"So run me through this one more time," Carl said, pulling deep from his drink. His tone was incredulous, Marcus taking a more restrained sip from his own drink. "You fought her in a war game, magic against Life Enhancement, and you won? We are talking about the same Elenoir, right?"
Marcus hummed. "The Queen, captain, but yes. We played another one a week later. She beat me so thoroughly half my men looked downright ashamed. Then we sparred the day after, and it ended in a draw. I'm still not sure what any of this has to do with the Royal Mirranian Fleet."
"I'm just making sure I have all the facts," the naval officer demurred. "The fleet is performing quite well, your Grace. My expertise combined with your mages rebuilt our scarred vessels in record time, even if we had to cannibalize a number of them for repairs. I worked with your captains to create a new patrol schedule, one that will see every monstrosity slain and hauled onboard before they make it a hundred yards into the bay."
Nodding appreciatively, and taking another small sip, Marcus leaned back. "Very good, captain. Elly tells me you were one of the premier reasons the Caldir fleet made it across the sea. I hope patrolling a bay, if a large one, isn't an insult to your ability?"
"Insult?" Carl asked, snorting. "I was a merchant when the plague came, risking my ship and crew along shallow waters. The Queen conscripted me and every other vessel to aid in the exodus, something I supported wholeheartedly, but I seemed one of the few willing to consider what that might take. The Queen approved of my extensive planning and organization, and with the removal of several noble houses, I was put in charge."
"So you started modestly, rose high, now sink because the need for your skills has decreased. My question stands."
Carl sighed. "No, I am not insulted. It's a good living, helping to kill those beasties is highly cathartic, and frankly your navy needs the help. Should the need ever arise for another exodus, it will be ready. That I'm going to ensure."
"Fair enough, captain," Marcus replied, standing. Carl raised his drink, taking a sip instead of rising as manners dictated. And while Marcus was not one to insist upon servility, Elly had warned him about the man. So he let power flood through his body, which had the added benefit of making his eyes dance with light. Carl stiffened, Marcus looking at the man. "You do good work, captain. I have confirmed as much with my own naval officers. Now you will stand while I leave, or I will throw you overboard and watch you swim back to shore."
The captain rose, eyes narrowing lightly. Calculated, watchful eyes. "Of course, my King. I apologize for my lack of manners."
Good enough. Marcus turned, stepping onto the deck of the man's ship. Coming here instead of summoning the man had already been a sign of respect for his accomplishments, but Marcus did not need the man to be his friend.
He paused when he spotted Ness, expecting Elly to be close behind. Except she wasn't, and seeing Elly's handmaiden without her was strange to say the least. The woman paused, curtsying briefly before her eyes flickered towards the captain's cabin.
"I was not aware you had a meeting with the captain," Ness said, curiosity in her tone. "I hope everything went according to plan."
Marcus hummed. "I threatened to throw him overboard, but otherwise it went smoothly."
"He has that effect," she confirmed, a small smile on her face. "You should have seen how Elly corrected his lapses of decorum. But I shall let you return to your business, your Grace. Good day."
"Good day, Ness."
Elly's handmaiden moved on, vanishing below deck to whatever she was up to, and Marcus shrugged. They didn't speak much, and frankly neither did they really need to. Ness was with Elly, not him.
He descended to embark the smaller sloop that brought him to the ship, a pair of silent Royal Guards waiting there for him, and one of his mages bowed deeply. An older man, formerly a horse-breeder if memory served, and one particularly adept at water based elementalism.
The boat jerked to life, the man's eyes going unfocused as magic started flowing. It, honestly speaking, wasn't that much faster than a team of rowers. Nor was it all that graceful, yet the boat moved. Slowly picking up speed, the concept being one that his students had come up with.
Barry had organized creative application classes for anyone interested, and quite a few things had come out of it. Few proved practical, such as the idea of using runic wind matrices to make a ship fly, but the magically powered boat was marginally successful.
It just required a dedicated, moderately skilled elementalist that didn't mind draining themselves dry for something wooden oars could achieve.
He shook his head, stepping back onto solid land soon enough. He didn't hate the water, nor did he truly fear it, but neither did he care much for ships and waves. His legs felt unsteady, his balance off, everything was always moving. Just weird.
Xathar was still waiting where Marcus had left him, mostly, and he was only mildly surprised to see Vess standing next to the horse. Marcus had been dodging her for two days now, ever sinc- Well, he was about to find out if his extreme caution had been warranted.
She turned his way, raising a single eyebrow in one of the most effectively annoyed faces he'd ever seen. She also held up his memory fatigue potion, though it had mostly settled after this many months. He showed her his own empty vial, making her huff.
"First he avoids me, then he steals my medicinal recipes," Vess complained, half turning to Xathar. "Is he this horrible with you?"
The demon nodded, which looked strange on an otherwise mostly normal looking horse. "He refuses to gift me a battle horse. I wish to see if their training and increased muscle mass changes their taste. Now I will never know. The hedge mage is cruel beyond words."
And now he was being ganged up on by his own damned summons. Marcus shook his head, moving past Vess to climb atop Xathar. The demon allowed it, of course. For all his complaining Marcus knew Xathar rather liked his current contract.
Vess followed with an insulted hiss, her own mount appearing under her. Twenty seconds later she'd caught up, tone having changed to inquisitive. "So I heard you tore the Queen's clothes off."
"I will break our contract, I swear to Balthazar," Marcus muttered. His voice turned louder. "It was a wardrobe malfunction during one of our spars. She didn't even notice, and I was too busy trying to avoid her beating me over the head with her sword. Which she was trying to do for an unrelated reason, before you get started."
"It was quite a severe wardrobe malfunction, I heard."
Marcus glared at her, Vess smiling innocently in turn. It even worked, more or less. Damn succubi. "No comment. And I just know I will regret asking this, but how many more people know?"
"No one," she replied, looking insulted. "Mocking you is a separate pleasure from maintaining the image of the crown. Well, Ness undoubtedly knows, but otherwise no one."
He sighed. "Neither of you were even there."
"Elenoir told Ness. Girls gossip. And I have a spy who overheard them gossiping. In my defence, they were talking about it while walking down the castle's courtyard. It was luck more than anything."
"So the spy also knows."
Vess shot him a tolerant smile. "The spy will know better than to gossip, lest a noose is fetched to decorate his neck. But I am done teasing now, so why did you summon me?"
"Elly said she had news that needed to be shared, but that it was not urgent and could wait until our scheduled meeting in approximately half an hour. I would like to know what it is about."
"And why destroy the mystery, exactly?"
Marcus shot her an amused look. "Not even denying that you know what it's about?"
"You looked like you needed the confidence booster in temporarily overcoming me in social entrapment," Vess replied, dramatically turning away. "And I have no idea what the Queen wishes to talk with you about."
"Fine, be that way. Tell me about the alliance between the Moderates and the Isolationists, then. And the Loyalists in general, actually. Helios mostly deals with them while I get my footing as King."
Vess hummed. "You should interact with them more. The Loyalists I mean. The druids you've been sending to bless their farmlands are making you popular with them, but most nobles require at least some attention to placate. To answer your question, however, the alliance seems solid. Not without friction or infighting, but solid."
"Another legislative proposal?"
"Nothing so overt. Duke Hargraf has been learning how you operate, what you like and dislike, and he's an experienced political creature. I expect he will drop his—mostly stalling—limit on your personal military forces and counter with the proposal that his own household guard should be increased. With the Moderates backing him you might be forced to agree, which in turn will let him apply more pressure in the future."
"Lovely. The marriage between Baroness Flora and Hargraf's brother?"
"Proceeding as planned. Both parties seem intent on setting themselves against the crown." Vess paused, glancing at him before returning her focus on the road. "It might be taken as a compliment. They needed to combine forces to have any hope of stopping you, something your father never required. The army, the Academy, you and the Queen. Empires have been built with less."
Marcus snorted. "There's already an Empire here, and I don't get the feeling they're intent on sharing the continent. Not that I even want to. Ignoring the fact any true conflict with them would inevitably allow the dungeon to break its containment, I will not start a war. I will defend myself, I will defend the Kingdom, but war for the sake of expansion is not something that will ever be happening."
"You might not have a choice," Vess pointed out, tone softening. "You know better than most what war entails, Marcus, but I have been alive for a long time. Sometimes there is no choice but to fight."
"I agree. In which case I will be defending myself and my people, which I already said I do not have an issue with."
"And if the Empire shatters? If some internal conflict breaks the unity, the swords and mages needed to contain the dungeon turning on one another and chaos starts ruling supreme? Say you could return that order, that a year of cruelty will restore the cohesion necessary to ensure the continent does not die?"
He grunted. "Hypotheticals. There are three Archmages in the Empire, the Empress one of them. The Empire will not shatter so easily."
"Perhaps not. But that is my point. Not wanting to start a war is good in an objective sense, but life is not so straightforward."
"What is your point, Vess?"
She sighed. "Just keep in mind that you might, might, need to do unpleasant things for the greater good. For survival. I have seen too many people break because they refused to bend."
Marcus resisted the urge to narrow his eyes. "I will keep that in mind."
Redwater grew closer while they'd talked, Vess steering her mount away as they crossed into the city proper. Off to do her own things, which was probably for the best. Marcus needed a moment to himself.
Well, to himself and the two Royal Guards following fifteen feet behind him.
He shook his head, guiding Xathar over cobbled streets as he did. In an effort to distract himself he looked at his city, at the city he grew up in, and was faintly surprised at all the details.
About how a baker was screaming at some poor apprentice, turning to a well-dressed customer and apologizing profusely. How a clothing shop was changing their display, a team of four crawling all over it with paint and brushes.
The trio of city watchmen, more sharp eyed than most, and how they stiffened when they spotted him. A young thief taking advantage of the distraction, making away with as much food as they could carry.
A whole city, living and breathing around him. People bartering, laughing, complaining and eating. One street after another, people. Every shape, every age and every class. Poor laborers, flamboyant courtesans, stressed smiths.
He saw a team of builders prepare to descend into the sewers, to ensure half a million souls could live in a relatively disease free city, and almost directly behind them a small line had formed to fetch water from one of the many, many fountains in the city.
The bay might not be drinkable, but the city had been built next to the river that drained into it. One that snaked its way from the mountains, and one that the city watch spent quite a bit of time ensuring remained clean. Half a million souls consumed more water than seemed possible, after all, and the fountains relied on the river to supply them.
He had no idea how the Empire managed it in their capital, not with three times the people.
How easy it was to reduce it all down to numbers. To basic math. But it wasn't. It was half a million souls, and he was supposed to be responsible for them. Was supposed to protect them, to lead them, to make as many of them happy and knowing there would always be those that hated him.
Marcus let the thought go as he entered the castle proper, ascending the stairs as his momentary revelation diminished. Not gone, not entirely, but pushed to the background. Set aside for more immediate and pressing things.
One of them was his wife, a woman strong enough Marcus didn't actually know her upper limit. His wife, who was currently glaring at a trio of Royal Guards, the soldiers all but draped with shame. Even their fully enclosed helmets didn't help hide their obvious embarrassment.
Must have been on the younger side. Talented fighters taken from all across the kingdom, age being less important than skill and discipline. Marcus didn't say anything as Elly dismissed them, his wife turning and stuttering however lightly when she saw him.
Oh. She hadn't felt him coming. Marcus grinned. "Whatya doing?"
"Nothing," she replied, a little too quickly. Elly sighed. "The Royal Guard is good, well trained and well armed and well disciplined and all that, but they could be more. So I gave them a simple task, and they failed. I was expressing my disappointment."
Marcus tilted his head. "What kind of task?"
"An old exercise my instructors used to run. He called it hand to hand combat. Most people would call it brawling. It's surprisingly useful to be able to hit something very hard once you've lost your spear and your sword is more blunt than a hammer. But you're here now, so we can move on. I prepared lunch?"
"I would love some lunch," he replied mildly. "And please run any unscheduled sparring matches or training past captain Yonas. You are the Queen, but the Royal Guards hold power. Best not to upset them too much."
Elly didn't reply, there was still a faint look of embarrassed surprise about her, and he almost linked it to a kid caught doing something they shouldn't. Which was a horrible image he was going to ignore, so Marcus followed her as she moved towards one of their more favored rooms.
Out of the way, spacious but not massive, flanked on two sides by the outer wall. It had a nice view of the countryside, didn't show the water and there was enough furniture to lounge in comfort.
Neither of them were all that insistent on decorum, fortunately.
The point was demonstrated nicely when Elly kind of threw herself over the couch, her spine bending in a way he was pretty sure they weren't supposed to, and looked at him while upside down. Marcus himself took a slightly more dignified seat, inspecting the lunch she'd arranged.
Lots of fruit, those in season, and a cold stew with fresh bread. Butter too, though he wasn't partial, and cheese. Simple but fresh, as he preferred.
Elly, meanwhile, was ignoring both the food and him pouring a cup of—watered down—wine. "So I've been thinking about children."
Marcus choked on his drink, shooting her a nasty glare. "You did that on purpose, and I thought we already talked about this."
"We talked about applying political pressure to force everyone else not to care. That still means we have to appoint an heir, just in case, and maybe adopt in the future. I don't know about you, but I don't fancy my family line dying out with me. Not after everything."
"There are some rituals to magically adapt a newborn child to our bloodline," he allowed. "Still not something that sits right with me, but I suppose it solves the main issue. Something for later, preferably much later, but you are right that there needs to be an heir. The only people with enough political power, not to mention the necessary skills, are probably Helios, Hargraf and Soema. Only assuming both of us are dead, of course."
Elly rolled her eyes. "Of course. Well, no need to decide right here and now. Maybe appoint them for a few years at most, but if we're both dead there's not exactly a way to enforce that."
"Is this all you wanted to talk about? No, wait, that sounded curt. Eh, you know what I meant."
"I do," she replied, mostly dragging herself upright. "I'm just curious, mostly, but it is kind of important. Do you just never feel the need and or desire to have sex, or is it rare? Because honestly, we can work around the latter."
Marcus shrugged, resisting the urge to roll his shoulder. Not his favorite topic, that, but he supposed his wife had the right to ask more than anyone. Gods, that still felt weird to think. Wife. "Never really have. And even if I did, the thought of children is just not great. Which I'm pretty sure isn't born out of fear or what have you, but just a general sense of it. I guess some people just don't want them?"
"Some don't," Elly agreed. "We're expected to. But honestly, enough about that. Eat, tell me about your day. I heard you talked with Carl."
He did, more than happy to leave the topic behind, and things relaxed from there. He ate cheese, decided the stew was too salty and getting called a snob by Elly, he threw a roll of parchment at her when she insisted he'd been cheating during their last spar.
Then, an hour later, the door slammed open. Elly had a dagger in hand before the man had ever set a foot inside, Marcus' own defenses snapping into place a split second later, and the shape revealed itself to be Helios.
A hurried, white faced Helios. "Four Imperial legions just crossed the river Rhoshe. They took the first tower, the castle being overrun in fourteen hours, and Lady Fisher was seen being killed defending the walls. House Fisher surrendered not long after. The legions are making their way further inland as we speak, heading straight for Redwater."
Elly put her knife away, straightening from her half crouch, and nodded once. Marcus didn't really know what to say, complaints seeming both pointless and childish, but mostly because the first thing that went through his mind was;
Oh thank fuck now people will shut up about me having children.
It wasn't his proudest moment.