Heading back towards the house Randall heard them; protestors marching up the laneway toward the lawn headed by Alice.
Just as Eyan said, they held placards and swords. Shooting inside and up the staircase, Randall hand no time to catch what they said.
Drew and his fifty guards sprinted from the barracks down the hall and spilled out onto the lawn, blocking entrance into the house - driving the protestors back off the lawn and out onto the road.
Randall slinked into the throne room, but not before Ritty and Antonia caught sight of him
"RANDALL!", Ritty yelled hopping down the stairs and staggering into the room shirtless and half asleep. Antonia tottled in behind him, draped in her sheet.
"Master Ritty", Randall droned dryly, "Madam Antonia".
"What the fuck is happening down there?", Ritty vaguely gestured back down the staircase.
"Mayas sister and a band of merry citizens come to express their discontent", Randall sat behind the desk and attempted to look busy.
"And you're not down there addressing them because...?", Ritty trailed off, hoping Randall would take the hint and respond, but he didnt.
Ritty waited a few seconds, tapping his foot on the ground impatiently.
"The guards are addressing them", Randall responded as if this fact should have been obvious.
"You need to go down there, and if not, send Gene down there - he's got a decent rapport with people", Ritty tried to hide the agitation in his voice but failed.
"Genes dead. He was caught aiding Thatcher and Magnus out of custody and was subsequently killed while being apprehended", Randall informed a disgusted Ritty.
"You killed him", Ritty accused, his voice thick.
"Drew, actually", Randall held his gaze firm.
Antonia wrapped her hands around her husband and tugged him from the room, before things could escalate further.
As they left, Damien entered.
"What was that?", Damien sat infront of Randall at the desk.
"Gene, caught aiding prisoners out of the house", Randall yada-yada'd, waving his hands about.
"That what happen to your nose there?", Damien half laughed, pointing to the lump on Randalls face.
"Mmm, that obvious?".
"Nah, just makes sense", Damien leaned back in his chair.
"Right...", Randall shuffled his hands across the desk aimlessly.
"What's the commotion on the lawn?".
"Bunch of idiots come to yell and shout, as if that's going to grow food", Randall laughed coldly.
"You want me to go down and give a couple of em a showing to?", Damien squared up, ready for a fight.
"No, let the guards do it, it's what they're there for".
"What do you want me to do then?", Damien relaxed his shoulders, settling back into his chair.
"Keep an eye on that nephew of yours, make sure he doesn't go acting stupid".
"Why would he act stupid?", Damien leaned forward, listening.
"He was closer to Gene than his own father, same with Maya. Without those two around to keep his behaviour under control... Well - If he wasn't offing people before he's certainly likely to now".
"I thought Maya was the one offing people", Damien half-asked half-stated.
"Yeah well, you never truly know, do you?", Randall gacve up trying to look busy, and locked his hands behind his head, "Besides, whose to say it wasnt more than one person offing people?".
Damien picked up the implication.
Not a single person in the house slept that night. Kept awake by the shouty protestors outside, Ritty found his mind wandering. Maya losing her head. The back of Conans skull. Geordies mangled neck. Now Gene...
He left Antonia sleeping and pulled a tattered robe over his body.
"Where ya going?", Agnes asked Ritty as he climbed off of the last stair on the spiral staircase into the main hall.
"Talking to Mayas sister", Ritty brushed her off and crossed outside.
Protestors held flaming torches in front of others, illuminating their placards.
Crossing through the line of Guardmen, Ritty stopped in front of Alice.
"Mayas sister?", he asked.
"Magnus's mother", she corrected.
"Come with me", he led her through the crowd, away from the noise, and out onto the roadway.
Far enough away from the protestors to talk, he began - "Magnus isn't here".
"What?!", Alices jaw dropped angrily, "Where the fuck is she then?".
"I don't know, no one does", Ritty sighed, "but if you see her, you need to send her away, somewhere far".
"Send her away?! What does she have to do with any of this?".
"Nothing, but Randall-".
"Randall?! What is going on in there?!", Alice stomped a foot aggressively against the ground.
"Maya was killed yesterday", Ritty told a shocked Alice, "Overnight last night Magnus, Councilwoman Thatcher and Gene attacked Randall and escaped the house, to go where; no one knows".
"Maya... Why did she-?", Alice couldn't finish the question, she was entirely overwhelmed.
The hollering of the protestors filled the air.
"She and Geordie were found together bloodied and beaten, Geordie was dead - it was apparent, at least to Randall, that they'd been engaged in a fight".
"We fought, earlier yesterday. That's why she was bloodied up - why didn't she say anything?", Alice pondered to Ritty, tears dropping from her face to the cobblestone path beneath their feet.
"She didn't have the opportunity... She knew it'd get Gene in trouble and she didn't want to do that", Ritty explained back, the glow from the torches lighting the tears on Alices cheeks.
He felt his own eyes prickling with tears but resisted.
"And Gene?", Alice wiped her nose on her robe sleeve.
Ritty stopped resisting as he thought about Gene... Taking a deep breath, he felt his body tremor with raw grief.
"He was apprehended, died in the struggle", Ritty said thickly, "Magnus and Thatcher got away in the struggle".
"But no one knows where she is?", Alice rounded back.
"No".
"We're not leaving until we get some answers, Master Ritty".
"I've told you everything I know", Ritty looked to Alice sadly, wishing he had more to give her.
"I appreciate that, Master Ritty, but we're not leaving until we get some answers", Alice held steadfast, leaving Ritty no other choice but to hug her and leave her behind the picket line.
*
Even by three o'clock in the afternoon the following day, the protestors still hadn't budged - in fact the number of protestors swelled as people throughout the Citadel caught wind of the protests happening at the House. What started as twenty-five protestors had ballooned overnight to at least a hundred, out numbering the Guards.
Everyone, be it the protestors, the Guardsman lining the yard, or the occupants of the House, was extremely tired, growing angrier by the minute.
The sun beat down on them viciously, reddening their skin, if it wasnt already red owing to the blood flowing through their cheeks.
Drew and Randall stood in the throne room drawing plans.
"You need to call a council meeting, we can't sort this out between us two alone", Drew implored him, the sounds of the commotion below making their way up the stairs and onto the third floor.
"Calling them together isn't going to help this".
"Us two standing here debating this isn't helping either".
Randall paced from the desk to the door of the bedroom, sunlight streaming through the cracks in the curtains above the bed.
"I want them gone, Drew!", Randall snapped.
"Go down there and talk to them then", Drew shook his head obviously.
"I'm not interested in justifying myself to a pack of fucking farmers!".
"Those farmers feed us, they make our clothes and they manufacture our weapons!", Drew spoke with consternation.
"And we distribute that food! We deal with thieves destroying their crops and we use those weapons when under threat of invasion!", Randall spun on his heel and cried out.
"Randall, you need to go down there and talk to them!".
"NO! Take yourself down to the Key Pits and drag out the trebuchets!", Randall barked.
"I beg your pardon?", Drew became unnerved.
Randall crossed the room and pushed himself into Drews personal space.
"Go. Downstairs. Get some men. Get a trailer. And get. The fucking. Trebuchets", Randall spoke poisonously through gritted teeth.
Drew daren't move, he felt his blood boiling.
"I'm putting men in the Pits just so you can have a dick-waving contest against your own citizens", Drew spoke lowly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Look, kid, I appreciate you tracking down Gene, but I'm not stupid enough to believe that you overpowered that giant hairball", Randall spat venomously, "If I were you, son, I'd do as I was told before I ended up on the stocks for subverting a Kings orders".
Drew stood stiff, knowing he was clinched.
Without another word, he strutted from the room, back down the stairs.
Upon the arrival of the three trebuchets from the Key Pits, the councilors caught wind of the plan to intimidate the protestors from the House grounds.
All of them stood around the guillotine just outside the doors and watched the commotion on the edge of the roadway.
Ritty watched as a Guard got into a heated argument with an older man next to Alice.
Out the corner of his eyes he caught Randall passing the group of councilors at the guillotine, headed toward the fighting guard.
"Get off the grass!", the Guard shouted down at the man.
"OI RANDALL!", the man shouted over the Guard.
"Do as he says; off the grass!", Randall woofed back, shoving the man back into place. His jowles wobbled as he was pushed by Randall.
Damien struffled across the lawn, peacocking as he approached Randall. His kids watched on from near the councilors, Lauren biting her fingrnails nervously.
"Don't you touch me!", the protestor bit back, the rest of them pushing forward angrily, forcing the Guards to take a step back.
"HOI!", Damien shouted, a wild fist from the crowd aiming for him; missing.
The councilors, led by Agnes, tread closer.
"GET BACK!", a Guardsman screamed, spit flying from his mouth.
"FUCK OFF YA BRUTE!", Alice roared, her blonde hair billowing wildly around her face.
The Guards drew their swords, holding them high so the crowd could see them.
"I'M ORDERING YOU TO STEP OFF THE GRASS, OR FORCE WILL BE USED!", Drew called over the shouting mass in front of him, two people down from Randall.
With a heave the crowd pulsed forward, leaving it entirely impossible to tell who struck first.
In the end, though, it didn't matter who struck first; the end result was still the same.
Guards swung their swords aimlessly, striking protestors who were holding up their placards to protect themselves. It was useless. The swords sliced through them with no resistance, hitting the protestors in the neck, hands, and face.
Ritty watched people scatter in horror, Randall scuffled away hurriedly as Damien started showering punches as far and wide as was possible without getting struck by a rogue sword.
"RANDALL CALL IT OFF!", Ritty runs across the lawn to Randall on his hands and knees crawling away.
Ritty caught sight of Alice being struck in the arm by a sword, the crowd around her dsipersing; running for their lives.
The Guards bunched around the remaining protestors, fifteen or so, and whipped their swords back and forth, spraying blood around them.
Lauren and Elvis had since bolted across the yard, trying to pull their father from a protesting man, Damien landing punches left and right, pulverizing the man's face.
With a heave, they pulled Damien from the beaten protestor on the ground, he was knocked out cold. Damien, drenched in the man's blood, struggled against his children briefly, before shifting away from the violence.
Drew tried holding his men back, barking commands at them but it was no to avail. Now the violence had started it was next to impossible to stop.
Antonia pulled Ritty away from the affray, safely behind the stocks where James, Doris and Agnes had taken refuge - the other councilors, Ritty observed, had gone back inside the house.
The swords continued swinging at the few protestors still remaining on the grass, though Ritty noticed Alice had vanished.
By time they'd finished, ten people lay dead on the grass, the other ninety or so protestors were nowhere to be seen. The otherwise green grass was stained red and the Guards rolled around finishing off the injured.
"What the fuck was that!?", Ritty bounded onto the third floor about half an hour later, once the shock had worn off.
Agnes, Antonia and James tailed behind Ritty as he closed in on Randall, Drew, and Damien.
"Do you want to see the house overrun?", Randall locked onto Ritty.
Ritty spat at Randalls feet - "You fucking massacred them", Ritty turned his attention to Drew, "Pathetic!".
"Aye, you know how this works", Drew stepped forward.
"Oh get off", Ritty hissed, Agnes and Antonia stepped closer to Ritty in solidarity.
"Calm down lad, it needed to be sorted", Damien put a hand on Ritty shoulder, but Ritty shoved it off.
"Don't you fucking dare touch me, I saw what you did you absolute neanderthal", Ritty spat once more.
"Keep spitting and you'll be put in the stables with the other animals", Randall growled, his face growing red with rage.
Ritty shook his head and pushed past Antonia and Agnes, shimmying past James, leaving the room. The other three shuffled nervously, waiting for Randall to break the silence.
"I don't know what the three of you want to hear", Randall glared at them dully.
"You knew this was going to escalate, man", Agnes hobbled forward and croaked, "You pulled the trebuchets from the pits and made it clear that there was a threat of violence".
"How was I supposed to know they'd start swinging punches?", Randall hissed.
"Punches? You slayed them with swords you coward", James puffed out his chest, his voice breaking a little.
"Step down, kid", Damien interjected.
James glowered at them, Drew looking more and more regreful by the second.
"You need to call the council together, immediately", Agnes took a step closer to Randall.
"No, what's done is done-", Randall started but Agnes cut him off.
"It wasn't a question", Agnes stepped closer again.
"I'm not doing it, this is over, leave", Randall looked at the trio in front of him.
The trio looked at Randall in disgust before sensing they'd be better doing as they were told. They left, shuffling hastily out the door where Ritty had just trodden.
"You need to start listening", Drew turned to Randall.
Crossing the room and sitting behind the desk, Randall replied - "They wouldn't've dealt with it any differently".
"Maybe", Drew and Damien sat in front of Randall, "but they're getting antsy, too much more and this powder keg is going to explode".
"It has exploded, look at what's happening around you", Damien looked to Drew, then back to Randall.
"This is nothing. There might only be a few of them now but they'll start turning people on the council", Drew warned.
"They're not that stupid", Randall huffed.
"They weren't when Gene suggested it the other night, but after today... After today maybe they'll be more willing to resist, and you need to start bringing them onside", Drew spoke with deliberation.
Randall thought about this for a second.
"Do I have your loyalty, Drew?", Randall asked carefully.
"I'd've thought that was obvious", Drew replied firmly.
"I want to hear you say it", Randall pressed, "Tell me that no matter what happens, you'll fullfill your duty to carry out the orders given to you by a sitting King".
Drew tossed up in his mind just what that meant.
"You have my word, that I will carry out the orders given to me by a sitting King", Drew repeated.
"Even if that means restraining a member of the prior Royal Family?", Randall looked at Drew in a way that made Drew feel like Randall was looking right through him.
"Absolutely".
"That's all I need to know in order to press on", Randall responded, "You can go get some men together to clean up the yard".
"Speaking of, the other lot come back from the villages, no sign of either Magnus or Thatcher", Drew stood, and replied.
"Alright, that'll be all for now. Keep a couple of men patrolling and see if they turn up anything", Randall waved Drew out of the Throne Room.
"And me?", Damien waited for Drew to be out of earshot before asking.
"I want your ear to the ground, if you hear or see anything, keep me updated", Randall dismissed Damien.
*
The sun rose over the First House the following morning, though it wasn't the bright sun that woke the residents of the house. What woke them was the blood-chilling scream that Doris made at half-past seven - startling the few Kiwi still awake and searching for bugs in the grass on the lawn.
Within minutes, every person inside the house had been drawn to the main hall, where a mug of water had been spilled, and, mixed with blood on the linoleum.
Damien lay drenched in blood and water, so severely gashed and slashed that he was almost unrecognizable. His eyes had been torn from his head, his mouth cut from ear to ear.
From head to toe, he was covered in stab and slash wounds.
Catching Elvis and Lauren descending the staircase, Antonia rushed over to them to ward them away.
Laurens cries could be heard throughout the grounds.
With bated breath, they watched Randall stromp through the main hall from the chambers, his face puce with rage.
"Doris!", Randall spoke over the fifty or so babbling heads congregated around the body, "Come!".
No one knew what would happen next, and watched anxiously as Randall hauled her back down the corridor toward the council chambers.
"Reckon she'll go next?", Ritty nudged James in the ribs and asked.
"I don't know", James kept his eyes fixed on the bloody mass in front of him, his mind wandering to Geordie, "Doesn't look the same as Conan does it? No funky smell".
"Bit odd", Ritty agreed, he turned his eyes over near the entrance where Antonia was consoling Lauren. Elvis looked stunned, as if the whole scene just wasn't happening.
"Tonight", Agnes crept up behind Ritty and whispered into his ear, startling him, "Meeting in the Chambers, once Randalls gone to bed".
Ritty nodded, pretending she wasn't there lest he arouse suspicion.
"I need to see your arms", Randall demanded of Doris as the two entered the chamber.
"Sorry?", Doris stood in the middle of the room.
"Pull up your sleeves and show me your arms", Randall repeated himself, closing the door.
"Why?!", Doris returned indignantly, "I haven't done anything".
"If that's true, you'll have no problem doing as you're told", Randall approached her.
Doris reluctantly rolled her sleeves up her arms, stopping at her elbows.
Randall wrenched her right arm firmly into his hands, examining her spotted skin closely, navigating her varicose veins with his thumbs.
He dropped the first arm, and lifted the left arm into view, the flaming torches on the walls illuminating her skin.
"No bruises", he looked to her, and dropped her arm.
"Bruises? Why would I be bruised?", Doris looked to Randall with confusion.
"Defensive wounds", Randall brushed her off and sat at the high table at the head of the room, "Go fetch me Ruben".
He waved her off and sighed to himself, waiting for her to leave before letting out a frustrated scream - a scream audible throughout the house.
Ten or so minutes later, Dr. Ruben entered the room - alone.
"You sent for me?", Ruben closed the door behind him, farewelling Doris as he did so.
"Have you had time to look over the body before its taken down the Pits?", Randall thumped his fist on the table, giving Ruben a small jump.
"Uh a brief glance, yes", Ruben stepped closer to the table.
"And?".
"And what?", Ruben cocked his head.
"And what?", Randall scoffed sarcastically, "And what can you tell me?".
"He was stabbed to de-".
"I know he was stabbed to death you clown!", Randall snapped aggressively, "What else!? Are there defensive wounds on his hands? Did he fight back? WHAT ELSE CAN YOU TELL ME!?".
Ruben looked up at Randall with contempt.
"No. He was probably taken from behind, had his throat slit, and everything else was done post-death", Ruben spoke quietly.
"You think he was walking toward the staircase?", Randall asked, his tone of voice growing softer.
"I don't know".
"Well he had a glass of water with him".
"I don't know".
"Jesus christ man, what do you know?", Randall tossed his hands in the air, before slamming them back down on the table in front of him.
"I know how to put stitches into the back of Genes hand", Ruben grew stern, "I know how to see pus growing in Mayas eardrum. I know that since you've become King-by-proxy, they're both dead".
"They were traitors to the country!".
"We have cells to keep them in!".
"Y'can't keep people in cells when Gene's running around freeing them!", Randall cut back.
"Maybe he wouldn't've been freeing them if you had more reason to keep them there!".
"It's not Genes job to question my reasoning", Randall threw out, "and it's certainly not yours".
"It's been less than a week, and already you've caused more problems than King Ritty ever did", Ruben stepped closer.
"If people started working with me, instead of against me maybe that wouldn't be the case!".
"You spent yesterday massacring your own citizens and you're confused as to why no one wants to work with you?", Ruben laughed mirthlessly.
"I'm not confused, Ruben", Randall scowled, "I'm angry. I'm angry that Conan was murdered. That Geordie was murdered. That Damien was murdered. I'm angry because I made the decision to put my own life on the line for you people; and not a single one of you seems to appreciate it".
"No one asked you to".
"Correct, I had the smarts to stand up and do it myself".
"Anyone else would have done it! Ritty would have done it; as impatient and short-tempered as he is".
"None of them know what they're doing!".
"GENE KNEW!", Ruben cried out, "HE KNEW AND YOU KILLED HIM!".
"GENE WENT AGAINST MY ORDERS! HE FREED A PRISONER OF THE STATE!".
"THATCHER WAS A COUNCILWOMAN, SHE DID WHAT SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO DO!", Ruben roared, stepping closer to the high table.
"SHE GOT ME PUNCHED OUT BY A MOTUEKAN TROLL!".
"That's what you're mad about?! Fuck Kodi and fuck Sinclair, right?".
"THEY SIDED WITH HER! THEY NEVER ONCE CALLED HER IDIOTIC PLAN 'IDIOTIC' AND NOW LOOK WHERE THEY ARE!".
"You are truly, utterly, disgustingly pathetic!", Ruben spat on the floor and turned for the door.
The spitting drove Randall over the edge, leaping over the high table he tackled Ruben from behind; knocking him to the ground.
He grabbed Ruben by his short grey hair and slammed his face into the stone floor.
Struggling, Ruben turned around and wrapped his hands around Randalls neck, squeezing hard. Randall pulled back his right fist, and planted it into Rubens nose. Instinctively Ruben pulled his hands from Randalls throat and pulled them to his face, rubbing his nose, which fortunately wasn't broken.
"Fucking camel", Randall stood, plowing a foot into Rubens ribs.
With Ruben writhing on the floor in pain, clutching his ribs, Randall left the chamber, slamming the steel door behind him.
Smoke billowed out the chimney behind the log cabin, the snow on the roof around the chimney never setting long as the heat from the chimney melted it as it fell.
"Why do we need drinks for this?", Thatcher asked.
The fire crackled in the dead of night as Harreina took her seat back on the white leather chair.
"A bit of liquid courage", Harriena smiled, draining the contents of her glass in a single gulp.
"What do you need?", Ruataupare placed her drink on the floor, electing not to touch it.
"Help, from our Motuekan friends", Harreina smiled, pronouncing the wrinkles on her face.
"I thought that was what the weapons were", Ruataupare raised her eyebrows.
"You'd think that'd be enough, wouldn't you?", Harreina dropped the smile a bit, but not entirely, "No... You see, we're fighting two wars, about now".
"Two?!", Thatcher gasped, choking on her drink, "S'strong, isn't it?".
"It is", Harreina agreed, "and yes, two. On the eastern border we've got Zedeylians pushing further into Rebury, and south... Ahh...", she reached out for Ruataupares drink.
Picking the glass up off the floor, Ruataupare passed the whiskey to Harreina, who finished it, again, in a single glug.
"What?", Thatcher looked between the two woman in the room with her, "What's happening south?".
"Cold Country", Harreina spoke gravely.
"No!", Thatcher exclaimed, "You don't think it's anything to do with-", she continued until Ruataupare smacked her on the leg, urging her to quieten down.
"What? Something to do with what?", Harreina pressed.
Ruataupare sighed - "We've had unconfirmed sightings of Cold Country soldiers on Motuekas west coast", she lied.
"If that's the case, Motueka should have a vested interest in helping us fight these bastards", Harreina thumped her right fist against her open left palm.
"The only thing Motueka has a vested interest in doing is keeping Rebury and Zedeylia from pushing their wars into our lands", Ruataupare stiffened.
"With all my soldiers in the east, I have none for the south - You need to choose what threat you'd rather have on Motuekas back doorstep", Harreina returned cautiously.
"What are you asking, Harreina? For Motueka to get involved in a fight we have nothing to do with?", Ruataupare leaned forward.
"I'd never ask that of you, Madam Leader", Harreina said sincerely, "But you do need to choose whether it's us you want on your back doorstep, or Cold Country".
Ruataupare leaned back, and gave thought to this conundrum.
"I know it's a difficult choice, Ma'am, but choose you must", Harreina followed cue, leaning back in her own chair.
"Thatcher... What would you do?", Ruataupare looked at the woman next to her, slowly sipping from her glass.
"Me?".
"That's what you're here for, to offer your thoughts and opinions", Ruataupare shrugged.
"I don't entirely feel comfortable wading into this", Thatcher returned, lowering the glass from her mouth.
"I want you to tell me what you think".
"After the boat raid, I don't think I'm the best person to give my thoughts and opinions on this", Thatcher looked intimidated at the mere thought of being asked to speak.
"This isn't going to be fought and won in a day", Harriena leaned forward and addressed them, "Go upstairs, sleep on it, and we'll touch base in the morning".
"Right", Ruataupare stood, "That sounds fine".
Thatcher stood and looked between the two women standing around her.
"I'll show you up to your beds".
Doris, Ritty, Antonia, James, Flynn, Sarandon, Tyler, Rachel, Cole and Eric piled in the chamber, sitting on the one bench to the right of Agnes, who was heading the high table.
"You know why we're here", Agnes cleared her throat, bags had formed under her eyes giving her a gaunt appearance, "Randall".
"What about Drew?", Ritty asked, his voice echoing through the room.
"Drew is sworn to the king of the day, he's no use to us", Agnes said simply.
"We've always had the head guard on the council, do you really want to push forward without one now?", Sarandon asked concerned.
"Do we want to play semantics? After what we saw yesterday?", Agnes's voice was strong.
Most nodded, a few audible mumbles of agreement - notably, Sarandon.
"Gene wanted to remove him by force", Ritty chimed up, nodding with the others.
"And the rest of you?", Agnes asked back.
"Didn't think we'd get the support of the guards", Ritty replied.
"You wouldn't", Flynn chipped up, "and things are chaotic enough, do we want to start more problems?".
"Just to be clear, who among us supports Randall", Agnes browsed the room, looking for hands.
There weren't any.
"Who wants to see Randall replaced as KBP and/or as Head Councilman?", Agnes queired once again.
Everyone.
"So the question is; how do we achieve that?", Agnes surveyed, "There aren't a tonne of options. Two, in fact. The first, turning the guard".
"That's going to be impossible", Cole scoffed.
"I agree", Agnes nodded.
"The second?", Antonia asked.
"Kill him", Doris picked up.
"Absolutely fucking not", Rachel cut across.
"I agree", Tyler concurred.
"Not kill him", Agnes shook her head, "Trial him".
"He'll sic the guard onto us", Flynn gruffed.
"We do it at night", Agnes looked to him.
"This is insane", James spoke aloud, "I hate the twat as much as the rest of us but we're talking about circumventing the guard to trial and imprison a sitting King".
"Think back to what he did lad", Agnes reassured him.
James bit his bottom lip - "I mean...".
"Ten people died yesterday, after he elevated aggression toward them", Agnes put forth.
James sighed - "Count my vote either way".
"Flynn?", Agnes asked.
PLONK! No one had noticed the steel door open, and all jumped as the door shuttered.
"Yes, Flynn, do tell", a sword glinted in sheath wrapped around Randalls waist.
"It's over, Randall, you're stepping down", Agnes stood to warn him.
"Am I? You think any of you could've dealt with yesterday better?", Randalls eyes were wide, like an animal on the precipice of being attacked.
"That's past the point, son, you're stepping down", Agnes moved out from behind the table.
Randall wrapped his hand about the hilt of his sword.
"Back off Randall", Ritty gruffed from behind next to Antonia.
"Sit down!", Randall hissed at him.
Ritty stood, ignoring Randall entirely.
"You all think I'm a clown", Randall addressed the room, "Like you're all a zillion times smarter than I am".
"You've gone off the edge, strutting about like you're the King", Agnes moved closer to Randall, keeping her eye on the sword.
"I am the Ki-".
"King by proxy!", Agnes raised her voice a little, "You are not the King, just his proxy!".
"Proxy of whose!?", Randall cocked his head a little, "Who?!".
"You are the proxy of the council, we are telling you, nay - commanding you - to step down, face trial and deal with what you have done!", Agnes stopped just short of him.
"Trial for what, exactly? Doing my job?", Randall looked about the chamber again.
"For instigating a clash resulting in murder! For high crimes and treason! Take your pick!".
"You have all tried to go against me since day one!", Randall ejected saliva from his mouth as he spoke.
"The ones that succeeded; you killed", Agnes snarled, baring her teeth.
"Thatcher ignored an order and had me assaulted! She got Sinclair and Kodi murdered! Magnus held poison in her room! Gene freed prisoners! And Maya killed Conan!", Randall addressed the room, "Those who deny these facts deny reality!".
"Maya was in a fight with her sister!", Ritty shouted across the room.
"LIAR!", Randall screamed at Ritty.
"YOU KNOW IT'S TRUE, YOU EXPELLED GENE FROM THE COUNCIL FOR BREAKING PROTOCOL!", Ritty raptured back.
Randall pulled his sword into view - "YOU'VE ALL BEEN EXPELLED, BUT HERE YOU ARE BEHIND MY BACK ANYWAY!".
"PUT THAT AWAY!", Tyler stood and jumped over Antonias shoulder, landing on the stone floor between Randall and Agnes, pushing them apart.
Randall shoved Tyler with his free hand. Ritty hopped up and thrust himself into the situation, attempting to tug the sword from Randalls hand. Tyler threw himsel onto Randall, tugging with all his weight in an effort to bring Randall to the ground.
As a collective, they swayed. Agnes jumped backwards as the bulge of men wrestling over the sword drifted to the right. Randall lifted it higher and higher, till the tip of the blade scraped across the stone roof.
Antonia and James jumped out of the way as the blade swung down from the roof and into the bench they sat on.
While they dodged it successfully, elderly Doris wasn't so quick, and the blade struck her square in the stomach.
"Oh!", Agnes called out, struggling through the writhing men wrestling as the others watched on in terror.
Tyler and Ritty jumped back, unable to do anything to aid Doris, she was bleeding faster than any of them could stop. Hearing the commotion from the other side of the door, Drew and two guards behind him had entered the room, none of them knew quite what to do.
"Right!", Randall stood, wiping spit from his lips, "This; you're all finished".
Doris cried out in pain, Agnes held her hand next to her.
In a moment of pure cruelty, Randall clambered over the first bench and stood next to Doris, he lifted his sword and plunged the tip through her head.
The chamber was deafeningly silent.
"I have tried with you people", Randall faced the councillors, "I have given you chances to see that things aren't normal; that we are in trouble. I've tried to show you that times are hard", Ritty thought Randall was on the verge of crying.
"I get it; you all think I'm hard, but I'm only ever as hard as the decisions I'VE HAD TO MAKE FOR THIS HOUSE! FOR THOSE PEOPLE!", he screamed, before quietening down once more, threateningly, "None of you want to fall in line, and show solidarity for the people outside. I need order, to restore order. I'm finished playing this game with you all-".
"You gonna kill us, too?", James looked at him with daggers, his voice firm for the first time since finding Geordies corpse.
"If I truly believed that I could get away with it, I would", he sucked his teeth.
"So what, then?", James spat to the floor, shaking his head.
"You're all to stay out of my way. You keep up appearances, and make sure that people outside don't congregate on the lawn, but most of all, really listen to this next part; you pull anything like this again, I'll take us all down. I will kill the lot of ya's and let the fucking proles take the house. I'll let them tear us all limb from limb, they will tear this country apart at the seams. I will let them overrun the Four Houses of Gossfordshire and beat, break, or steal whatever they want.
If any of you ever, ever, try this again, that's it - any hope of taking this country back to normal will be dead in the water", Randall resheathed his sword, and made for the door, pushing past Drew and the pair of guards to leave them alone, rattled and afraid.
*
Glistening across the lake, the morning sun climbed higher in the sky. The snow had stopped flurrying from the sky, but still, the ground was blanketed. A thin haze of fog overhung the scene, giving the valley a somewhat mystical look.
Harreina sat on a small veranda on the back of the log cabin, an awning hung overhead protecting her from the harsh sun rays. She sat tucked underneath a blanket on a rocking chair, nursing a steaming cup of tea in her hands.
"Morning", Thatcher poked her head around the back doorframe.
"Morning", Harreina took a sip from her mug and faced her, "Sleep okay?".
"Yeah, wasn't bad", Thatcher crossed the threshold and stepped out onto the wooden decking overlooking the lake, "Great view".
"Wouldn't swap it for all the money in the world", Harreina placed her drink between her legs for warmth.
"Money... heh", Thatcher scowled confused, trying to look like she understood the joke, "What money?" - she quit the facade and asked.
"The Piquering", Harriena dug around inside her sleeping robe and pulled out three coins of varying sizes. They were entirely unmarked, but each weighed a significantly different about.
Thatcher took a closer look at them, flat and round, like miniature plates.
"What do you do with them?", Thatcher held the largest, heaviest one in her hand.
"Buy things, goods, food, land, weapons... Things", Harreina looked at Thatcher, bemused.
"What does this buy?", Thatcher held up the large coin.
"That's a whole Piquering, you can buy two large potatoes with one Piquering", Harreina looked to the larger coin, then back to the two in her wrinkled hand, "Then you have the Halfa Piquering and the Quartera Piquering".
"People like doing this?", Thatcher kept her scowl, handing back the coin.
"Well", Harriena cocked her head back and forth with a slight smile, "some of them do".
"And if you don't have any Piquerings?", Thatcher placed her hands on the railing enclosing the veranda.
"Everyone has Piquerings", Harreina responded dimly.
"Yeah - but if they don't", Thatcher looked out over the lake, frozen and covered in a light layer of snow.
"Thatcher, dear, I don't know how things work in Gossfordshire, but here people are expected to look after themselves, makes my job a shed tonne easier when it comes to allocating actual resources", Harreina smiled, but Thatcher didnt turn around to see it.
"Food isn't an actual resource?".
"I never quite said that, just that it's up to the people to sort that resource out amongst themselves".
Thatcher ran her tongue across her top teeth, shuddering in the cold.
"Zedeylia", she spoke after a beat, "do they have money, too?".
"Aye, the exact same, in fact", Harreina confirmed.
"I gotta ask; why can't you and...whoever the Zedeylian leader is... Why can't you come to some kind of money-type arrangement?", Thatcher turned to face Harreina.
Harreina took a sip of her tea, and gave a sympathetic smile.
"His name's Eldore Greene", Harreina laughed darkly, "And this is a bit beyond that".
"Does it have to be beyond that?".
Harreina nodded sadly - "I wish it wasn't. I wish it was as simple as trading Piquerings and making nice, but no one alive today has lived in a world where Rebury and Zedeylia weren't at each others throats".
"Don't you want things to be better?", Thatcher chewed the inside of her lip.
"Absolutely", Harreina stood, allowing the blanket to slip from her lap onto the wooden veranda, "I'm not oblivious, Thatcher, I'm eighty four. I want this war finished before I die, or before the next election - whichever comes first".
"How does it end?", Thatcher and Harreina turned back to face the frozen lake, "You both resolidify? Become one again?".
"God no", Harreina laughed, "We share a language, the same currency, and electoral system - but that's where our similarities end".
"What, then?", Thatcher watched a small snowwy white owl land out of the sky onto the ice on the lake.
"I'm assuming that's why Ruataupare brought you here", Harreina finished the last dregs of tea in her mug, "for some reason she thinks you have the answers to that question".
Thatcher inhaled deeply - "I don't have the answers, I thought I did but I don't".
"You don't live here, Thatcher, or in Zedeylia", Harreina placed her mug on the banister and locked her fingers together under her chin, "Whatever you advise isn't going to affect you".
Thatcher thought on that point for a minute.
"They keep pushing into your territory, correct?", Thatcher relented, and asked.
Harreina eyed her, feeling she had succeeded in breaking Thatchers resistance - "Specifically a town called Hanston, just the latest in a series of disputed territories".
"Let's just worry about this territory first", Thatcher eyed Harreina sternly.
Behind the door, inside, Ruataupare listened intently.
Thatcher continued, shivering lightly - "Why is it disputed? What's so great about Hanston?".
"Other than the fact that it's on the border? The fact that it sees very little snow, great soil. Intact buildings. It's a nice distance from either countries capital, giving the residents peace and quiet".
Thatcher rubbed her forehead in frustration, trying to sort this out within her mind.
"Y'know, we've never had problems like this at home", Thatcher sighed and placed her hands upon the banister.
"You're lucky", Harreina smiled kindly.
"We are...", Thatcher watched the owl depart the ice and soar gracefully into the sky, "We don't want to engage in these wars with you. We can't afford it. Neither Gossfordshire nor Motueka has the manpower to share. We can't support you with food, or clothing. We're both in the pits".
"I know", Harreina nodded.
"But- We can go to Mr. Greene and talk about a plan to resettle the border. Maybe clear out of Hanston and return the land to Rebury".
"He would give up Hanston as quickly as I would - Never", Harreina sounded dire.
"If you were paid for it?", Thatchers voice broke with desperation.
Harreina twisted her head, clicking the bones in her neck.
"I mean...", she returned positively.
"If we go, settle an arrangement, do you swear to agree to it?", Thatcher looked Harreina in the face.
Harreina turned to face her, nodding silently.
"I need to hear you say it, ma'am".
"I swear, solemnly, truthfully, to agree too, and honor, any arrangement you and Ruataupare can settle in the east", Harreina held out her hand.
Thatcher gripped it firmly, and behind the door Ruataupare smiled.
Despite the lack of snow, the morning in Motueka was no warmer than it was in Rebury.
Magnus dangled her legs over the edge of the hot pool in the cave, her robe draped lazily across her neck and shoulders, loosely protecting her from the chill outside.
Rena dipped under the water, swimming across the small pool toward Magnus.
She pulled hair from out of her eyes as she glanced up to Magnus.
"You coming back in or have you had enough?", Rena gave her a playfull nudge to the side of the ribs with her knuckles.
Magnus felt her tummy grumble violently - "I'm famished if I'm being honest with you".
Rena cringed a little - "You know it's not gonna be a big breakfast, right?".
"Yeah... Still... Even some puha would do the trick", Magnus looked down to Rena meakly.
"Alright", Rena pulled herself from the pool, "Also bonus points for using the proper word and not just calling it thistle".
Magnus stood and fetched her underclothes from next to the cave entrance.
"I am trying to learn", Magnus said brightly.
"I can see that", Rena smiled and planted a sloppy kiss on Magnus's shoulder.
The pair got dressed silently, they were both obviously starving.
The air beyond the cave was bitingly cold, a fine frost clung tightly to the trees surrounding the pathway leading back to Pa.
"Winter isn't far out", Rena took Magnus's right hand inside her own, and swung it gently.
"I know, we needed blankets at home", Magnus reflected sadly.
"You missing it?".
"No", Magnus didn't hesitate, "Things got... horrific, before I left".
"You don't talk about it much", Rena pouted a little, her tattooed arms sticking out of her cloak.
"Yeah-", Magnus swallowed, "It's not something I fancy remembering, y'know?".
"You do that alot", Rena half-laughed.
"What? Not fancy remembering?", Magnus chuckled.
"No - uh, say two words at once 'y'know'", Rena pointed out, "I'm pretty sure I've heard you or Thatcher squeeze three words into one".
"Like 'couldn't've'?", Magnus asked, almost springing in her step.
"Exactly!", Rena laughed aloud, "Why? Why do you do that?".
"Just to confuse you", Magnus said teasingly and used her free hand to give Rena a jab to the ribcage, "No- I have no idea, it's just how we talk, I guess".
"It's just... weird", Rena gave Magnus a nudge to the ribs.
"Never noticed", Magnus grimaced, "Wonder how the other two are going".
"Hopefully well, and we can stop running down to the border to beat invaders out", Rena said darkly.
"Wonder if Thatchers feeling better".
"Have you known her long? Thatcher?", Rena clarified.
"Um, nah", Magnus shook her head, her hair frizzing about her face, "We shared a cell together, we chatted a little, and then we canoed the strait here".
"That's it?", Rena scowled a little, "Did you ever...?".
"Ever what?", Magnus gave a confused glance.
Rena looked awkward, but responded - "You know, do what we do?".
"You're asking if me and Thatcher were ever intimate?", Magnus giggled, then frowned.
"I wouldn't use that word", Rena cocked her head, "Mostly because I don't really know what it means, but... sure".
"No, Rena", Magnus laughed a little, "I've never been with anyone other than you - in any context".
"Oh", Rena stopped walking.
"Is that a problem for you?", Magnus released her hand from Renas.
"Not at all. I just expected you to be a bit more... Aware?", Rena answered.
"I am aware. I'm aware of the fact that I admire you", Magnus took Renas hand again as she spoke, "I'm aware of the fact that I like you, a hell of a lot. So, don't overthink this, just enjoy it".
"I do enjoy it", Rena frowned, "I just don't know if I want the responsibility of being the person who teaches you how a partner should behave".
"You already are", Magnus retorted, "and I don't need you to teach me about relationships, I need you to teach me how to be like you".
"Ha!", Rena returned darkly, "Me?".
"I like you. I admire you. I think you're strong, gracefull - beautiful to boot", Magnus explained, "I just want to be like you, and be with you".
Rena smiled sincerly, taking Magnus's hand and continuing down the path.
"I like you too, by the way", Rena nudged her gently with her free hand, being pulled down unexpectedly as Magnus lost her footing.
Slipping through the foliage on the ground, Magnus vanished into an open hole.
CRACK!
Wriggling around on the inside of the hole were hundreds of rattlesnakes, hissing wildly at the body just plonked in the middle of them.
"MAGNUS!", Rena peered over the hole, four feet deep.
"My ankle! I've broken my ankle!", Magnus looked up to Rena, then down to the bone sticking out of her skin above her left foot.
*
Ruataupare stood gazing out of the window in the bedroom on the second floor watching birds flying over the frozen laketop.
Thatcher entered, sitting on the bed Ruataupare had slept in.
"I wanted to come and thank you", Thatcher gruffed, looking at the hardwood floor beneath her feet.
"Hmm?", Ruataupare turned, "What for?".
"You heard me", Thatcher spoke softly, "When I said I needed something to do, you heard me".
"Don't thank me yet, Thatcher, we've yet to cross the warzone", Ruataupare crossed the room and took a place next to Thatcher on the bed.
"I've got you", Thatcher locked eyes with Ruataupare, drinking in the tattoos around her mouth, "and as long as I'm with you; I feel safe".
Ruataupare looked pleased, but elected not to say anything.
"I mean it. I want you to understand that you're a good leader. I think I get it, now; how you pick your leaders... How you know who the best person for the job is", Thatcher admitted, "It's not something you know, it's something you feel".
"And you feel it?".
"More than I've ever felt it. We've never had a King that made us feel half as safe as your people feel", Thatcher went on, "But, having been here, and hearing Harreina talk about money, and food, and... I get it now. I get why Motueka succeeds, why you're all so happy. Why you give up an inconsistent supply of tomatoes for a consistent supply of thistle and weta flour. I get it".
Ruataupare nodded - "We aren't perfect, Thatcher".
"Is anyone?".
"Perhaps not but-".
"No, so just take the compliment".
Ruatuapare nodded once more, giving a smile, and answering the knock at the door - "Yeah".
"It's time to leave, ladies", Toff pushed the door open to greet them.
Outside, their horses waited - less the trailers.
Harreina attached a clinking rucksack to Thatchers horses neck.
"There's three bottles of whiskey, for Eldore", Harreina addressed a cautious looking Thatcher, "A peace offering".
"I'll be sure he gets it", Thatcher looked down to her.
"Thank you - for suggesting this", Harreina gave Thatcher a pat on the calf.
"Thank you for agreeing to it", Thatcher smiled weakly.
"Be safe, Thatcher, it was... enlightening- to say the least", Harreina turned to face Ruataupare, "I promise, those weapons will keep Motueka free from trouble".
"I should hope so", Ruataupare grinned, "I'll be sure to remember to call back on this, when I need it".
"We'll be here, waiting for it", Harreina clapped her horse on the hindquarters, farewelling the two women.
Ice crunched under the eight hooves departing the log cabin, past the stables and out onto the open road.
"How long to Zedeylia?", Thatcher asked Ruataupare as the cabin fell out of view.
"Thirteen hours", Ruataupare replied, catching the lightest flutter of snow in her hair.