The Faintest Ink (Watty Winner 2015)

Chapter Eighty-Four

The scroll crackled as it was rolled out along the table. It took three candlesticks to hold it in place, which had the added benefit of providing enough light to read it by.

"You can sign here," said Wallia, pointing to a small line at the bottom. He plucked a quill from the table and dipped it in the ink pot, handing it to Calantha with a smile.

She took it, staring at the nib. The ink rolled down, forming a bulb which grew even heavier. She dabbed it on the blotter before it had a chance to fall, and sighed.

"I'm not sure I fully understand what this is," she said, looking over the scroll. There was a lot of writing. Hundreds and hundreds of words, written in the language of the court, densely packed with the neat handwriting of the royal clerks.

"This," said Wallia, leaning on the table so that his belly pressed against her arm. "Is your first royal proclamation. This is how will be tell Serrador and all the nations of the Western Isles that you are the true ruler of this land."

Calantha scanned the text trying to make sense of it all. A few words jumped out at her, like 'heretofore', 'declaration' and 'covenant', and then the phrase 'Monarch of the mighty kingdom of Serrador, Sovereign of the Lion Islands, and ruler of the Serradorian Environs beyond the Seas' and a little further on, her own title, 'the Countess of Tellsbury'.

"Well, I don't see how a piece of paper can make me Queen. It doesn't even have my name on it," she said, brushing an invisible speck of lint from her skirts. She sat back, forcing Wallia to stand up straight or get ramed in the nose by her shoulder.

Wallia's eyes flicked towards her husband, who was sitting opposite her, picking at his nails with his sleeves rolled back. The Squire didn't look up, even when Wallia cleared his throat in a very pointed way. Mistress Hilton signed, and putting down her embroidery, which she still seemed to be carrying around with her, tapped the Squire with the back of her hand.

He glared at her, then catching Wallia's own narrowed eyes, slowly removed his elbows from the table and pulled down his cuffs.

"Do you have anything to say, Squire?"

The Squire frowned. "Do I?"

Wallia sighed with frustration and turned back to the Countess. "It is imperative that we get everything in place as quickly as possible. You must sign now."

"'Must' is not a word for Queens," said Calantha.

"You are not a Queen yet, Countess. Not until you sign."

"And then what?" she asked, tilting her head and staring at Wallia until he was forced to hold her gaze. "What happens after I sign?"

Wallia removed his handkerchief from his jerkin and patted down his face. Calantha crinkled her nose in disgust. That man never stopped sweating. "My dear Countess," he started. Calantha had to resist the temptation to roll her eyes. "One cannot just sit on the throne of Serrador and expect the rest of the world to fall in line. There are proper protocols which must be adhered to."

"There is that word again," said Calatha, thinking that this might all be rather fun.

"Yes, Countess. I'm afraid there will be a few more of those before your name is read out during your coronation and you are truly the ruler of this land. Before that we must declare you Queen and establish a council composed of members of all the leading families."

She scoffed. "Whatever for?" She could see a pulse beating in Wallia's cheek. She bit the inside of her mouth to stop herself from grinning.

"We must..." He groaned. "That is, I anticipate that the transition to your reign after this period of turmoil, with not be completely smooth. You saw the people out there. Something has happened to the masters, they appear to have lost control. You need all the help you can get. By aligning ourselves with all the major houses, we will be able to call on all their standing armies and gain authority over your people."