9 Days Left

Minul strode around the pavilion a second time as the last of the attendants arrived. Of the nine Lords currently instated in the Lords’ Council approximately none of them had showed up, though, they did send their servants to fill in for them. Not that she could blame them, she couldn’t even get her own goddessdamned advisor to arrive.

She stopped next to one of her servants, “The Master of Education’s still not here?” The man shook his head. She knew she was in a bad mood when the way his thinning hair flopped with the movement made her further annoyed. Taking a deep breath, she spoke calmly to the nervous man. “Tell him that unless he doesn’t appreciate his employment under me anymore, he will be arriving to this meeting shortly.”

“Um, your majesty,” the servant swallowed hard avoiding Minul’s golden gaze, “He said to tell you he’s sick.”

“I don’t care if he’s been…” she had to force curse back down her throat, “stabbed,” Minul growled pointing to two of her guard that were walking close by. Jumping to obey their Queen. “If he doesn’t come willingly, he will come unwillingly,” she turned to the guards, “Follow him. If you’re needed he will tell you.”

“Your Majesty,” both the guards bowed then saluted before following the nervous servant down the train of carriages.

Sighing, Queen Minul shook her head and tried to recenter herself. Then she stepped into the pavilion, “Apologies for the wait, let’s begin the meeting,” she smiled falsely at the attendants as she took her seat, the others following her lead.

“Let’s begin wi—“ she was interrupted by the sound of horses and the trundling of wheels on the road outside their pavilion. Watching tight-lipped as the Star-Stone carriage rolled right by their temporarily paused caravan.

“Your Majesty,” One of the servants said. Unsurprisingly, they were filling in for Lord Star-Stone. “The Lord Star-Stone wanted to inform you that he was tired of the constant breaks and halts during this trip. He wanted to get to the estate ‘sometime before the seasons changed’ I think he said.”

Saif snorted from his seat and swung his legs down from the armrest, “We can tell, thank you for your service,” he dismissed the servant with an indolent little hand wave. Minul would normally be annoyed that Saif butted in on her authority during such meetings, but this one time she happily allowed it. “Bye bye,” Saif as the attendant haltingly rose, looking between him and the Queen.

“Y- your Majesty,” he bowed and walked out.

“My Lord desires longer breaks,” The Sworden representative said, though, his comments had been uncalled for. “This kind of travel is hard on him, even more so on his wife and daughter.”

“I’m sure it is,” Minul said. “However, there will not be any further changes to the schedule.”

The attendant huffed out a breath, “Could you then at least provide proper fare during travel?”

The Queen took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, before answering. “We’ve been on the road for nearly three days. There will be no further changes until after our arrival at the summer estate.”

“My Lord, too, would like to complain about our meals on this trip,” Inga’s servant called. “She’s grown quite used to the excellent food of her chef and this travel food isn’t suited for a woman of her status.”

Minul forced herself not to react as she stared the uptight servants in the eye. The majordomos of the various Lords, while highly ranked, was in themselves an insult to her and her authority.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Minul said getting up. “You’re right, of course. Travel food obviously cannot be expected to live up to a Lord’s palate,” with a hand wave she summoned Svadr her own head-servant, “Pull it all back down again, we will not be stopping for lunch. Instead, we will be continuing on directly to the estate. Lord Star-Stone has the right of it.”

“Immediately, your Majesty,” Svadr said with a bow.

There was some half-choked responses from the attendants but Minul ignored them striding out of the pavilion and headed for her own carriage. As she did, she caught the eye of a pale looking Leif flanked by two uniformed guardsmen, the thin-haired servant trailing behind.

“Inside,” she ordered. He walked of his own free will as he stepped into the small room. A thin sheen of sweat covered his face, from forehead to chin, and his hair was matted with it. Combined with his unusually pale face and dark bags under his eyes, he really did look sick.

“Your Majesty—“ Leif said.

“Shut it, Leif. Inside!” Minul said jumping up herself and sliding over to one side, confused but not surprised to find Saif sitting opposite her.

“Your Maj—“ Leif stopped midway noticing Saif as well, though, and he clearly hadn’t seen the triplet master enter either. “Was there really a need for you to pull me out of my carriage like that?”

“Yes,” Minul said. “If for no other reason that I am your Queen! You are my advisor, a servant. If I say ‘come’, you run. Do you understand me Leif? You don’t get to skip out because you’re feeling a little under the weather.”

“Your— I hardly think this is fair.”

“It’s not about fair, Leif, it’s about having to deal with nine of the biggest assholes in the country, alongside their personal favorites from the lesser families. It’s about you agreeing to help me and me relying on you. It’s about you skipping out because you feel ill. I thought you were better than that,” and she really had too. She’d always known that he was willing to go too far for what he perceived as being worth it, however, she’d never imagined a little illness would be what stopped him.

By this point, Leif’s stench was beginning to permeate the carriage and she could smell the unwashed body coming off him and sweat was running in rivulets. Minul sighed and waved a hand, “Go.”

Leif nodded jerkily and hurried out of the small space, leaving the door cracked. She would’ve yelled at him, but it let a breeze in that swiftly cleared the scent out.

Saif stared after him with a furrowed brow.

“What?”

“Not sure, yet.”

Minul breathed out heavily, feeling slumping into the cushioned seat. Carriage riding was never comfortable, even when you had the most recent and expensive version. No manufacturer could overcome the uneven terrain and jarring impacts.

“The Masters are supposed to arrive this evening, about the same time as us…”

Saif snorted, “Do you honestly think they would’ve left just before nightfall?”

Minul shook her head, “I’m hoping maybe one or two of them did, but I doubt it.”

Saif sighed and put his foot up next to her on the bench, “It’s barely begun and it’s already a shit show.”

“I’ll just hope things work out more simply for Ragnar.”

Saif laughed, “He’ll find a way to dumb it down. He has a way to bring others down to his level.”

“Saif,” Minul muttered warningly.

“Hey, it’s a complement as much as it is anything,” The old man said. “You’ve seen his plans. He’s bringing the military to the academy. He’s bringing it down to a level that he can understand, but with reasonable goals.”

“You make it sound like the academy is above the military.”

“It should be,” Saif said picking at the embroidery in the bench upholstery. “It should be so far above simple military forces that you wouldn’t even dare to combine them.”

Minul cocked her head, “Really? I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of things with the current system that I’m not happy with,” he looked up at her. “I tried to help before, but…” he pursed his lips, “I’m not suited for the role of a leader.”

“It’s skill more than it’s talent.”

Saif chuckled, “In part, at least.”

Minul opened her mouth, but wasn’t sure what to say. She’d just spoken to a man at least twice her age, but more likely three or four times, like she had more experience within the field than him.

“Can I ask you a question?” Minul spoke quietly, the sounds of the caravan packing back up filtering in through the cracked door.

“You can try,” Saif said with a playful glint in his orange eyes.

Wetting her lips Minul spoke gently, “Do you know who your parents were?”

Saif looked at her for a long moment, the playful hint fading. “Why do you ask?”

“I know the ankirian noble line has become more widespread especially over the last century, I was just curious.”

Saif frowned getting a faraway look on his face, “I knew my mother,” he said with a nod. “And my father, though, he’s died before I became a teenager. My mother had my eyes,” he ran his tongue over his teeth, “Not yellow, though,” he gestured with a hand from his orange eyes to her golden ones. “But I have my dad’s hair…” Saif sat up straighter. “His hair?”

“What?”

“Leif’s hair. In the back,” he ran a hand through his own dark locks, “It was clean, if sweaty.”

“What does that mean?”

Saif scratched at his chin, “That I’ll keep a closer look on him as he debarks tonight.”

Ranvir stilled his shivers as he set the wet rag aside. Carefully, with ritualistic slowness, he slid the robe on taking care with every moment. Once adorned in white, he stepped around the candles and into the circle of crushed obsidian.

Sitting on his heels, Ranvir began to hum lightly as he grabbed the silk cloth and stroked it once, feeling the texture so reminiscent of space. Spending several minutes centering himself, Ranvir went through the process of purging each sensation from his body, until he could only feel a resonance coming from tether-space.

With the smallest of efforts, the gate was swept open and Ranvir truly entered the space for the first time in way too long.