Chapter 24 #2
The tallest man I’d ever laid eyes upon stood at the calling of his name.
A wig made for a smaller head rested snug against his scalp.
“Thank you, Your Highness. Your Majesty. I, Lord Jean Merin, third of my name, Baron of Norsomber, Keeper of the Northern Coast, and humble servant to the Crown of Antier, do most graciously thank this esteemed council for granting me audience on this, the fifteenth day of Fintrus, in the year of our realm seven hundred and eighty-two.”
He paused to bow again, the gesture made awkward by its height. I wondered if the wig would fall, holding my breath.
“As was my father before me, and his father before him, stretching back to the glorious reign of King Connor the Just, may the gods rest his noble soul, my family has served as loyal stewards of the northernmost shores where the Gelded Sea meets our kingdom. From the Mauled Cliffs to Dusk Harbor, from the village of Lesser Norsomber to Greater Norsomber proper, we have maintained the Queen’s peace and collected the Queen’s taxes with dutiful precision… ”
My attention wandered as Lord Merin launched into a very detailed account of his family’s various honors and services.
Beside me, Nicolas shifted slightly, his hand resting on the table where I could see him discreetly extending two fingers, then three, then four, counting off what seemed to be the traditional length of these preambles.
If this was a common occurrence, I wondered how closely anyone paid them attention, and if the speakers ever snuck in a completely random word or two just to see what they might get away with.
“…which brings me, with great sorrow and trepidation, to the matter at hand. For it was on the Waning Eve, when the autumn rains had swollen the Omber River beyond all memory of man, that the great dam, built in the reign of King Everett Montfort, grandfather to Queen Adelaide, did catastrophically fail, leaving no fewer than eighty of Your Majesty’s subjects without shelter as winter’s grip tightens upon our coastal provinces… ”
Straightening, I finally caught onto the issue. The man spoke tediously of a flood in his region that had unhoused a large number of his citizens. My thoughts went to the protesting women of Caermont and their struggle to put food on the table. Would this worsen the food disparity?
The queen tapped her ring. Nicolas leaned closer, whispering into my ear. “See how she touches her hand? She’s already drawn a conclusion.”
“Lord Merin.” Queen Adelaide’s voice cut through the chamber.
“The Crown acknowledges the hardship visited upon Norsomber. You shall have a complement of builders dispatched within the fortnight to assess and begin repairs on the dam. The treasury will provide a stipend of three hundred stags for immediate relief efforts.”
I considered the number: three hundred months of pay to a skilled laborer. That, divided by eighty, would equal three months’ pay for every affected person. But some of that would have to go to food, to construction, to re-establishing the land. It seemed so high a number, but was it truly enough?
The tall lord’s wig shifted precariously as he bowed once again. “Your Majesty’s generosity knows no—”
“However,” the queen continued, her tone sharpening, “this catastrophe couldn’t have come at a worse time.
As this council is aware, our kingdom faces an unprecedented shortage of grain.
The flooding of Norsomber’s fertile valleys means we have lost not merely this year’s harvest of barley, which feeds our nation’s livestock, but likely next year’s as well, given the silt deposits your report mentions. ”
Antier was importing wheat when it should have been self-sufficient, there were protests in Caermont, and now there was a failed harvest in Norsomber. I was to inherit quite the struggling nation.
I wondered if I could use magic to alleviate the food shortage, but if that was possible, it was strange that it had not been thought of already. I put a pin in the thought, plotting to bring it up to Florence.
“We must face an uncomfortable truth: Antier cannot feed itself through the coming year without significant intervention.”
Nicolas shifted, placing a hand on my leg. I couldn’t determine if it was from the tension of the moment, or a poorly-timed flirtation. Either way, I squeezed my thighs together and struggled not to show how flustered I’d become.
“Master of Trade,” the queen commanded, “can we increase our imports?”
Marquis Trefor’s ink-stained fingers tapped along a book of figures.
He rose from further down the table. “Your Majesty, at current prices, we could manage perhaps another sixty-thousand bushels per month from Baselia, but our neighbors are experiencing their own shortages. They will not sell at a price we can afford to pay repeatedly.”
Sixty-thousand bushels seemed tremendous, but the queen’s expression remained stony. My heart sank. “And this would alleviate what portion of our shortage?”
“We would still have some two hundred thousand subjects facing hunger through the winter months. The riots in Caermont are but a preview if we cannot secure additional sources.”
So, they knew of the protests? My gaze shifted to Quinn.
He was propped on his fist with a stern look in his eyes, almost missing my nonverbal exchange.
When he did take notice, he merely blinked in acknowledgement of the shared memory.
“Fifteen percent,” he whispered. “That’s how much of the population will starve. ”
The queen’s frown deepened. She rapped her fingers on the table, weighing solutions. Then she shifted to Lord Merin.
“I’ve reconsidered my proposal,” she said, to his alarm.
“We shall refit and reallocate ships from our naval fleet and send them north. Your people must increase their catch, preserve the fish, and distribute it inland. In addition, take your unhoused eighty and send them south to Pontarena… We shall accelerate the canal’s construction, and your working men can assist in the effort in exchange for lodgings for their families.
I am sure Lord Marius will be accommodating, as it will mean an increase in revenue for him and all of Antier. ”
“Y-yes, Your Majesty.” Lord Merin hesitated, and for good reason: the queen had just asked him to uproot eighty proud northerners to an entirely different biome, a culture completely unlike their own. “Very good.”
“In the meantime, we must plant root vegetables with whatever land shall carry it. An aggressive planting campaign could yield food by late spring,” Queen Adelaide continued.
Then her gaze darkened. “And all noble houses shall open their private stores to rationing. Let no lord feast while his people starve.”
My eyes widened. Murmurs passed throughout the room at the move, implying its political danger, but no one dared to question the final word of the queen. Not here.
“Let us move on from this dreary business,” said the queen, reclining in her seat and massaging her temples. “Prince Nicolas?”
Nicolas cleared his throat. “Lord Dalton of Twinbridge.”
Another stranger stood, bowing low to the queen.
Unlike Lord Merin, he was very young for a lord, perhaps only recently inheriting the title.
He made his lengthy introduction, speeding through the formalities to quickly reach the point of his presence: a strange illness sweeping over the city, particularly in the poorer districts.
It started with a fever, one that escalated with every passing day.
The sick became confused and delirious, constipated and then prone to bloody flux.
They became so weak that they could hardly leave their homes, their stomachs distended.
Many had died already, and autopsy reports showed perforations in their intestinal tracts.
I scratched my head. The queen had no immediate reply for the young lord, leaving it to the table for further deliberation.
The royal physician was summoned to give his opinion, and it was his determination that the poorer districts should be sectioned-off from the rest of the city until whatever the ailment was had run its course.
With one in four of the infected succumbing to the disease, I shuddered at the notion, shaking my head.
My leg bounced beneath me while I deliberated.
Nicolas leaned closer, noticing my agitation. “What troubles you?”
My thoughts raced as I connected the symptoms to something Mother had described many years ago: a summer sickness that had swept through a riverside village near the Greater Arbordeen.
The pattern was unmistakable: poor districts, access to a river, intestinal distress, all following a flood from the north.
I took Nicolas’ hand beneath the table, my nails digging into his skin with urgency.
“The water,” I whispered, so quiet that only he could hear. “The poor drink from the rivers. The wealthy drink wine and ale. The sickness is in the water.”
Nicolas’s jaw hung open. I put my hand on his thigh and he cleared his throat, addressing the assembly. “Lord Dalton, tell me: do the afflicted districts draw their water from the two rivers that surround Twinbridge?”
Lord Dalton looked equally baffled. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“And the wealthier quarters?”
Now the lord shifted uncomfortably. “They have private wells, Your Highness, though most prefer to drink wine.”
Nicolas squeezed my hand. “Quarantine will not halt this disease. The sickness travels in the water itself. We must provide an alternative source for the people to drink.”
The royal physician scoffed. “Your Highness, disease spreads through miasma and ill humors—”
“Tell me, physician,” Queen Adelaide interrupted, her fascinated gaze moving between her son and me, “in your learned opinion, what harm could come from providing clean well water and ale to the suffering?”
The physician’s mouth opened and closed like a trout. “None, Your Majesty, but the expense—”
“Will be far less than losing a quarter of Twinbridge’s workforce.” The queen tapped her ring. “Lord Dalton, have every public well in the affected districts filled and sealed. Establish water distribution from the wells. The crown will cover the cost.”
As Lord Dalton stammered his gratitude and withdrew, Nicolas’ thumb traced small circles against my palm beneath the table, a silent acknowledgment of my triumph.
Fortunately for all of Antier, the rest of the matters were comparably tame. Within an hour, the council concluded its business and the queen took her leave, gesturing for Nicolas and me to accompany her.
We followed her through the corridors to a private salon, Dierdre materializing to trail behind us. Once inside, the queen’s lady-in-waiting secured the heavy doors with practiced efficiency, ensuring our privacy.
“And now you know the circlet atop your head represents more than pageantry,” Queen Adelaide said, exhaustedly plopping onto a sofa with an unladylike thud.
“We have a duty to Antier. You excelled in all matters today, Princess Alana; you knew when to speak, and when to listen…unlike my son, whose focus was obviously divided throughout the meeting.”
Nicolas stiffened.
“Go on and find another spot to look stupid in,” Queen Adelaide barked. The prince scowled, tearing from the room and slamming the doors. “The boy gives me a damned headache.”
Poor Nicolas. Did the queen often make it a point to humiliate him?
I found a seat to lounge in and didn’t dare to ask.
“Elias was just like him. Could hardly control himself before the wedding,” Queen Adelaide remembered, staring up at the ceiling.
“It took me a long time to learn how to navigate him, even after we married. I only hope Nicolas can keep his head on straight; something about the balls pollutes a man’s brains.
They can’t help it, I suspect; horses are much the same way around females, but we have them gelded. ”
I paled at the rare moment of vulgarity from the queen, then tried to veer her back on course. “What was he like? The king?” Queen Adelaide was pensive. She met my eyes.
“He was everything to me.”
I might have swooned if she wasn’t so sad. How lonely she must be; she kept so few companions, distant even from what family remained, and the one she loved most was long-departed.
And despite all of that, there was still an impassable distance between her and her son.
“That talk of sickness today,” the queen pivoted. “Had you spoken directly to Lord Dalton, you would have earned his admiration.” An ironic statement, but I kept a straight face. “Instead, it is either myself or my unworthy son who will receive credits.”
“But that doesn’t matter to me, Your Majesty,” I insisted, straightening. “People are suffering.”
“We might’ve done just as well to let them die now so they wouldn’t starve later.
” Queen Adelaide didn’t seem amused, but her statement wasn’t said as harshly as it should have been.
“We alleviate what we can, but I can see the stars in your eyes, child. Allow me to blot them out: this was but a mere drop in the bucket. The trouble never ends, and often, it only grows worse. You’ve done well as a queen if they haven’t taken your head by the end of it. ”
I frowned, my fingers curling into fists. It might have been the case for other rulers, but I had magic on my side. “It will get better.”
The queen laughed. “As you say, sweet princess. As you say.”