Plight of an Empire

Chapter Thirty Two- part 2: Arkayus

A light snow sprinkled the air and ground with little white flecks.  The oarsmen spoke of a curse set upon the south by the Behemoths of the north.  “They bring cold death with them,” one man said with a shaky voice.  “It clings to them, like babes do to their mother’s teats.”

Arkayus could not argue.  The cold had been fierce when the Behemoths threatened Hecuba.  The beasts were the children of the gods.  There was no telling what they were capable of.

He recalled when he last entered Mynoa at the beginning of winter.  There was a winter storm falling upon him then too.  Perhaps the storms don’t follow the beasts, he thought.  Perhaps they follow me.  He pushed that thought from his mind.  He was just unlucky, and perhaps cursed.

In the distant east, he saw the walls of Mynoa rise from the river and land.  As they grew closer to the capital, they saw more and more boats and ships.  Just as many were making for the capital as away from it.  Though those going away were the warships heading west, and those heading toward it were the commonfolk’s boats, hoping to find sanctuary within the high walls.  He wondered how many of those people had actually lost their homes to the Behemoths and how many were just running out of fear.  They should run as far south as possible, he wanted to tell them.  Walls will not protect you against monsters.

The ship stayed within sight of the southern shore.  Even from the deck, Arkayus could see the thousands of people making to the city.  Those who could afford it rode in wagons or sat atop horses.  The poorer folk just walked on their feet, perhaps pulling along a pack mule.  He could only imagine what the north shore would look like.

“They should be going south,” Arkayus told Captain Bander, who was hunched over the railing, watching the refugees.  “South is safer.”

The captain gave a shrug.  “The walls seem pretty safe.  I’d rather be behind those big walls than travelling the roads.”

“Walls won’t protect you from Behemoths.”

“It’s not the Behemoths they’re worried about, Your Grace,” Lord Colgrave said behind them.  Arkayus spun around.  The lord was wearing a quilted doublet with the sigil of his house on the breast—a crescent moon—and his usual dour expression.  “Bandits, highwaymen, all sorts of unsavory characters are taking advantage of the chaos.  High Queen Audriel has ordered that all able-bodied men be sent to the north, leaving the towns and villages with either no guards or too little to protect them.  They can only go to walled cities for protection, and Mynoa is supposed to be the safest of them all.  Though with the influx of people, I’d assume crime to be at a high point for the city.”

His jaw dropped.  “So she has just abandoned the southern people?”

He shrugged.  “She believes that defending the northern front is more important.  As a king, you need to know that every action you take as consequences.  For our high queen, the north is being defended well and the Behemoths could very well be pushed back, but for that to happen the south must be neglected.”

His lips pressed in a thin line.  The Behemoths were more important, he knew, but seeing what her actions had wrought struck him wrong.  When he reclaimed his throne, he was determined to aid all men equally.

“Would you have done it differently?” asked the Lord of Winterhold.

The Behemoths threatened the entire realm.  Audriel knew this, as did he.  Stopping their advance had to be placed above all else because that meant saving the south.  He shook his head.  “I suppose not.”

The lord pursed his lips and gave a brief nod before walking away.  The man was an enigma to the crownless king, even after knowing his secret.  Lord Storn Colgrave wanted more for himself.  That much was obvious.  Why else would he aid Arkayus even after his own court turned against him at the risk of his name and people?  He knew Arkayus could give it to him while Thane Mikald would likely burn him for being the son of an abomination.  Arkayus was the only one who could help him in return.

He turned his gaze east, to the approaching walls of Mynoa.  A woman with light feet joined him.  “’Tis a beautiful city, is it not?” asked Tiela Colgrave to the crownless king with a crooked smile.

He gave a nod.  Beyond the walls, the alabaster walls of the White Keep loomed over the city, nearly blending with the white of the falling snow.  For a moment, it looked as if the walls could have been made from snow.  A castle of snow, he thought with a chuckle.

“Is something amusing, Your Grace?” the daughter of Lord Colgrave asked.  He took a glimpsed at her.  Like her father, she had the fair hair and light eyes of the north.  But unlike her father, her skin was splashed in freckles.  Her light blue mantle was pinned with a crescent moon.

“No, my lady,” said Arkayus.  “Just a thought came to me.”

“Care to share your thoughts with a lord’s daughter?” she flashed her white smile.  Her blue eyes twinkled.

He shrugged, but smiled back.  “It was nothing important, my lady.  I was just imagining if the walls of the White Keep were made of snow.”

Her head shot to the east, then a spell of giggles washed over her.  “It does look like that, doesn’t it?  The Behemoths would have no trouble breaking through that.”

“Let us hope that the stone is harder than snow.”  She giggled again.  She had a cute little giggle that made Arkayus smile with her.

“I have not seen much of you on this voyage, my lady.  Where has your father kept you hidden away?”  He had not laid with a highborn girl in a long time.  While he knew that she was there, he had only seen glimpses of her.  Perhaps the Lord of Winterhold feared for his daughter’s maidenhood.  A rightful fear.

Tiela Colgrave smiled at him, her blue eyes crinkling in the corners.  “In his own cabin with my youngest brother and sister.  They were so dreadfully afraid of the ship that they did not dare come on deck.  While he was here, I stayed with them, comforting them as best I could.”

“Where is your mother?  Surely she would prefer to care for them.”

Her smile faltered.  “My lady mother died in the birthing bed trying to deliver my youngest brother.  He perished too.”

He grimaced.  He remembered now.  About three years ago, his father told him of Lord Colgrave’s wife passing.  Lady Nanine, he recalled was her name.  “My apologies, my lady.”

“My mother would not have us sit around mourning.”  She left down to the cabins below deck and returned with a bottle of red wine.  “She would have us drink.”  She pulled the cork out of the bottle and took a big swing before handing it over to Arkayus.  A bit of red dribbled down her cheek.  She wiped it away with the back of her hand.  “That was the type of woman she was.”

Arkayus grinned at the woman who stood before him.  As calm as her appearance was, her eyes sparkled with a hidden excitement and wildness.  He turned the bottom up in his mouth.  The red was sour and strong, but it tasted so good on his dry tongue.  He passed the bottle back to her.  “Your mother seems to be quite the willful woman.”

She took another gulp.  “Oh, she was, Your Grace.  It was a wonder how my father put up with her all the years.  He’s a solemn man, in case you haven’t caught on.”  Her teeth had a light coating of red on them when she smiled.  “My brother, Owyn, is just like him.  But I take after my mother, he says.”  She handed the bottle back to him.

“The world needs more women like you.”  He took a drink.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lord Colgrave standing, watching him, with a ghost of a smile on his lips.