like a shattered mirror - scars that radiated from one cheekbone across three quarters of his face, where his sister had struck him with a hatchet.

"Well, the plan had been to disguise the primary operatives as my footmen," Torquist's eyes darted to me as he spoke. "But I'm not sure that will be possible with this, uhh... gentleman here."

"Ach, Lord Torquist. Just because I have a face like a puckered asshole doesn't mean I can't be disguised," Vash said cheerfully. "If you're going to the palace for some fancy party, you need a lady, after all."

Karalti clamped her hands over her mouth. Ebisa somehow managed to look constipated, despite the fact that Mercurions didn't shit.

Torquist's aristocratic face drew into an expression somewhere between confusion and disgust. "Surely you jest."

"Look into my eyes. Am I laughing? Is this the expression of a man who's pulling your leg?" Vash leveled a hard, straight-faced glare at Torquist. "No, Lord Torquist. You stick my bony ass in a pretty dress with long sleeves, disguise my stunning good looks with a fashionable veil, and off we go to Lovi."

"Only whores go veiled in Revala," Torquist replied, with growing horror.

Vash barked a harsh crow's laugh. “Mash’sain, very good. I'd rather be a whore than a fine lady any day."

Karalti was watching him and Torquist eagerly, like a fan watching a tennis match.

"... Fine." Torquist rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We will... fit you a dress. How fortunate for you I am currently unmarried."

"How fortunate for me?” Vash thumped his chest with a fist. “How fortunate for YOU to be escorted by the finest whore in all of Tungaant, Lady Ten’tzin Trousers."

Lord Torquist blinked a couple of times."Tent’zin... Trousers?"

"Yes. As in, an erection under your clothing," Vash explained, as if speaking to a small, confused child.

Karalti and I had been holding it together until that point. She lost it first, cackling as she reeled away from Vash, who was now grinning mirthlessly at the mortified Lord Torquist. I kind of stuffed my fist in my mouth. Even Ebisa let out a soft sound of amusement.

Vash winked at Torquist. “See? Look how much lighter your guts feel, that you have someone and something to laugh at. Do not make the mistake of taking a coward like Lucien too seriously, my lord. Evil desperately wants to be seen as all-powerful, all-knowing. Laugh at them, for they are not.”

"Vash is right," I croaked, once I had control of my voice again. "We’re going to make this work, and we’re not going to let Lucien control the show. Me, Karalti and Ebisa go in as coachmen. Vash rides in the cabin with you."

"In drag." Vash pointed at me sternly, rolling the R in 'drag' for maximum emphasis

"In drag," I echoed. "The thing we need now is a way into the palace.”

Torquist sank back into his chair. "There are rumored to be secret ways in and out Her Majesty’s residence, tunnels that enter and exit all over the city, but... no one knows where they are. Unless we were able to find a very unusual sage, or somehow rescue the Groom of the Chambers..."

Mehkhet telepathically cleared his throat. "If I may?"

"We may actually have a sage who knows. Hang on." I brought up my HUD, as if composing a message, and reached my mind out to the shade's. "Go on."

"In 1422, it was said that the last crown prince of the Aalto Dynasty was spirited out of the palace through the Grand Cathedral of Liric, the Auri Katedraali,"Mehkhet recited dryly. He was hovering on the other side of one of the walls, basking in the frigid air outside. "Perhaps a message to the Hierophant of Lovi would reveal more details about the passage that was used?"

"You're a genius." I closed the HUD and cleared my throat. "Good news, I guess. I just quickly asked a friend of mine with, uh, magic. He says there might be a way in through the Auri Katedraali."

Torquist's brows furrowed - then he gasped, and thumped his fist into his other palm. "Of course! The Flight of Prince Aalto! Lord and Lady, I forgot all about that story! It's said that his protectors spirited him out of the cathedral's clock. He, uh, died anyway, mind you. Ambushed and kidnapped from the church courtyard, unfortunately... but still! You're going in, not coming out. So perhaps, uh, death is a little less certain."

I fixed a piercing gaze on the man as he shakily poured himself another brandy. "Can you run a message to the Hierophant? If anyone's going to know the secrets of the place, it'll be him."

"Of course." Torquist nodded eagerly. “I dispatch someone tonight. There are many brave people willing to take the risk, and I swear on my father’s grave they won’t breathe a word if captured.”

I paced up and down in front of the fire. "Okay... then here's what we do. Send a team of runners into the city with the message - your real coachmen plus one returning courier. They deliver it to the Hierophant, get his reply, and your coachmen meet us at the church. There's perfectly legitimate reasons you might stop by the Auri Katedraali on your way to the palace. When we get there, we quickly switch costumes. The four of us go into the cathedral and use this secret passage, if it's still available."

"If it's still available," Ebisa replied dryly.

I motioned to her in acknowledgment. "Yeah. It's not a sure thing by any means, but it's what we've got. We’ll plan other routes as well. Do you have maps of Lovi we can use?"

“Absolutely.” Torquist concentrated for a moment, eyes darting from side to side as he accessed his menu. A few seconds later, I got a prompt:

[Duke Helgi Torquist would like to trade you: Map of Lovi, Map of the Lion Palace.]

“Thanks.” I accepted both maps and added them to the Kingdom Management squad menu. Ebisa immediately pulled her copy up, studying it intently.

"What do we do with Ignas when we've got him out?" Karalti asked. "I can't fly quickly with seven people to escape out of the city. It’s too much weight. They’ll blow me out of the sky!"

"Mmm..." Vash was loading his pipe with the herbal blend he used: equal parts marijuana and tobacco, with some kind of stimulant for good measure. “We ought to scatter in the aftermath. Karalti and Dragozin take his and her majesties to safety. The rest of us make do.”

“No. Never split the party,” I said firmly. “We’ll find another way.”

"Whether you manage to free the royals or not, this will create a punishing uproar from the Ilians.” Torquist set his drink down, untouched, lacing and unlacing his hands as he stared into the fire. “When the woman who arranged this meeting - Nethres - awakens from her rest, I will ask her to fly back, and return with reinforcements from the Ilian Kingsmen. Do you need us to field healers here, at the fort?"

“No. You guys can and should get underground as fast as you can. I’m a half-decent healer, and the Masterhealer of Vlachia is getting ready to receive any injured at my castle,” I said. “In any case, are you sure the Hierophant is going to help us?”

"Yes. The Hierophant’s days are numbered as long as Lucien sits the Lion Throne. I will see what he can do to aid you in spiriting the royals from the city."

"Alright. It has to be done soon," I said. "Tonight."

"It will." The lord looked up at us, eyes bright with fear. "Believe me, Voivode Dragozin: It is not only Ignas who is staring into the watery eyes of the reaper. They killed my aunt yesterday morning. These Ilians mean death for us all."