The Heiress
Nerkam
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This morning, I awoke enveloped in serenity, a nice change after a series of recent nights haunted by nightmares of bloodshed, suffocation, and blue-eyed monsters wielding my own dagger. The absence of dreams was a solace I embraced wholeheartedly. As I made my way to the shower, my thoughts wandered to the day’s agenda, silently wishing for Riley’s guidance.
A strategic pile of letters awaited me beside my breakfast, a clever play to ensure I attended to at least some correspondence. This tactic only held merit if I chose to dine, otherwise, it was an exercise in futility.
Breaking the seal of the first envelope, Edgar’s favourite melody inexplicably began to play in my mind -a testament to the excessive time we’ve spent together. I indulge in a bite of pancake while scanning the text -an unremarkable annual report from a neighbouring town. Memories of a woman who made superior pancakes briefly flickered in my thoughts. The next two letters, of similar content, were swiftly set aside as I sipped my tea, the perfect accompaniment to the sweltering southern heat.
The last letter bore a seal slightly larger than the others, its red wax imprinted with the visage of a man framed by seven radiant beams. Though the identity of the face had long escaped me, its vile expression instilled unease, hardly befitting the emblem of the Council -the governing body I shared power with. It should have been a symbol of trust, yet it swayed the populace towards the Heirs, so… I probably shouldn’t complain too much about it.
Rising from the table, the fabric of my attire rustled as I adjusted it, regretting my choice against trousers. The letter’s weight in my hand mirrored the ebbing of my good spirits, an invitation to a Council meeting undoubtedly within. Splitting the waxen face in twain, I found the expected summons, the words ‘extraordinary’ and ‘must attend’ underscored. The appointed time was ten, and a glance at the clock -9.37- hastened my departure from the lounge. A mental note to forego the garden view, less cherished than by my father, accompanied my exit.
The hallway bustled with activity, a reminder of my purpose here -a short stroll from the library where I had commissioned an inventory. Of course, the cataloguing of books and scrolls and adjoining archives was the cause of the commotion. It was a pivotal step in restoring Nerkam’s status as a capital, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had underestimated the task’s complexity. The inventory had dragged on for weeks, and they were nowhere near completion -a baffling situation considering the recent fire and meticulous shelving during reconstruction.
Dozens of doors lined the corridor, leading to lounges, offices, or rooms furnished with a luxury that was modest by the capital’s standards. These were the quarters for esteemed guests during their visits. The entire lower floor of the Palace was dedicated to the representation and administration of the sprawling empire we governed. Without my frequent visits, navigating this vast edifice would require a bloody map.
Abruptly, a firm grip on my arm yanked me into the nearest room, the door clicking shut behind me. “Damn, you look good in a dress,” Steven chuckled, his hold relaxing slightly.
“You scared me, Steven,” I said, his warm lips meeting mine, diffusing my irritation. “What brings you here?”
“I needed to speak with you. Do you have a moment?”
“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “The Council has summoned me.”
“Sounds serious. What have you done?” His eyebrows arched, curiosity lighting up in his green eyes.
“Nothing. They’ve likely concocted some new statistics to share. You know how I adore statistics,” I said with a hint of sarcasm. The strangeness of the invitation lingered in my thoughts. Perhaps this meeting wouldn’t be as mundane as I anticipated. Maybe something significant has transpired.
“Alright then… what about dinner?” Steven asked, stepping back and folding his arms -a gesture I’d become familiar with. It never failed to draw my attention to the tension of his muscles, a sight I found rather pleasing. And when he bit his lip in thoughts, it was nothing short of endearing.
The invitation was tempting, but I hesitated. “It depends on what you want to discuss. It has the ominous ring of ‘we need to talk’ kind of talk,”
“Don’t be so pessimistic,” he chuckled. “It’s a surprise. Just say you’ll come.”
“Anything to escape the avalanche of letters awaiting me,” I concluded.
“You’re so incredibly irresponsible, Majesty,” he sighed, likely bracing to remind me of the importance of each letter. We’d danced this waltz before, and the pile on my desk had only grown. His lectures always struck me as odd, given his youth.
“Do you have a watch?” I asked, he rolled up his sleeve. The hands, though upside down, unmistakably pointed to five past ten. Steven’s timepiece was never wrong, which meant I was either delayed by the palace’s corridors or the clocks in the lounge were off. “Damn,” I muttered, hand pausing on the door handle. I was already late; no need to further provoke the Council. As I turned to leave, Steven’s voice followed, “Wear a dress tonight.”
A deceptive smile graced my lips as I entered the small hall, its white stone walls adorned with royal banners -dark red fields emblazoned with a golden lion’s head and gilded trim. The floor’s white tiles were laced with golden veins converging at the room’s heart. At the rear, a semicircular table stood, six high-backed chairs filled, two vacant, yet none of these details commanded as much attention as the three-dimensional map of the kingdom.
In Alryne, I made do with a patchwork of maps to form a semblance of the realm’s state. But here, in Nerkam, the map revealed the land’s pulse -if reports were to be believed. Years of weaving spells into its fabric had birthed the living atlas, a creation that swelled my chest with pride.
“You’re late,” Peter’s voice cut through the silence, his gaze fixed on me since reclaiming his Council seat. His mood had soured since his regency ended, his critiques growing ever more acerbic, his presence increasing grating.
“Maybe next time, don’t send a fucking letter,” I retorted, approaching the map. The capital shone brightly, demanding attention despite not being the largest mark.
Surveying the Council members, my eyes passed over Peter, the northern representative, to Duke Bearon and his confidant Galeren. Lords of the southern lands, their eccentricities belied a sharp vision for our future, one they pushed without meddling in others’ affairs. Baron Iamis, however, revelled in the irrelevant, his delight in gossip only matched by his penchant for twisting tales to hasten their spread. And I suspected that some of those distorted fables now clung to the young lady Iohanna.
Council seats were filled by nominees from the country’s societal pillars -guilds, nobility, military, and commerce. In theory, any name could rise to such ranks, yet seldom did it include a politically green young woman. Iohanna, in her pink attire, was no innocent pawn; I feared she was entangled in a sinister game, aware yet perhaps overconfident in her ability to outplay her unseen opponent.
Lord Terrick, the last to arrive at the table, is a figure of undeniable charisma. A former general has traded the harshness of the battlefield for the grandeur of the Council chamber, a fitting arena for his late years.
“Where’s Jasce?” I inquired, noting the absence of the Council member whose self-serving politics often clashed with his role. Installed before my reign, Jasce’s removal required justification I lacked, yet his absence was as conspicuous as it was unusual.
“In the morning, there was an attack in Casscairn,” intoned Bearon, his voice resonating with gravity. A stack of reports was thrust into my hands, familiar accounts of previous assaults that seemed to form a puzzle missing a crucial piece.
“In the city?” My eyes darted to the map. Casscairn, laid in the northeast, fortified by mountains and lake, should have been marked by a crimson hue to signal distress, yet it lay undisturbed.
“They haven't officially reported yet, only Jasce's message,” Peter interjected, brandishing a sheet of paper. The implications were clear: the attack was recent, perhaps ongoing.
“He writes that creatures emerged near the square, attacking our people,” Peter continued.
“Injured?” I pressed, the city's layout etching itself in my mind.
The tension in the Council chamber thickened like a fog, each member’s words weight to an already heavy atmosphere. The map of Casscairn lay undisturbed, a silent mockery of the chaos unfolding far from our eyes. The absence of red was a riddle in itself -no sign of the turmoil that had gripped the city.
Peter took a deep breath. “Several injured and three dead,” he had said, his voice devoid of the gravity such news deserved. My heart raced, not with fear, but with frustration. Another attack, more lives lost, and still the pattern eluded us. No strategic targets, just random violence. The reports spoke of undead, the same I had glimpsed with Steven, yet no bodies remained. In Alryne, I had found nothing; Jonathan insisted they were unnecessary. But without evidence, we were chasing shadows.
Terrick’s call to arms was met with nods of agreement. “Jasce is no soldier,” he declared, his disdain for the absent Council member clear. But sending troops was a mere bandage on a wound that required surgery.
Iamis rose, his too-large suit billowing like a sail caught in a gale. “The news is spreading, and fear with it,” he warned, his concern not for the victims but for the panic that might ensue. His words painted a picture of a fire, one that would grow with each retelling of the tale.
Galeren’s outburst cut through the tension, his disbelief at the thought of panic over ‘a few isolated attacks’ clear. But his words were lost as the Council descended into a familiar bickering, this time over the price of blue steel -a trivial matter when lives were at stake.
As the debate rages on, my resolve hardened. To unravel this mystery, I needed to be free of the Council’s chains. Casscairn called to me, its secrets hidden within the city’s walls. I had to see those creatures again, to understand the force that drove them. Only then could we hope to stop the attacks and bring peace to our troubled land.
With a swift motion, I returned the stack of reports to the servant, my decision set. “Inform Hamilton to await me in the Great Hall in ten minutes,” I commanded, my stride unwavering as I made for the exit. The Council’s steel price debate was a distraction I could ill afford -not with the pressing matters at hand. I needed to change.
“You can’t leave. The session is not over yet,” Lord Bearon’s voice cut through the chamber, sharp as the steel in question.
“For you, perhaps,” I shot back, my resolve as firm as the stone walls surrounding us. “But my duties extend beyond this room.” Bearon and Peter stood, their movements echoing their discontent, while Iohanna, adorned in her voluminous dress, watched on, her posture straightening.
“Upon my return, I expect a full account of this session, Peter,” I declared, leaving no room for debate. With that, I departed, the weight of leadership heavy on my shoulders, but my purpose was as clear as the path before me.
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