LA FLEUR-DE-LYS
Surrounded by the smell of animal, Anne tossed and turned on the furs she had been given to lay on, sweating inside a donated tepee tent with three others. The heat was nearly unbearable, but sleeping in the open had been deemed unwise by the military. She couldn't stay asleep for long, and near the entrance she caught glimpses outside each time she was awoken.
The people that had appeared alongside Lieutenant Duquesne had been segregated from the group, and the soldiers that had been sent to violently drag them from the Spiral back on Earth now instead stood guard through the night.
The first time she woke, it was to the sound of a vehicle's engine; the large tracked snow mobile arrived, and she opened her eyes just in time to see its headlights turn off.
The second, there was some kind of fistfight in the distance, some shouts and jeers echoing through the night as the soldiers looked on.
The third, there were loud moans, and their source wasn't anything like a fight.
It's like being at a music festival, Anne's mind droned, Except everyone is armed. But eventually, she did fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. So deep that when she woke, the tent was empty. The others had managed to step over without disturbing her. That was unusual, she was a light sleeper. Stress, she concluded to herself.
She crawled out of the tent, half-dressed and glad for it. The sky was overcast and threatening rain, but the temperature was still high. The animal smell was stronger now, carried on a very slight breeze. Thunderstorm already, please, Anne thought as she yawned and stretched, her mind already beginning to wonder where everyone had gone. She found them a second later, directly behind the tent.
Both soldiers and the scientific personnel were crowded in a line, watching a row of horsemen ride by slowly. They had large spears held upwards, and wore linen shirts with small red maple leaf patches sewn onto them roughly at the shoulder or front. Anne tracked one rider that carried a homemade Canadian flag that must've been two and a half metres across on his spear, before she moved to join the others.
Her eyes goggled when she saw the locals were not riding horses. Wearing full chainmail, the animals were utterly bizarre; a strange type of cow at least as tall as the tallest horse, with a wide flat back, huge eye ridges and a twisted horn coming out of the top of their heads. Where the chainmail didn't cover, shaggy brown or red hair poked out, though this has been roughly cut, presumably so the creatures could survive the heat.
Anne quickly rushed to follow the creatures in front of the watching audience, drinking in the details. These weren't in the graves! The creatures and the riders paid her little heed. And the smell sharpened as she got closer. "What are these?!" she exclaimed to no one in particular.
"Unicorns," came the answer. Anne stopped and discovered Corporal Teixeira, cradling his rifle with one arm and holding a water flask with the other. He seemed to be there to keep Fleming, Fournier and some of the other hard-sciences types away from the animals. Who knew astrophysicists were into fantasy-like creatures? Oh, everyone. She gave them a little wave, which they returned weakly.
"Sergeant O'Neill briefed us on their behaviour last night," Teixeira continued, "They're pretty tame, tamer than horses even. But if they're annoyed or their riders don't like you, they will trample you or flick those horns. He said he's seen them gouge out the eyes of horses."
Anne quickly stood in with the man, away from the last of the 'unicorns'. Her insides still feeling clenched up with anxiety, she frowned. He is way too calm. "You are not worried?"
"Haven't seen anything I can't kill if I need to," Teixeira shrugged, "You seem to be bouncing between curiosity and fear, though. Are you alright?"
Anne wasn't sure of the answer to that. Which meant she was sure. "No, I'm not alright. I've been transported to a world full of wonders against my will. We don't seem to have a way back. And I have little idea of what to expect of societies here."
The unicorns finally got out of the way, revealing dozens of men and women standing watching, just as Anne's colleagues had been. Except they hadn't been watching the unicorns. They were watching her and the others, intently. The space the riders had passed through instantly became a sort of No Man's Land, between which neither side seemed to cross. Eventually, the bulk of both sides began to disperse, back to their own parts of the camp.
Our allies, Anne reminded herself. It didn't help. Something about them made her nervous, though she knew she shouldn't judge them fully on her own values.
"We got a briefing on our new friends too," Teixeira said casually, putting his water away.
Did I show I was afraid? "What kind of briefing?" Anne asked.
"A short one," the corporal replied, "Just to keep them away from you civilians and what few supplies came through with us. And especially those ones." He nodded across the way as a small group that seemed isolated from the rest.
A young man and a young woman, both of whom couldn't yet have twenty years each, along with two or three bowmen who were hanging back like bodyguards. The man had a thin face, sharp grey eyes and a mop of brown hair. The woman was platinum blonde, her hair tied up in a very large braid that was tied in a loop at the back of her head. Both wore only a single layer of clothing, but it fit better than what most of the others had. They were both armed to, he with his large sword and she with a dagger.
What is so special about them? "I don't understand," Anne asked, "Who are they?"
"Not sure," Teixeira said, "The LT said to treat them as foreign dignitaries; be very polite, but keep them away from our camp. Also, we're to act at all times as if this is an expedition sent by the government, though I don't know what that means."
Anne squinted through her glasses' lens at the pair once more. "The boy does seem to be dressed differently to the others. A representative of a different state, perhaps?"
Teixeira grumbled to himself, random words of Portuguese audible to Anne only vaguely. "There's something he isn't telling us," he said clearly after a moment, "There always is."
"Do you think you should be told everything?" said a clear voice from behind.
Anne and Teixeira both turned, and the large form of a Sergeant loomed over both of them. It was the one that had been with Duquesne all along; O'Neill. And unlike the night before, he was fully dressed in his uniform and helmet, though he still had his rifle hanging from straps on his chest and his pistol on his hip.
This man has killed people, Anne thought. There wasn't any evidence of it her rational mind knew of, but she was not more certain of anything in her life.
Teixeira's face paled and he quickly stood up straight, bringing his feet together so swiftly that his heels clicked like he was in some movie.
"Well Master-Corporal," O'Neill pressed, "Do you need to know everything?"
"No, Sergeant," he replied.
"Do I need your permission to take a shit?"
"No, Sergeant."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure, Sergeant."
O'Neill relented, sighing. "I better not hear about you griping to the civilians again," he said, "And you better pray MacDonald doesn't hear about it. He'll cook up up into a Big Mac for this. Understood?"
Teixeira cleared his throat. "Yes."
"Good, now feck off. Your watch is over in five minutes anyway. Go grab some sleep."
Teixeira saluted and almost ran away, overtaking the groups of others returning to the tent area, as other soldiers began arriving to replace those guarding the perimeter.
Anne felt a pang of guilt, and then a flash of anger. She rounded on the sergeant. "That was cruel," she said, "All he was doing was talking to me."
"I'm sure that's how you feel, madame," O'Neill replied at once, like he was expecting such a response, "But you're not sitting in some Tims back home, exchanging stories of bullshit at work. We are not in a safe place right now. Undermining confidence in the command structure at a time like this is dangerous."
Anne bristled, her fists balling up. "And why should we have confidence in your command structure?"
"The fact I'm standing here after having traversed half a continent of enemy territory is your first clue," O'Neill replied, calm as can be, "The next is the fact we managed to impress the locals enough to gather allies, and the next after that is we made a peace treaty between mortal enemies."
Anne crossed her arms. She didn't believe that. Not with what Teixeira had implied about Duquesne already. "Did you?"
The Sergeant leaned forward, getting in her face. "Yeah, we did," he replied, before standing up straight again, "And that sorta brings me to why I'm standing here right now. The LT is just back from the ritual site. He was speaking to home for the last three hours."
Ah, that's right, Anne thought, Duquesne did say he'd go back at dawn. She felt annoyed at herself for sleeping in and missing that. "What did they say?"
"Not sure of the details yet myself. Congratulations, by the way. The one thing I do know is that they've appointed civilian liaison. Something about you paying for your sins by taking responsibility for the people you brought to the rabbit hole."
In the strangest reaction of guilt she had ever felt, Anne had to resist a giggle. Of course I'll pay.
The assembly of the higher ranking military leaders that now existed in 'Westeros' was a much more formal affair than what had happened after the second wave had arrived, at least to Anne's eyes.
The soldiers were not dressed and armed for combat, only having pistols, and they had donned their berets in place of their helmets. They assembled away from the tents, at the top of a newly constructed road made of split logs that stretched all the way down the hillside to the shores of what looked like the ocean. The soldiers all sat in a vague circle on tree stumps that hadn't been cut down to ground level yet, unlike numerous other examples that could be seen nearby.
Anne and O'Neill followed suit as they joined the circle, provoking some quiet greetings. That seemed a bit strange, until she remembered that O'Neill wasn't actually part of the same unit as the others. We're more divided than they want us to believe.
Duquesne himself arrived last, the only one still fully armed and armoured. He put himself down hard on a trunk that must've been reserved for him, propping his rifle up against it beside him and taking off his helmet.
"Sorry I'm late," he said, running his hand through his hair as he hung the helmet on the side of the stump, "Had to brief the Laughing Tree first."
The sergeants glanced at each other. "The Laughing Tree?" asked the bearded sergeant.
"The name of the group allied to us," O'Neill explained quickly.
"They wanted to come home with us, I explained that doesn't look likely to happen now," Duquesne added, "Luckily they've agreed to stay with us and support our mission, whatever that will be going forward."
"Luckily?" Anne asked, "They seem… what is the word… standoffish?"
Duquesne exchanged a glance with O'Neill. "Actually, they really want to get to know you guys, but I've ordered them to keep away. There are some cultural differences all of you need to be extensively briefed on before we can allow free contact."
"For your own safety," O'Neill said, "Though admittedly they've moderated themselves quite a bit since joining us."
I can imagine, Anne thought, with a glance to the rifle leaning against the stump. Both the practices of a tribal society and what happens when someone with weapons and goods centuries ahead shows up were things she was well aware of. They've started a cargo cult. "Understood," she replied simply, not wanting to make an argument of it just yet. There would be time for that later.
"Sir, Sergeant O'Neill informed us that you've spoken to the brass," MacDonald interjected, a forefinger and thumb scratching his outrageous moustache, "Respectfully, may I ask why we were not included in that discussion."
Duquesne nodded. "You may ask. Truth is I didn't know if it was some sort of trap. Better that only one of us try it out first. The population of this island doesn't like us, Mac."
MacDonald did not respond, just continuing to stroke his moustache like it was a dog or something.
What trap? "The small human-like creatures," Anne thought aloud, "They were massacred."
"And they can relive that directly through their magic," Duquesne said, "So they can watch their ancestral cousins getting killed with their own eyes. And blame at least some of us for it all."
MacDonald shook his head. "Magic, sir? Really?"
Duquesne smiled again. "Right after this meeting, we'll introduce you to the wargs. You'll believe in magic by the end of the day. I guarantee it."
MacDonald's narrowed eyes and thinned lips were a picture of scepticism. "I look forward to it, sir."
Anne was sure he didn't really. "So who did you talk to, lieutenant?" she asked, "Are we going to be able to speak with people on Earth too?"
The Lieutenant made a pained face. "You will, but given what I saw when in contact myself, I have to warn you; I don't think you'll be allowed to talk to your family for a while. The other side is locked down tight."
Looking up at the sky, Anne scowled at the clouds. My family will hear from me eventually, I want the world to know about all this! Otherwise what was the point!
"What is the news from home then, sir?" asked the one master-corporal present, "Are they working on opening the way back?"
Duquesne held up a hand before the man had stopped speaking. "There's something I need to discuss before that," he said, "Your friend the ghost Brynden Rivers has made another move. When you guys came through, he learned English, and he's used that new-found ability to speak to our superiors before I did."
Murmurs of consternation went around the circle like a Mexican wave. Anne wondered what the problem was. "What did that one-eyed prick say?" Nowak asked, his pudgy nose flaring with annoyance.
"He showed them a lot of home movies," Duquesne said, "The history of what those ice demons you're already familiar with, for one. As well as everything we have done since arriving."
Now that is interesting. "What have you done?" Anne asked.
"You'll all be briefed on that too," Duquesne said dismissively, clearly not wanting to chat about it right then and there, "We'll probably spend the next few days getting you up to speed with everything you need to know. It's going to be a pain in the ass, to be honest."
"Are we in trouble, sir?" O'Neill responded, his tongue licking his lower lip.
What did they do to make him worried?
"I am in a little trouble, and you know why," Duquesne grinned, "The military are more than a little impressed we survived, so that kinda overrules the trouble."
The grin died quickly.
"But that's not the real issue. Both the brass and the politicians are shitting themselves over the threat of the Others. Our own government and the Americans are meeting as we speak to work out the best solutions."
"You'd think the Americans wouldn't be worried of all people," the bald sergeant commented.
The Lieutenant shook his head. "Last night, Arrel told you about something called the Long Night, and that is exactly what it sounds like; magic blotting out most of the sun for months, even years. Well, Rivers showed the brass exactly what that looked like. They are not happy."
The sole military police sergeant squirmed on his tree stump awkwardly. "What does that mean for us?"
"Officially, nothing much yet," Duquesne replied, "I have been confirmed as commanding officer of this combined unit, that's the one piece of news I can give you for sure. Unofficially, I've been told it's unlikely we will be allowed to go home until something is done about the threat we've discovered. The Colonel himself told me they've already requested to send more people through, but Minister of Defence is very reluctant. The rest of the cabinet will be too. They're exploring alternatives."
Anne knew where that would lead. These poor guys, she thought, They're going to be stuck here doing our dirty work, no one will want to come here without a way back.
"Are they working on getting us home?" O'Neill asked.
Duquesne looked to Anne. "I've been told the scientists who understand that process the best are here with us. Could you gather them for me? They'll be the first to … phone home next."
Anne goggled a bit, not having realised the fact all the people who knew about the portal were in fact already through it. Away from their accelerators and reactors. "Of course. But from what I remember them telling me, they don't have the equipment. And they only have a theory about how to open the way, not the full recipe."
The Lieutenant frowned. "Well, we can bring through equipment. That's one advantage we do have. I've confirmed that myself already, when I sent back my reports on a key drive, along with the personal effects of Singh and Arron. The Army is preparing a care package for us that should arrive in about an hour. Food, fuel, ammunition, meds for some of the civilians. And coffee."
"Thank Christ," O'Neill declared. The rest did seem to be cheered up by the news. And Anne couldn't blame him. Her stomach was beginning to hurt with hunger.
"We need to organise the briefings schedule, but I have two more things before that," Duquesne said, "First is a kind of notice; society here is quite literally medieval. If you're not a noble or stupidly rich, you're basically subhuman to the people that live most places here. Now, our allies aren't like that, but we do have a representative with us for the kingdom we passed through to get here."
"He's easy to spot," O'Neill added, "Young guy, mop of brown hair, pouty face, big sword, better clothes than most, blonde woman with him... Massive white wolf hanging around."
Anne knew who was being talked about, but she hadn't recalled seeing any white wolves. Why would a wolf be following a boy anyway?
"We had to exaggerate our rank a little so we weren't treated like shit," O'Neill continued.
The bald sergeant let out a laugh. "Are you a general now O'Neill?"
"Na, I'm a field marshal," O'Neill shot back, pointing at the man, "So you better show some respect."
The sergeants snickered to themselves at how ridiculous it was. Anne simply shook her head. Even she knew he wouldn't pass for a field marshal. He didn't have enough fancy stuff on his uniform, for a start.
"Point is we need to keep up appearances," Duquesne interrupted, though he was smiling himself, "As far as anyone is concerned, we're all nobles or our equivalent. Now we've mostly acted the same way we do according to our real ranks, but there's an exception you guys will have to follow until we've have organised ourselves better."
"Zheng, sir?" O'Neill guessed.
Duquesne nodded. "During our journey here, some suggestion was made that one of us might have to marry someone in order to get concessions we needed to pass peacefully. In order to protect Corporal Zheng from being the subject of such a demand, we've told everyone she's a princess in exile. So while I don't want you to salute her or anything, any sort of disrespect that someone who can't speak English would notice is not on, as of this moment."
There was dead silence at that. Anne was in total disbelief. "Why? Couldn't you just have said no to a marriage?"
"We needed a reason to exclude it as a possibility," Duquesne stated, "Remember there were only four of us. The local kingdoms could have overwhelmed us after taking 'no' as an insult. Or they would've thought they could, and got hundreds of people killed for no good reason. A technical excuse makes it sound like we would consider it under normal circumstances, so we're not rejecting the concept outright."
"But saying she is a princess makes her more valuable, not less," Anne continued, "They wouldn't want a marriage with a commoner."
"They also wouldn't negotiate with us mere plebs," O'Neill said with a glare, "We're not stupid, you know."
Duquesne held up a hand to forestall further argument, which Anne respected. Time and place.
"The logic was that princesses can't get married without the consent of their monarchs," the lieutenant explained, "Since I wasn't her monarch, I couldn't authorise it. If I was just a superior noble lord, I should've been able to apply pressure to her to make her do it, or that's the expectation the lords of Westeros would've had. I wasn't going to fight a war over that. Besides, the brass signed off on the approach."
Anne wanted to object, but her brain caught up with her mouth. He's right… and it's not that bad an idea, except… "Good points," she said, with a slight smile, "But your corporal isn't the only Canadian woman here now. We can't all be princesses, can we?"
Duquesne tilted his head. "We're not just four soldiers any more either though."
Anne knew that was a bad response. They couldn't just have it revealed that they lied about their status and rely on firepower to make sure there were no consequences. If she and everyone else was going to survive, they needed a more permanent solution. "What are you according to this story? A lord?"
Duquesne leaned forward onto his knees with a sigh. "An Elector. I figured it was unusual for someone in this society to be able to vote for things, and they'd only understand that in terms of a noble being allowed to do it. So technically speaking, I didn't lie. I just didn't tell them that millions of people can vote in Canada."
"Plus we also said our military ranks were separate from our political rank, more or less," O'Neill said, "Which also isn't a lie."
Anne tapped her fingers on the tree stump below her, digesting this information. "That's clever. It even reflects the political reality back home more than you probably think. There are hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of people who can't vote. Temporary and permanent residents," she thought aloud, "But not clever enough. It won't stand up to scrutiny, particularly with more of us here. We need to do better."
"Do we?" MacDonald asked, "We've got modern armaments, Doctor. And enough men and women to use them. Unless the locals put a hundred thousand men in the field or catch us unawares, I'm not sure we should care about whether or not they know we're not really nobles."
"We are going to have diplomatic relations with these people probably for the rest of Canada's existence," Anne said, "We need to contextualise our society in a way they understand."
"And what does that mean?" asked the bald Sergeant, "We tell them no, actually we're not nobles?"
Anne bit her lip. We should… but we can't. "No, we continue the trend Lieutenant Duquesne has already started. We're all electors, voters. There are levels above that, members of parliament and ministers. We layer on military and academic rank, and make it clear that who is the superior is contextual, supposedly based on competence." Though it isn't. "We introduce the idea that there are millions of us with political rights slowly and indirectly. Outright saying so would get us into trouble that I'd rather avoid."
"As would I," Duquesne agreed, "Though I'm perfectly happy with a higher degree of deception about this than you are. The lords of this kingdom are shits, to be honest. They would lie to us as easily as breathing. I feel no obligation to not do the same."
I'm sure you don't, Anne thought, the reason for Teixeira's attitude towards the lieutenant becoming more clear by the second. "We don't have the right to lie about it forever, we are representing Canada now whether you like it or not. We can't misrepresent our political system and society. Nor can we judge theirs."
Duquesne snorted. "Easy to say when you haven't driven through pillaged villages for the last few weeks, Doctor."
Wanting to curse, Anne had no answer to that. She wasn't so stupid as to believe a medieval war was clean. Not that these men in front of me are clean either.