The Mechanical Crown

Deconstructing fate

"How dare you intrude without warning?" Pienya snapped. She had not been expecting visitors and was not dressed in her usual stern attire.

"Apologies, captain," the soldier said, averting his eyes. "I bring word of the king."

Pienya held her breath for a moment, wondering for an instant if Guijus was dead. "What of him?"

"He is here, captain. Or he will be, in a few minutes. His carriage is approaching from the south."

She stared at the man as if her were stupid. "Why was I not informed ahead of time?"

"None of us were. No message was sent."

Dismissing the soldier, Pienya swore and started pulling on her heavier layers of clothing and her armour pieces. She'd had it designed especially, ensuring that she could equip it on her own without needing assistance. The king arriving was not a welcome development: they already had a plan formulated and his input could only disrupt matters.

In under five minutes she was ready and pushed her way out through the tent's opening. It was mid-morning and the sky was clear, creating a feeling entirely at odds with the sprawling army and siege towers that surrounded her. There were almost five thousand soldiers gathered in the fields, where they'd commandeered land from the local farmers. There was a continual background hum of voices and hammering and marching footsteps, the army's population and footprint being larger than some villages in the valley. If they stayed in one place for much longer they may as well become one.

Walking between rows of tents, most only large enough to sleep a couple of soldiers, she caught sight of the king's entourage up ahead, where his carriage had just settled to a stop with wheezing funnels and dust settling around its wheels. She hurried into position, between the army generals at the front of the assembled officers ready to welcome the monarch.

Guijus disembarked, revealing himself to be clad in an armour Pienya had never seen him wear before, re-arranged himself and then walked towards them with slow, deliberate strides. His new guard, hand-picked by Queen Anja, formed an armed corridor of bodies for him to walk along. The king, clearly irritated by their presence, indicated with a wave of his hand that they should stay in place, then he advanced towards where Pienya stood. She noticed that his armour squeaked slightly as he moved.

"General Stover, General Zdarton," Guijus acknowledged. He looked reluctantly at Pienya. "Captain Martoc." The king walked past them, surveying first his troops then holding a hand to his brow while he squinted in the morning glare at the city of Bruckin in the near distance.

"The army is assembled?" he asked, to no-one in particular.

"Yes, your majesty," said General Zdarton, always the one most eager to please.

"You have been here for weeks. Why have we not attacked?"

General Stover stepped forward. "We have been controlling trade in and out of the city. Their resources are beginning to run dry. Once they are weakened we will be able to push through their gates as if they were paper. If we wait long enough, the populace may even do our jobs for us. Even Bruckin spirit can only last so long when the bread runs out."

"You misunderstand, General Stover," the king said. "This is not merely about conquering. This is not a display of force for the sake of it. This is a rescue mission. As long as there is a chance that Princess Kirya lives and is held captive, it is all our duty to do everything we can to retrieve her."

"Our best intelligence does not place Kirya within the city," Pienya said, not liking the direction of the conversation.

"Your intelligence does not seem to have any ideas whatsoever about her whereabouts," the king snapped. "I want a report by the end of the day. I want to know how soon we can mount an offensive, and I want it to be days, not weeks. There is no time to lose."

Zdarton edged closer, speaking softly. "Sire, the siege is a valid strategy. Bruckin's defences are not inconsiderable; a direct assault will incur significant casualties, on both sides."

Guijus waved a hand at the rows upon rows of tents. "All these soldiers would lay down their lives if it would save Princess Kirya." He turned to Zdarton, looking him in the eyes. "Do you not share their conviction?"

"I wish to pursue the course of action which would most effectively carry out your wishes, my king."

"Then see it done. A siege will starve the city, and the first to die will be the prisoners. We cannot have that." The king turned away from them, looking back to the carriage where crates were being off-loaded from the storage compartment at the rear. "Pienya," he continued, "have everything brought to the royal tent. I will need a meal prepared for my retinue, also - we have been travelling since the early hours."

Pienya bristled but kept her reaction suppressed, knowing that the foolish man was testing her and looking for an excuse to have her removed from the line.

"Will Queen Anja be joining us?" she asked, polite but easily fixing the king's eyes with a cold glare.

"The queen has other matters to attend to in the capital," Guijus said. "War is not her place."

"King Guijus," General Stover interjected hesitantly, "I require Captain Martoc's presence at the strategy table. She has recent, first hand knowledge of the interior of Bruckin and its defensive capabilities, and I value her contribution."

Guijus shifted his gaze from Pienya to the military man, a chill silence seeming to settle over the camp, if only for a moment. After a pause that lasted too long to be comfortable, Guijus nodded. "She may join you once she had completed her other duties." He turned abruptly and left to tour the encampment, surrounded by the lackeys and sycophants that had gathered to him like moths to a flame ever since the incident at the festival and Seldon's disappearance.

Pienya watched him go, surprised at her acute feeling of disgust. There would have been a time when she would have been aghast at having displeased the king, or concerned for her position or safety. In her younger years she barely distinguished between the king and queen, seeing them as one and the same, intertwined and indivisible.

The rule of old men such as Guijus and Lief was drawing to an end. It was time for a new age, as Lagonia moved past its petty squabbles and embraced a far greater destiny. And she, Pienya Martoc, born to a poor servant family, orphaned as a child, risen to captain and the queen's right hand, would be the one to see it through and stand upon the battlefield as the ash cleared on a bright new day.

She flexed her fingers, the cool metal of the rings rubbing against her skin.