Right off the bat, she hated it. She hated the trip, she hated the ship, she hated the prospect of spending years away from home. She hated her life, and she hated the world. It's not a fair world, she thought — and in her big brain, she knew this was not only her bitterness speaking, but it was also objectively true. It was, of course, not a fair world, far from it, and that was part of the reason why she had to get on that ship. But on the fourth evening at sea, when she opened her trunk and found all her gold missing, her misery reached a new low.
Apparently, you can take the girl out of Gotham, but Gotham will follow her.
She wasn't in hopeless trouble, of course. She and her father were both too clever to get her in such a situation without some precautions. Her own meant some gold was stashed on her clothes, boots, and secret compartments in the trunk; more than enough to pay for the second leg of her trip and survive frugally in Metropolis for two or three moons, and to send her father a letter explaining the situation. And her father's precautions meant she wasn't traveling alone; her escort was an old guard named Jones, who was retiring from the Gotham guard to become the sheriff of a peaceful corner of Small Kingdom. Knowing her old man, Jones would also be carrying some emergency gold for her sake, which he'd have been instructed to keep as an additional reward if the trip was completed without trouble.
It was still Not Good, though. Her family was hardly rich; the stolen money amounted to about half a year of both her parents' income, and she wasn't too sure how they got it to begin with. (Her emergency money was about what one of them made in one moon.) Even writing to father was of dubious value, since she didn't think he had that kind of money stashed, and didn't want to think of what he'd do to raise it. More likely, she'd have to find a way to work in Metropolis, to keep herself fed and clothed. And while she didn't mind the idea of working, she was going there with a mission, and it would be better if she could dedicate herself fully to it.
Besides, emergency gold was for emergencies. Losing most of your money on the fourth day of a two-moon journey didn't paint a good forecast; it could be extraordinarily bad luck, but more likely it was a sample of how dangerous things would be, and at that pace it would be a wonder if she reached Metropolis alive, let alone with a single copper coin.
All this just led to one inevitable conclusion: she'd have to recover her money. And, to be safe, that would have to be before the ship stopped again, in case the thief got out there.
She closed the trunk again, and examined the locks. It was a fancy trunk, a family heirloom, with three high-quality Duffian locks integrated into the lid. She was getting pretty good at picking locks, and yet she didn't think she'd be able to pick those (not that she tried; her father would have been mad. Although now that she and the trunk would be away from him for a long time, maybe she should consider it.) Yet, they had been expertly picked; no sign of force, not even a scratch from the picks.
Why bother being so discreet, if you're going to take everything of value inside? Maybe the thief is crazy? No, she thought, it makes sense. She'd noticed some people go on days without opening their baggages; cramped with many other people in a ship, you probably won't be changing your clothes for the duration, and most people can't read either. Some didn't even bring any baggage. So, leaving everything as he or she found it meant there was a chance the theft wouldn't be discovered until the victim was kingdoms away.
"Well, Mystery Thief, you don't know who you crossed", she said. "You're not getting away with this one."
She wished she was feeling that confident. But hey, it was something to do — so far, the trip was mortally boring.
Like thunder, the door slammed open, and a welcome, slightly chubby face appeared, nose like a button, dark curly hair somewhat matted with sweat. Her only friend in this ship didn't have the usual cheerful, carefree air with which he carried through even the most difficult or humiliating tasks the crew seemed to always saddle him with. He seemed genuinely terrified, and looked like he was searching for something with an urgency that said his life depended on it.
"Babs!", he exclaimed, as he found her. "You're safe!"
It wasn't a private cabin; her family didn't have that kind of money. A ship like this carried mostly cargo, with one or two cabins a rich person could book, while other passengers could hang a hammock and keep their things in the main compartment of the lower deck, where the crew also slept and ate. It was cramped and poorly lit, and it stank of sweat and urine and cured meat and rotting fish.
It was nothing at all like her fantasies of sea travel; but the reality was, people simply didn't travel often enough between Gotham and the big cities for such a thing as passenger ships to exist. Or, well, those who did had their own ships. It was pure luck, with the help of a really nice sunset, that she had a moment alone in the deck to clean herself up a bit.
"Billy", she acknowledged him with a smile. "What's gotten into you?"
"Not into me", he told her. "Onto the ship. We're overtaken by pirates."
"What?"
Billy took her to one of the thick metal columns that ran floor to ceiling through the compartment, peppered with warts about half the size of a fist, to facilitate the tying of ropes — for securing cargo or for hammocks. "This is actually a pipe. These carry air here and to the cargo hold. See the vent here near the bottom? If you hold your ear against it, you can hear what's happening upstairs."
And so she did, and what she heard was barked orders from voices she didn't know, thick with Meadows accents. They did sound rough, and she could hear crying and moaning, but any fighting was probably already over.
"I don't think they're pirates", she announced.
"How come?"
"They're not demanding the valuables. They're checking out all passengers and crew, and demanding that anyone not already there be brought before them. Slavers? No, I think they're looking for someone. Bounty hunters, probably."
"Could it be you? Your parents are both guards in a mean city. It could be a revenge thing, or kidnapping for leverage."
She credited him two points in her head, for not only not questioning her observations, but even asking good questions. "That's not impossible, and therefore I should take precautions as if it were true. But the Meadows accents are strong evidence against it."
Billy chuckled, which made her a little angry. "What's funny?"
"Sorry", he said, still smiling. But it was such a charming, cute smile, it was hard to stay mad. "The fun… odd way you talk, I was wondering if it would go away under pressure. But it got stronger."
Babs sighed. "Billy… there's something I should probably tell you now, in case it's going to be a problem." His puzzled face reminded her of a dog. "My father and I… we follow the Method. We're Optimizers."
"You mean you're a Coluan?"
She winced. "We don't use that term for ourselves. It's a corruption of an ancient word for 'one who calculates'. There's surely a lot of maths to the Method, but it's mostly about, well, making the best decision as much as we can. So we prefer Optimizers."
"Gosh, that's all very fascinating, but…" he looked around, nervously. "Is this the time to have this conversation?"
"I just wanted you to know, in case you're uncomfortable with it, before we start hiding and sneaking together and going through whatever we're about to get into."
Billy shrugged. "As a Newsboy, I met a few Colu… er, Optimizers. Not necessarily bad people, if occasionally unpleasant. Besides, sounds like a jolly useful thing to have right now."
That got a deep breath of relief out of her chest. "Thank you for the enlightened attitude. But, well, now what?"
He made a beeline for one of the large chests bolted to the walls along the outer edge of the deck, which they've been told were the crew's lockers. Some fiddling with the nails along the back and bottom, and the whole thing came off, swiveling on a hidden hinge near the bottom-front edge. It revealed a hole, just barely wide enough for a sailor to go through, but no problem for two ten-year-olds. But leading where? Shouldn't this be opening directly to water? It was pitch dark, and she had no idea; the three brightwax lanterns hanging from various places in the deck cast a lazy, dim light, good enough to find things in your trunk and weak enough to sleep by, but none of it touched the hole — perhaps, she thought, intentionally.
Billy crawled in, in the process picking up a rope which presumably would pull the chest back to its place, and she could just barely see he was standing somewhere, facing her, but standing on floor just a little lower. She followed, her hand finding another wall not half a meete further. As she straightened herself up, he pulled the rope, leaving them in the dark.
"No trade ship leaves Gotham without some contraband", he told her. "So the ones that make the route regularly will have secret compartments and hidden crawlspaces wherever they can. And nobody is going to check that the lower deck is as wide as the upper deck… nobody will notice the missing meete."
"Aren't they going to kill you or something for telling this to a guard's daughter?"
He chuckled again. "Jeepers, as if they know I know. They wouldn't let temporary crew in on this. But I'm a Newsboy, I observe and I pay attention… I found this entrance on my own. And now it's going to save our lives."
Her respect for him grew substantially; yes, he acted like a cheerful airhead most of the time, but there was something behind that façade. Well, of course there was; a poor homeless orphan didn't get accepted to the Academy for his good looks, and that was what they had originally bonded over, when they discovered they were heading for the same ultimate destination. His very short naval career was the method he came up with to make enough money to pay for his first year — the deans never waived the tuition, under the premise that if you were clever enough to make it in the Academy, you were clever enough to find a way to earn the money.
"Great. So what's the plan?"
"You tell me, Optimizer", he replied, something in his voice suggesting a smile.
Babs sighed and leaned back; and on cue, her ears told her the… probable bounty hunters had sent a few men to the lower deck. They started checking for hiding places, and she barely dared to breathe.
"Nobody here", said one of the bounty hunters. "You two, go check the galley, we'll go look at the cabins."
"Can we get to the cargo hold?", Babs whispered.
"Sure. There's a ladder over there. You need to step over all the actual contraband, of course. But, won't they search the hold too?"
"That's what I'm counting on. They're probably doing it now, and once they're sure it's clean, they'll forget about it. Where we are is probably safe for now, but if they don't find who they're looking for, they'll probably bribe or torture the captain, and he'll lead them here. And then, even if we're not what they're after, there's a very good chance things would get unpleasant, just because we defied them."
"Jeepers Babs, how do you manage to think of something so horrible?"
"It's part of being prepared. That's not even the fifth most horrible outcome I thought of."
"Well", he said, beginning to negotiate the ladder, "my mom always taught us that a positive attitude can carry you through the worst."
"Attitude is what you choose it to be. But the Method shows people are usually too optimistic… I'll tell you all about it, if we survive. If you feel a sunny attitude works better for you, you can, as my granny used to say, 'hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.'"
"Here", he said, pulling her by the arm. She could see what looked like three green dots in the inner wall. "Spyholes", he whispered. They were meant for adults, though, so they had to move something to stand on. A big pile of something wrapped in canvas, just behind her; it clanged just a little when they first tried to move it, so they proceeded more carefully. When it was in place, she felt it a little more thoroughly to confirm her suspicions… yes. A bundle of weapons. That could become useful.
The holes were cleverly built so that they could see a range of angles, not just straight ahead; her admiration for the people who designed the ship continued to grow, and she was dying to see how the holes were concealed on the other side.
And what they saw was two men searching the hold, as she expected; and right behind them, huddling behind a huge crate, looking almost straight at them, was a blond boy of perhaps 15, whom she didn't recognize as a passenger or crew, ragged clothes of expensive material, a very big leather duffel bag in front of him.
"Well," she whispered, "I'm going to update my hypotheses, and say there's a pretty good chance this is who they're looking for."
"By golly", Billy replied, "is that my mother's locket? I've been looking everywhere for that!"
Which made her eye the bag with an anger that could probably have burned a hole in it.
"Should we help?", he asked.
"Good question", she whispered back, even more quietly than necessary. "It's probably the ethical thing to do. But if they find him, they're likely to just leave, and we'll be safe. But then, he's got your locket, which means he probably also has all my money, and I'm not quite willing to let go of it."
"Your what?"
"Just before you arrived, in fact probably at the very moment these people were boarding us, I opened my trunk to find all my money missing."
"Jeepers. He must have stowed away, and started stealing whatever he could get his hands on. The captain will be livid."
"Here they come. They're about to find him. If we're helping, it has to be now."
"And?"
She caressed the bundle with her foot.
"Let's do it."
Billy nodded, but of course she couldn't see it. Then he added, "There's a passage a few meetes this way. That will put us right behind them when they find him.
"Cool", she said, and as he went ahead to get it open, she kneeled and opened the bundle she had been standing on.
"Aha", exclaimed the largest of the men. "He's here! Go tell the major!"
The other man did make a motion towards the stairs, but then there was for some reason the back half of an arrow coming out of his forehead, and he found it quite difficult to think, or to do anything really, so he found it better to lie down and have a rest, and it all went dark.
"What?", the big man had time to ask, before Billy jumped from the top of a barrel and tackled him to the ground. That made Babs almost panic; if he screamed, it was all over, and with Billy on top of him and the ship shaking with the waves, there was no way she could shoot him.
Fortunately, he underestimated his opponents, and decided to beat Billy to a pulp instead of calling for help. At which point the blond boy crushed his skull with his duffel — proving the weight of money can be a powerful weapon, even if it's stolen. Well now it was also arguably blood money, or at least money in a bloody bag; but he didn't seem to mind. He just looked at the kids, not quite sure how to proceed.
Billy, unfazed, reached out in a fluid movement, grabbed the locket hanging from the other boy's neck, and took it back, putting it in a pocket.
"I'm Barbaria Gordon", she told the now even more startled young man. "This is Billy. And we're willing and able to save your life, if you'll pay for the favor by returning our… well, my stuff."
He smiled. "I'll do that and still be in your debt, should I ever be in a position to repay you. My name is Werner. I'm the legitimate heir to the throne of Vlatava, a small kingdom on the West side of the Empire, and these men are here to cross me and my family out of history."
Barbaria was brought, in chains, to the captain of the bounty hunters, dragged by three men, while a fourth limped behind them. She still struggled like a wild boar, and when they arrived, almost broke free, taking advantage of the momentary distraction.
"Captain", said one of the men, "we found a feisty one hiding in the cargo hold."
She tugged at her chains and shot the captain a defiant stare.
"Now", he said, "what seems to be the problem?"
"I know what pirates do to girls like me. I'll die first. And take one or two of you with me."
The captain smiled. "Well, you're not wrong, and I admire your bravery. But we're not pirates, and we have no interest in you."
Babs relaxed a little, but still eyed him with distrust.
"Unchain her", he ordered.
The man who'd spoken first put a hand to the back of his neck and looked at the captain with some embarrassment.
"Uh, sir… I'm not so sure that's a good idea."
"Oh? You're more afraid of a little girl than of questioning my orders?"
The man looked at his limping partner. "Wouldn't dream of it, sir. But the girl is trouble. Can't say it was easy to bring her here."
"By Jay's helmet, man. She's one small girl. Can't be older than what, twelve? You caught her with four men. We're more than twenty."
"Yes, sir. So of course we'd be able to hold her again. But there's no telling what she'd do before that happens."
She smiled at that, a smile that radiated danger, and looked at the captain, still defiant — not an easy task, when her eyes were barely level with his chest. Yet, it was enough to make him a little uneasy.
"Look", he told her, "we're not pirates. We're not even enemies. If it makes you feel any better, we're with the Imperial Guard, alright? We work for the Emperor. We only attacked the crew because we had to take over quickly and smoothly, without giving anyone the chance to escape or hide. And we didn't hurt anyone seriously; you can ask around, if you want."
On that cue, she looked around for the ship's captain; once she found him and made eye contact, he nodded, but not without some hesitation, of which she made a mental note.
"I just want to talk", said the guards' captain. "Ask some questions. Which, for that matter, I already asked everyone else. And then you can join the crowd. Is that alright? Will you behave?"
She sighed and lowered her head just a little. "All right. Let's talk. But don't try anything funny."
"Unchain her", he repeated, with an amused, yet wary smile. This time his men obeyed, albeit with visible trepidation. She shook her arms, moved her head one side and another as if her neck was stiff, and stood looking at the captain, standing in a stance that projected confidence, and yet was, to any fighter, clearly ready to spring into action at any moment. He frowned.
"We're looking for someone. A fugitive. A boy, blond, about yea tall, and about your kind of thin. Goes by Werner."
Babs spat on the floor. "That rat. I saw him, alright."
"Oh?"
"He stole my coin purse. I caught him a little before lunchtime. We had a bit of a fight. I grabbed my purse, then he ran up to the deck, and jumped in the water."
Below decks, Werner and Billy were listening, their ears planted on the air vent closest to where the conversation was happening. The prince was so startled by her claim, he jerked back.
"What?", he exclaimed. "She's crazy! We're all going to die!"
"How so?", Billy asked.
"You work for the ship. Have you ever seen the upper deck empty? Even at meal time, there's always someone there. At least a couple of sailors, acting as guards and at the same time minding the riggings."
"That's true. Not to mention the lookout."
"So, all it takes is for someone to say they didn't see anything, and her story is busted."
"But she didn't say exactly when. What if they just weren't there at the time?"
"Still, someone would have to see it. Someone jumping out is rather serious for a ship like this."
Billy seemed a little less certain, but he still said, "Well, I don't know how I would get out of that one, but Babs know what she's doing, I'm sure. She's smarter than the two of us put together."
"We're all going to die", Werner repeated, rolling his eyes.
Meanwhile, in the main deck, the captain of the guards had a different objection: "Don't be ridiculous. Werner is a trained fighter. Extremely dangerous with a sword, knife, or even without. If he fought you…"
"Uh, Captain", said the limping man. "It took four of us to catch her, and now my leg is not too happy about it. And we found Mason and Lee dead in the cargo hold, kinda suspect it was this little one did it."
The captain gave her a good appraising look. Then, as Werner feared, he said much louder, addressing both Babs and the crowd: "And did anyone see this? Or a boy jumping in the water?"
She stared into his face as if she was running out of patience, while underneath her brave act, a drop of cold sweat ran down her back. Come on, anyone in the audience a fast thinker?
"I saw the redhead fighting a boy earlier", said a sailor. "I was going to give them a piece of my mind, but they ran up to the deck, and I didn't want to leave my post."
"Hear hear", and old passenger raised her hand. "I saw them too. Terrible manners, I thought, kids these days…"
"And I saw a boy jump in the water", added another sailor. "I guess it was around lunchtime, aye. I ran to throw a rope, but then I couldn't see him, figgerd it was one of the passengers playing a prank."
Babs fought the urge to smile, or breathe in relief. If nobody realized what she was doing and spoke up to corroborate her, it would be the end of it. Even worse if someone contradicted her. Fortunately, the most stupid in the crowd were too scared to speak up, and if three people understood she was lying in order to get rid of the invaders, it was going to look good.
And then to top it off, another sailor raised his hand. "I was on lookout duty from lunch until you lot appeared. Some time after lunch I saw someone coming out of the water near Deadman's Rock. I remember because I figgerd it was a well crazy thing to do, so I looked with my spyglass, and he looked about like you said, thin, blond, tall to here."
The captain sighed deeply. "Oh well. In that case…"
But just then, one of his men yelled from the crow's nest. "Captain, I make six ships coming right at us from the West!"
From the middle of the Inner Sea? This far from any major route? That made no sense.
"Any identification?", asked the captain.
"Black sails, sir, and a green flag on top."
"Damn it! Can we outrun them?"
"On a cargo ship?"
"Scott's cape, I'm not paid enough for this. All right, get the crew and passengers below decks! We're being attacked!"
To which the actual Captain of the ship protested, "We were already attacked, about an hour ago. Not sure what else could happen."
"Don't be a fool, man! We didn't hurt anyone who didn't fight back, didn't steal anything, didn't kill or rape anyone. These black sails are pirates, rebels, or both. They won't be so kind. In fact, if they are who I think they are, they'll take your ship to add it to their fleet, sell most of you as slaves, and kill the rest."
"You keep saying you're not pirates, but…"
The man was getting rather exasperated with the older sailor already. "Look, I told you, we're with the Empire, looking for a fugitive. A dangerous one. And apparently we weren't wrong, he was here. Used your ship to escape Gotham and its guard. Now shut up and get below decks so I can save your dirty neck, or I'll send word to my mates in the Man-Hattan port that your ship could use some thorough inspection for contraband. If you survive, that is."
And not a minute after the last person was in the passengers deck and both doors were barred, the grappling ropes started raining from all sides.
Meanwhile, in the passenger deck, Jones was running desperately through the assembled crowd. "Miss Gordon! Miss Gordon! Did anyone see the redhead girl?"
She was, of course, hiding in a cozy pile of storm rigging, on the forecastle deck, where she could have a good view of the battle unfolding below. That is, if she didn't get caught — and the captain of the self-proclaimed imperial guards was coming right in her direction, apparently having a similar idea about fighting from high ground!
It was a nasty, bloody battle. The invading force, all dressed in dark and light greens, attacked fiercely, with cries of "for Vlatava!" and "for the true king!". The guards were better equipped and better trained, but the rebels (or was it loyalists? Babs didn't know enough about the politics of the western kingdoms to be sure) kept coming, wave after wave.
She, however, couldn't make full use of her great viewpoint, what with the captain of the guards (if they were really guards) leading the battle from right beside her, and occasionally coming really close in order to fight off an enemy attempting to climb the forecastle. She was beginning to consider just showing herself to him; but her much beloved logic told her the odds that he'd be willing to defend her very really low, even if he really was an Imperial Guard. He did have other concerns at the moment, and the Imperials weren't exactly known for their protection of the innocent — or, in fact, of anyone not of noble blood, or at least very influential.
And at that moment she realized he never even claimed to be an Imperial Guard; going through her perfect memory, she remembered he said "we're with the Imperial Guard". That was hardly the same thing; if they were bounty hunters, as she originally assumed, and the mission was negotiated via the Imperial Guard, his statement would still be true. In which case he'd be just as likely to kill her himself, to have one more thing to pin on the rebels.
"Rats", she mouthed to herself, without actually making a sound.
As if on cue, he kicked the pile of rigging, intending to clear the area so he could move freely along the rail, and fight off people trying to climb either side. Of course, the kick met something heavy but soft, and Babs fell off the pile.
"Grant's whiskers, girl, what are you doing here?"
"I couldn't get below deck on time, with all the confusion", she lied.
"Well", he said, grabbing her by the shirt. She tried to fight, but she wasn't completely free from the riggings. "Let's see if you're as good a fighter as they say. I think I'm going to just throw you down there and see what happens; at the very least, you should make a good distraction."
But as the words were leaving his lips, a noise came from behind him; he turned around just in time to see Werner wielding a large hammer, presumably something the sailors used to fix things around the ship.
The captain let her go and raised his cutlass; but Werner was as good a fighter as they said. He swung the hammer sideways, catching the sword in it, and then twisted brusquely, so the blade got stuck in the wood. Then he placed his elbow on the blunt side, near the tip, and did a sort of pirouette, which made the man release the weapon; Werner finished the movement with a kick on his head. Then he swung the hammer up, which sent the cutlass flying, and as the captain instinctively raised his head to look, Werner hammered him right in the face, knocking him out. Finally, the prince caught the sword in the air, and used it to kill the older man.
"Are you all right?", he asked.
"That… wasn't half bad", she replied, without answering. Then, getting a hold of herself, she added: "Oh yes, I'm fine. You?"
He gave her a rakish smile. "No one's touched me yet. But the night is young."
And nobody did. A few minutes later, the battle was over, Werner's forces standing triumphantly and cheering loudly. Billy stepped warily out of the secret passage he and Werner used to reach the forecastle deck, and regarded the scene. Werner, coming back from the rail where he was addressing his troops, embraced one of them with each arm, a big smile on his face.
"I couldn't have done it without the two of you. Come, let's… well you're too young for the stuff my men will be drinking, but we have some fine wine too. What do you say?"
"I guess", she said. Then, after they were all in the main deck, and a man was dispatched to find their wine: "So what happens now?"
"Well", said the Prince, "that bounty hunter wasn't wrong. We're building an army to retake Vlatava, and we need this ship. So we'll be keeping it."
"What about the crew and passengers?", Billy asked.
"They're free to go, of course. We'll take everyone in our faster ships and drop them on a beach tomorrow, where they'll be a couple hours walk from Queen's Bog."
"Oh. 'They'? What about Billy and I?"
"I was hoping Billy here would join us, but if he doesn't want to, he's free to go with the others."
"And me?"
"You're too precious to lose. No, you're coming with us, and becoming my queen."
Babs blinked and took an involuntary step back. "What?"
"Well, I'll obviously be needing one, and I can't imagine I'll find anyone more suitable."
"You can't be serious." Her mind raced. "What about your word?" But even as she said it, her perfect memory knew the answer.
"My word is my honor. But I never said anything about letting you go, and now I'm glad I didn't. I just said I'd return your coin and still be in your debt. And I can't think of a better way to repay it than giving you a kingdom to rule with me."
"That will never work, though! My father is a guardsman and my mother is a barbarian from the South. I'm as low-born as they come."
He shrugged. "After my parents were deposed and murdered, and I barely escaped with my life, I can't imagine I'd find a noble girl I'd trust. Granted, normally I'd want to, have to even, consolidate my power by marrying the princess of an allied kingdom, or at least a potential ally. But with the Empire against me, those are in short supply. No, I'll have to retake the kingdom by force, and then secede from the Empire, which is why I need to build a large army. And in that case, a fearsome warrior queen will help impress on people that I can do that and defend Vlatava even against the Empire. And that even assassinating me wouldn't solve their problem."
Darn, she thought. When he put it that way, it really did appeal to her teenage fantasies.
Except for the part where she'd have to marry that arrogant man, devoid of morals and consideration for others. Not even a kingdom was worth that, good-looking though he was.
"And if I say no?"
He bowed. "My sincere apologies, my lady, but I can't afford to accept that. I've been hoping for an ally of your caliber for months, since I escaped, and to find one who's also a pretty girl, slightly younger than me, and well-educated enough to be a queen? It would be irresponsible of me as a heir to let you go."
She sighed, her mind running hypotheses and scenarios as fast as she could.
"All right", she said. "I'll do it. But not now."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I'm going to the Academy. And I think you should let me."
He looked at her as if she had just sprouted four more arms and turned purple; and just in time to help her dramatic pause, the wine arrived, in well-polished silver cups.
"Have you been listening to what I just said?", he asked.
"A toast", she said, raising her cup. "To Vlatava." Billy, stupefied speechless by the turn of events, just took his from the servant who brought them, and touched it to hers.
Werner sighed and did the same. "To Vlatava. But now, really…"
"First of all", she said, and paused to take a sip. "I'm nobody. You may not care about my low birth, but when we're older and it's time to establish alliances, don't you think a 'warrior queen' who attended the Academy will make a much better impression on foreign heads of state than one distinguished only for her military achievements, most of them attained next to her husband?"
He pondered, pursing his lips.
"Besides", she continued, "right now you still don't have much of a reputation, do you? I can tell by looking at your men, a little under half of them are loyal to you only because of your name, and the rest are following on the hopes of future rewards. Part of the process of building your army will have to be winning their respect and loyalty."
"And?"
"If you take your genius 'warrior queen' now, they will whisper. Which of your victories are yours, and which are due to my advice? Who wears the metaphorical pants in this marriage? Are they fighting to put in the throne a king they can respect, or a puppet to a foreign witch?"
He scratched his chin. "You take it a bit far, but yes, I can see it."
"And finally, how long do you think it will take you to raise your army and build your reputation? Does three years seem about right?"
"I guess."
"So in three years, you send for me in Metropolis, and we get married. Then you take Vlatava; or we do it, if you prefer. We'll both be older and more experienced, so we'll decide that when the time comes. Once the throne is ours, I return to the Academy for my final year. And when I graduate, I go back to Vlatava. In fact, you can go pick me up, even attend the graduation; making it an official visit, that could help you curry an alliance with Metropolis."
Werner laughed. "By my ancestors, you'll make a fine queen! But really, if you're expecting to escape me…"
Babs looked at him with a wry smirk. "Come on, my lord. How do you propose I do that?" She drank a large gulp of her wine. "All right, fine. I'm also thinking that if by any chance you don't manage to build your army and reputation, I don't have to be there to share your failure. I'll be free to do whatever I want, which, in all honestly, will probably not be as exciting as taking and then ruling a small kingdom in the West."
He groaned.
"But if you do succeed, there's no way I'm escaping you. I mean, come on, you'll have an army large enough to drive the Empire out of your kingdom. That should be enough to find me and hold me to my commitment."
"I'm not mad enough to invade Metropolis, if that's what you're suggesting."
"Maybe. But I can't stay in Metropolis the rest of my life. Once I graduate, either I'm going to Vlatava, or back to Gotham. And I'm sure you can handle Gotham. In fact, if you come to the gates claiming you're after your promised bride, I can't imagine the Duke will even put up a fight; he's likely to drag me to you himself, with an apology."
That brought up another laugh. "All right, woman. You go to your Academy. I'll send an escort to get you there, too. Heck, I'll even return all your coin. You be careful there, though!"
She smiled.
And a while later, as she and Billy were gathering their things to sail away to Metropolis on Werner's fastest schooner, with an escort composed almost entirely of women to guarantee Barbaria's safety, the boy finally broke out of his amazement enough to find some words.
"Gee whiz, Babs, are you really marrying that creep?"
"By all the heroes, Billy, of course not. Well, at least I don't intend to."
"But you gave your word!"
She smirked. "I'm low-born, remember? And a dirty 'Coluan'. My word means nothing. No, Mister Batson. All I did was buy myself another three years to figure this whole thing out, and find a better solution. I'm sure one will present itself."
Billy Batson frowned, and looped the backpack with his meager belongings over his shoulders.
"Let's go", she said. "The Academy awaits."