CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Galvenian Dream
TERRAN WAR (C.Y. 300 – 303)…In its last year, the Terran war was confined to a series of minor skirmishes, except for the Zion naval attack on Galvenia (cf. BATTLE OF DAVENPORT) and its aftermath. An abortive conflict between the Varald and the Fulton Republic was rapidly quelled by the Commonwealth forces, strengthened by fresh Galvenian troops, until peace was officially declared at the Treaty of Caledonia, signed by Queen Carranya and the Zion Regent, Siegbert von Hohenzollern (q.v.), weeks after the death of Charlemagne. Siegbert would then help the Viceroys pass the Act of Succession that placed Charlemagne's daughter, Hildegarde (q.v.) – who had apparently been kept under house arrest during the last two years of the war – on the throne, reigning with her as co-regent before marrying her in C.Y. 312.
With this treaty, which placed the new Galvenian border at Victoria in the west and Ismar-Darington in the east, the balance of power in Terra shifted firmly and decisively towards the "Land of Good King Lionheart", a status that obtains to this day. An official ratification of the treaty by the Commonwealth – the last act of President Hipper, before he resigned and returned to his beloved Varaldia, to mourn his daughter and grandchildren – took place at the end of the year. Hipper himself was succeeded by Fairfax (q.v.) of Galvenia, cementing the new balance of power…
ENCYCLOPEDIA GALVENICA, 24th Edition, C.Y. 347
"I was so afraid," Lavie admitted. "I knew there was something wrong with her, somehow, especially after she said she'd visited Daddy just before he took ill. I didn't know what to do. Thank God that both you and Ryan arrived at the same time."
Four months had passed since the death of Lady Rochelle in her own apartments – a death that neither Carranya nor her mother, despite their gentle dispositions, could truly mourn. The Zion army, dispirited and demoralized, managed to defend Caledonia against further incursions, but was unable to recover even an inch more of their own territory.
In the meantime, following quiet negotiations between Kievan of the Varald and Prime Minister Sheffield, a team of Galvenian scientists had been dispatched to the Directorate, with a safe-conduct from the former, in an attempt to halt the ravages of the plague. A planned attack by the Varald on the Fulton border was cancelled in the light of this, and Major-General Gerhard contented himself with renegotiating the arms trade with the Republic, and placing tighter checks on the border.
They were sitting in Davenport Park, a large, cheerful group – Lavie, Emily, David and Leah, their three daughters, and Commodore Reckland, who had been reassigned to Serin's Peak after planned rumours of a Zion naval strike had reached Lorean. The girls were resting after a friendly game of hide-and-seek with Reckland, while Sigmund – who had been quietly released after Lady Anton's demise – was resting at home.
"Don't worry, Miss Lavender," Reckland replied. "It was well done, and all's well that ends well. I can only thank the Five Angels that she didn't try to harm you."
"She would have, John," David said. Though he had lost weight after his illness, there was still a room-filling quality about him. "Haven't you read the papers? She was behind both Sigmund's arrests, and she certainly would have tried to get at Lavie. We owe a lot to you."
Reckland flushed. "Just doing my duty, Mendelson, that's all," he replied.
"I don't know about the rest of you," Leah said, "but I've got to head back home and see to lunch, since it's my turn today. Are you coming, David?"
"What would you do without your official taster, Leah, dear?" David teased. Gathering up his three girls, he led his family back on the road that led to Casa Regale.
"I guess I'd better check on Sigmund too," Emily added, rising from her bench and following them. "I'll see you later, dear."
"All right, Mom," Lavie said brightly, as she watched them leave.
"Aren't you leaving too, Miss Lavender?" John Reckland said.
"Um, no," Lavie said, turning a deep shade of red. "Commodore Reckland….I just wanted to thank you for all you've done for us. For me, for Uncle David and Aunt Leah. Thank you, thank you," she said fervently.
"Well, since we're old friends now, you could call me John," Reckland replied with a laugh. "And you're always welcome, Miss Lavender. It's been an honour to know you all."
"I wonder what will become of Ryan now," Lavie said, sitting down next to him with a pensive expression. "I suppose it's true that he's going to marry the Queen…"
"Her mother isn't too keen on the idea," Reckland replied, "but the Prime Minister and Sir Cornelius are pushing for it, and I don't see why not. Besides, the Queen will soon be brought to child-bed, and she'll need all the support she can get in raising her heir without a father. Still, I'm worried."
"Why?" Lavie raised her head and turned to face him. "Why do you say that – John?" she said, trying out the name and finding that she quite liked it.
"Not so much about his marriage – from all I've heard, he genuinely loves Carranya, and is willing to raise the child as his own," Reckland replied. "But he will also be, de facto, a King of Galvenia in all but name. And from what I've seen of him in the field, he will be a good king – but a ruthless, perhaps even brutal one. For Carranya, and for Galvenia as he sees it, he would do anything."
"Wouldn't we all, if it was something or someone that really mattered?" Lavie wondered.
"Perhaps, L – Miss Lavender," Reckland replied. "But not all of us would go to the same length. I know I would risk my own life, if it would be of use to someone I cared for. But Eramond would go further – he would risk others' lives, even those of civilians, to achieve his goal. That is why I worry."
Lavie sighed. "He told me that, actually," she said. "He said he had – changed."
"He said much the same to me, Miss Lavender. He was speaking to me of you, and he said – I won't forget it – 'That boy is dead.' Even if he ever returns here, Davenport will never be a home for him. His place is in Lorean, with the Queen he has pledged to serve – and to cherish."
"Dead?" Lavie shook her head and closed her eyes, distressed. "Do people truly change that much, John? What makes them change? Can they – change back?"
"I don't know, Miss Lavender," he replied. "I've seen a young man who started life bitter, seeking vengeance on the whole world, but he now sees things differently. I've seen others, like your friend Eramond, who've gone the other way. People do change, for a variety of reasons – love and war perhaps being the foremost." He smiled.
"Love – and war," Lavie said. "I like the sound of that. And hopefully, we'll soon see and end to war, at least for now. Will you be glad, Commodore – I mean, John – that it's over?"
"Certainly," Reckland said firmly. "And if the Queen and her consort permit me, I'll probably take an honourable discharge. I've always had a hankering to farm a little, you know, and it's a less dangerous life than the Navy, even if it'd be fun to become an admiral."
"Admiral Reckland sounds cool, though," Lavie said warmly. "But farming's fun too. Gran used to grow her own crops. I can just see you with a little farm of your own, and a house full of children. Aunt Leah's kids love you already!"
"Children? Hmm, that'll take time," Reckland replied. "I'm not even married."
"Really?" Lavie said, with a chuckle. "I thought all sailors had a girl back home. At least that's how the old song goes!"
"Songs aren't always true, you know," Reckland replied. "Well, perhaps we'd best get going. It's a chilly day today."
"Good thing I brought my coat along," Lavie said, buttoning it up. "John – if you ever do settle down and run a farm, will it be close to Davenport?"
"I hope so," he replied. "Then we could stay in touch from time to time."
"That's funny," Lavie said, blushing again. "That's what I hoped for, too. You know…."
"Yes?" Despite being a seasoned veteran, Reckland was aware – to his embarrassment – that his heart was beating furiously.
"I'm not sure how to say this," Lavie said. "When the war began, I had this crazy hope – that's all it was, honestly – that somehow, I'd help Ryan get through it. That he'd – gosh, this sounds lame – appreciate what I did for him. Things didn't work out that way. At first, I was terribly unhappy – I'm not denying that. But now, I realize that I can be happy – without him."
"And you will be, L – Miss Lavender," Reckland replied. "I don't presume to know what your future holds, but I hope that you will be happy indeed. As for entertaining a foolish hope – or a crazy one, as you put it – I doubt too many of us are immune to such things." He shook his head. "I know I am not."
"You know," Lavie said thoughtfully, "if the totally unnecessary title sticks in your throat, you could just call me Lavender – or even Lavie. I'm not the Queen, after all! So what's your wild hope, John Reckland?"
Reckland grew silent, then closed his eyes. "I could tell you, if you promised not to laugh, Lavender," he said.
"Oh, try me," Lavie replied with a chuckle. "Look, I'm laughing already!"
Reckland took a deep breath. "When I was out at sea, I had a dream – a waking dream, you could call it. I pictured myself returning home from a long journey, returning to the farm that was waiting for me. I would walk up to the door, and the door would open – and you would be there, waiting for me as well."
"Me?" Lavie blushed, and moved closer to him on the bench. "Be careful what you wish for, Commodore…."
"I told you it was foolish," Reckland said ruefully. "But I can't help it."
"John," Lavie said gently, "you're certainly not being foolish. In fact, before you so rudely interrupted me, I was going to say this: be careful what you wish for, for you might actually end up getting it!"
"Lavender!"
"See, it's not that hard to say," Lavie said cheerfully.
"Lavender, do you truly mean what you're saying?"
Lavie looked offended. "John – I'm not the kind of girl who says a thing like that just to tease you, okay? Perhaps I did love Ryan, once upon a time. Perhaps I still do, though not as I did before. But I'm getting older, and so is he. I guess I've changed as well. And I've been thinking about something that my grandmother told me, just before she died – as well as something that a wise old man told me."
"I'm sorry," Reckland said contritely. "What did they say?"
"Oh, that's one of those secrets that we women alone know," Lavie replied, winking at him. "So are you going to spit it out, Commodore, or are we just going to trade tales of our dreams?"
"Lavender," Reckland said softly, "I've cared for you ever since that day you walked into my office at Serin's Peak. But I'm just an ordinary sailor from an ordinary family – and I'm hardly a hero. You're an heiress. What right had I to hope for anything, except your friendship?"
"Oh, nonsense, John," Lavie replied tenderly. "Why do you guys have to make it so complicated? If we're going to play that game, you might as well remind me that my father was a jail-bird or an alcoholic. This is about us, John, and our future. Besides, I'm sure neither Mom nor Daddy would object. They like you."
Reckland placed his arm around her, and she did not make any effort to evade it – rather, she drew closer to him. "Lavender, we seafaring men aren't too good at words. And I know I may have to fight one last battle before the Zion finally throw in their towel. But will you promise that, if I return, you'll wait for me?"
"Of course I will, you silly dear," Lavie replied affectionately, as they embraced.
xxx
"Impossible," Sir Cornelius said. "It's too neat. There must be a traitor in our ranks. Were we wrong about Lady Anton all along?"
"It could be just a coincidence," Sheffield replied. "Still – The Zion launch a naval attack, just as the Queen is about to be brought to bed. Who could it be?"
"I think I can answer that question, dudes," Armin Tamas replied, entering the room with two more Intelligence men – and Ryan – followed by one of the Queen's maids, in chains. "We found this nice young girl passing radio messages to the Zion. Apparently she wasn't too happy that we blew old Rochelle's cover."
"We have found two more of them among the Ladies of the Bedchamber," Ryan added somberly. "Armin's men have taken them into custody."
"How is the Queen, Eramond?" Sir Cornelius said anxiously.
"Doctor Sherman says it'll be complicated, but she'll pull through," Ryan said, shaking his head. "She's taking it quite hard – blaming herself for being in no shape to lead the people, and feeling that it's all her fault. An eternity of suffering would not be enough to punish those who planted such ideas in her head."
Fairfax, who had heard the story of Thomssen from Ryan's own lips, nodded. "What shall we do, then?"
"Freeman has spoken to Admiral Cavendish, and we've deployed ships to intercept them at several places. However, it's likely that they will head straight to Davenport, so that's where I'm taking my men. Hopefully, by the time I return, Carranya and my – I mean, her heir will be safe."
Sheffield raised his eyebrows. "You seem to have adopted that child in your mind, Commander," he said.
"How could I do otherwise?" Ryan replied with a smile. "That child is Carranya's own child. But let us not waste time. Armin will handle things here, and in the meantime, we're going to blow those Zion scum out of the water."
"Be careful, Eramond," Sheffield said. "It would destroy the Queen if you, too, were to fall in battle."
"I have no intention of doing so, Sir," Ryan said firmly, as he saluted and left the room.
"Wow," Armin muttered. "That's not the Ryan I once knew. You sure this isn't Sir Prescott in disguise, or something, Fairfax?"
"I'm afraid not, Armin," Sir Cornelius replied. "A man like Eramond is born to be a great leader – or a great scoundrel – or perhaps both. Time will tell."
xxx
The naval battle that followed was vicious, with no quarter given and none asked. With the advantage of superior numbers and surprise, the remnant of the Zion fleet broke through the waters of the Sea of Arlia, heading straight for Davenport, where Reckland – commanding the HMS Bellerophon – led the Galvenian counter-attack.
Men and ships fell like leaves from a tree in autumn, but the Galvenians managed to destroy the bulk of the enemy, in a fight that saw Reckland himself wounded and the Bellerophon's sister ship, the Walter Whitworth, seriously damaged. What was left of the Zion's planned "invasion battalion" – about two hundred men – landed on the shores of Davenport, where they were met by Ryan's men.
"Kill them all," he ordered. "There will be no prisoners, no survivors. Do this for Galvenia, and for your Queen."
What followed was not a battle, but a bloodbath. Using every weapon they had at their disposal, the enraged Rough Riders, led by Ryan and his sword, fell upon the ill-prepared Zion, and the sands of Davenport Beach ran red. When it was finally over, Ryan sheathed his sword.
"Mission accomplished," he said. "Now, we have one last task to finish."
Without a second thought for the corpses on the beach, he hurried to Serin's Peak, where some of the sailors were trying desperately to make it to the shore on pieces of wreckage. The few civilians there were swiftly evacuated.
"What will happen?" one of them asked.
"We're going to finish them off," Sergeant Wilson said. "Commander's orders."
"But that's not right," another voice said softly. Ryan, taken aback, turned to see a short, fair-haired woman, her husband's pension cheque in her hands. "They were simply sailors doing their duty. Arrest them, if you will, but do not kill them."
"Would you plead for the Zion?" Ryan said harshly. "These are the people who wanted to invade our land, kill our children with disease, and murder our Queen."
Olivia Benise shook her head. "Perhaps their leaders wanted to do that," she said, "but these men are simply following orders, like my daughter's fiancé. He, too, has had to do things that he found repulsive, but he has remained obedient. Why punish them for the faults of a mad Emperor?"
"I can't listen to this kind of treasonous talk," Ryan said contemptuously. "Take her into custody, Wilson."
"Ryan Eramond!" Olivia said, aghast. "Are you insane?"
"Who is insane?" Ryan replied angrily, thinking of Carranya and the pains she was undergoing at that very moment. "The one who seeks to purge our land of enemies and traitors, or the one who defends them?"
Olivia shook her head as the soldiers led her away, but said nothing more as the Rough Riders moved closer to the waterline.
"They're within our line of fire," Ryan said calmly. "Take them down. All of them." He drew his rifle and fired the first shot, striking a sailor on the head and sending him into the sea, and his men followed suit. Swirls of red covered the face of the water, then disappeared as the waves broke over them.
"Well done, men," Ryan said. "I'm proud of you all. Now, it's time to go home."
No, Ryan, the old man said. You can never go home now.
xxx
The door was flung open, and Ryan rushed into the room.
"Carrie!" he exclaimed. "I – How is she, Doctor?"
Doctor Sherman smiled. "It was a hard battle, Commander," he replied, looking sympathetically at the Rough Rider's concern and anxiety, "but the Queen is every inch a fighter. When she heard that you had gone to defend Davenport, it was as if she regained the will to live. She's right inside there, with the future King of Galvenia, and she'd love to see you."
"I take it you don't object," Ryan said gratefully.
"Of course not, Commander," Sherman said, chuckling to himself. "We doctors know a thing or two, you see. And though this will go down in my books as an eight months' child, that is simply a convenient lie on my part. Not that I object. I would sooner be ruled over by a soldier's son than the son of a spoiled child like Marksmith. You see, I am one of the people, too."
Ryan shook the Doctor's hand. "I see you are not only skilled, but trustworthy," he said. "On my behalf, and on Carranya's, I thank you with all my heart."
"She'll take some time to recover, Commander," Sherman said. "But I think seeing you safe will be the first step. May King Richard Lionheart bless you and your son."
Ryan advanced into the inner chamber slowly, with the reverence of an Itarian monk entering an old cathedral. Pushing aside the curtains, he saw her, the child sleeping peacefully at her breast. She was pale, but the smile on her face suggested that her torments were – at least for the moment – at an end.
"Ryan?" she said, her eyes opening wide. "Ryan?"
Ryan sat down beside her, and with an imperious gesture, dismissed the nurse who hovered around the Queen.
"Yes, Carrie," he said gently. "Don't be afraid any longer. It's all over."
"Ryan," Carranya said, in an awed voice, "he's – he's beautiful, Ryan. He looks just like you – except that he might have red hair." She smiled. "At the moment when he was born, I knew, Ryan. I knew everything would be all right. I knew you would come back to me."
"Thank you, Carrie," Ryan replied, taking hold of her hand, and placing his other hand over her son – their son – in a gesture of protection. "I told you he'd be a chip off the old block, didn't it?"
"And is it truly over?" Carranya asked, looking at them affectionately. "Have my two men successfully defeated the Zion?"
Ryan's expression hardened for a moment, as he thought of Olivia Benise's words, then softened at once. Picking up the child, he held him – at first tentatively, and then firmly. The baby opened his eyes for a moment, then leaned against the breastplate of his armour and slept contentedly again.
"Yes, we have," Ryan replied. "Half their Navy is gone. They'll be forced to sue for peace sooner or later. But don't worry about that, Carrie. Just think about this little guy here, who'll be a far greater ruler than either of us."
Wise words, butcher of Davenport and Caledonia, the old man said sternly. Even if he is as great a fool as his grandfather, he will still do better than you.
Keep quiet, old-timer, Ryan replied in his mind. So exhilarated was he that even Lord Geraud's rebuke had no effect on him.
"I can believe that," Carranya said, taking him back from Ryan and stroking his head, then smiling. "What would you like to call him, my future husband?"
Ryan grinned. "Given the circumstances in which he was conceived," he replied, "Derren would be quite appropriate. Either that or Arlbert, but I'd go for Derren."
Carranya laughed, and a tear of joy ran down her cheek. "Ryan," she said, "that sounds – just perfect. King Derren the First of Galvenia. Thank you, Ryan, my love."
"Hey, the Galvenian Army is here to serve you, Your Majesty," Ryan replied with a chuckle, as he wiped it away.
xxx
With their Navy routed, the Zion's hopes – which were already low – fell further. Charlemagne's illness worsened, and he died quietly in his sleep, only a month after the defeat at Davenport. The Council of Viceroys – now headed by Hunzicker, even though Issachar no longer belonged to him – engaged in feverish deliberations, seeing no end, until they were helped by an unlikely person.
"Gentlemen," the young man in a noble's rich garments said, as he strode casually into the Council room, "I believe I can help you."
"Count Siegbert von Hohenzollern?" Hunzicker leapt to his feet, his monocle falling from his eye to the floor. "What are you doing here?"
"I am here, at the request of my august mother, to teach you pragmatism," Siegbert replied. "At the very outset of this war, she and I both urged Gruner and Hunermann – God rest their souls – to abandon their suicidal plans. Of course, we now know that they were serving Charlemagne, who inherited the madness of his ancestor Johan. Gentlemen, we cannot oppose the Galvenians any more. They are too strong."
"Gruner is not dead," his assistant, Archbishop Paehtz, said ruefully. "He may have disappeared behind enemy lines."
"He is dead to us," the Count replied calmly. "Now, listen to my suggestion. We will negotiate for peace with Carranya, placing our new border at Ismar on the east and Victoria on the west. We cannot recapture either, but we can ask them to return Issachar. I think the Queen will prove to be clement – at least if that dog of war, Eramond, does not interfere." He frowned. "Now, as for the succession, I have an idea. Let us reign as co-regents, but let us also pass an Act of Succession that would allow Charlemagne's unhappy daughter, Hildegarde, to reign once she comes of age. She was confined in the Imperial Palace, along with her mother, for opposing his plans, and she is eager to make amends."
"A young Empress," Hunzicker said thoughtfully. "That would be a good rallying point for our people – much like Carranya. But would you not want to rule instead, Siegbert? You have a claim to the throne."
"I will set aside that claim for the good of Zion, gentlemen, and out of affection for the Empress and her daughter, who have always been my mother's dear friends – and mine, as well. I leave the matter of a regency to you. We need peace, gentlemen, so that one day – when Carranya and her son have been relegated to the annals of history – we can reclaim what is rightfully ours. It will take time, but time – as they say – heals all wounds."
"What of the Church?" Paehtz said sadly. "The defection of Gruner has ruined us. Should we crawl back to the Itarians?"
"No, Archbishop, that would be unwise," Siegbert replied. "We have harmed them too much. Even if Pious will forgive, his successors will not. Instead, we will appoint you as Archbishop of a newly constituted Church of Zion, retaining all the old forms of worship, but with supreme authority invested in the Emperor – or, in this case, the Empress. It would be Emperor Maximillian's dream, though at a high price – and it will also serve to rally the people, just as Galvenia will use the Itarians for their purposes."
"Galvenia?" Paehtz said, outraged. "What do you mean?"
"Negotiations are already going on, gentlemen. Queen Carranya has made overtures to Pious, and many Galvenians have identified their cause with the besieged Itarians during the darker days of the war. I foresee that they, not us, will forge the union of crown and censer, even if their religion is a political and ceremonial tool rather than an authentic piety. Let Pious and his successors compromise themselves by siding with the Galvenians, and with men like Ryan Eramond. In the future, people may see our Church, not theirs, as the innocent victim."
"Young man," Paehtz said warmly, "that is an excellent idea. Do you think we can succeed?"
"Not in your lifetime, or in mine," Siegbert said solemnly, "but this world of ours will not end tomorrow. The North shall rise again, if we are prudent and patient. What do you say, Hunzicker?"
"I approve," Hunzicker said. "Thank you, Siegbert."
xxx
"Juno!" Marianne said happily, running down the path that led from her small cottage to the main road. "What brings you here?"
"My furlough, Miss Marianne," Makarov Juno replied, extending his hand. "With the Peace of Caledonia soon to be ratified, and an official cease-fire being proclaimed by the Queen and the Zion Regent, Siegbert, the Army can afford to dispense with some of us – particularly those who simply served in the rear and did their duty honestly." He laughed. "It is strange. I once yearned for glory, for decorations, for an unattainable love, and I have none of them. Eramond has them all, and yet, I would not trade places with him – not for the whole world. War may be hell on earth, but even hell can teach us lessons."
"So are you going to stay in the Army, Juno?" she asked, as they shook hands.
"That would hardly be wise, with Eramond due to marry the Queen this summer," he replied sarcastically. "Truly, for the son of an unworthy father, he has come a long way by simply following that example."
"There was a time when I would've ticked you off for saying that," Marianne said regretfully, "but not any more. Have you heard about Viola's mother?"
Juno nodded. "She will be released soon, but it was still unforgivable on his part," he replied. "From what Spenson tells me, the girl is facing serious hardships since her father's pension was suspended. She keeps afloat only because he is giving her almost all his pay in secret. Commodore Reckland also helps from time to time, though he has to be discreet."
"So does Father," Marianne said angrily. "If he dares to show his face in Davenport again, I'll…."
"Hush, Miss Marianne," Juno said. "Eramond might order you arrested. He has already begun – several men and women all over Galvenia have been arrested for protesting the carnage at Davenport, or for claiming that the peace treaty was too hard on the Zion. They are in a minority now – we are still drunk on victory – but in years to come, people will heed their words."
"And I'll be one of them, Juno," Marianne said firmly. "Someone has to speak up for those who want a fairer world – or at least a less cruel one. If we forget that, how can we claim to be better than the Zion?"
"Again, you speak wisely," Juno said, looking at her with admiration. "As for my post-war career, I intend to collaborate with you in that process. We may face threats, imprisonment – even torture – but we must do so, if we are not to go the way of the Zion or the Varald."
"I appreciate that, Juno," Marianne said. "We'll have to start quietly, on a small scale, but Father agrees that it has to be done. So does Sigmund Regale, even if isn't saying it too loudly."
"Vox populi, vox dei," Juno quoted. "That is what the Itarians say. And despite what Ryan Eramond might believe, they are right."
"All right, then, we can't spend the whole day discussing politics!" Marianne said lightly. "Come on in, Juno. Your mother's dropped in for tea, and we'd all love to have you along!"
"A delightful proposition, Miss Marianne," Juno said, picking up his bag as he headed inside the house.
xxx
Ryan stood at the edge of the cave, looking down into the precipice. The landfill had gone, and the walls no longer glowed red: it was a cave like any other, except for the steep drop. Tomorrow was his wedding day, but Lord Geraud had been insistent, and he had finally yielded and made his way back to Koroth of old.
Eramond, Lord Geraud said sternly, I am disappointed in you.
"That is your prerogative, Lord Geraud," Ryan replied quietly, almost regretfully. "I can only say this in response. Men do not make history. History makes them. If you had been faced with the same responsibilites I did – towards Carranya, and towards my country – you may have acted the same way. Human history will always include men of war, as well as men of peace – and though the latter are revered, the former are necessary. To deny this would be to deny human nature."
Are you saying that my Commonwealth was a pipe dream?
"A noble dream, perhaps," Ryan replied. "But as long as we men remain what we are, there will be wars and conflicts. It is the nature of the beast. Your Commonwealth did well for three hundred years, but now, a new world is beginning – one in which your Commonwealth will be a moral voice, but not a political power."
The nature of the beast? Geraud's voice was sad. Do you leave no room for God in your vision, Eramond? For that voice which prompts us, as your grandfather did, to "always do the right thing?" For the hope that He can do what our unaided minds cannot, and lead us to peace?
"I certainly believe in a God, Lord Geraud," Ryan said softly, "but he is not a benevolent grandfather."
I never said he was. Even our evil deeds are used by him to good ends. But that does not excuse us.
"I believe that he guides the swords of those in battle, not merely the tongues of the prophets of peace. Some lessons have to be learned at the point of a sword, or the barrel of a gun. God is a harsh teacher, but a good one."
The God you speak of, Eramond, is not the God I have seen. But perhaps, he is not the one I spoke of when I lived in this world, either. There are things I have seen on this side that it is not possible to describe in earthly terms, but let me try. It is true that he permits wars, plagues, and other infamies – but that is only because he has made us free. Free, because he loves us – as you love Carranya. And if we misuse that freedom, we will be called to account for it.
"I accept the rebuke," Ryan replied, "and I will try to avoid needless bloodshed. But do not blame me if, in future, I need to use an iron hand rather than your gentle touch. These things are a part of life."
Of this life, true, Geraud said with a sigh. Come, Eramond, look into the precipice.
Ryan looked down, and watched a scene unfold, as if events of the past were being re-enacted before his eyes.
"Samath," Kaleb said desperately. "Please live. Do not die, after what you have done for me."
Samath lay bleeding from the wound in his neck, his eyes closed. "Kaleb – now we know each others' secrets, do we not? I wanted the power of the Devil's handmaid for myself; you wanted it for the Journeymen, to hold as a threat over the people of Terra if they should cross us. We were both wrong."
"God help me, that is true, Samath," Kaleb replied. "Forgive me, as I forgive you. It was our greed for power that has undone us both, though we have sealed the demon with our combined abilities."
"You will live longer than me, Kaleb," Samath said, "and you have my forgiveness. Only, do not follow Nealus' plan of keeping the sword in the Order, lest the demon be unlocked again. Instead, preserve your sword until a wise and peaceful ruler comes – one for whom the sword will not be a tool to shed blood, but a symbol and an inspiration. Your son already loves my daughter, and there is no need for them to know that we were both culpable. Make me the scapegoat, for my guilt is greater."
"Samath, please," Kaleb said, his voice choked with emotion.
"Bless their union, and write an account that will cheer our descendants," Samath replied, shaking his head. "You will be the hero, I, the villain. Anything else would destroy the Order and ruin the reputation of Nealus, who is already revered as a Saint by some. Do not mourn me. When the Sickness claims you, we will be reunited in a better world. Retain the three figurines, and destroy them when the time is right."
"I hope so, Samath, my brother," Kaleb said, lifting the younger man in his arms as they crawled out of the cave.
"Goodbye, Kaleb, my brother," Samath said, a peaceful smile on his face as his body slackened…
"Is that the truth?" Ryan said, amazed.
Yes, Eramond. Both of them were wrong. Samath, like Charlemagne, wanted power for himself. Kaleb, like you, wanted power for his group, for those he loved. To that end, Samath practiced black magic, and Kaleb secretly killed those in the Order who opposed him. Neither was a great hero, Eramond. Both were knaves. But both repented of their deeds, and they are now at peace with each other and with God. As for the sword, it is time to return it. Only then can your friend the demon be sealed for good.
"The sword?" Ryan drew it from his belt, and looked at it with awe.
It passed to me, as Samath requested. It was sold by one of my descendants, in a moment of weakness, to a Republican scholar – through the agency of your father. Through these twists of fate, it ended up in your hands. In a similar way, the three figurines that Samath left to his friend were used by Charlemagne and Lady Anton twelve years ago, when the first line of their demonic plan was written. It is perhaps ironic that you were the one bringing them back to Charlemagne, unknown to you, to help his plan come to fruition. But now, like your Journeymen and my Commonwealth, the sword is a thing of the past. Return it, Eramond. If not for my sake, then for Carranya's.
"I will," Ryan said, "but that is the last thing you must ask of me."
So be it.
With a sudden movement, Ryan hurled the sword into the pit. It glowed red as it fell, then seemed to disintegrate before his eyes, leaving only a light that faded after a few minutes. Only one sword remained with him – Eramond's Legacy, his grandfather's heirloom.
Goodbye, Eramond, Lord Geraud said, affection in his voice. We will not meet again for a long time, but I am certain that you can manage on your own. Be true to the Queen, and remember that you are not responsible for your ancestors' deeds. Live with honour, and repent of whatever wrong-doing there has been in your life thus far. That is all I can say, my boy. Good luck.
"Goodbye, Lord Geraud," Ryan replied gently, as he turned and exited the cave. "And though I'm saying it far too late, thank you."
xxx
It is a strange fact of life that celebration and mourning should go hand in hand – and so it was that, on the day of the nuptials of Queen Carranya with the war hero, Commander Eramond of the Rough Riders, one of Galvenia's first families was conspicuous by its absence. This was not because they had a grudge against the Queen or the Government – though they certainly had grounds for one – but because they had a more pressing matter to attend to.
"My life now seems to consist of sermons, by the Almighty," Sigmund Regale said wistfully, as he looked at the people before him: Leah and her family, his brother Vincent and his wife Agatha, Emily and Lavie, Commodore Reckland, and a quiet man in a monk's robe who had recently been appointed chaplain of the Royal Free Galvenia Hospital at Davenport. "But they come easier from a fellow sinner. Thank you, Brother Maximillian, and may your God reward you for speaking kindly to a man who has lived foolishly."
The monk bowed his head. "Whatever your sins may be, Mr. Regale, they are nothing compared to mine," he replied, as he got up and began to leave. "Goodbye. I shall now leave you to your family."
"Sigmund," Emily said softly, "I don't want to see you go – but I'm glad that it could be this way."
"Don't cry for me, Emily," Sigmund replied. "You'll all be well provided for – I've seen to that, and Vryce and Wright will manage the company in my stead, with a little help from Vincent."
"Sigmund," Emily said reproachfully, "how can you talk of money at a time like this?"
"Old habits die hard, darling," Sigmund replied, and Emily coloured at the endearment – a rare occurrence for the normally undemonstrative director of Regale Enterprises. "In this life, Emily, I have been fortunate – or, to borrow a term from that chaplain, I have been blessed. Blessed with financial success and acumen, even if my own vices endangered it. Blessed with a brother and sister who, though less successful, were far wiser than I was. Blessed in my wife, and in my dear child, Lavie. And blessed" – he drew a deep breath, summoning up the last of his strength – "that Lavie will have a good man, a far better man than me, to be her companion in life. Thank you all. I could not ask for more."
"Thank you, Daddy," Lavie replied, with a smile. "To think that John was afraid that you would disapprove of him."
"I did not quite say that, Lavender," Reckland protested.
Sigmund chuckled – a hoarse, feeble chuckle, but still a reminder of the man that he once was. "You'll be all right, now. Don't make the mistakes I did, John. Don't ignore Lavie or your children, even if you become the Commander of the entire Galvenian Navy – or a successful carrot farmer." He chuckled again.
"I won't, Mr. Regale," Reckland said quietly, taking Lavie's hand in his own.
"It's been a good life, hasn't it, Sigmund?" Leah said, wiping away a tear. "I'm glad we could share this last year."
"It has certainly," Vincent Regale replied. "Any last requests you've got for us, Sigmund, old chap?"
"Only this: don't let the Queen, the Prince Consort, or the new status of Galvenia get to you, or go to your head," Sigmund said drily. "Ryan Eramond's bubble will burst, just as Johan's and Geraud's all did. It may take time, but that's how history works. There are no 'happily ever after's in a history book. But, please the Infinity, there are some in our own lives, and may you all find them. Farewell."
"Farewell, Sigmund, my dearest," Emily said, leaning forward and resting her head on the bed, as he placed his hand over it. "We will all try, I promise."
And just as the twenty-one guns fired in the courtyard of Lorean Castle, as the Royal Couple – accompanied by tiny Prince Derren – marched out to applause and acclaim – Sigmund died peacefully, with Emily and Lavie beside him. His obituary in the next day's paper was muted – it could not be otherwise, given the occasion – but to those who had heard his last words, this did not matter.
xxx
Summer changed to autumn, and autumn to winter – the winter of 303, when President Terrin Hipper ratified the Zion-Galvenia treaty, bringing an official end to a war that was already over several months before. He then stunned the Commonwealth by proferring his resignation, citing a desire to return to his motherland, and new elections were hastily announced as Presidential power was, temporarily, left in the hands in the Executive Council.
The prisoners of the Battle of Davenport did not remain in prison that long; as part of the Queen's wedding festivities, a general amnesty was granted for all except convicted traitors. Those conscripts who were not engaged in defending Galvenia's new territories, and who wished to leave, were slowly granted honourable discharges, particularly those who had an education to complete. Olivia returned to her home and her daughter, and began to pick up the threads of her life.
That morning, Viola was at the beach, looking out at the cold waters of the Sea of Arlia as they struck the shoreline. The bloodstains that the Rough Riders had placed there had long since been washed away, but their memory remained.
Kneeling down by the sand, she picked up a seashell and held it to her ear, a faint smile coming to her face. Her mother's health had been seriously affected by her stay in prison, and she had been forced to leave her nursing duties to return to her side and care for her. Her scholarship at King's College had been withdrawn following the arrest, and was not restored despite the amnesty – leaving her with the option of either paying her way through, something she could ill afford, or abandoning her studies.
"Do you hear it, child?" Gordon Benise said, as his young daughter sat on his knee.
"It sounds like the waves, Daddy," little Viola replied excitedly. "How can the sea fit in here?"
Gordon laughed. "Life is like the sea, my child," he said, as they sat near the shoreline, looking out at the waters before them. "It can grow turbulent…"
"Turbulent? What does that mean?" Viola asked.
"Difficult to sail through, Viola, my dear," he replied. "Sometimes life, like the sea, isn't that easy. Sometimes, we feel as if we're about to drown. But the Five Angels watch over us sailors, and across the thousand leagues, their gaze brings us home. No wonder the land-lubbers envy us."
"Am I a land-lubber, Daddy?" Viola said, with a laugh.
Gordon chuckled. "The very idea. A spirited young sailor's lass like you? Don't be silly. Listen to your shell, Viola. Listen to it again. Sometimes, it sounds just like the sea. But sometimes, it sounds different – like a strong wind is blowing across it. That's how it sounded when I got off my first long journey and saw your mother, bless her soul, waiting for me at the docks. When you hear that sound, Viola, be happy, because it means that things will get better."
"Even if things are bad?" she asked, thinking of how solemn her father and mother had been the year before, when Gordon's beloved father had died in an accident.
"Yes, my dear," Gordon said, in his booming, steady voice. "Especially when things are bad. Trust the Five Angels, my dear, because they're watching over you, and over every sailor's son and daughter."
She listened – and then dropped the shell, surprised.
A strong wind blowing.
Surely she was mistaken. Quickly, clumsily, she picked it up again and listened, but it was gone. Excitement turned to disappointment, and her face fell.
Thank you for the memories, Daddy, even if your dream didn't come true, she thought. To think that before this war, I used to wait out here, thinking that Prince Charming would come across the waves to find me. What a silly girl I was.
"Viola!" The voice was loud and cheerful, and it was accompanied by the sight of Henrik Spenson, still in his corporal's uniform, running along the sands of Davenport Beach. "Your mother told me I could find you here. I'm home!"
"Home?" Placing the shell in a pocket of her apron, she began to run towards him, until she was standing directly before him. "Henrik…thank you for coming, Henrik."
"Why so glum?" Henrik said, setting his haversack down carelessly on the sand. "Is it the weather that's getting to you?"
"No," Viola confessed, tears coming to her eyes. "It's – everything, Henrik. Mother's health. Her imprisonment. And now, the fact that I may have to leave college." She leaned against his shoulder. "I'm sorry – I know I should be happy to see you, after all you've done for me, but…"
"Ah, but you see," Henrik said, taking her hand, "that's why I came in the first place! Sigmund Regale's estate has instituted scholarships for young men and women who've served their country – either at the front, or in the hospitals as you did – and you're one of the first beneficiaries. Now, isn't that good news?"
"Henrik!" she exclaimed. "I can't believe it – but why would they pick me?"
"Let's just say," Henrik said firmly, "that not everyone is taking the Prince Consort's actions lying down. Galvenia has always been a land of freedom – not a dictatorship or a despotic Empire. That's the Galvenian dream, Viola, and it's why Lavie offered you one. Of course, I did have a word with her on your behalf." He smiled.
"Lavie? Bless her," Viola said brokenly, as Henrik held her close. "But what about your own studies, Henrik?"
"Oh, my scholarship still stands, and I'm sure the Regales will help me if Lord Ryan changes his mind," Henrik said with a chuckle. "And after that, we'll settle down to a quiet life in Davenport, let Ryan and his Queen go to hell if they want to, and forget about wars, battles and plagues. We can even invite Mother Anna and the Pontiff to the wedding. How does that sound to you?"
Viola shook her head. "Wouldn't that harm your career, Henrik?" she said softly. "Professor Scott already sees you as a potential faculty member."
"Poor Scott's under a cloud too," Henrik replied. "It seems that he was also being used by Marksmith and Lady Anton, though he acted quite innocently. They've suspended him, but I hope he'll be reinstated. After all, even if he was being manipulated, he wasn't guilty himself – and he helped us save Mother Anna."
"But would King's College accept you if they knew you were married to a traitor's daughter?" Viola whispered.
Henrik's expression grew solemn. "In the first place, your mother isn't a traitor; it's not her fault if Ryan has gone off his rocker," he replied. "And in the second place, I've never seen myself as one of those men who charge out to die for a cause. That's always seemed absurd to me, maybe because of my religion. Rather, I see myself as someone who could live quietly for my own cause, even if that means taking a pay cut or a less glamorous career. Those things don't matter to me – not as much as you do, Viola Marie Benise. I can't offer you wealth or fame – but then, we Spenson men are like that. Some call us foolish idealists, others just fools, but they say the Infinity watches over fools."
Her heart full with gratitude, Viola wiped her eyes on the sleeve of his uniform and looked up at him. "It's strange, Henrik….when I was younger, especially after Daddy died, I used to stay out here, waiting for Prince Charming to come to me, across the sea. So I guess we're a couple of fools."
"Who needs Prince Charming?" Henrik said warmly, as he kissed her. "No Prince Charming could love you the way I do. Leave him to his castle, his princess, and his schemes. We can make what we want of our lives, and even if the Prince does not envy us our fortune, he can certainly envy our happiness."
"That's right," Viola said softly, smiling as she handed the shell back to him. "We'll be all right."
xxx
"Do not weep, Anna," Pontiff Pious XXI said, as he prayed at the bedside of the elderly woman. "It is but a cold in the chest, and you will recover. The Itarian winter has been harsh, but it is good to have you home."
"I do not weep for my sufferings, Holy Father," Mother Anna replied, trying to smile, "but for the curse laid on me. When I believed that my prophecy was being misused by the Zion, I wept bitterly. And now that I see it fulfilled, I weep all the more. Has the Infinity lost patience with us?"
"Why, Anna!" Pious said gently, "Do you disapprove of the noble ruler whom the Galvenians now have?"
"Are you mocking me, Holy Father?" Anna replied reproachfully. "A commoner, an unbeliever, and a man of blood? Is he the one whom Lord Geraud prophesied about? God forbid!"
Slowly, patiently, Pious explained to her what he had learned from various sources – not the least his friends from Galvenia, Father Laplace and Doctor Sherman. "And that is the whole story, my good Anna," he concluded. "The son of the Journeymen, the last successor of Saint Nealus Hessen, will rule Galvenia. He will prove a greater friend to our Church than the perfidious Zion, even if his motives are purely political. Under him, Terra will move away from the dreary legacy of the Zion and the Varald – and his successors will continue his good work, or so I pray."
"Then God is good!" Anna exclaimed. "I was wrong. Forgive me, Holy Father."
"Wiser words were never spoken," Pious replied, as he blessed her. "God's ways are mysterious, but He always works with a purpose. The same smile that he turned upon Geraud and his Commonwealth will now be turned upon Eramond, his Queen and his son, even if their ways are different from Geraud's. Pray for him, Anna, pray without ceasing – for he will have a hard future ahead, opposed both by starry-eyed idealists and by cynical opponents, and like all men, he will stumble sometimes. It is a fearsome thing to be chosen by the Infinity."
"Yes, Holy Father," Anna said gently. "I will."
xxx
It was a day before Saint Mikhail's Day, and its attendant festivities, that the Queen Mother – weakened by grief, wounds, and illness – left this world, as unobtrusively as she had lived in it. Her final words, addressed to her daughter and her new husband, were few.
"Goodbye, Carranya, and may you be blessed," she said. "May you be more fortunate than I was. As for you, Commander, be a good father to my daughter's son, and teach him to be a King, even if you are not one."
"We will," they replied. Obviously content with this reply, she closed her eyes, sighed – and breathed her last.
Carranya remained at her bedside for a few moments, crying quietly, then rose, a look of determination on her face.
"Ryan," she said gently, "with Mother's death, our last tie to the old world, and the old ways, is gone. I'm glad that you agreed with my decision to join hands with the Church of the Infinity, my love."
"We're just two crazy kids, Carrie," Ryan said laughingly, "and we need all the support we can get. Besides, I'd much rather have the Saints on our side than Charlemagne's demons. But you'll be all right. It'll be just as I said when we first met, Carrie. You'll be a fine Queen, and I'll protect you from all the rebels, all the traitors. They will love you and Derren, and they will hate me for the upstart that I am. But Lord Geraud was right – a country as powerful as ours needs us both: a father's rod, and a mother's love. Together, we can do what he only dreamt of."
"Will it last, my love?" Carranya said, moved by his fervour.
"It will, as long as we want it to," Ryan replied. "History rewards the brave. And you are the bravest person I know, my Queen. Come what may, always remember that, and remember that I am here to serve you."
"Thank you, Ryan," Carranya said, as he enfolded her in his arms.
As they embraced, he could see the future unfold in dim shadows. He could see opposition and resistance within his own country – clashes with the priesthood that would soon come – and perhaps the resurgence of the Varald or the Zion. But those things mattered little. Whether he won or lost, or became a footnote in the history of Terra, he knew that he would always have Carranya's love. As she moved closer to him, he realized that regardless of his birth, he would always be King in her eyes.
King of Galvenia.
King – for one long, glorious day.
xxx