Nyssa settled her seat in her saddle. Her journey home to Orak’Thune from the long sojourn in Bough was nearly over. She took a steadying breath and pushed the thoughts of action and revenge aside. A beautiful day to be crossing her countryside, she smiled to see the party that surrounded her. Her family, close friends and advisors, the idle chatter and relaxed pace cooled her blood and reminded her, whatever they faced, she was in good company.

Patrick, her brother and regent, along with her bridegroom Hedir had spent most of the time on the road in conversation. They had much in common, hunting and strategy, and Nyssa found Patrick asking her consort’s opinion on many matters. She smiled to herself; his happiness meant so much to her.

They were joined by Hedir’s newly selected ambassador, Caston, whom Nyssa thought was a bit different for a Bough. He was energetic with a slight nervous energy, but he was elegant of speech and quite intelligent. Shorter than most men, he had the instantly recognizable Bough features, including the near white-blonde hair and fair skin. His frame was slight, his fingers long and his mouth seemed wide for his jaw. He knew a lot about the outside world; in fact, he was pleased to inform her he was an academic who studied foreign cultures and policy and therein she understood Hedir’s choice in him. A Bough that would travel was an unusual trait. Mostly, they were concerned with their Wood and how to preserve it from the world that surrounded it, having long ago removed themselves from world affairs, save the treaty with their neighbours, the Orak’Thune.

Nyssa liked Caston and whiled away the afternoons discussing with him policy and relations of the different provinces within the vast country she and Patrick governed. He had many questions, and she was happy to oblige.

“Do the Orak always seek war?” he asked her. She blinked at him and frowned, searching for an answer at first.

“Do you think we do?” she asked him in return. He didn’t seem concerned with the question and took his time to carefully consider it.

“I suppose not,” he began, rubbing his chin with a gloved hand. “In the uprising of the third age, your ancestor quelled it with a conference of the provinces. The first, if I remember correctly, to which the tradition is now annually renewed,” he concluded and looked back to her for input. She was nodding and smiled in appreciation.

“Yes, that is one example,” she agreed, “but Orak do not wage war. We aim to deter it, Ambassador. It can seem a fine distinction, perhaps, but I assure you, it takes a great deal of control and discipline to administer and we train constantly to stay ahead of it,” she said and winked at him.

“So, the military service of your citizens, is it always mandatory?” he pushed on.

“Civil Service is mandatory, Sir, not necessarily military service, though all Orak are trained in some form of defensive arts,” she replied patiently. This seemed to stump him momentarily.

“So not all Orak serve with the armed forces?” he asked again. She shook her head.

“Not as soldiers, but they serve in the forces in some way, depending on their abilities and their ultimate goals. I entered the academy at thirteen, though most recruits are restricted to fifteen, and completed my training in the Military Arts to serve immediately with my father by seventeen because that was what I wanted. Others will learn trades work, like smithing or farriers. Others become stock drivers who go on to be merchants, and still others learn to lead and teach and become school professors. We have medics and healers, and some choose a wholly military life, like I, and many others did,” she said proudly and lifted her hands to indicate the security entourage that escorted them.

She was expecting a reply, but when he didn’t add or continue, she turned to see he was simply watching her.

“Your brother, he went to the academy,” he asked then and she affirmed this question, “but he did not choose a military life,” he continued and she agreed once again.

“No, Patrick is fully trained in the Military Arts as well, which include tactical training, strategy and leadership, but his interests led him in the direction of civil management. He was therefore additionally trained as an agent of the law and a civil planner. He is without equal in his breadth of knowledge and expertise on all things judiciary and of Orak state affairs,” she said proudly.

She looked up to the two men, Patrick and Hedir, who were ahead of them on the road, deep in conversation.

“I see,” Canton said simply.

She thought he sounded disappointed. She waited for him to ask another question, but he didn’t. Wisely, he was refraining from saying what he really wanted to say, she thought. To make it easier, and to save him from bursting, she volunteered the answer.

“I am queen because my people, my brother and my father chose me to be,” she said simply. “My father and uncle having had ultimate say in the matter of submitting my name to the council by vote. While Patrick is well-trained and the first born, his talents and his preference lay in the management of our country. I, on the other hand, preferred to serve my father on the battlefield, a position that often takes the monarch outside of his capital. This inherently meant I was more suited to the figurehead title. It was my honour to serve King Madras in his army at only seventeen, and I would still be doing so had he not been murdered in his last attempt to quell the unrest set up on us by the Rogun Empire,” she said firmly, and she recognized that there was a valuable opinion that she wanted Caston to know about them now.

She hadn’t noticed that Patrick and Hedir had slowed to join them, and Patrick now spoke up to add to her description.

“Orak may be known throughout the world as a warrior people, Ambassador, but we have shed generations of blood in the pursuit of peace and maintain it now — in presence as much as necessary — to avoid bloodshed today. The Orak’Thune of today are testament to that and peace remains still its largest global commodity. We are the largest single kingdom in the entire world to pay fealty to one queen and her republican government. We rule with two heads and a council to ensure power does not turn into might,” he said and looked at her. “Make no mistake, however. Nyssa carries the heavier crown,” he added and she heard the gentleness in his voice. She shot him a disappointed look, nonetheless.

“Our duties are different but no less important, dear Brother,” she scolded him. But he only shook his head. Clearly, he disagreed.

“Importance does not factor risk, responsibility and foresight, of which you carry the lion’s share, dear Sister,” he replied loftily. She was about to dismiss him, but surprisingly Jara, her first guardsman, spoke up.

“It is true, Ambassador,” he said, “our queen is always on the front line, whether actually on it or not,” he said and shifted uncomfortably when four heads swivelled to look at him directly.

Moro, Nyssa’s own ambassador to Bough, but whom she’d not spoken to in months since her displeasure with his performance supporting her recently, had been riding obscurely several spaces back, but obviously within earshot. He moved up to add his own.

“What our first guardsman means, I think, and you’ll forgive me, Sir Jara, is our queen is always the focus for our enemies, always the one looked to, to solve all our problems, and inherently relied upon to foresee and therefore steer us clear of all danger. It is an impossible position and we accepted Nyssa and Patrick because they are gifted in their leadership qualities and unmatched in their dedication and loyalty to each other and all of our way of life,” he concluded.

Nyssa turned to look back at him. He bowed his head toward her, but let his horse drop back into the pack that was following them.

“But how did you decide to be a monarchy?” Caston asked then, encouraged by the participation of the larger group.

“The lesson goes that long ago, Orak’Thune tried a democratic approach but learned in a very short period of time that the mob is fickle and governments are corruptible. The country was not organized enough or unified enough, still young from many regional amalgamations, that elected officials were largely distrustful of each other and it often threatened civil unrest,” Nyssa began.

“One senior and celebrated general was elevated as a supreme leader during one of these threatening periods. He was respected within the entire kingdom, and, just as importantly, outside of it. As a result of him being unanimously respected by the council, he basically ruled as their leader for the duration of his life. He had three sons, and he told them they would not inherit his seat upon his death, but he had publicly encouraged them to earn it.

Surprisingly, the brothers worked very well as a team, and they were more or less all selected as co-regents by the next generation of Council of Lords. Two of their children after them, a son and daughter, cousins, showed promise to follow in their footsteps and were encouraged to do so, which they did with equal success. Then there was the Third War at the end of the fourth millennia. Orak’Thune battled and nearly starved for three years at the hands of a brutal king from Kitska, but in the end, they prevailed when one of the siblings rose up to steer the military and the other stayed back to keep leadership over basic civil functions. The One Hundred Year Peace Treaty with Kitska still stands today, and we renew it every one hundred years, but it was that co-ruling pair that set the example,” Nyssa said with pride.

“So great was their success at the conclusion of this war and its subsequent treaty that the Council of Lords decided to honour the co-regents’ accomplishments—but also to control their success and popularity with the people—with a royal status decree. They realized the value of a figurehead, both to be recognized by foreign lands and in galvanizing their own people, but there was still the inherent risk in one person having ultimate power — even with the council firmly around to contradict it. They felt, should the seat of power always be shared, then more could be accomplished, and a second opinion would always be considered.”

“‘Many hands make light work,’ the saying goes,” Patrick added, dipping his head a moment toward Nyssa, who now looked at him when he continued. “So, the council’s decree included: ‘that two shall govern not one, but one shall represent as leader of us all the title of ‘overlord’ to indicate authority to issue the final word on our behalf, and in martial matters, fulfill the role of ultimate commander to lead the armies who protect the innocent,’” he said, quoting the official language in the code of law, verbatim. Nyssa smiled at him.

Caston was listening in full rapture of this telling of the Orak beginnings; the rare occasion it being delivered by two of its monarchs was no doubt not unnoticed. By this point, Nyssa saw that most of the party within earshot was also listening.

“And so, we have today what was started then,” Patrick continued, “two—in our case, they are siblings—as co-regents, and who rule like a king and a queen. Unusual in our world, as foreign monarchs tend to be marital arrangements, but in our case, the roles are wholly functional.”

“Have they ever been marital?” Caston asked. Patrick shook his head.

“No, but probably because indoctrination begins very young by a family member, as any professional will do, and it is established well before marriage becomes a consideration,” he said matter-of-factly. “Although, it has happened where marriages have been arranged with other nations or regions to improve foreign relations,” he added. Hedir looked at Nyssa, but they laughed.

“But it is still always in the eyes and hearts of the citizens, Caston,” Nyssa continued “They have to believe in their leadership if we are all to prevail, and so far, their leadership has yet to fail them. My father ruled firmly and with great precision, while his brother managed the states’ affairs with equal commitment. Together they served our country with distinction, providing safety and security, growth and prosperity and all they knew and learned they taught my brother and me,” she said proudly.

“The ultimate goal is what you see before you; generations of descendants understanding that the need to protect is always there, the need to be true leaders is always there, as is the reminder to let them know that they serve not by birthright, but at the discretion of their people, always,” Patrick concluded.

“You cannot be dethroned, can you?!” Caston blurted out, the idea obviously having come to him suddenly.

Hedir clicked his tongue in anger and he shrank back slightly, but Nyssa held out a hand to calm them. It was a fair question, and a fear she always kept close. The soldiers and support staff around them, however, shifted nervously in their saddles.

“We cannot be voted out directly,” she said evenly. Patrick rode closer to them.

“Only one can be demoted,” he clarified, “and even then, they have to do so on the command of the other,” he said and waited for Caston to understand.

It’s not a subject they discussed in light company. Hedir was watching him with intense concentration. Caston’s eyes were darting between the two siblings and nervously avoiding Hedir’s.

“I see,” Caston said, and Hedir was obviously hoping he had lost his interest in continuing this line of questions.

“What that means is on the grounds of an unsolvable issue or dispute, a monarch is expected to step down, offering the crown to someone with more ability, forsaking pride for subservience,” Nyssa qualified. Caston nodded quickly.

The crowd rode on in silence for a while. The Orak around them would’ve heard most of the history they had discussed in some form in their youth classes, but it was always an interesting lesson to hear it with clarity from someone who was bred to live its history as if it were something alive. It took on a particular dimension of reality.

She looked over at Patrick, back in conversation with Hedir and Jara, and she knew her confidence was well placed. Aside from the comfortable relationship she had with her subordinates, Patrick was extremely popular with the citizens of Orak’Thune. In his five years as regent, tutored directly by their uncle, who himself had enjoyed legendary popularity, and who still helped now and then in his retirement, Patrick had expanded trade and improved civil works, like sanitation and education.

One such example which she was proud for him, was that children before now were expected to go to school and then to the academy, but they were no longer forced to follow a path chosen for them. Tradition was that a farrier’s son was a farrier, and their only other option was a soldier. Now they were allowed to choose, and choose they must, but what was happening was a new generation of citizens who tried harder, were more likely to succeed at a usable level, and contributed more fruitfully than any generation before. It was just one example of the progressive thinking Patrick was capable of, applied with the gentlest of hand, of which he was most revered. His work in modernizing the code of law was also legendary, and she was even looking forward to the days and days of conference that lay ahead of them where he would need to discuss his changes with her and the council for his work to be approved and she could apply her seal.

When the great walled city of Orak’Thune Capital rose high in front of them, they had been on the road travelling for nearly twelve days. They had been delayed by the slow pace of the baggage train that followed the entourage, but also perhaps because of the pleasantness of the company, so that no one was in any hurry to arrive. They had hunted for venison, wood fowl and hare to eat on the road and had enjoyed the activities as a group immensely. They were for the first time a family, and she was overjoyed to have had this time with her brother and new husband alone. They were also bringing a considerable amount back with them; the palace chefs would be pleased.

Seeing her home city again after over a year gave rise to a lump in Nyssa’s throat. It was impressive, there was no doubt, with its high stone walls, sharp, square merlons and narrow embrasures, the entire length, dotted with flapping banners. She had missed it. She looked over now at Hedir, but his expression was unreadable. He was impressed, but was that happiness or distress? She leaned over to take his hand. He looked at it and then at her. She smiled at him.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked him tentatively. He looked back toward it. The massive stone walls were interspersed with large buttresses all along its length that went around the city and beyond his sight. It was dark stone and very plain. Aside from the coloured pennants and massive banners hung at the gatehouse entrance, there were no adornments. A fine, thin grass surrounded the settlement on the outside, the closest cluster of trees a few hundred metres to the north.

“It’s bigger than I thought it would be,” he said simply. But he squeezed her hand. He watched overhead as the party passed deep into the gatehouse and under the portcullis, the massive iron-toothed gate secured in the recess of its chase. Their horses’ hooves clattered loudly on the cobblestone.

Once inside, the noise changed from empty, echoes to cheers and celebration when the population met them in the massive area that opened wide when they were through. Ribbons of every colour, petals and music filled the air. Jara moved Nyssa and Hedir to be out front, though he and six knights kept a close perimeter. Humbled by their reception, Nyssa proudly took Hedir’s hand and moved to lead them at a trot through the parade. On a double wide, long boulevard lined with rowhouses three stories tall, Hedir very quickly noticed the inner aqueduct, a massive stone structure that spanned the city, ruling over the cityscape. It bore intricately carved statuary, rearing horses and decorated knights at the piers, leaf and vine around the arches and across the spandrels, more scenes of figures in prosperity and peace.

At the end of the boulevard, the party abruptly came to face a wall until they turned sharply to the right. Hedir saw the road now narrowed to a single lane that curved onward to the left and up. Walled high on both sides, the party moved to be two-abreast and the horses double-stepped to take on the slight incline. There wasn’t room for well-wishers on this stretch and he noticed Nyssa’s expression was reserved, her eyes forward as she urged Roan, her massive storm-grey destrier on.

After several turns in a counter-clockwise direction, the lane opened wide again, obvious now they had arrived to a second level landing inside the city. Here, another portcullis stood open and more brightly dressed citizens greeted their returning queen and regent. Again, but now much closer, Hedir noticed the enormous banners that draped the sides of the second gatehouse. His eyes took in the deep burgundy with twin gold lionheads, back-to-back and the ever-present broadsword, point-of-place in the direct centre beneath the queen’s crown.

He looked to his wife.

Nyssa was an incredibly beautiful woman. Long, deep auburn hair was braided thickly at the nape of her neck and nestled around her hairline, a fine band of woven gold and platinum that glinted in the sunlight. Her blue eyes moved wide and quickly around the crowds and her full lips pulled the corner of her mouth in a generous smile. She held her reins lightly in one gloved hand and rested the other on her thigh between lifting it to wave, her posture relaxed but alert. The light armour she wore lacked some of the bigger protective pieces for ease of travel, but her breastplate and bracers, both blackened steel and etched with gold, bore not a scratch. Draped from her shoulders and clasped across the front in a heavy gold chain, a luxurious, deep burgundy cloak bore the same seal as the banners: elegantly stitched in gold thread on her back. All around them ribbons twirled and tumbled through the air, now all burgundy and white. Her royal court welcomed her home.

The party was met with a large amount of fanfare, organized by the overly excited and now very pregnant Lady Triana, Patrick’s noble wife. A small crowd fanned out behind her in the second inner court of the palace proper and Nyssa reined them in, tired and relieved to have arrived. When they dismounted, Triana only had eyes for Patrick, whom she engulfed in kisses and embraces, almost frantically until he could calm her by standing with her in his arms.

“You have nothing to fear, my love. I am home to you once more,” she heard him murmuring to her while he stroked her hair. When she was calm again and the tears wiped away, she straightened her clothing and hair, and came around to welcome Nyssa and make her introductions with Hedir.

“Congratulations on your impending arrival, Lady Triana,” Hedir said and bowed low. He eyed her belly with surprise and genuine happiness.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Triana said, and she was slightly out of breath. “I am anxious to see it through, however. They get cumbersome to carry, after a while,” she said and patted it with care. Patrick moved over to stand behind her; he hugged her warmly and kissed her temple.

“My Queen,” she said and curtsied first, but came instantly over to hug her fiercely. Nyssa found this awkward over the belly, but she was glad to see her again, truly and from the bottom of her heart.

“Congratulations, Tirana. On Hayden, I mean, and, well, on keeping on going,” she said, pointing at the imminent addition to their family.

A sound like a grunt and protest came from behind her and Nyssa watched Patrick bend and lift a very small boy up and high into his arms. The toddler sported a riot of bright orange hair, brilliant sea-blue eyes and pudgy, rosy cheeks. Her brother smiled wide to him, and pulled his little vest back down where it had scrunched between them.

“Hayden,” Nyssa breathed and smiled very broadly to see him. Her nephew, now two, gnawed on a fist, but his eyes were extremely wide and glued to hers. Patrick nodded and leaned to speak quietly to his son. The crowd had quieted likewise.

“Queen Nyssa,” he said to him and pointed at her. She felt Hedir move in close behind. “Duke Hedir,” he added and his index finger moved to point behind her.

Hayden said nothing, but turned to smoosh his tiny face against his father’s neck. Nyssa’s heart burst to see that he firstly remembered his Da and, secondly, that he had missed him.

“I am pleased to meet you, Prince Hayden,” Nyssa said very gently, reaching a hand to rub a patch of exposed skin on the baby’s leg. He watched her carefully and then leaned slowly until he was away from Patrick and Nyssa had to raise both hands to catch him. He was warm in her arms and everyone stilled to see if he would cry, even though it was Hayden who had encouraged the embrace.

“Come,” Nyssa said when it seemed Hayden was content. Patrick stepped back to pull Triana close at the shoulder. Both beamed at her with their son in her arms. She turned with the toddler against her shoulder, rubbing him gently on the back. She indicated the covered staircase. “Let’s get comfortable.”