Chapter 6 #2
Avera browsed the spines of the protocol section, titled by the years a monarch had ruled.
Most spanned decades except for King Pierrot, who died after seven years due to a fall from a horse.
Each book detailed the laws and precedents enacted during that particular royal’s reign as well as promotions and demotions in position.
Lords and ladies could inherit their titles, but also lose them if they didn’t serve the crown to its satisfaction.
A noble could find themselves stripped of rank overnight just like regular folk could find themselves rewarded and given a boost in rank.
The oldest book in the library—also the thickest—belonged to the first king, Alfred Voxspira, who’d started his reign almost a thousand years ago.
He’d been the one to create The Royal Covenants, a book that outlined Daerva’s first set of laws.
Avera scanned the shelves for it and frowned when she couldn’t find it.
“King Alfred’s tome with the original covenants is missing,” she murmured. She’d never read it. Why bother when she sat so far down the line of succession? She knew of it, though, because her tutor had referenced it in her history lessons.
“It must be around somewhere. Let me have the librarian fetched.” Gustav clanked off in his armor, just to stick his head outside the door to holler. The only time he left her sight was when she used the privy, and even then, he inspected the interior before she could go.
Grigoire, an old rotund man with a crown of hair above his ears but none on his pate, came in still adjusting his navy-hued robes, the stamp of a pillow still marking his face.
“Your Majesty.” The librarian offered a bow, and she waved a hand.
“Morning, Grigoire.” She knew him well given how often she used his domain. “Sorry to have you disturbed so early.”
“Don’t apologize. Given the recent events, I’m surprised you didn’t spend the night in here.
” Grigoire had found Avera more than once tucked in a chair with a book instead of asleep in her bed.
She’d found comfort in stories. “Did you need something to distract? I just received a new book from Merisu that has some lovely poetry.”
Tempting, but… “Actually, I was looking to inform myself on my new duties, however, I can’t seem to find King Alfred’s book. I wanted to refresh myself on the Royal Covenants.”
“It’s right…” Grigoire paused and looked puzzled as he crouched in front of the shelf. “It should have been here.” He pointed to the empty spot.
“Someone must have borrowed it.”
“You mean stolen, since they never told me,” Grigoire huffed. He kept track of all the books because, like Avera, he considered knowledge quite priceless.
“I’m sure someone didn’t steal it. More like forgot to mention they took it,” she soothed.
“You are too nice,” Grigoire growled. His expression hardened. “I will find it for you, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you. In the meantime, is there anything else with a comprehensive summary of the Covenants? I’m especially interested in how the succession of the throne is supposed to be handled.”
“The oldest heir inherits,” Grigoire declared.
“I know that. Given circumstances though, I wanted to know what would happen should there be no heir.”
Grigoire’s eyes widened. “Such a thing would be unprecedented.”
“So is the murder of an entire family down to the smallest child. It’s only because of the Grand Rook’s skill I survived.”
The reminder made Grigoire wince. “Luckily they did not succeed, My Queen.”
“Yet,” Avera emphasized. “Hence why I want to know what the covenant stated, should that matter arise. After all, heirs die, couples can be barren. Surely our many times great forefather had the foresight to include something should that scenario ever occur.”
“I don’t know.” Grigoire blushed as he admitted, “I never did read the entire thing.”
But she had the feeling someone had. Most likely the same someone who’d taken the book and arranged the deadly assassinations.
Since Grigoire appeared flustered, she changed the subject. “What can you tell me about Fraegus Spire?”
“Nasty place. I have a few books that mention it,” Grigoire declared as he waddled to shelves, pulling books at seeming random and piling them on a table. “Nothing grows on the spire, too cold and rocky. Also quite dangerous. Few have gone exploring. Even fewer have returned.”
“Is it known why?”
“Hard to ask a dead man,” was his blunt reply. “However, there are theories.”
When she remained quiet, Grigoire expounded.
“There are claims that storms can hit suddenly, blizzards that can freeze a body to death almost instantly. There are other hazards. Rock climbing even under ideal circumstances is perilous. Look at those who die attempting the cliffs every year to gather eggs.” The vulconawk, a very large bird, nested on the few ledges and in crevices of the cliffs.
Their oversized eggs fetched a hefty sum in the market.
“And then there are the rumors of monsters.”
“Monsters?” Gustav scoffed, showing he’d been listening.
“Nonsense of course,” Grigoire agreed. “Most likely it’s simply bears and wolves who’ve adapted to the climate and see those exploring the spire as easy meals.”
“As a child, my nursemaid used to sing a song about the sleeping beast under the spire.” Avera wracked her memories to remember it. “Something about, ‘it sleeps, it waits, until the time of fate.’”
Grigoire snorted. “Ah yes, ‘The Conquering Dragon’. An odd choice to sing a child.”
It did have violent bits, but she’d always enjoyed the verse, Upon its back, sword and tiara shall fly, against the darkness that would arise.
“You don’t think the mountain holds a sleeping dragon?” she asked.
“Dragons are a myth,” Gustav stated with finality.
“Pity,” she murmured. The few fables she’d read depicted them as magnificent beasts.
“Here are the best books for information on the Spire.” Grigoire thumped the stack he’d placed on the table. “I’ll see if I can find others, but like I said, not many have managed to explore much other than the base. None certainly ever reached the peak and returned.”
Had her mother? When she’d told Avera to visit, she’d not gone into much detail. What secrets hid there that were required for Avera to rule? And was it terrible of Avera that she’d prefer to leave on a pilgrimage rather than deal with the funerals and her new role?
Gustav stood guard by the door while she browsed the texts, only to learn almost nothing.
The spire was cold. She already knew that.
Dangerous. Again, common knowledge. The one passage she found interesting was from a man who’d claimed he’d managed to climb a hundred feet only to turn back because he heard singing.
It seemed improbable since no one could live there.
Before the lunch hour, a knock on the library door had Gustav exiting for a moment. He returned to growl, “Benoit has fled the city.”
That arched her brow. “Fled where?”
“To his family’s country estate. Apparently, overwrought with grief, he chose to not remain for the funeral and took himself off where he could mourn in private.”
“Plausible,” Avera remarked.
“That man didn’t shed a single tear as your mother lay dying. Nor did Calixte want him anywhere near her. Hadn’t in months.”
“Oh?” This was unexpected news. “Why not? I got the impression they were enamored of each other.”
“In the beginning they were, but something between them changed. The last few months she barred her room at night and refused his visits. In public, they played the role of loving couple, but in private, they didn’t talk.”
“No idea why the change?”
“She never said. I assumed she must have caught him philandering.”
Her mother’s pride wouldn’t have stood for that.
Despite being in her sixties, she’d matured very well and looked at least a decade younger than others her age.
Benoit, however, had been much younger. Many had wondered at his choice to marry someone past childbearing age given he had no heirs from his late wife.
“Should we have him fetched?”
“That’s up to you, my queen.”
Her first big decision. It seemed unlikely Benoit would have plotted against his own position. Only the queen had ranked higher than him. “Leave him for now. We know where he is, and given I’m supposed to do a tour of the continent after the funeral, it’s easy enough to pay him a visit en route.”
Gustav’s lips curved, transforming his grizzled visage. “Excellent thinking. Although…” His smile faded. “A journey will expose you to danger.”
“So does sleeping, apparently. If it helps, we can ensure no one knows of our travel plans. After all, assassins can only attack if they know where I’m going to be.”
“There is only one main road the carriage can follow. I’m afraid you’ll be quite easy to locate.”
“Who says we’re sticking to the road? Or have you forgotten I’m a most excellent rider?”
“You want to go cross country?” Gustav didn’t hide his shock.
“I hate carriages. Stuffy contraptions. They make me quite queasy and take forever to get places. Besides, Luna would be most upset if I didn’t take her.
” The steed being the best present her mother ever gifted her.
Avera had never been more shocked than when on her twenty-first birthing day she’d received a note from her mother saying she had a surprise waiting in the stable.
Gustav didn’t argue. “You do have a point and Luna is a fine mare. Your brother had a fit when he found out your mother had her imported specifically for you. Cost her a fortune to get Aldrich his own stallion so he’d stop whining.”
She remembered Fleet, a gorgeous horse with a sleek black coat. Dead because the First Prince rode it drunk during a heavy fog where Fleet broke his leg bad enough he had to be put down.
“Given I’ll be riding on horseback, we’ll travel light.”
“What of your clothing and retinue?”
She laughed. “I don’t need help getting dressed. As for clothes, a riding habit, and a gown for greeting.”
“A single gown?” He sounded skeptical.
“Two, if I can squeeze it. And before you tell me that’s not how things are done, I am queen now, so I’m the one who decides what is and isn’t acceptable. I will say right now, lugging a wagon full of trunks so I can change outfits numerous times a day is dumb.”
His lips twitched. “Your reign will be interesting, my queen.”
And hopefully long-lived.