The Supreme Warrior *2014 ABNA Contest 2nd Round*

CHAPTER 18.2: Kaflaen's Banquet

The men gathered on the bell platform exchanged uneasy grimaces. Kyssalia bore their doubt with aloof equanimity. After an uncertain silence, the Captain-general apologized, “Forgive me, m’lady, we thought you dead.”

The Princess inclined her head, ignoring Valdrey’s failure to use the term “Your Highness" to address her. Instead, she brandished the Scepter.

The Captain-general rapidly reasserted his authority, “Sir Calidon, as a member of the Golden Scepter, I believe ’Tis your duty to act as bodyguard for the Duchess.”

A golden opportunity! Kyssalia is somewhat older than me—perhaps three years—but I am the Hero of the Harvest Festival. Moreover, it looks like I have just saved her throne—if she can ever manage to sit.

Maybe I can help.

Cal nodded his assent.

Valdrey has to be aware what he dangles before me. Pursuing Kyssalia obviously serves his purpose, but she might need a husband before she can rule the City.

“I recommend, however, that you find yourself a hauberk.”

Knight-commander Hyreth cleared his throat as if he were about to object, but the Captain-general cut him off.

“See to notifying your Orders,” he brusquely commanded and stalked into the Great Hall.

Inside, order prevailed where confusion had reigned only minutes before. The mass of guardsmen holding the main doors had more than tripled as the household responded to the alarm bells. Many of the former guests had armed themselves from fallen priests and guards, but only a few had salvaged armor. A mixture of scullions and gowned noble ladies attended the wounded; many had torn their fine gowns to make improvised bandages. The Prince’s Master Healer had survived the carnage and now supervised their efforts.

Guard officers and knights swarmed around the Captain-general as he reentered the room, awaiting new orders. Examining his newly assembled force, he made a swift decision, “We will retake the Palace.”

Valdrey then shaped his fragmented force into ordered companies with a coherent command structure. He tasked one third of his force to protect the Princess. He planned to take the balance of his troops into the corridors.

One of the knights objected. “The Priesthood will try to rally the City around their false King...”

“Let ‘em!” rebuked the Captain-general. “The Palace is the key. No one knows what’s really happening. As long as we hold the Palace, the Watch and the garrison commanders out in the City will answer to us.”

Valdrey spied the dais where the Prince lay mashed under a heap of molten metal. He ordered the commander of the guardsmen he had left in charge of the Great Hall to protect Duchess Kyssalia, and then added, “Remove the Prince and hide him. ’Tis best we prevent the enemy from despoiling his remains—or, worse yet, using his death to their advantage.”

With those final words, Captain-general Valdrey sallied forth to reclaim the Palace.

                                                      *       *       *

The guardsmen assigned to protect Kyssalia barricaded the Great Hall’s main door by moving broken tables and furniture. A strong block of heavily armored men stood in formation just behind the makeshift barricade. The Princess and Cal climbed up to the dais, and walked through the open doors onto the bell platform. Meanwhile, porters hid the Prince’s body in the servant’s quarters behind a pile of crates.

For long minutes, Cal and Kyssalia fidgeted in discomfited silence while sitting five paces from one another on chairs salvaged from the wreck inside the Great Hall. Cal still wore his Aspirant’s Robe, but had jammed an ill-fitting leather cuirass over his torso; meanwhile, the would-be Princess attempted to project authority wearing a soiled lime-green gown.