Slayers REVOLT: The Calm Before
By Elderdrake
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CHAPTER FOUR
News and Unexpected Visitors
Amelia stood up to offer her hand as Count Regin strode into the room, with only his oldest and longest-serving assistant accompanying him. His face was smiling, presumably for the benefit of the rest of his escort standing outside the door. The smile did not reach his eyes, however; they reflected Amelia's own worries.
Playing gracious, unconcerned host for all she was worth. Amelia gave Count Regin a proper formal embrace, then nodded politely to the Count's escort in compliment of their diligent service. Regin played along, and had even brought a prop. He pulled out a small, ribbon-wrapped box of Elmikian chocolates "For old times' sake you DO still like them, don't you Highness?"
"Do I? Oh yes. Thank you!" she didn't have to fake her gushing as Regin presented the box with a flourish and small bow, his aging joints creaking a little. Elmikian chocolates were widely considered the best. Amelia opened the box and pulled out a cherry crème delight and popped it into her mouth. Taking his arm and moving towards the table, she gushed a little more, now for the benefit of the escort "Yum! You don't know how much Ive missed your chocolates, nor how much I'll miss them in the future and they go so well with this tea"
Matilda closed the door as Amelia said this, too quickly for the escort to protest gracefully when they realized they weren't invited. Several Seyruun servants materialized to herd the Elmikians to an anteroom where they would be served some light refreshments of their own.
Back inside the Solar, Amelia and Regin let out a mutual pfhoo', then sat down.
Regin began. "Thank you Princess. How ever did you guess most of the escort are ears for Duke Vanlac?"
"It seemed a safe enough assumption. Besides, their Captain wasn't the one I've seen leading your guard every time for the last year." She paused, a little of her previous day's temper building. Her expression turned severe "Now, Regin, what's this all about? What's with that Vanlac?! He makes my heart burn with Righteous outrage just by standing in the same room! What is your country thinking by sending him here? It's not to be diplomatic, that's for sure!! And you know subterfuge and closed-door meetings are not Seyruun style, at all! I don't like this situation very much!"
Count Regin cringed into his seat, eyes bugged out at the Princess' tone. Flames seemed to be flickering around her head and shoulders. Regin's assistant was cowering behind the clipboard he had raised as a shield.
"Ahem. Your Highness, please! I apologize but I had no idea until a couple of days ago! I will explain, but give me a moment to frame my thoughts. By coming here I feel I am doing right by my nation and my old King, but I may very well be committing treason in the mind of my soon-to-be King, Tyrien."
Amelia, suddenly understanding his predicament, flashed to sympathy. "Is it that bad in Elmikia? What's going on there?"
Regin took a deep breath. "In some ways it is that bad, yes. Listen. As you know, your great-grandfather's clever marriage brought in fresh, ambitious and talented blood to your line, energizing it. Your Grandfather, first product of that union, and King Malthos were fostered together and were great friends in their youth. Malthos was wise enough to recognize your Family's new potential and elected to support your Grandfather's vision and Prince Philionel's after him, rather than oppose them. He knew he would be ceding first place in continental affairs to Saillune, but thought it inevitable anyway and chose the route of peaceful acceptance and support. The alternative would only have provoked war."
Amelia nodded. "Yes, I see" this was old history to her, though she was hearing the Elmikian point-of-view for the first time.
The Ambassador continued. "Now Malthos is dying, after a long and popular reign: popular, at least, with the common people who see the peace and prosperity it has brought. But not with some of the powerful noble houses who saw Malthos' behaviour as a shameful betrayal of Elmikia's ambitions — or at least what those Nobles thought those ambitions should be."
Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh, no. I see where this is leading"
Regin nodded somberly. "There's more. The Crown Prince, Tyrien, is a capable man but he is not the measure of your own father. Furthermore, King Malthos was always very vocal in his praise of Prince Philionel, as the son of his best friend. That was the only blind spot in Malthos' wisdom: Prince Tyrien felt himself being compared to your own father almost daily and did not take it well. He resents your family's influence, success and popularity. Naturally, he gravitated to those disgruntled Nobles at Court who already disliked Saillune. In particular, Tyrien was drawn to the powerful and dangerous man who had married Malthos' youngest sister"
Amelia grimaced. "Let me guess: The Duke Vanlac"
With a sigh, Regin confirmed it."Precisely, Princess. Vanlac saw a chance and widened the wedge between Tyrien and Malthos with all his considerable strength. Tyrien willingly complied. Royal Father and Royal Son have barely spoken in three years. Now, the two of them, Duke Vanlac and Prince Tyrien, are dedicated to reasserting the Elmikian Empire. As far as I can tell, Prince Tyrien just wants to humble your family and to shore up his own, battered ego. He also wishes to weaken Saillune's influence to the point where Elmikia and Saillune are equals again. It is he who has ordered Vanlac here, to stir discontent, and hopefully begin building a faction large enough to provide an alternative vision of the future to your father's, or at least insure that your country must compromise with his to attain your goals."
"Oh. That's understandable, considering he doesn't like my father or me or Saillune. It's just routine continental politics. Why the fuss? Oh Vanlac"
"Yes Princess, Duke Vanlac is another matter. He is an ambitious man and an old-school Elmikian Imperialist. He is a military man of some talent, and sees Saillune as the one obstacle to Elmikia's divine right to rule the continent. He is wise enough to see a war with your country, now, would be a losing affair but in the future? What if Tyrien's plans to reduce your prestige and influence are successful? What if he finds more, or stronger, Allies than expected? At the very least, I think Vanlac would like to add Atlass City to Elmikia. If he could manage that, he would probably leave the rest of Saillune be."
Frederick had been frowning, and held up his hand. "Sorry. Back up a second. Elmikia's DIVINE right to rule the continent? Where did that come from?"
Regin blinked. "I, um. Hum. Well, Princess, Secretary, there is a religious sect in Elmikia that predates the War of the Monster's Resurrection a thousand years ago. It has had little influence since that terrible event, but it has survived. This sect believes it, and Elmikia, were mandated by some of the highest Ryozoku gods to lead all humankind and, in so doing, vanquish the Evil and Darkness from all human souls. They were the dominant religion in the lands now occupied by the Elmikia Empire just before the War of the Resurrection. Not many take them very seriously, now, but their priests still have real power in White and Astral magic, though not the lost Holy Arts that were the original foundation of their power. It is no coincidence that the Elmikia Lance and Elmikia Flare spells are so named; they were first developed, if the records are correct, by members of this religious order to combat Mazoku."
Amelia rose to her feet. "Huhhh? You mean a man — a villain - like Vanlac is an adherent of this Ryozoku-allied order that is so obviously dedicated to Light and Justice?" Her face registered shocked disbelief.
Regin could only shrug. "Vanlac is an ambitious man, but considers himself an honourable one. Perhaps explaining that one of his favourite hobbies is hunting the Mazoku Hounds of Hell, the Garm that raid out of the Desert of Destruction into his lands will give you an insight? What evil he has, if it truly is such, is rooted in purely human desires for power and glory. He despises the Mazoku and what they represent as much as anyone. And legend holds this Elmikian sect was at the forefront in stirring human participation in the War of the Resurrection, which is why they fell out of favour afterwards. The Ryozoku and their servants are dedicated to Peace, Life and Protection, but sometimes their way of accomplishing it has, in the past, left something to be desired."
Amelia nodded slowly, knowing far more about that than anyone would have guessed. The Supreme Elder had casually bargained away the fate of other worlds to protect' this one, hadn't he? Maybe this obscure Elmikian faith followed an equally warped philosophy.
Frederick decided to sum up. "So, Ambassador, what you are saying is that there is a new and ambitious Monarch on the scene who has personal issues with Saillune and is anxious to sow his newfound oats: not an uncommon situation. He is allied to an ambitious Duke who may or may not be a religious fanatic, and who may or may not try to pick a war with Saillune in the future, depending on how things evolve in the next fewwhat? Months? Years?"
Regin nodded a little sheepishly. "Put that way, it doesn't sound so serious but don't underestimate them, please."
Frederick reassured him. "Never that. I am just trying to put things in context. Princess, it thankfully seems we may only have a serious problem that needs an eye kept on it, and not an imminent catastrophe. We have time to try dealing with it peacefully, without resorting to extreme measures."
Amelia gave him a sour look. "Say what you mean Mister Frederick. Extreme measures' is a sorry euphemism for open warfare."
"Sorry, Your Highness." He didn't sound very sorry, though.
The Elmikian Count rubbed his hands. "Is there anything else you wish to ask Princess? Or can we settle ourselves to pleasant remembrances of your childhood while partaking of all this wonderfully prepared food?" He gestured towards the plates of goodies and the pot of tea.
Amelia and Frederick smiled their willing agreement. Lady Matilda, who had silently taken everything in, moved to begin pouring. Frederick was only able to linger for one cup before having to return to Morning Court duties. As he was leaving he took Lady Matilda aside a moment, speaking softly, and then winked in Amelia's direction
Amelia, Matilda and Regin chatted animatedly for a half-hour, dwelling in particular on fond memories of Amelia's long lost older sister Gracia. Tea and pasties alike were slowly demolished. Finally, the Ambassador stood up and bowed.
"Forgive me Princess. I have already taken too much of your time"
"And your escort of Vanlac's lackeys will be getting impatient and suspicious." Amelia completed his thought for him.
Regin grinned. "Precisely. Highness, I am to be relieved of my duties as of tomorrow morning, but am permitted to remain in Saillune until the end of your Birthday Celebrations. I doubt, however, that we'll have another chance for an informal private goodbye; once Duke Vanlac is in charge, I will no doubt be ordered onto a short leash."
Princess Amelia gave him a hug. "Don't worry. And no matter what happens in the future, I'll always think well of my Elmikian Uncle Regin' who would smuggle me chocolates behind my mother's back." Something was nagging at the back of her mind, so she stepped back, a question in her eyes. The Count waited expectantly.
"Ambassador, I just realized I do have one last question. You used to be a scholar and historian in your land, right? Is Tyrien that common a Royal name in Elmikia?"
Regin was thoughtful. "Actually no, Princess. Tyrien will only be the second ruler of that name in, ooooh almost a thousand years. It's actually not all that common anywhere, as it has origins in that sect that has fallen out of favour."
Amelia scratched her head "Then, who is that strange fellow Master Terrin, and why is his name so similar to Tyrien's? You seemed awfully uncertain yesterday about who he was and what he was doing in this delegation."
"I humm. You're right, Princess. All I was able to get from Terrin is that he is an acquaintance of Vanlac's who had a great desire to see the wonders — Princess included — of Saillune City. When I asked a few other servants, they said he only joined them the very morning of their departure, though indeed in Vanlac's company. I found a lone talkative old house servant of Vanlac's who revealed that Terrin and Vanlac had only met at a last minute meeting with the Crown Prince, as far as he knew, the night before leaving. They seemed to hit it off quite well, though. Which is a surprise. Vanlac has never been known to get along with charming fops like Master Terrin, in the past. I wonder who he is?" He paused pensively, then his eyes widened slightly and his face paled
"What is it Regin?"
"Princess, I No. I just had a ridiculous thought. I will not say anything yet, but I was a scholar and there is a popular old Elmikian epic mentioning a Terrin that I must check. I'll have my assistant here get word to you if I find anything. And now, I must really take my leave. Best wishes, and I hope to see much of you during the upcoming festivities!"
Regin hurried out the door to join his gathering escort, a strange expression on his face. Princess Amelia and Lady Matilda were left scratching their heads, each with a monster sweatdrop. They finally turned to each other and shrugged.
"What do you suppose that was that all about, Auntie? Getting all mysterious and then dashing off like that, I mean?"
"I don't know, Highness. But dashing off mysteriously usually means a surprise, good or bad, and I doubt with Elmikia the way it is that it will be much to the good."
Amelia sagged. "Oh Dear. Mister Terrin was so charming, the only nice person in the whole Elmikian crowd yesterday, after Regin. OhhhhI hope he's not turning out to be a villain, too!"
Then she remembered Frederick's behaviour just before he left. "Auntie? Speaking of surprises, Frederick obviously left one in store for me. Is it good or bad?"
Matilda smiled "Good! Frederick asked that I inform you that you aren't the only one who wishes they could enjoy this sunny weather. All the delegations expected this afternoon — Elmikia's included! — have canceled their appointments. It seems you have the afternoon off. And, you are expressly forbidden by him, in his nominal remaining capacity as the trainer appointed by your Father, to use the time to catch up on work your new undersecretary is fully equipped to do himself!"
Amelia's smile was the sun coming out from behind dark clouds.
* * * * * * * * * *
Princess Amelia decided to spend the afternoon just quietly wandering the Palace grounds, to relax and meld into some of its life. The Palace was huge, a city within a city, with maybe as many as twenty thousand inhabitants: Royal Guards, servants, regular army soldiers of the Saillune garrison, groundskeepers, smiths, stablemasters, craftsmen of all types, visiting dignitaries, sorcerers and scholars. It was impossible to know everything going on, especially for her, normally tied up as she was in the rarified and exclusive air of the Palace's High Court.
In a fit of nostalgia, she had decided to throw on her now slightly worn adventuring garb. As a Princess, she could easily have had a replacement outfit made, by any of an army of skilled seamstresses on staff but it just didn't seem right. She and those clothes had seen too much together. One knee had become worn, and there was a little tear in the seat of the pants she thought could have happened when she had slipped that last time at the DarkStar Gate, just before joining Zelgadis in wielding Rag D'Mazegis. She knew a mending spell or two, however, which was why the oft torn and battered outfit was still wearable, and she had applied them liberally. It felt funny with only one bracelet, when she was used to two, but the other was serving a very good cause, so she put up with it.
There had been a practical reason for her decision as well. People often overlooked things that didn't meet their expectations, and her adventuring clothes did not meet anyone's expectation of the Crown Heiress to Saillune. Even the Personal Guard hadn't recognized her in it, that time she had come back from Xoana and Atlass City to find her Father had been assassinated'. Basically, it made it a little easier for her to blend in and not have people bowing and scraping everywhere she went. She had decided to forego a formal Guard for the same reason.
She wandered for several hours, visiting the stables and some workshops — at almost eighteen, she still enjoyed watching a smithy hammer at his steel, or drinking fresh rainwater while watching a cooper coax staves into becoming a new barrel. To her they were arts as mysterious and no less miraculous than her sorcery would be to the common craftsmen. She sauntered through the gardens and found an old gardener she hadn't talked to in years. He had once tended Amelia's mother's rose gardens, so he recognized the Princess but knew her well enough to respect her need for an illusion of anonymity. They chatted awhile, he telling of the passing of his wife and of the consolation a half-dozen grandchildren gave him. He had given her a fresh-clipped white rose with a nod and a wink. Amelia now wore it in her hair. She had detoured through part of the regular army's Saillune Garrison barracks yards, where young men hacked at pells and practiced their archery or marching drill. Amelia briefly wondered if she would someday have no choice but to order them off to die for her, and whether she would have the strength to do it. Then she had begun circling back to the Central Palace, passing through another formal garden, this one near the Court Library and silent except for chirping birds and a few scholars with books, some on benches, others parked under trees. One or two who had taught her sorcery waved greetings to which she gave enthusiastic replies. She drifted through the walled yard behind one of the big staff kitchens where literally a hundred fresh loaves — she stopped to count them — lay cooling under cloths to keep off flies. Once again complete anonymity escaped her, but not without reward: a bakemistress spotted the Princess and handed her a piping-hot half-loaf loaded with fresh jam. It was early in the strawberry season, being the first week of June. Amelia had smiled her thanks as if the cook had done her a favor and not what was technically an obligation.
Amelia finished her loaf to find her circuit almost complete. She was passing through part of the Royal Guard barracks attached to the Central Palace when she suddenly heard whistles of appreciation and a few good-natured jibes and jeers coming from a side-yard, interspersed with the mixed clang and clatter of blade on wood. She decided to check it out.
The sight that greeted her was an unexpected one. Several off-duty guards, some standing, some leaning or seated casually, were watching another guard with a dulled practice blade taking on an odd old man holding a quarterstaff. Amelia's first impulse was to jump into what initially seemed to be a bullying session. Then she realized the thought shamed her Royal Guard's honour, and decided to hang back in the shadowed archway and let them acquit or indict themselves. The old man seemed to be smiling, anyway. She studied him. He was wearing an odd, dark button-up robe. The only hair she could see was a long, thin grey moustache. His bald, or maybe shaved head, sported some sort of patterned skullcap in gold, black and white. Then she noticed something that made her sit up and take note: his skin tone was definitely leaning to bronze or golden, and his eyes were naturally narrowed and angled by some extra folds of his eyelids. Amelia had only seen a few people like that before, and all of them in the Outer World.
The friendly bout, as it quickly proved to be, got underway with a few probing taps from the swordsman. The guards were mostly jeering their own man, she discovered, when with a sudden flurry the old man almost disarmed his opponent, eliciting appreciative whistles. The old man stepped back to politely give his challenger room to regain balance. What came next was almost too quick to follow. The Royal Guard launched into a series of high and low attacks and seemed to be beating back the staff-wielder. Then the old character proved that assessment wrong. He suddenly twirled his staff behind him, and held it there with both hands. He proceeded to dodge every attack by the swordsman with an amazing series of ducks, feints, flips and hops! Then the staff suddenly twirled back to the forefront and he demonstrated a series of parries, while keeping up a commentary. Amelia edged closer to hear his accented but clear instruction.
"You see, though the staff is considered a humble farmer's weapon in your land, in the hands of one trained well to its use it is a match for the noble sword. This is because, unlike a sword, the two-ended staff is functionally two one-handed weapons. You are no doubt trained to face double blades and know how difficult it is to face such, even with a shield. Now, you are no doubt thinking that a staff is disadvantaged by really being a single weapon, joined in the middle. This does make it less flexible than double blades, but the disadvantage is more than made up for by three things. Firstly, by being joined in the middle, it is much easier to learn to control than two separate weapons, an art that requires true natural talent. Secondly, you can use a parry or deflection by one end to leverage an attack by the other, effectively turning your opponent's power back against him. And, by sliding your hands to one end or another, you gain all the advantage of a single two-hand blade in terms of reach and force of the distant swinging end." He proceded to demonstrate by suddenly parrying hard, stepping backwards out of range of the Guard's backswing while sliding hands, and bringing down a crushing blow to the neck-shoulder joint with his weapon that had suddenly gone from three to six feet in reach. It snapped just short of contact under the old man's iron control.
The Saillune Guardsmen who had technically just been killed let out a yelp and sweatdropped, glancing at the staff that was just grazing his skin. The old man whipped the staff back and bowed deeply. The guard just rubbed at the back of his head, grinning sheepishly. "Thanks, old man. Why don't more people use the staff then?"
"The one great disadvantage of the staff is it is a solo fighter's weapon. It requires too much freedom of motion to ever be effective as a formation weapon for large numbers of soldiers."
"But one man could hold off several, if he was good with the staff, right?"
"Yes, but a good swordsman can too. All else being equal, it is probable, however, that a solo staffsman could hold off one or two more than a swordsman of equal skill, simply because the two ends of his weapon allow simultaneous defense of both sides or front and back. It is much harder to get good coverage with a sword, or even sword and shield, unless one is very skilled and very fast." The old man had been glancing around as he spoke and suddenly noticed the girl leaning in the shadows. He let her notice him noticing without alerting the guards who were all facing away from her and didn't know there was a Royal in the audience. Then he continued in a different vein.
"There is one other great advantage to the staff: it is easy to not hurt a person with it. A staff can jab or bash bellies and ribs to knock out someone's breath. It can trip an opponent up, or jab at toes to distract or unbalance. In more dire circumstances, it can be used to club an obstinate head into unconsciousness. A skilled staffsman can strike nerve points. All of these are hard, or impossible, to do without drawing blood or killing when using a sword. Thus unlike a sword a staff can be used to effectively disable, without inflicting any lasting harm. And a staff also allows such tactics with more safety than comparable unarmed combat techniques, especially against armed opponents. An unlucky thrust results in a lopped-off length of wood, and not a lopped-off length of arm or leg. And, there is always the bonus of reach: a staff plus full arm extension can give eight to ten feet of reach, as opposed to at most four or five with kicks and punches. An excellent combination can also be afforded by using unarmed techniques in conjunction with a staff"
The old man slipped a wink to Amelia, who realized he knew exactly who she was and had been speaking for her benefit. He then demonstrated a few moves, using his staff as a vault to greatly increase the range of flips, springs and leaps by planting it end first. He finished with thoroughly dramatic but effective-looking half and full spinning high kicks performed with the staff as axle and the martial artist — what else could he be? - gripping its upper end. Amelia's hands were clasped and her eyes became starry. It all looked so cool!
"As a last note, staffplay can of course reliably block many unarmed attacks without the attendant risk of bruising or fracturing afforded by using arms and legs for such purposes. A particularly effective defense is to align the staff with the whole arm, or the forearm, for a block. The staff absorbs the greater part of the blow and distributes it the length of the limb, protecting the bones. In all fairness, however there is one set of bones that the staff puts at inordinate risk: the fingers, of course. The most common afflictions among retired staffsmen are crippled and whole or partially missing fingers. I would suspect, however, that in a land with advanced healing magic, such mishaps would be a temporary, if painful inconvenience. And in my land, special gauntlets, though reducing fine control, have proven to protect against many such injuries."
Amelia knew she had been hooked. A staff was utterly appropriate to a sorceress wasn't it? And she was already a good unarmed fighter. She had idly thought that some sort of weapon — if only for reach and the reduced risk to her arms and legs — might be a good idea. It had started with the scepter-like mace given to her by the Villagers of Justice, and reinforced shortly thereafter by the requirement of wielding Neyzard in that final confrontation with DarkStar. She had vowed years past, however, to never use edged weapons, and had been at a loss regarding what other sort of weapon would be appropriate. Curiously, the odd old man, whose name she didn't even know, had presented her with the perfect choice, while defeating every objection she might have raised to learning it. And, hadn't she promised herself to look for a new hobby or two only a couple hours past? How could he have come to know so much about her?
Amelia had just about resolved to step forward and ask the old man, when she was distracted by a sudden ruckus from the main Palace yard. She turned to see what could possibly be the cause. Soldiers were pouring out of the Duty Shift offices. A fair number of upper-level Palace staffers and courtiers were congregating by the Palace Gate. That at least ruled out some sort of attack.
Several of the off-duty Guardsmen had come up alongside the Princess, also curious. They hadn't really noticed her presence in the archway shadows, all focussed as they were on the distant show. One finally said "Say, isn't that His Royal Highness?"
Upon hearing this Amelia began scanning the crowd. She quickly spotted her father's unmistakable silhouette.
A different guard spoke up. "So it is! Is this some sort of delegation for Her Highness' Birthday, then?"
"Must be important folk if the Prince came to greet them. Do you see the Princess?"
The old man had come to see the commotion as well. His voice was droll. "Wait, yes, I think I do. Pretty lass isn't she?"
"What? Where?" Several guards screened the sun from their eyes, trying to make out her form in the crowd.
This was too much for Amelia. Picking one she was sure she recognized and choking back laughter she called out "Right here! About five feet to your left, Mister Kaelen!"
The guards all collapsed into an embarrassed heap. The strange, irrepressible old man threw the Princess another wink from across the pile. Amelia decided to give the Guards a chance to redeem themselves.
"Gentlemen, if you will go grab your pikes, you can accompany me as honour guard and get a firsthand look at what this is all about." They all jumped to their feet and within seconds had formed up behind her. Then they marched smartly across the main Palace yard to the Gates. The old man, unnoticed, trailed along in their wake.
* * * * * * * * * *
Amelia was at her Father's side just as soon as her impromptu Guard escort could clear a path through the crowd.
"What's going on, Daddy? This looks like we're getting ready to greet visiting Royalty, but we aren't expecting any, are we?"
"Daughter! There you are! Wahha-ha! We may have not been expecting any, but some seems to be on its way!"
"Who is it? What King is friendly enough to us, to leave his Kingdom just for my Birthday?"
Auntie Matilda, on Phil's other side, replied "We don't know, Highness. Two carriages, one obviously Royal by its gilt and flags, passed the city gates a half-hour ago. But no one could recognize the flags, nor the uniforms of the escort, and the carriage curtains were drawn."
"Whaaaa? No one could recognize the flags? How is that possible? Are they Outer Worlders?" Then Amelia had a sudden premonition. There was one Kingdom that may well have changed its flags recently. Cold butterflies settled in the Princess' stomach.
Her fears were confirmed five minutes later, when the arriving procession cantered smartly into the Palace Yard. Saillune trumpeters welcomed the newcomers with a fanfare, Guardsmen did all manner of fancy things with their pikes. But Amelia could only stare at one thing. The flag carried at the front of the column was a diagonally split black and red field, bearing a gruesome face: a bizarre, collage-like mishmash of protrusions that were at once both fangs and horns, or maybe neither.
The Princess could only squeak out an aghast little "Ohhh nooo"
The visiting Royal carriage pulled up in front of Amelia and Philionel. The same bizarre face was embossed on the carriage doors.
A footman stepped down, pulled out a little stool, and opened the door. All of the Sailleese were breathless, wondering who was going to come out of the door. Amelia, the only one who knew, had gained a mildly sick expression. This is going to be utterly ridiculous she braced herself for the inevitable onslaught of ego and enthusiasm that would follow shortly.
At an unseen signal, the visitors' escort came to attention. The footsoldier's heels clicked-to in unison. The horseman whipped out trumpets, and then began a fanfare of their own.
An elegant, crowned but hard-faced young man, with the fine bearing and balance of a master swordsman stepped out of the carriage. His presence nixed Amelia's last hope. If Royal Consort Zangulus were here, only Queen Martina of Xoana could be next to step out of that carriage. He bowed to Amelia, to cover a wink and amused smile at her predicament. The Princess idly wondered what it was with everyone winking at her today. Then the man turned to the door and with a gentlemanly gesture helped out the expected Monarch. The fanfare reached a crescendo, abruptly cutting off the moment Martina's foot touched ground. There was the briefest pause, then the assembled Xoanans boomed out their announcement.
"LONG LIVE QUEEN MARTINA OF XOANA! FOR THE GREATER GLORY OF ZOAMELGUSTAR!" A significant portion of the attending Sailleese were flattened by the blast. Or, maybe, by the remarkably revealing cut of Queen Martina's black clothes.
Martina was in her element, drinking in being the center of attention, but mistaking mouth-gaping surprise for awed rapture at her beauty. She squealed just a little, and one could almost make out little drifting sparkles and rose petals in the air around her. Of course, one might then have noticed the footman on top of the carriage sprinkling and tossing the rose petals over his queen
Amelia tried to recover some control of the situation.
"M-M-Miss Martinaand Mister Zangulus How nice to see you again! Aheheh You have taken us utterly by surprise. T-To what do We owe the honour of this visit?"
"Yes! It is I! Martina of Xoana! Heehee! We have come to bring the blessings of Zoamelgustar to our dear friend and comrade-in-arms, Princess Amelia, on her eighteenth birthday. Viva Zoamelgustar! Viva Seyruun! Heh? Huah? Wha?" She glanced about, seeming to look for something.
Amelia quaveringly asked: "Uh-uh-umm? Miss Martina? Can I help you?"
Martina gave Amelia an accusing glance. "What, aren't there any little ones around yet? What are you waiting for? Haven't you landed yourself a good man yet? I was so hoping that my dear angels would find some nice Seyruun playmates while they visited!"
This said in front of the assembled Saillune Court, who were now collectively sweatdropping enough to rescue a small nation in drought.
Amelia blushed crimson, right to the roots of her hair. "L-L-Little ones? Martina! I'm not even eighteen yet! Come on!" She latched onto anything that would deflect the subject "Wait a sec angels, a-as in plural?"
Martina grinned hugely "Aha! So I have beat you and Lina yet again! Amelia, meet my little darlings, my precious little gifts from Zoamelgustar" She gestured at her carriage. Two little twin girls, except for their hair the spitting images of their mother (though more modestly dressed), piled out. Martina picked them up "Yes, Miss Amelia. This is Zanina, and this is Margueritte. They're both almost three-and-a-half. Zanina, Margueritte, say hello to your Auntie' Amelia of Saillune."
In unison, the two little girls offered a shy little "H'lo, Auntie Melia."
King Zangulus had reached into the carriage and was now holding a third, younger child. "And this is young Crown Prince Marliss, whom we all call Marlie. He'll be two in a couple of months. Can you say hi to the Princess Amelia, Marlie?"
Marlie did not deign to speak, but offered a bashful little wave.
Amelia was enchanted enough by the children - Auntie Amelia'? How sweet! - to have partially overcome her shock at seeing Martina and Zangulus. Again. Here. In Saillune.
Philionel had also finally recovered. He walked up and ruffled Zanina and Marguritte's hair, then gave a killer backslap to Zangulus, who barely managed to retain a grip on his son. "Wa-ha-haa! So this is the new King and Queen of Xoana that Amelia has spoken so much about! What a pleasure to see that Xoana and Saillune can once again be friends! Bygones shall be bygones! Wahaha! Welcome to our Kingdom! The Lady Matilda will see to it that guest chambers are prepared! Will you join us for refreshments while arrangements are made?"
Amelia fell in behind her father and their unexpected guests, as Matilda and an army of servants set about organizing lodgings for all the Xoanans.
A flicker caught at her eye. The old man with the quarterstaff was leaning against a statue pedestal, bent over with silent laughter. Amelia decided she could snatch a word with the fellow in all the confusion and slipped over. He straightened, wiping his eyes, then bowed to the approaching Princess.
"Princess Amelia of Saillune, please forgive my mirth gained at your expense. Allow me to console you with the promise, unless I am far wrong, of a better surprise in the next three or four days?"
"What do you mean? And who are you? And --?"
The old man interrupted her by lifting a finger in instruction. The gesture was unsettlingly close to the kind used by Xelloss when making a telling point — or about to tell everyone "That is a secret!"
"My name is Shuei Fei Ti'anlin, a monk from the Celestial Kingdom in the far south of our world. I came to see the reopened Inside World, and quickly found out Saillune was the best place to be to observe the winds of destiny. You may not remember, but I presented myself at Court almost a year ago. Mister Frederick took me in hand, since you had just begun handling affairs and seemed at a loss for what to do with me. He arranged for a small room in a side palace near the Libraries, where I stay. I practice twice daily, in the yard where you saw me today when the weather permits, in the South Gymnasium otherwise. You would be welcome to join me in the mornings. It would be my honour to instruct you in the quarterstaff if you are of a mind to learn. And now, forgive my impertinence to one of Royal rank, but" He pointed with his staff to where Philionel and the Zoanans had started up the Palace stair "you had best hurry. Your Father or Frederick will notice you missing any moment!" He bowed again, then whisked off in a twirl of robes.
Amelia sagged. He had answered all her questions before she had asked most of them! She was jubilant he was so willing to teach her the staff, but
"There's no way he's not special somehow. Making mysterious hints, too. And throwing around words like destiny'." Amelia muttered to herself. "And when mysterious, special people show up, it means things are about to go crazy. Ohhhh, I wish Miss Lina was here!"
Then she dashed to catch up with her Father, Martina and Company before they noticed her absence.
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NEXT CHAPTER: Travelling in the rain? And someone's out for blood!
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Slayers Characters © 1991-2002 Hajime Kanzaka, Rui Araizumi, a whole lot of other people and not a few multinational corporations. I'm not looking for a piece of their action, just paying homage to it. Story and all other content © 2002 D. Robbins
Special thanks to Debbie for editing and Sharlene, Diane and Kelly for their pre-reading and commentaries!
