CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Succession

CHAOS…. In mathematics, chaos refers to systems – often mirroring those seen in the real world, such as fluid flow and the weather – characterized by indeterminacy, non-periodicity, and a tendency for the amplification of small changes. Such systems can be constructed from fairly simple equations…

In cosmology, chaos refers to the speculation that, following the initial "moment of creation", matter and energy existed in an amorphous state, and that what we call the "laws of nature" emerged in an unpredictable way as non-deterministic consequences of this original state. This view has been much criticized both by theists and by physicists, because it postulates a time when no laws of nature applied.

In theology, the term is used to refer to a personal philosophy similar to consequentialism ("the ends justify the means"), but more specifically, to a code of conduct that uses consequential behaviour only when dealing with a perceived evil. Thus a man who assassinates a ruler to assume political power is a "pure" consequentialist; a man who assassinates because the ruler is committing grave evils is a Follower of Chaos. This term gained popularity in the wake of the tragic events that followed the death of King Arlbert of Galvenia (q.v.)….

- ENCYCLOPEDIA GALVENICA, 24th Edition, C.Y. 347

It was during the lull that ensued – during which many of the common people of Zion seriously began, for the first time, to doubt their rulers – that the War Hawks struck again.

At first, the Commonwealth fleet guarding Unity Island did not see them coming. They arrived on small boats, evading the fire of their larger adversaries, and landed on the beach, then attacked several residential and commercial facilities along the coastline.

President Hipper, caught unawares, began to mobilize his troops, which were already reduced by the deployments in Itaria and the Varald Directorate. The attack was repulsed, but only with difficulty, and by the time it was, two trading posts were bombed, and over fifty people had lost their lives.

As repair work began, the President received a mysterious telegram claiming responsibility for the attacks:

PRESIDENT HIPPER
YOUR DAYS AS FALSE LEADER ARE NUMBERED
A RIGHTEOUS RULER SHALL ARISE
THE WAR HAWKS SHALL SERVE HIM

"Gentlemen," he said, reading out this message at an emergency meeting of the entire Senate and Executive Council, "this is a grave matter indeed. We do not know if these 'War Hawks' are followers of Almonth Jakov, the murderer of Chespa Bay, or if they are a different group. But they exist, if the recent events here and in Galvenia are not merely our imagination" – he shook his head – "and they must be countered at all costs."

Kanoi, whose voting privileges had been restored following the peace of Itaria, smiled and shook his head. "Counter them yourself, Mr. President," he said. "The Emperor Charlemagne, whose recovery has amazed every doctor in Zion, has authorized me to inform you that, until we receive a formal apology and a removal of CSF troops from the Varald border, no man of Zion shall serve your Special Forces."

Hipper flinched, but did not respond directly. "What do the rest of you have to say, venerable colleagues?"

"These 'War Hawks' have already done too much damage in Fulton, if they are the ones who bombed your trading posts there," Jedda replied firmly. "Premier Josen informs me that as long as the Commonwealth, which is the bloodline of trade on Terra, is in danger, you can count upon our forces."

"And ours," Lucan replied, "or at least as many as we can spare at the moment." He frowned at Kanoi, who smiled back.

"We will spare what we can," Jansen said. He had been in mourning ever since the plague had claimed half his family, and his long black coat made him resemble a mortician.

"Though we have no men, we can support you materially," Archbishop Mazarus added.

Hipper smiled ironically. He realized that, through a mysterious concatenation of circumstances, his forces were severely decimated – by the Itarian invasion, the Zion-Galvenia war and the Varald plague – and that he could not count on a heroic defence as his predecessor, Drake, had done at Chespa Bay.

xxx

Summer was unnaturally warm in Galvenia that year. The War Hawks continued to make frequent swift raids on the Commonwealth, and on its outposts in Varaldia and Fulton. The Zion stood firm, resisting any further incursions from the Galvenians, though they were unable to recapture any of their territories. By an Act of Parliament, Prime Minister Sheffield announced that Queen Carranya had officially ascended to the throne, and that her coronation would take place shortly.

In the meantime, Sir Prescott languished in hospital. Though the surgeons of Lorean had done their best for him, his recovery was beset by complications. Though thousands of well-wishers across his country prayed for him, and many of them actually visited him in hospital, he took a decided turn for the worse.

"It's terrible," Lady Rochelle told Katarina, now the Queen Mother, as she and several other noble women, accompanied by General Freeman, returned from his bedside that day. "They say they can't do anything for him, even though they've just found a cure for that dreadful brain fever. It's a shame."

That day, Ryan – now back at Darington, and temporarily next-in-command to Major Rawley – received an urgent summons to the Military Hospital at Lorean: a summons from Sir Prescott. Perplexed, he hastened to obey, hoping that he would perhaps catch a glimpse of Carranya – further away from him than ever, now that she was Queen.

He found Prescott in a sadly diminished state, pale and emaciated. However, the fire that had made him such a respected leader still burned in his eyes. With an impatient gesture, he dismissed the nurse, and beckoned to Ryan to come closer.

"Eramond," he said, the tone of command still clear in his voice, though it was a low whisper. "This is a strange place in which to pass the torch, but it must be done."

"What do you mean, Sir?"

"Listen carefully, boy," Sir Prescott said, motioning to him to come closer. "I am dying, and a dying man has to face facts. Rawley is a wonderful man, but he lacks the streak of ruthlessness to crush actual human evil – the sort of evil that we face, the evil that drives the Zion and their new friends the War Hawks. You, Eramond, still have much to learn, but you are the best we have." He smiled wryly. "By virtue of my position as Commander of the Rough Riders, I appoint you as my successor. You will find a scroll in that desk – I wrote it when I realized that my time had come."

"Sir…" Ryan began, surprised beyond his wildest dreams. "It's a great honour…"

"Save your breath, Eramond, and listen. The events of these past two years are no accident. Five of us sought the truth – Socius, Trask, Fairfax, Sheffield and I. Socius is no more. Trask is in this hospital, dangerously ill. Fairfax is still following leads, and he may be in danger. Sheffield looked the other way, as becoming Prime Minister meant more to him than the truth. And I – I die acclaimed, but unfulfilled. Do not let our deaths be in vain, boy."

Ryan bowed his head. "What must I do?"

"It is entirely possible that they may send you to the Commonwealth," Sir Prescott whispered. "It is part of their plan. Do not oppose them. Never give up….never surrender….you are now a Rough Rider, Eramond. Do this – if not for my sake – then for her."

"Her?"

Ryan opened his mouth to speak further, then closed it. A look of understanding passed between the two men, and Prescott smiled sadly. "Do not commiserate, Eramond," he said. "I cannot bear that. But I know her well enough, and have heard enough, to realize that you stand in the place where I once stood – and she is a fine judge of character. If you ever do have the chance, Eramond, do everything you can for her. She deserves it, after the way we have all failed her. For my sake, Eramond. Be kind to her."

"I will, Sir," Ryan said fervently.

"Above all, keep her from the machinations of a certain individual," he said, his breathing growing labored. "I will tell you whom." He whispered a few words into Ryan's ear, but Ryan only responded with a blank stare.

"I don't understand," he said.

"Patience, boy," Sir Prescott said feebly. "That person is in league with the Zion and their leader. But that person also has a weak ally, from whom you can obtain useful information. Hunermann, the War Hawks, Maximillian – are all puppets. Those two….hold the power…." He coughed, and his face grew livid.

"Sir!" Ryan exclaimed.

"Goodbye, Eramond, and good fortune…." Sir Prescott said. He raised one hand, as if brandishing an illusory sword, and then fell back upon his pillows, his eyes closed.

Ryan ran quickly to fetch the nurse, but it was too late.

What was he trying to tell me? he wondered, as he stood vigil near his commander's bedside, waiting for the doctors to come. Surely a random noble can't be at the heart of it all. There must be some other meaning.

Carranya. She would know.

If only I could see her again. Just for a few moments….

xxx

The day Sir Prescott died, an emergency meeting of the Fletcher Council was convened – at the bedside of Sigmund Regale.

"I apologize for being in such a sorry condition," Sigmund replied, raising himself up against the pillows. "Unfortunately, I could not leave well alone – and having to work with Sheffield and Fairfax did not ease things."

"The brewing industry was always your worst enemy, Sigmund, except for yourself," Jeffrey Tolbruk observed, with a laugh. "Now, before you go the way of Sir Prescott…"

"Oh, I don't intend to do that so soon, Jeffrey," Sigmund said grimly. "But we need to act fast, gentlemen. Ever since my return to Galvenia, the Fletcher Council has been aiding the war effort in two ways: by importing minerals and other materials from Fulton and the Varald Directorate, and by using our resources to provide a parallel intelligence service. Sheffield did not trust his own Chief of Covert Operations, and felt he was dealing with the enemy."

"Thomssen?" Ellesimar Vryce grimaced. "He's a disgusting individual. I've heard stories from a girl in Trinden that he arrested her on false pretenses, and performed illegal experiments on her. Unfortunately, when I took the matter up with the authorities, no one wanted anything to do with it except old Lancaster, who was retired."

"We now have enough proof that he is dealing with the Zion," Alex Robertson replied, "thanks to my many colleagues who added espionage to their private investigation skills. I was personally due to receive a report from my friend Evens, on Mann Island, but it looks like Thomssen's men got to him first."

"It's a pity that we don't know what was in that report," Sigmund said irritably. "And it's even more of a pity that my daughter was the one to find him. If it had been you, Alex, we might have gotten something useful out of him, at least a hint."

"Was he already dead when the girl found him?" Simeon Wright asked. "Perhaps she might have heard something."

"Lavie and I aren't exactly on talking terms, especially since I – broke my pledge," Sigmund said apologetically.

"That is a pity," Vryce said. "As my father always said, 'Simar, love the bottle, but let it be your second love. never abandon your family for it.'" He chuckled.

"We now know that Thomssen is dangerous, and yet, he continues to be at the right hand of the Queen – I mean the Queen Mother," Tolbruk corrected himself. "And with Arlbert gone, I'm sure Carranya will be under their thumbs, even when she is crowned."

"Not to forget the marriage to Marksmith," Sigmund added. "A toy noble. It is clear that Carranya will be a puppet ruler, and that the traitor Thomssen might induce them to make peace with the Zion."

"Still, is that so bad? It would mean the end of Sheffield's regime, but we could easily make our peace with the new rulers, and trade with the Zion would improve," Wright remarked. "Of course, it would mean dealing with sanctimonious slimes like Thomssen and his cultish 'Church of Galvenia'. Have you seen his latest insanity?" He held up a newspaper. "Geller of King's College has found a cure for the brain fever that took so many of our children, using ingredients drawn from certain types of human blood. Instead of rejoicing, Thomssen has accused him of 'profaning human life' and 'refusing to accept the Infinity's will'."

"Fool," Sigmund said wearily. "Of course, you were in negotiations with Geller to purchase the patent for that drug, weren't you, Wright?"

Wright laughed. "How well you know me, Sigmund. Now, let's have a decision. Whether by design or fate, those who have been on Thomssen's trail seems to come to a sticky end. Socius and Prescott are dead. Trask is in a coma and may never speak again. You're a sick man. Should we just assume that his Infinity is protecting him, and stop trying to help Sheffield? Let's put this to the vote."

"I say we call it a day," Tolbruk said forcefully. "We want a resumption of trade; peace with the Zion does not impede that, and may aid it."

"I'm against it," Vryce replied. "There is something sinister afoot. Look at the Commonwealth. The end result of the Zion's three wars has been to weaken it – its forces have their hands full in Itaria and Varaldia, and if we agree to a cease-fire, the rest of them will go to Zion. That will leave Unity Island an easy prey to these "War Hawks", whoever the devils are."

"Oh, don't be conspiratorial, Vryce," Wright said impatiently. "Do you seriously believe that the Zion and the War Hawks are connected? There have been Hawk strikes at Commonwealth installations on Zion soil as well; they have claimed responsibility for them."

"Young man," Vryce replied, from the height of his seventy years, "I am old enough to remember Chespa Bay, and the mysterious way that Jakov beat a retreat after being defeated. Do not underestimate his followers, if that is what these Hawks are."

"I agree with Wright, Vryce," Tolbruk said placatingly. "Let's not be alarmist. The Commonwealth are big boys, and they can look after themselves. They are not our concern."

"Your views, Sigmund?" Wright said.

"Gentlemen," Sigmund Regale said, sitting upright and looking evenly at his colleagues, while the imperturbable Robertson took notes, "let me not mince words. The Fletcher Council exists for two purposes: to ensure profits for us, and to safeguard Galvenia's interests insofar as they coincide with ours. Normally speaking, espionage is not part of our work, and we have agreed to it only because Sheffield used a trumped-up charge to blackmail me."

"Therefore, Wright and Tolbruk speak sensibly, and in accordance with the spirit of the Council, when they advise us not to interfere. As Tolbruk said, the Zion may be more useful as trading partners than as enemies, and a cease-fire at this point would make this more likely to occur."

"However.." Sigmund paused, and looked at the four men before him sternly, then raised his voice. "Being ill, and being away from home, has made me think seriously about several things. While I do not agree with all that Vryce says, I do agree that the troubles of Terra also concern us. Perhaps not as traders, but as citizens of Galvenia."

"Gentlemen, our Princess was kidnapped. Our King was killed. The leader of our army is now buried in state, at the Graveyard of Heroes. Our children are sick with a strange disease, one that the Zion war may have brought into our country. We cannot take these things lying down, and if we can in some way help to bring down the War Hawks or the Zion, we must do so. We cannot take what is good in Galvenia without giving anything in return."

"Sigmund…" Ellesimar Vryce looked at the younger man with admiration, and even the cynical Tolbruk dared not reply.

"Give and take, gentlemen. That is why we broke away from Johan the Mad, who was bleeding us dry. That is the Galvenian dream. A freer world, one where our children can live their own lives, without being slaves to an Emperor's tyranny. That is what Richard Lionheart fought for. That is why Edward Fletcher taught us to love the open market. I know that I am hardly a moral role model, gentlemen, and that even my own wife and daughter probably pity me, or even hold me in contempt. But I remember what that old veteran, Gustav Eramond, once said to me: Always do the right thing. Unearthing traitors may not be a simple task, or a lucrative one, but it is what the Government expects of us, and it is the right thing to do. As Chairman of the Fletcher Council, I vote that we unearth and destroy Thomssen and his hornet's nest before they do worse things. And I will personally expel any member of the Council who disagrees with me. Is that clear?"

He leaned back, breathing hard, his shoulders slackening.

"By gum, Sigmund," Wright said gently, "that is talking indeed. We will do as you say."

Outside, listening to this conversation unknown to them, was Lavie – whose mother had sent her there, to bring Sigmund his medicine. She listened, frozen, outside the closed door, then began to weep – and smile.

That's the Daddy I remember, she thought. Daddy, I…..I'm happy for you. I'll help you. I know where those documents are.

xxx

"Back to the Commonwealth?" Ryan frowned. "Prime Minister, with all due respect, the war with the Zion isn't over yet."

Sheffield nodded. "I agree, Commander Eramond," he replied, "and it is true that your men, along with the Rough Riders, were instrumental our success in that war to date. In fact, allow me to congratulate you on receiving your current office from Sir Prescott. Rawley himelf has approved of it. But the War Hawks' raids on Unity Isle grow more frequent. Though men are being recalled from Itaria and the Varald border, there is a terrible fear that they may arrive too late; besides, the plague has drastically reduced the pool of Varald Divisions available. Apart from the Republicans, we are the only nation strong enough to provide support. Hunermann and Kanoi have refused to do so."

"I don't get it, Sir," Ryan said. "Why do the Zion want the Commonwealth destroyed?"

"I am at a loss to understand it, unless it is vengeance for Koketsu – especially since the institution was created by their own Lord Geraud. But that is immaterial. In one month, unless the Hawks suffer a major defeat, you and your division of Rough Riders will be deployed to Unity Isle, along with a reserve fleet under the command of Captain Flynn."

"One month…" Ryan shook his head. "But without the Rough Riders, there is every chance that the Zion will recapture Jashin and then resume open hostilities."

"I know that, Commander," Sheffield said, and smiled. "Unless your men are able to achieve something more in that one month, of course."

Ryan looked at the Prime Minister with respect. "Are you trying to tell me something, Sir?"

"Only what you already know, Commander," Sheffield replied. "First in, last out. Never give up. Never surrender."

"I think we understand each other perfectly," Ryan said.

"One more thing, Commander," Sheffield replied. "That soldier, Juno, whom you detained in the brig because he challenged you during combat. We have questioned him carefully, and have found that he intended no treachery. While I commend your zeal in not allowing him to delay your rescue of our Queen, I am afraid we will have to release him."

"All right," Ryan said, shrugging his shoulders. "As long as he comes nowhere near the Rough Riders."

"That can be easily arranged; we will have him assigned to the rearguard at Checkpoint Alpha. You see, I can speak freely with you – more freely than I can with General Freeman, who has lamentably been asking us to seek a peace treaty. Do your best in that one month, Commander Eramond."

"Don't worry, Sir," Ryan said confidently. "I will."

xxx

"I can't believe it!" Emily Regale exclaimed, wringing her hands. "There must be some mistake. Besides, my husband is ill."

"I'm sorry," the officer in the grey uniform, accompanied by two stone-faced colleagues, replied. "We have direct orders from the Head of Covert Operations at Lorean. Your husband, and four other men, have been involved in espionage, and have compromised a vital Government operation through their actions. They are all under arrest."

Sigmund, haggard and wearing an old dressing-gown over his pyjamas, still managed to look dignified. "If you wish, Officer," he said quietly. "Would you be so good as to give me a few minutes to change into something more suitable?"

The officer stepped back, chastened. "Of course, Sir."

As Sigmund made his way to his room in silence, he was intercepted by Lavie, who ran behind him breathlessly.

"Daddy," she said sadly, "is it true?"

"I'm afraid so, Lavie," he said, taking her hand. "Perhaps I deserve it, this time. Oh, not for espionage – not at all – but for letting you both down. I'm sorry."

"That's not true, Daddy," Lavie said stoutly. "I – I heard you that day, when I came to give you your pills…."

"Did you?" Sigmund smiled. "Lavie, my child, I'm glad you did. But now, I must get ready."

"Daddy, wait," she went on. "I know where those papers are. Mr. Evens gave them to me before he died, and I…."

Sigmund placed a hand over her mouth. "Hush, Lavie," he whispered. "Those men may be listening. Do you have them with you?"

"I've hidden them somewhere safe," Lavie whispered back. "Come closer, Daddy, I'll tell you."

She leaned close to him, and whispered a few words in his ear. Sigmund's weary face twisted itself into a large smile, and he began to chuckle.

"By Fletcher, Lavie, you are truly your father's daughter," he replied. "Now, please, be brave and take good care of your mother. I'll try to be back as soon as possible. Tell no one of what you know, unless it's someone you truly trust."

"I will, Daddy," Lavie replied softly. "Or die trying."

A few moments later, Sigmund returned to the hall, followed by her. Without a word, he embraced first Emily, then her, then walked towards the doorway. As the officers placed their cuffs around his wrists, he turned back.

"Goodbye, Emily," he said softly. "Goodbye, Lavie. Don't worry. It will take more than an illness, or trumped-up charges, to put down Sigmund Regale. You haven't seen the last of me!" He laughed, and neither Emily nor Lavie could contain a smile at hearing this last typical witticism. Then he left, and Emily sank down in a sofa.

"Don't worry, Mom," Lavie said steadily, as she knelt beside her. "We're not done yet."

xxx

In two days, I will be Queen.

And Ryan will leave for the Commonwealth.

I will be Queen of a victorious nation – one that is on the verge of marching on the Zion capital and forcing them to surrender.

I should be happy and grateful. But I am neither. Perhaps Father Thomssen was right – perhaps I am a wicked person, deep inside.

The war with the Zion had proceeded with a swift ruthlessness that had surprised even Sheffield. In a series of quick raids that seemed to be modeled on those of the War Hawks, Ryan's troops – backed by the regular infantry – had struck repeatedly at Issachar and Hayako, capturing the former. Having failed to capture the latter, they besieged it, and were soon rewarded when disease began to claim many of the town's inhabitants. Two weeks after the siege began, they capitulated abjectly, and Ryan – in a move that had disturbed Rawley – had set the town on fire, before forcibly relocating the survivors to Darington. With this last victory, they now held three of the five routes leading to the capital, and the Zion armies – unprepared for these tactics – began to fall back in disarray. Negotiations for peace were rumoured to have begun, and Ryan had been recalled to the capital for a briefing by Sheffield, leaving Rawley in charge of the Rough Riders.

The Princess had followed these events with mounting anxiety, concerned not only for her troops, but for the personal safety of their new Commander. The death of Prescott had unsettled her, though she did not speak of it to anyone.

That evening, Princess Carranya was alone. Her mother, along with Lady Rochelle and her other ladies-in-waiting, were attending a prayer vigil at the small chapel which Father Thomssen and his acolytes presided over, invoking the Infinity's blessings over her future reign. She had no company, save the Palace guards.

Ryan, I'm sorry. I only wish I could have seen you, spoken to you, heard your voice, at least once before you left.

Shaking her head, Carranya continued to chant the prayers that Thomssen had assigned her, but her mind continued to wander.

xxx

"Well, you've done us proud, Eramond," Sheffield said, looking out of the window. The sun was setting over the Palace gardens, and the sky was ominously orange-red, but his heart was at rest. With the war against the Zion all but won, the plague now well under control, and the coronation almost a fait accompli, he could afford to congratulate himself. True, the arrest of Sigmund Regale had cost him a pang, but really – he couldn't have the man playing cloak-and-dagger in the middle of a war.

"Thank you, Sir," Ryan replied with a smile. "I'm only sorry I can't be in at the death, but I'm sure Lieutenant-Colonel Rawley will take care of everything. And I hope those War Hawks will beat a quiet retreat once they realize they're outclassed."

"Be careful, Commander," Sheffield said. "Overconfidence has been the undoing of many a fine soldier."

"They are ill-trained rabble, Prime Minister," Ryan said firmly. "But I appreciate your advice, and I shall endeavour to follow it."

"Are you returning to Davenport tonight?" Sheffield asked.

"I don't think so, Prime Minister. My ship only sets sail tomorrow night, so I shall leave for Davenport tomorrow morning to see my mother; I shall spend the night at Headquarters. Good night, Prime Minister."

"Good night, Eramond," Sheffield replied, and watched him go with some relief.

"That man is capable," he told himself. "Too much so. If we weren't such civilized people, a man like that could lead a rebellion, or usurp a throne. I'm sure he has a Varaldian ancestor somewhere. Oh, well. After this war is over, we'll give him a nice post behind a desk, or assign him to the CSF permanently, so as to keep him out of trouble."

And with this typical reflection, Sheffield left his office, and retired for the night.

Ryan, in the meantime, began to descend the staircase, when he suddenly halted.

Ryan Aramondrius, do not return to the Academy. There is one more thing you need to do.

It was the same voice he had heard in the cave near Victoria – the friendly voice, the woman who sounded like an older version of the Princess. From time to time, ever since that day, she would appear with helpful advice. There was also a male voice, which sounded older and was more critical of him, and which he found rather annoying. When he had ordered Hayako destroyed, it had gone so far as to scold him.

Perhaps they come from the swords, he thought. That old man's a bit of a bore though. I wonder if he knew Grandpa, or something! Still, he did prevent me from killing that bastard, Thomssen. But what do I need to do here? I can't possibly try to meet the Princess, they wouldn't even let me in.

You are mistaken, the woman replied, as if answering his own thought. Go upstairs, and you will see what I mean.

It can't hurt, Ryan thought, perplexed. Climbing the stairs, he was nearly knocked down by a figure in a black cloak, who seemed to be in a great hurry to leave the Castle. Ryan glared back, but it had already disappeared from his view.

"Hey!" Ryan shouted, looking down at the carpet. "You've dropped something!"

There was no reply. Curious, he picked up the object, which was a simple sheet of paper folded in three. He unfolded it, then stepped back in shock.

If you care for the Princess, please come to her chamber on the second floor. The path is clear.

What the -? Ryan thought. Is she in danger? Does this have something to do with her coronation?

You should go and find out, the woman's voice replied. Remember, the War Hawks did not leave a calling card when they killed her parents.

Caution, my son, the man said. Remember your duty and your mission. You may do more harm than good. That note may not even be addressed to you.

Ryan wavered for a moment, then began to climb the steps resolutely…

xxx

The door opened slowly, and Carranya – already nervous from the solitude and the silence – rose from her chair with a start.

"Ryan?" For a moment, she believed she was seeing a vision, or had fallen asleep and was dreaming. In a daze, she stretched out her hand, and touched his cheek. "Ryan?"

"Hey, if you can feel me, I'm real, Carranya," Ryan replied, smiling and taking her hand. "What are you doing here all alone?"

"Ryan, how did you come here?" Carranya whispered.

Ryan showed her the note. "I was afraid that something might be afoot, especially after what the Hawks did, so I came as soon as I could. There was no guard outside your room."

"No guard?" Carranya said, bewildered. "There were two just an hour ago."

"Then I'll wait till they come back, and give them a piece of my mind," Ryan said firmly. "They can't leave you alone at a time like this, damn it! Oops – pardon my language, Your Majesty."

Carranya smiled shyly. "Must you call me that? After all, I will only be crowned two days from now."

"I know," Ryan said, "and they're conveniently shipping me out before that. If I was paranoid, I'd say someone had suspicions about us."

"That's impossible," Carranya replied. "Unless…" She shook her head. "Never mind, it's not possible."

"Still, it's odd; I'm the Commander of the Rough Riders, so why wouldn't they want me at the coronation?" Ryan frowned. "But let's not bother about it. I am disturbed by the fact that you're alone here. What about your maids, or your mother?"

"They've gone to pray for me," she explained. "It's rather sweet of them. My mother, the Duchess of Delanos, Lady Anton, the Honourable Helen Tulor, the Duchess of Marksmith – that's my future mother-in-law – all of them." She smiled.

A sudden memory came to Ryan on hearing one of these names, and he drew in his breath sharply.

"What's the matter, Ryan?" she asked.

"Just something that Prescott told me before he died," Ryan replied. "It was him, wasn't it? The boy who took you on a trip to Lorean Glade? He told me…"

Carranya blushed. "I see you already know everything," she said.

"Well, Prescott asked me to be good to you – something that I would have done myself, anyway" – Ryan laughed and squeezed her hand – "but he also asked me to guard you against a certain person."

"And who might that be, Lord Ryan?" Carranya said playfully, leading him to a sofa, where they both sat down.

"The Duchess of Marksmith," Ryan replied. "He told me that the Duke's mother was in league with the Zion."

Carranya laughed. "Ryan, that's absurd," she said. "You don't know her, don't you? She's a plump old woman, completely wrapped up in her precious son. Prescott is just angry with her because she was one of my chaperones when I – ran away with him, and she was the one who actually – how do I say this nicely? – bribed him. Lord Freeman is a cousin of hers, and she offered him the glory of a military career if he'd stay away from me."

"You seem quite light-hearted today," Ryan said, surprised. "I thought that was rather a painful topic."

"It is," Carranya admitted, "but I don't know why – I've all but forgotten about Sir Prescott. I know I cared about him terribly once upon a time, but not anymore. You know why." She ran a hand through his hair.

Ryan smiled, and placed his arm around her shoulders. "It's strange, isn't it? Once upon a time, I guess I felt the same way about Marianne, but not anymore. I guess what they say about first loves must be a load of nonsense."

"How wisely you speak, Ryan," Carranya replied, nestling against his shoulder. "And no matter what I have to do in the line of duty, I'll always remember you."

"Same here, Carrie," Ryan said, running his fingers through her auburn hair, which was loose, instead of being tied in the usual braids that she wore. "Same here. I guess that's another thing we have in common – we have to do our duty, even if it's not particularly pleasant. I'm off to Unity Isle to fight the Hawks, and you're marrying Marksmith. I wonder which of those is the harder task, actually."

"That is a hard question," Carranya admitted. "It's true that, in terms of physical danger, you'll have the harder time, Ryan. I'm safe here in my castle, and I can always hide behind my position and my throne. But you're still free – and I'm…" Her voice failed her, and she lowered her head.

"Carrie, don't cry," Ryan said gently. "All this is happening for a reason, and while I'm hanged if I can figure it out, all we can do is just – do our best, I guess. Do the right thing. And I still believe you'll make a great Queen. Heck, maybe after old Charlemagne croaks, you might charm a Zion prince and unite our nations once more!" He laughed.

"Very funny, Ryan," she replied archly, giving him a light tap on the cheek. "And when I am Queen, one of the first things I'll do is knight you when you get back from your campaign."

"Hey, Sir Ryan Eramond doesn't sound that bad. At least it might take away some of the less savoury aspects of my family history," he said somberly.

"What do you mean?"

"I just – found out a few disturbing things about my family, shortly before my father died. On a less depressing note, I'm apparently a descendant of one of the Journeymen – a friend of mine had some old documents that traced the genealogy, apparently."

"The Journeymen?" Carranya looked at him with admiration. "I've read about them as a child. They were great leaders as well as mages – they used to be called 'the warrior kings', even though they were more like feudal lords or knights. I didn't know I was in love with one of them, though!"

Leave now, the old man said. You have cheered her heart. Do not entangle yourself further. I know only too well how such things end.

"I love you too, Carrie," Ryan said simply, and they both blushed. There was an awkward pause, and then Ryan gently released her, and stood up.

"Look, I'd best be going. I'll just fetch the guards and give them a lecture, and then I'd better be on my way – it wouldn't look good for a Commander to break curfew at Headquarters!" He tried to laugh, but the thought of leaving her made his laughter hollow.

"Ryan," she said wistfully, "must you leave? Why not wait, at least until you hear someone coming? This moment – I don't know how to say it, but…Don't leave me, Ryan."

Ryan sighed. "I know what you mean, Carrie, but the longer I stay, the harder it will be for either of us to say goodbye." He drew her into his arms and embraced her, and she did not resist. "Think of me, okay? And don't worry too much. Some things in life have to be endured, but they all come right in the end."

"Ryan," she murmured, "thank you. No matter what happens after this, I'll always treasure the memories of the time we spent together."

"That makes me glad, Carrie," Ryan said softly. "I –"

You are a fool, Aramondrius, the woman said. If you die on Unity Isle, you will die unfulfilled, like Prescott. Is that what you want?

Always do the right thing, boy, the man retorted. That's what your grandfather taught you, bless his soul.

Ryan wavered, then pulled away. "All right, then," he said awkwardly. "I'll be on my way. Farewell, Carrie. I'll never forget you. Never."

Carranya's hand reached out desperately, and caught hold of his arm. "Ryan, please," she said. "We may never meet again, and even if we do, we can never be this close. Stay with me, at least for a little while."

Ryan looked at the sorrow in her eyes, and choked down the light-hearted retort that was on his lips.

She is yours, Aramondrius. You belong to each other. Why hesitate?

"Do you really want me to stay, Carrie?" he said softly, as he caught her and held her to him. "I will, but only if that's what you want."

"Yes, my love," Carranya whispered, clinging to him. "I do."

xxx