Chapter VII
In the hour Elyon had reclaimed her throne from Phobos, she hadn't considered how each of his allies would react.
When duty, in the form of her generals and commanders, compelled her to think about them, she hadn't expected them to jump for joy at her victory. Those Silver-Blooded Elves, for example, had surrendered reluctantly (They were fighters but lacked the numbers to secure a victory). Nevertheless, they gave her her and Caleb a hard time. Quibbling over the smallest detail they found disagreeable in their agreements - good Lord! Of course, they had quickly learned that Elyon was hesitant to use intimidation and force the way Phobos had. They toyed with her higher moral standards, delaying to deal with "she who has returned the world to way of life too laden with saccharine idealism."
How she wished she could zap them with her magic!
And then she had to deal with those allies whom played like they were victims. They? Oppose the Light of Meridian? Heavens, no! they would insist as they would cower behind their expensive dining tables, loaded with more food than they could eat in a single meal. They had merely been taking care of the land as that beast Phobos had ordered. How could they have known what terrible, abominable things he had done? Oh, they would never do that if the Light of Meridian—hail to Her!—were in charge.
Those kind of allies were easier to address—gaol them, try them, and imprison them once convicted.
And then there were people, average, ordinary people, who somehow believed that despite his authoritarianism, Phobos had been a competent ruler, a man whom had ruled using whatever means necessary to keep the population in check. Maybe some other people had suffered but not in their community, and they would be damned if they returned to a life of uncert—
"Your Majesty!" exclaimed a messenger, dressed in the garb of a Nobearite. "The Yretges—Eshcrie Larroneux! His brigands have attacked and seized over two hundred hugongs from a farm collective in West Nobear township."
"What?" exclaimed Elyon.
And then there were those who had never been Phobos's allies from the beginning.
"How long ago?" asked Miriadel.
"As soon as the attack ended, my lord Siryon sent me."
"Those abominable spawn of Morgon!" cursed a Galhot Councillor, Tethras.
"How bold they grow with every week!" exclaimed another, Zahlet.
The Yretges were led by twelve chiefs, and Eshcrie Larroneaux had become the most mentioned—and most cursed—thus far. According to Elyon's history lessons, the Yretges were the descendants of some of Tynar's people, the Galthrohs, whom had mixed with the last survivors of the Kahedrins, the people that her ancestor, Saviour-King Escanor, had vanquished. While they had troubled the Queens of old by terrorising their citizens, the Yretges had mostly kept to themselves, unable to grow numerous enough to cause problems.
Then the War Against the Feared One had begun, and while some of Queen Chesed's strength had been diverted against Phobos's growing army, the Yretges had been as secretly as possible cultivating their own fighting force.
Phobos had no fear flexing his might with unparalleled brutality, and when the Yretges had caused problems, the more-skilled Galtroh soldiers suppressed them ruthlessly. So, the Yretges had become quiet again, and while they had not supported the rebellion, they had not interfered. Let the rebels take some of the pressure off their tribes, and they would reset their plans, bide their time again...
... and Time had offered them a young, ignorant monarch.
Can I get one break for one day? bemoaned Elyon.
West Nobear township needed the Queen's soldiers—and any financial assistance they could receive. Maybe people wouldn't starve to death like they had under Phobos, but they would certainly go hungry as Yretge brigands chopped at their livelihoods.
How can people be so cruel after experiencing hardship themselves? wondered Elyon.
And why did they have to carry a grudge against Galhots and Escanors? For centuries? Centuries? Sure, war was harsh, and war could breed years of hatred, but for that long? That seemed like such a waste of energy.
When West Nobear township's needs seemed met for the moment, Elyon excused herself from the Councillors' chamber to get fresh air the vast garden.
What's the point of being the Light of Meridian when nobody respects you? she wondered.
Perhaps she exaggerated, but she had defeated her brother in one-on-one battle—she had! Elyon 'Used-To-Be-Ordinary' Brown with little to no battle experience. Oh, ho! And if she gained more experience? She could be more fearsome than Phobos! She was already more powerful than he was by she didn't know how many times; yet somehow, that wasn't enough for these... these... these utter monsters!
Elyon stopped and lifted her head. A young tree bearing ripe fruit stood before her. As she plucked a fruit from a branch, she recalled that they were called Lerynian figs after one of her ancestors, Escanor's wife. Queen Leryn had cultivated the trees until they bore fruit with the most amazing taste.
It was also the only fruit that Cedric enjoyed.
"Cedric..."
Miriadel and Alborn knew what they were doing. Caleb definitely knew what he was doing, and so did Vathek, Aldarn, Julian, a whole myriad of people. But Cedric had interacted with Phobos's allies—and enemies. He knew people like the Yretges in and out, up and down, left and right, and if he had been there to tell Elyon what to do, she would have done it, little to no questions.
"Elyon? Are you alright?"
The young queen sighed, "Yeah. Yeah, I guess."
Miriadel stepped closer and laid a hand upon her shoulder.
"What's the matter, sweetie?" asked the older woman.
Elyon sighed and groaned. She fumbled with the fig absentmindedly as she leaned against the tree.
"I don't know. I don't know about any of this."
Miriadel tipped her and noted, "You know, we've had this talk before."
"I know."
"It isn't easy being the queen. There are some many parts of reality that you have no choice but to deal with. Of course, you don't have to do it alone, and you are definitely not alone."
"I know," groaned Elyon.
"Then what else can I do, honey? What else can I say? Alborn and I are trying our best, but there are some things that we're finding out, that we're not used to either. We've been on Earth for so many years, and things on that world were so different."
Miriadel fell silent and reached for Elyon, hugging her.
"Mum... I just wanna be a princess again."
"I know, honey."
"Nooo! You don't," moaned Elyon as she pulled away. "I miss walking in the gardens for fun, not because I'm stressed out. I miss going to the library and picking out a book and having Cedric translate the really weird English to me. I miss being loved by everybody I walked by, instead of hearing people talk that there's a bunch of people who hate me just because I was born into this position, which I had no say in."
Miriadel gazed sadly at her, and Elyon huffed before she continued.
"I even miss... I even miss him. Not what he did. Not all the horrible things he did, but he... Everyone seemed to love me a lot more when he was around. Yeah, yeah! I know, Mum, I know why that was, but... but he knew how to run this kingdom... queen-dom, whatever-you-call-it. Everything just worked, and I didn't have to think so hard, and when I did ask him questions, he made it sound like there would always be someone to take care of it for me."
Elyon sighed and tossed the fig aside.
"I'm just not picking up on this fast enough. And every day, my stupidity gets somebody killed—"
"Ellie—"
"—or maybe not killed but robbed... 'n' stolen from... 'n' hurt. They just can't live their lives! They survived Phobos, but me being young and dumb? It isn't making their lives any better."
Miriadel knelt and hugged her again. Her voice softened into her familiar motherly tone as she spoke:
"I know, child, I know. You want the world to be right, but it isn't happening fast enough for you. Things'll be right in time, with time, but you have to be patient, baby, and you can't beat yourself up. If Meridian and all your queen-dom can survive Phobos, then they can certainly survive any obstacles that come their way. But you can't beat yourself, Ellie. No good comes from feeling guilty, not like this."
Elyon sniffled and gripped her tighter.
"Your Majesty? Captain?"
One of pursuivants had found them.
"Yes, Percival?" asked Miriadel.
"General Juliansson and his battalion have returned from Torus Intzmat."
Miriadel smiled and patted Elyon on the back. "With good news for my Queen, I hope."
The women followed the pursuivant to the Councillors' chamber. As the herald announced Caleb, Drake, and Vathek, each man bowed before Her Majesty and waited for her bidding before they sat.
"So, what's up with all the people at Torus Innsmouth?" asked Elyon.
"Innsmouth?" puzzled Caleb.
"Intzmat," corrected Miriadel.
"Yeah, whatever," said Elyon, rolling her eyes. "Whatever it's called. Like, what's their deal? Do they want me to call up Kandrakar and be all, 'Hey, yeah, so these people out in this really weird area actually liked how my brother ran things. Can you let him loose so he can rule them, just their little weird corner of Metamoor—thaaaanks!'"
"Uhhh... no, Your Majesty," replied Caleb, while Vathek and Drake still glanced at one another in pure confusion. "Believe me, I mirror the sentiment in thinking that they're crazy, but I was right to summon Vathek. Even when talks weren't in your favour, Vathek was still able to make strides with them in ways that we couldn't."
The blue giant blushed and bowed his head. "I don't want to take all the credit. It was Good Fortune that smiled on us that day. If not for the kikehtrix, who knows?"
"The kikehtrix?" puzzled Elyon.
Then Vathek recounted the story: of his prior experience under Cedric's leadership with the town; of the priests, of their authority, and of their worries; of the letter that had come from Cedric's sister—"Wait, he has a sister?"; and of the concession the town made because of the favour Vathek had curried with 'an awesome Dame.'
"So, it's not the best arrangement," said Caleb.
"But it's better than nothing," added Drake.
"Wow!" marvelled Elyon. "And all because of that letter?"
"Not because of it," clarified Caleb, "but because of who wrote it."
"Aaronagish Lords like Cedric aren't always held in high regard, Your Majesty," said Miriadel, "but most outsiders treat their Ladies with respect. And fear. Even Phobos was cautious not to provoke them or catch their attention in anyway."
"Except when he tried to drill into the Sei'espian," said Caleb, "and even then, he followed the rules by having Cedric give him a blessing, which he honestly he didn't deserve."
Elyon reclined in her chair and hummed. Years of loyalty to Phobos smashed with single name dropped... a superstitious folk fearful of their Gods and fearful of a folk assumed to have better communication with those Gods...
"Your Majesty?" asked Vathek.
"Hmm? Mmm... Who is that Cecelia's an ambassador to?"
"The Excellent Lady Olindoyo, Your Majesty," said Vathek.
"Hmm..."
"And before I forget, Her Excellency commanded that I wish you well. Though Escanors and Aaronagim have had a tense history, she and the ruling families welcome your return."
Elyon perked. "Really?"
Vathek nodded.
The wheels began turn in her head again.
She wouldn't necessarily be lying if her heralds spread the word that the supreme ruler of the Aaronagim—the supreme ruling Lady of the Aaronagim approved of her being queen. But Elyon didn't know her the way Vathek knew Cecelia. What if that plan came back to bite her—and practically everyone else because of their association with her? She couldn't start diplomatic turmoil with a nation of shape-shifters, whom could morph into an army of deadly whatever-they-chose.
"Your Majesty?" asked one of the Councillors, Cichol.
"Vathek," began Elyon, "do you think it's possible I could actually... meet this Olindoyo Lady?"
All of her Councillors gasped. She couldn't possibly be serious—Infinite brightness and respect to the Light of Meridian!
"Vathek..." Elyon maintained her gaze upon the blue giant. "... do you think I could visit her and ask her for help?"
Miriadel, mouth agape, asked, "With what? Ely—Your Majesty, there's no reason to get them involved. The Aaronagim have mostly kept to themselves for years, and honestly, that's better for everyone."
"The captain is right, Your Majesty," said another Councillor. "There's no reason to reach out to them for any help."
"I hear everyone's concern," said Elyon sternly, "but I'm asking Vathek."
The blue giant frowned and averted his gaze. A bleak silence fell as he was (obviously) trying to craft an answer that would satisfy Elyon... but also not ignite another frenzy.
Finally, he answered: "No one can take a relationship with an Aaronag for granted. You saw what happened to Cedric, Your Majesty, after all his years of serving Phobos. That depression—that deep, deep depression—was the result of him not having enough power to get revenge. If he had had more power than Phobos, I wouldn't want to be your brother for the world. And I don't think anyone would ever find my body if ever I took advantage of the acquaintance I have with Lady Cecelia.
"With that warning in mind, if you were able to develop a good relationship with Her Excellency, if you could gain Her favour and maintain it—that part is essential—then people's respect for you would grow exponentially. But you cannot—and I must use emphasise this—you cannot abuse the favour that you are given. Serendipity enabled me to do what I did at Town-Near-Torus-Intzmat; otherwise, I would never touch Lady Cecelia's name."
The silence that followed was deafening, and all eyes, wide as pairs of moons, stared at Elyon.
To be honest, Vathek had scared her a little. He hadn't said 'killed' or 'death,' but it was implied, and she definitely didn't want to die. Death was always painful if one didn't die peacefully of old age. But his solemnity confirmed her guess, and she knew what she as an inexperienced ruler needed to do.
"I get that you all worry about me," began Elyon. "I mean, I am your queen. It's part of your guys' jobs. If it's not some assassin trying to come and kill me, it's my own mood bringing me down, my own thoughts, feeling sad all the time and feeling... worthless."
"Your Majesty!" exclaimed the Council sadly. "Your Dearest Majesty!"
"I know! I know! I'm the Light of Meridian," she continued with a sad smile, "but I'm just a girl still, and I haven't experienced all the things that all of you have. I've seen the aftermath—the missing limbs, the horrible, ugly scars, the darkness in people's souls. And I wonder, 'What can I do to stop this from happening again? What can I do to get people like Enyus to actually listen to us? To get someone like Eschrie and his thugs to stop harassing the people? Stop robbing them after years of them being robbed by Phobos?'
"I know I can do anything with my powers. Anything. I could wipe out entire armies by sweeping my hand and saying, 'No more!' But I don't want to do that. That's what Phobos would do. I want to use other tools, not force. And with Vathek's warning in mind, I want to go forward with my plan."
"What plan?" asked Drake.
"I wanna organise an expedition to Cedric's homeland, and I wanna petition Olindoyo for Her favour."
A chorus of shock echoed through the chamber. Elyon rose from her chair and demanded that everyone be quiet. When the furor subsided, Miriadel spoke:
"Queen Elyon, with all due respect, it's much too dangerous. I'm already terrified for you after what Vathek's said; and the Aaronagim are notorious for being unpredictable and inconsistent. I even don't know if your mother, courageous Queen though she—"
"My mother made it to Žeayia Yikþ," said Elyon, eliciting another round of gasps and whispers. "Cedric wasn't able to tell me the whole story before he was locked up in Cavigor. And yeah, he says it is dangerous, but it's also very beautiful. And his tapestries—his old tapestries showed normal people. Normal for this planet, anyway, but they're not all evil. Some of them looked like astronomers and artists and merchants and... parents. Parents who probably worry about their kids. Like anyone else does."
"I say we do it."
All eyes gazed at Caleb. Elyon smiled and stood tall, chest out.
Tethras interjected, "General, you can't seriously—"
"No one is suggesting that we march into Žeayia Yikþ without announcing ourselves," continued Caleb. "Vathek can write another letter; let Lady Cecelia know Queen Elyon intends to see Her Excellency in the next... what? Sixty-something days?"
"General—"
"I would prefer to wait for their reply," said Vathek, "but if Her Majesty wishes, we can leave a little bit after a month has passed, so they'll anticipate our arrival."
"You men can't be serious," said Miriadel.
Caleb cocked his head. "It is what the Light of Meridian bids, and as her servants, we shall do our best to make it so."
Elyon edged away from her adopted mother. She looked like a mother lion, ready to pounce on a hyena.
"We almost lost her to Phobos, and now you want to take her straight into the den of creatures that worship a God called the Devouring Mother? Creatures that even Phobos was very cautious around?"
"Mother-er-er!"
Miriadel gazed with wide, glossy eyes at Elyon. The council cringed at the breach in decorum.
"People! These are people, Mum!" exclaimed Elyon. "Stop talking about them like monsters! They're not!"
Miriadel blinked and averted her gaze. Her head hung low as an awkward silence permeated the chamber. Then the captain stood and excused herself as decorously as she could.
"Captain—"
"I've got it." Then Elyon sighed and repeated, "I've got it," as she pursued her out of the chamber.
Elyon called to Miriadel as she jogged after the quickly-marching soldier. Eventually, she used her monarchical powers, commanding her to stop, and she stopped, bringing a hand to her face.
"What's the ma—oh..."
Every muscle in Miriadel's face was scrunched as she tried—and failed—to not cry. Elyon reached for her but withdrew her hand, fearful of her reaction.
"What... Mum, what's wrong?" she whispered.
The older woman sniffed and dabbed her eyes with her sleeve. She exhaled deeply, and Elyon finally touched her back, rubbing it softly.
"When I lost your mother," began Miriadel, "I didn't know what to do. Even when I held you in my arms, even after she had told me, she commanded me to protect you, I felt so guilty, leaving her behind. And I know she did what she chose to do, but... Elyon, I don't want to lose you. You're all we have left, and we almost lost you. We almost lost you."
Oh, man... Elyon hadn't considered how Miriadel would feel about this. She hadn't considered how Alborn or any of her subjects might feel. Jeeeez, the Aaronagish Ladies must have been something if the idea of young, sweet Elyon going to their land was enough to do this to her mother. She really couldn't take them for granted.
Neither will my enemies, said a voice in the back of her head.
Hugging her mother tightly, Elyon replied, "I'm sorry, Mum. I didn't mean to yell at you. I just want... If I can get Olindoyo to be cool with me, it won't only be me. It'll be my subjects, my citizens, and that includes my soldiers, like you and Alborn and Caleb and Julian and a whole bunch of other people. It'll make your guys' jobs so much easier; but I know it's gonna be dangerous. And I know we have to be careful not to throw around the relationship all crazy-like. But if my mum—my birth mum—thought it was worth the risk to go there, then I think it's worth it to visit them now."
Miriadel knelt and smiled sadly at her adopted daughter. She tucked some of the girl's hair behind her ears and stroked her cheeks.
"You... remind me... so much of her," she said.
"Is that why it hurts so much?"
Miriadel laughed and rose. Taking Elyon's hand, they returned to the chamber and commenced the rough draft of Elyon's plan.
Annotations:
the Yretges (people) from the Norman word yretge 'heretic.'
Eshcrie Larroneux (person) from the Norman words eʃcriez 'notorious' and larroneux 'thievish.'
the Devouring Mother (God) one of the names of Ožea Ayiidæ.