Chapter XLIX Welcome
XLIX Welcome
“What a view. Have you ever been here before?” Raduna asks as we stop on top of a gentle hill, looking out at the Citadel sprawling before us. The city gleams white in the sunlight, and beyond it, the sea stretches to the horizon, dark and foaming.
“Two times before my mother passed away,” I admit. “My father didn’t want to take me after that. It’s a beautiful city. Oh, that’s the palace over there. It’s right on the cliff! I remember seagulls in the courtyards, trying to steal our food. They were a menace.”
The white, gleaming royal complex sprawls on the cliffs butting against the sea, short towers and metal domes gleaming in the silvery sunlight.
The warm weather has held all through our journey through the kingdom of Amber Port, but Raduna says it’s about to turn.
Fluffy, silver clouds race over the sky.
The air smells of the sea, a bit like fish, a bit like salt, and I breathe it in with a smile. It reminds me of something pleasant, though I can’t pinpoint what.
Ahead, the riders begin a gentle descent down the cobbled road leading to the Citadel’s gate.
I spot Magnar, his white hair loose and whipped by the wind, back ramrod straight.
His jaw has been tight for days, and he barely speaks.
I think he’s afraid we’ll be turned away from the Citadel’s gates.
After the series of humiliations we’ve suffered along the way, it wouldn’t be too shocking.
I am determined not to let that happen, though. I won’t let him be humiliated like that.
“Ah, the emperor’s palace. I’m excited to see it,” Raduna says.
“He built it after he conquered the continent and set his eyes on the lands beyond the sea, but of course, he died before he made any more conquests. He left the empire to his eleven sons, dividing it along natural borders like rivers and mountain ranges.”
“You know a lot of our history, don’t you? My father had little interest in the past, and frankly, I don’t, either. The history books in our library were horribly stuffy.”
Raduna rumbles a pleasant laugh. Around us, long grasses sway in the wind, gnarled pine trees darkening the horizon to the left.
“I suspect we know more about the Eleven, past and present, than people who live here,” he says with amusement. “Magnar’s first rule is to know your foes. Humans seem to have adopted a different strategy.”
I snort with derision. “That’s a very circumspect way of saying the human approach is foolish. No wonder we get attacked by idiots, since everyone here believes you’re dumb monsters no smarter than beasts of burden.”
“Indeed. Look, they’re opening the gates. What are you looking forward to the most?”
“Honestly? A bed big enough to have all of you with me, but I don’t think that’s likely.”
He chuckles. We ride to the gate, Arvi and Khay flanking us. Magnar waits at the head of his escort while a small group of human men come out, all bowing in an obvious show of deference. I didn’t realize how much tension I held in my shoulders until they drop in relief.
“Greeting delegation. This is good. He’s being treated like every other king in the Eleven.”
Magnar swings off his mount in an athletic display and goes over to speak to the humans. The conversation is quick, and they move aside, bowing again when he mounts his horse and rides past them. We follow into the oldest, most beautiful city in the Eleven Kingdoms.
The Citadel was built of pale stones, its clean streets gleaming just as the buildings do.
Even though we’re on the outskirts, which usually tend to be rougher around the edges, there is no trash heaped by the buildings, and people walking by seem well off, dressed warmly and well fed.
They watch us openly, but no one seems afraid.
“They were prepared for our arrival,” I murmur, wondering what it means. “Someone made a lot of effort to make us feel welcome. Either the other kings really want those mines…”
I trail off, and Raduna hums thoughtfully. “Or what?”
“Maybe they want us to lower our guard,” I mutter, knowing Raduna’s superior hearing will let him catch my words when no one else will. “I’m not sure, but we have to be careful.”
I’ve read my father’s journals along the way and found quite a few interesting things that he hasn’t taught me, because they were too callous or indecent. He referred to the Table of Kings as a den of foxes on more than one occasion, sometimes calling the other kings cutthroats in golden gloves.
The most fundamental law of the Eleven forbids them from causing each other harm.
That is why there have been no wars between the kingdoms. A king who sits at the Table of Kings and attacks another nation protected by the pact will not only be trued for breaking the laws—he will likely be lynched by the people.
Peace is our most important value.
The most important lesson I took away is to always look out for deception.
The kings present a united front to the rest of the world, but when it’s only them in the room, they fight, bicker, and conspire against each other.
It works as a natural system of checks and balances, but I fear Magnar’s arrival might disrupt it.
They may see him as a common foe and unite against him. Dangerous.
My suspicion doesn’t mar my enjoyment. We pass lively streets teeming with shops and selling stands.
Since the Citadel has the largest port, much of the foreign trade goes through here.
Luxurious, exotic items are sold right in the streets by people dressed in colorful clothes, wearing audacious jewelry and bright headscarves.
When we pass the market square, there’s some sort of performance happening. Quick, cheerful music comes from a dozen instruments, and a group of women wearing festive dresses with many petticoats in various colors dance to the tune, their high-heeled boots hitting the cobbles with merry tapping.
A wide road leads to the palace up on the cliffs. Magnar falls back to ride next to us, his eyes vigilant and bright, lined by purple shadows.
“The man by the gate said you and I are invited to the apartments designated for the ruler of Farneer in the central part of the palace,” he murmurs, glancing at me.
“While everyone in our retinue will stay in a building for personal servants in the east wing. We’re encouraged to take a guard no bigger than five when exploring the city. Is all that normal?”
I nod. “As far as I know. The apartments for rulers are large, though, at least three rooms. I don’t think it will be a problem if our knights stay with us. If anything, it might give them something to gossip about instead of plotting.”
“Plotting?” his voice is harsh with tension. “Do you know something?”
I shake my head. “Just a hunch. This is too easy, but maybe they plan to humiliate us in the palace, where it’s more private.”
Magnar sighs, rubbing the back of his neck that I know is hard with strain. “I want you with me at all times. Watch and draw conclusions. I trust your hunches more than mine here.”
The gates of the palace are made of wrought iron painted gold, ornamental rather than defensive. They are wide open, and a small party of courtiers wait in the middle of the enormous, bright courtyard with welcoming smiles on their faces.
“Greetings, King Magnar, Queen Caliane!”
The best dressed of the men opens his arms wide in welcome. He wears a blue vest embroidered with silver thread and a billowing, silver cloak. His moustache is thin and carefully curled.
Magnar dismounts and helps me off Raduna’s horse, motioning at the knights to follow while a gaggle of stable hands descend upon us, ready to take care of our horses. I see their quickly hidden hesitation and awe when they stare at the enormous Agnidari mounts.
Magnar grips my elbow and walks over to the man who welcomed us, extending his arm with a stiff smile. They shake hands, then the man gives me a deep, formal bow.
“I am Duke Sidonius, at your service. The Citadel’s palace is in my care, and it is my pleasure to welcome you here for the first time!
If you have any needs or requests, any at all, please, don’t hesitate to let me know.
Here are Dahlia, Cyril, and Sebastian. They will help your people get settled while I’ll personally lead you to your apartment. ”
“Thank you,” Magnar says tersely.
His reticent manner doesn’t seem to upset our host. If anything, his smile brightens—at least until he sees our knights approaching behind us while the rest of our party follow their three guides.
“We do not allow warriors to house with the royalty, my king, my queen,” he says with affected regret. “It would upset the Kings’ Peace. I am sure you understand.”
My heart sinks. Magnar’s already on edge, and if we lose our knights, I don’t think he’ll manage. When his fingers squeeze mine, I understand he wants me to do something. I step forward, giving Sidonius my best simpering smile.
“Thank you so much for welcoming us in person, Sidonius, it’s highly appreciated. I am certain our stay with you will be delightful. However, I must ask that these three are allowed to accompany us. They are not warriors. Our relationship is of a personal nature.”
His eyes grow big as his lips form an exaggerated ‘O’ of understanding. Sidonius smiles brightly, taking in our knights with a new kind of appreciation, his eyes lingering first on Arvi, then Raduna. He leans in, voice growing low and conspiratorial.
“Might I enquire if they are the king’s or the queen’s special guests?”
I remember what I said about gossip being helpful and smile. Caliane the Princess would have never come up with this idea, but Caliane the Queen feels much less shame these days.
“Why, of course, my dear friend. The answer is both of us,” I say with a wink.