Crowned in Black: Chapter 1 (Revised)

“Voivode Dragozin. Lucien Hart has taken our king.”

The Court Mage’s words rang in my ears, and the world around me - the soldiers shouting orders as the entire population of Vulkan Keep emptied toward the Throne Room, the frantic chatter, all of it - became a blur of ringing white noise.

Ignas, captured. Revala, conquered. Now we had the Ilian Empire right on our doorstep, west and south. Suddenly, Violetta’s presence in Dakhdir and Ororgael’s mad invasion of Revala finally made perfect fucking sense.

“Alright. Here’s what we do.” I was surprised by how in control I sounded. Calm. Steady. Cool as cool could be. “Ignas appointed Janos of Czongrad as Regent. That means Janos will be taking the throne any minute now to address the court and brief everyone, right?”

“Y-Yes, Your Grace.” Simeon was visibly shaken. Masha, normally fiery and quick, was silent, pale with shock. Rutha covered her face with one slim, scarred hand.

“Karalti can hold the fort here in case there’s a riot. I doubt anyone’s going to want to tangle with a pissed off queen dragon.” At the sound of her name, Karalti rumbled, and lowered her sedan-sized muzzle until the tip of her snout brushed my shoulder. “Simeon, come with me. We’ll go in and hear what Janos has to say. Rutha, Masha… I have a bad feeling about this. I want you both to stay with Karalti and be ready to evacuate.

“Evacuate? Evacuate?!” Masha finally found her tongue, swelling on her feet until she reached her full height: a towering four feet, eleven inches of pissed off Eurasian grandma. “What, do you think I am some delicate Jeun princess who never stepped off her litter? You can sod off with that notion, Lord Tuun. It was I who delivered Ignas and smacked the royal cheeks ‘til he took his first breath. Damned if I’ll sit on my hands and diddle myself while he’s in danger now!”

“Well… fair enough. Can’t argue with that.” I looked at Rutha. “Rutha…”

“I can’t walk, but I can cast spells.” The sorceress’s expression hardened as she pulled a brace of mana capsules from her inventory and divided them between her spellglove and her hovering wheelchair. “If this were a battlefield, I’d do as you say. But the royal courts of Artana are my war, and they have been since I was barely sixteen summers. You need me there.”

I let out a hiss of breath through my teeth. “Karalti? Are you going to be okay?”

My dragon snorted a cloud of hot, ozone-tinged air over the four of us. Huge as she was, her telepathic voice was bright, youthful, even bubbly. “Yep! I can still Teleport one more time today. I’ve regained enough mana for other spells, and there’s eight charges of fiery doom locked and loaded!”

“I’m seriously hoping we don’t have to unleash any more fiery doom today. One sandworm and five airships was plenty.” I reached up to rub the gleaming opal spines crusting Karalti’s jaw, squared my shoulders, and marched past the others into the chaotic depths of Vulkan Keep.

Soldiers had formed choke points in the entry hall to prevent crushing. The corridors were bristling with halberds, but the nervous men - almost as confused and alarmed as the courtiers rushing in from every corner of Vulkan Keep - let us pass without so much as a murmur. Red-faced criers at the Throne Room entrance continued to announce, stammering and speeding through the names and titles of assorted dignitaries as they flooded past, including us. "Voivode Dragozin Hector of Myszno! Simeon Staglitz, Royal Magus and advisor to his Majesty the Volod! Lady Rutha of Vasteau, Sorceress to King Rosvind! Masterhealer Masha, Physician to the Court!"

No one could really hear over the din inside. The towering cathedral hall was lined on both sides with a seething crowd of agitated people, many of whom were already wearing white - the color of mourning. Soldiers lined the narrow procession to the Raven Throne, which itself was ringed by the elite Knights of the Dragon, Vlachia's Kingsguard, as well as Voivode Janos of Czongrad and his close advisors. They were standing at the base of the dias with their heads together.

“Jesus Christ. What a mess.” I zoomed my vision past the throng of people. The Regent looked shrewd, tired but alert. He’d changed out the normal blue and green livery of his provincial family for the black and red garb of the Corvinus regent. He didn’t look nearly as stressed as I would have been. “Why in the hell did the system feel the need to broadcast a Global Alert? Every fucking Tom, Dick and Harry is crammed into this place.”

“Oy,” Masha groaned in agreement. “It’s chaos. I’ve never seen the court like this, not even after the death of the Volod’s father.”

Huddling with Simeon and Masha around Rutha's chair, the group of us bulldozed our way down the aisle. I scanned the room for familiar faces. The Mercurion Ebisa stood at ease to the right of the Raven Throne. The King's Blade was armed with daggers and  dressed in a severe gray bodysuit, hooded and masked. Normally, Ebisa favored decorative masks made of porcelain or wood. Today, she was wearing a flat, smooth metal helm without any facial features or vents. A red sigil burned balefully on the front of it, the enchantment that allowed her to see through solid steel. A Mercurion battle mask. She expected trouble.

There were others I knew among the crowd. My fellow Starborn, Nethrys, was hanging by the entry to one of the vestibules. She was armed and armored in her Valkyrie gear. I opened my HUD and dictated a quick PM - “Hey, Nethrys: we’re on the other side of the aisle. Can you see us?”

The woman’s head jerked up, and her eyes scanned for a moment. Then she looked through her HUD, peering until she spotted my waving hand. She lifted her’s, and shot back a quick message. “Yeah, I see you.”

“After this mess, we’ll take you back to Myszno with us to pick up your mount,” I replied to her. “Even if you’re still technically under house arrest. They can’t keep you here now.”

“Sure. Thanks. Might have some stuff to tell you, too. About Lucien, Baldr, and the Kingsmen. Don’t want to talk about it here, though, even in PM.” She nodded to me, then looked uncomfortably back toward the throne.

Two of the commanders who had served under me in Myszno were also here. Wingleader Vasoly, captain of the 4st Fleet 32nd Dragoons, cut a striking figure in his flight uniform. He was a small, wiry man with close cropped, wavy black hair and a sharp face weathered by the wind. Ur Gehlan, a commander in the Knights of the Red Star, stood beside him with at least thirty of his men. The Knights were distinctive with their shaved Cossack forelocks, red lamellar armor, and lines of facial tattoos that scrawled down their cheeks. I recognized about a dozen of them, soldiers I'd fought alongside during the Battle for Myszno.

"Gehlan! Vasoly!" I shouted to them over the noise, waving an arm.

Both men turned instinctively at the sound of my voice, and their faces lit up. Gehlan turned around and yelled something at his men, while Vasoly gave a signal with his hand. Knights and dragoons made way for us, opening up a circle. Rutha smiled gratefully at them as she wheeled in and came to a rolling stop.

"Voivode Dragozin! Still on this side of the dirt, eh?" Gehlan roared. Like all the Knights, he was a big man with a big mustache, ruddy in the face and dark in the eyes. He clapped his hand into mine and clasped my arm, then drew me in for a brief hug and cheek kiss. Vasoly shook hands and respectfully inclined his head.

"Sure am." I nodded to each of them in turn. "What the hell happened in Revala?"

"We don't know yet, but we all want to know how our damned fleet was defeated by a country less than a third our size," Vasoly called back. “Thank goodness you’re here. We need you and every other Starborn on Vlachia’s side. Where is Lady Ba’hadir?”

“Busy. On her way back to Myszno.” I glanced around, then refocused on him and Ur Gehlan. “We got the Warsinger.”

Their eyes widened, but before they could comment, a new voice called out to us. “Simeon!? Masha!? What in the watery hells is going on?”

We turned to see a dignified elder man in indigo robes bustling toward us, squeezing between heavily armored Knights of the Red Star. Trailing him was another familiar face: the junior sage and keeper of Vulkan Keep’s library, Kythias.

“Mastersage,” Simeon answered him, bowing as much as he could without being jostled. “Please, return to your office. It isn’t safe here.”

“And miss out on Czongrad’s little speech? Pah.” Mastersage Nemeth was nearly as old as Masha, which put him in his mid-seventies or early eighties. He reminded me of an ibis, with his long neck, beaky nose, and steely dark eyes. “I’m here for the same reason we all are. Ignas is the last Corvinus. If Janos doesn’t have a plan to rescue him, we’re doomed.”

“Do zla boga. Don’t use that word, Mastersage. We’re cursed as it is,” Commander Vasoly groaned.

“This isn’t over until we say it is.” I nodded to his words, studying Kythias. The red-haired Lysian man was normally bright and alert, with a tongue like a well-oiled blade. He looked uncharacteristically subdued.

A hush rippled through the chamber as Voivode Janos stepped up onto the dais and placed the regent’s crown, a simple platinum band, on his head. Now he looked a little more like I’d expected – pale, a bit nervous. I’d never liked the Voivode of Czongrad since first meeting him at a disastrous auction in Taltos, but in the moment, I felt for him. Suddenly thrust into a position of responsibility, facing a screaming angry mob demanding accountability and solutions to seemingly-impossible problems? Yeah. I’d been there. Except this guy had the fate of the entire kingdom resting on his shoulders now, not just a single province. OUR kingdom.

Court Heralds positioned themselves beside the first step of the throne. I recognized Elizabet, the First Herald of the realm, as she activated a magical pendant and drew a deep breath.

“Order! Order in the court!” Her magically augmented voice pierced the sea of noise filling the hall, bringing an immediate hush. “Lord Regent Karl Janos of Czongrad shall address the assembly! The court is ordered to silence!”

The hush deepened to a murmuring and clicking, and the crowd finally stopped surging. I glanced around. There were roped off galleys to either side, where the nobility twittered quietly behind lines of guardsmen. Simeon, Masha, Mastersage Nemeth, Kythias, Rutha and I were now basically surrounded by the representatives of the 4th Fleet: Vasoly’s Dragoons, Ur Gehlan’s knights, mages and NCOs and medics. It was close quarters, and there wasn’t much room to move. A wave of intuitive tension swept through the pit of my belly. Not fear. More like anticipation that somehow, somewhen, we were about to have a real bad time.

“Loving citizens of Vlachia, be at ease.” Janos’ clear, commanding tenor rang out over the throne room, amplified by magic that made it sound as though he were speaking from the walls. “His Majesty, whom I gratefully represent, knew a day might come where he rode to the protection of our great nation or its allies, and he made preparations for this eventuality. To this end, he appointed me, Voivode Janos Lanz of Czongrad, to lead in his stead. Know this. As we speak, a council of the finest military minds in Vlachia are gathered in the Royal Warroom, planning how we will approach the situation in Revala and recover His Majesty.”

Ugh. Politicians. I really didn’t like his use of the word ‘recover’. I crossed my arms and studied Janos, keeping half an eye around and behind me. Dragon riders had wrap-around peripheral vision, so I was able to see Simeon and Masha, Mastersage Lemeth and Kythias, Ur Gehlan and the other commanders of the 2nd Company while keeping my head forward. None of them looked particularly happy with what they were hearing, either.

“I will now brief the court on what we know in the leadup to our setback.” Janos said stiffly, hands gripping the sides of the royal throne. “The First and Second Fleets flew to Revala in expectation of a difficult battle against the significantly smaller, but hardened and determined forces of the Ilian Empire.Our army drove Ilia back from the border toward the capital of Lovi, where a heated battle took place. Reports indicated that the campaign was proceeding well, but that Ilia’s dragons were conspicuously absent. The First Fleet and its capital ship, the Henrietta, carved a salient in the Ilian line and downed their capital ship, Sol Invictus, in a battle that sent the Invictus plunging into Lovi’s outer walls. His Majesty ordered a partial retreat to avoid being pincered in the salient in the event of a counterattack. It was anticipated that Dakhdir and Jeun, Vlachia’s allies under the White Sail Alliance mutual defense compact, would join our ships. With even greater numbers, we would surge back into Lovi and push Ilia out of Revala.”

Janos paused for effect.

“Three nights ago, His Imperial Highness Emperor Hae Yuryu of Jeun, sent a missive to His Majesty explaining that they were delayed by strange weapons and hostilities at the border of Jeun and Revala,” he continued gravely. “A black beam of anti-magical light from the sky decimated the Jeun flagship and threw the fleet into disarray, shortly before their capital ship was attacked by Ilia’s dragons and – to all accounts – Mercurion warships.”

The crowd erupted into agitated murmurs of alarm. Ur Gehlan and Simeon both gasped. Masha’s eyes widened.

“Wait, am I missing something?” I leaned down and asked Masha. “The Mercurions intervening is…?”

“Unheard of,” Masha whispered back. “If there were Mercurion war machines…”

“This means that the Mercurions of Zaunt have broken the Blood-Artifice Compact, which prohibits the import and use of the machines known as ‘sangheti’tak’ on Artana,” Janos finished, before Masha could. “This compact, which has stood for over a thousand years, represented the state of truce between our peoples and the living constructs of Zaunt.”

“Well, fuck.” I reached up to grip at the line of braided hair running down the middle of my scalp, squeezing it.

“Meanwhile, Dakhdir arrived in Revala as expected,” the regent continued, lifting his chin. “The Sultir’s airships flew in from the south-east and joined the Vlachian forces from the rear… and there, they committed the greatest treachery ever committed against this great nation. The Dakhari fleet fell on Vlachia’s from behind, attacking fiercely. This signaled the Ilian forces to reveal themselves in their full might. A combined force of camouflaged Ilian airships, Mercurions with long-range weapons bunkered in Lovi’s tallest buildings, and the Dakhari traitors attacked the First and Second Fleets from all sides.”

My eyes narrowed. Camouflaged ships were a modern strategy. Awful as it was, it was a good tactic in an asymmetrical war situation like the one facing Ilia.

“Much of the Second Fleet managed to escape the trap and are regrouping at the border. However, the First Fleet was completely encircled. Rather than allow the complete devastation of our forces, Volod Ignas Corvinus II honorably bartered his own life and freedom and allowed himself to be captured,” Janos finished heavily. ”Ilia seized the remaining ships and personnel. What has happened to them and the Volod  at this stage, we do not know.”

The court broke into unhappy murmurs. The air around us seemed to vibrate, like a bomb about to explode.

“HOWEVER,” Janos called out sharply, before the court could erupt. “We are taking immediate action to discover the whereabouts of the Volod and our citizens and enact their recovery or our vengeance for their loss. Following this address, I will be joining the emergency council upstairs-“

“Dakhdir must pay!” A man’s furious shout – deep, gruff – cracked out from the side galleys. It detonated the entire room, and suddenly, voices howled from everywhere, all of them demanding the blood of the Sultir. I stepped in closer to Masha, tensing as the line of Red Star knights behind us were jostled forward by the angry crowd, which was quickly turning into a mob as screams of rage burst through the hall.

Up on the dais, one of Janos’ advisors leaned in and whispered in his ear. The regent nodded and made a sharp gesture.

“Order! Order in the court!” Both of the Heralds called out, their well-trained, magically enhanced voices overriding even the savage anger of the assembled.

“Good people of Vlachia.” Janos rose off the throne, holding his arms. “I hear you, and feel your pain. Make way, all of you, for the Emissary of Dakhdir, Pasha Sumay'al Aswan of Dalim. He was detained before this audience, and shall be judged before it to explain the foul betrayal of his sovereign. But a trial cannot take place if there is not order!”

His words had the desired effect, as people began reinforcing discipline among themselves instead of shoving against the lines of soldiers acting as human barriers between noble and commoner, subject and regent. As cries of ‘make way’ rang from the other end of the great hall, the crowd parted down the middle like the red sea. Hissing, boos and curses rang out as the Knights of the Red Star helped to carve out an alley down the middle. Without thinking, I stepped in to help with crowd control, reaching out to brace a hand on Ur Gehlan’s shoulder so my arm formed a barrier.

Within minutes, a door on the side of the throne room opened, and two heavily armored guards dragged the miserable form of the Pasha between them. The Dakhari man looked like he’d put up a fight. His creamy brown skin was purpled in places, his lip split. When I’d met him several weeks ago, he’d been oily and clean. Now he was oily and dirty, reeking of both perfume and sweat as he was unceremoniously dragged to the dias.

“Hector?” Karalti’s clear, musical voice broke through the deafening roar of the assembly. “What’s going on in there? It’s really loud, and you’re really stressed.”

“Those Dakhari ships that tried to intercept us in the desert? It wasn’t just us they tried to fuck over. Dakhdir betrayed Vlachia and set up Ignas to be taken by Lucien,” I thought back, fighting the urge to cover my ears. My hearing was as good as my vision, and the noise was crushing. “We know Violetta was there, and I guarantee she set this up. Casper also played a role, probably. What I want to know is how they timed everything like this. They must have spies - spies who are able to report to them in real time.”

“Like a party chat,” Karalti confirmed grimly. “But who?”

“I don’t know.” My gut seethed uneasily at the thought, and I glanced toward Nethrys.

The Dragon Knights forced Pasha Aswan to his knees in front of the throne. When I’d last seen him, he was done up in brilliant peacock blue silk robes and reeked of perfume strong enough to sear the insides of my sinuses. Now he was in his pajamas, his perfectly coiffed hair hanging as a ropey mess around his shoulders. Now he wasn’t dressed in layers of coats and robes, he turned out to be kind of skinny.

“Pasha Sumay'al Aswan, as the diplomat dispatched by your Sultir, you are your nation’s representative to Vlachia,” Janos proclaimed, retaking his seat. “By what means do you explain this treachery?”

“Treachery repaid in kind,” Pasha spat. His voice was magnified, too. “Dakhdir has rejected the White Sail Alliance for what it is, Czongrad – a bully pulpit ruled by Vlachia for Vlachian interests, all while actors from YOUR nation attempt to overthrow our divinely appointed Sultir!”

“What nonsense,” Janos replied. “Agents of Vlachia, undermining the Sultir? In case it escaped you, Yazid Khemmemmu still sits upon the Peacock Throne. There have been no attempts on his life that we have heard of.”

“Then explain the destruction of Al’Asad Prison!” Pasha retorted.

“The prison in the Bashir Desert?” Janos arched an eyebrow. “The Bashir is a no-man’s land, unowned territory that separates Dakhdir from Napath.”

“The Bashir Desert may be common land, but the prison was the rightful property of the Sultir!” Pasha gestured wildly behind him. “What about the chaos and destruction in Dalim by one of your own noblemen, leading a force of rebels released from that very same prison after it’s destruction! Explain to me the Vlachian warships who attacked our fleet as they flew out to investigate Al’Asad! Vlachia cannot slaughter our people and not expect retaliation. Even if Ignas did not declare war on Dakhdir, he permitted acts of war to go unpunished!”

Janos waited until the chorus of booing and hissing died down, then waved the court to silence. “Extraordinary accusations require extraordinary proof, Pasha. For one thing, you would need to be able to name whoever supposedly committed these crimes-“

“I can, and I will, because the actors are in the Bashir right now, warring with our navy as we speak!” Pasha retorted. “They are Voivode Hector Dragozin, lord of Myszno, and his fireblooded Shallatu whore!