Chapter Three
Queen In Name

Roja looked left, then right, then ahead at the palace of Clarus the Bright and the Mad Queen Vera. Maria and Selico flanked him, though obviously not by choice. He’d be in his room or on the roof of the orphanage if it was up to him. But Legima had made sure to send three diacons up with them to make sure they didn’t escape. Regardless of what the Queen had actually said, a “polite invitation” up to the palace wasn’t the kind of thing a woman like Legima was going to interpret as anything but a standing order. They’d been kept separate for the night, which, all things considered, fair play. Roja would have tried to break out if the three of them had been put together.

The Palace, for what it was worth, was pretty cool. It was the kind of palace that showed up in picture books because it looked like palaces ought to, equal parts pretty and domineering. A large central donjon surrounded by walls that had been prettied over centuries of peace. There was a general purpose of war that no amount of pointy towers had been able to hide. 

The wrought-iron gates however had been open for so long, they’d rusted in place. Roja chewed his tongue and he looked at his friends again. Selico’s face was as neutral as ever, although his gaze darted around, trying to take everything in. Maria’s jaw was jutted forward, like she was defying the castle itself to give her a snarky comment to retort to. The Palace, clearly knowing better, remained quiet. 

It didn’t take long for the guardsmen at the gate to pass the message along, and for the three of them to be led inside. Despite his wariness, Roja found it hard not to look around. The ceilings and floors were adorned with colorful tiles depicting all kinds of scenarios. Most of those scenarios involved heroic charges into armies that hugely outnumbered and out-armed the heroes of the tableaus. 

Roja had heard of some of these battles, of course, during mandatory history lessons. The reality of the situation was that the warlords that had founded the Kingdom had outnumbered their opponents, and had not been so kind as to bury the enemy legions with their armor on, and the plucky underdogs had in actuality been large and well-armed overdogs. 

Not that this made the tableaus any less impressive. Most houses Roja had been inside didn’t have this much blue and purple in them, and the hallway they were in seemed to go on forever. There were people walking in every direction, some clearly servants in some capacity while others were probably nobles, although from Roja’s perspective anyone who could afford boots with thick soles was probably a noble.

Plenty of people were looking at the three of them. Some with curiosity, some with what Roja was aggressively pretending wasn’t pity, and some with a strange little smile that set his teeth on edge. 

Before long, they were led through a large wooden door, which opened up into an open room. It was obviously a throne room. Even if the throne wasn’t a tip-off, the windows in the giant dome at the top bathed the whole room in a warm glow, little dust particles in the air hanging in beams of light. This was Roja’s first throne room, so he’d expected to find himself a little impressed, but he was impressed with how impressed he was.

At the far end of the room were two thrones, on an elevated dais, one slightly larger than the other, but both quite impressive all the same, carved out of single blocks of marble. The smaller one, covered in cushions, was empty. The other was neither covered in cushions, nor unoccupied.

King Clarus was an imposing figure. Not that he was particularly tall, or heavily built. He had the frame of someone who knew how to handle a sword, while at the same time not indulging in the kind of food and drinking habits that the regular soldiery would. What really set him apart though, was his face, his demeanor, and his hair. Even describing him unfairly, people would say that he was ‘classically handsome.’ In practical terms, he had a strong jaw, outlined by a well-maintained blonde beard that gave him an air of wisdom that his young age would otherwise undermine, and his near-white hair was clearly supposed to be slicked back. It wasn’t. It was clearly trying to escape out from under his silver-gold crown, a touch that made him look dashing, like he just got back from an adventure.

Currently, he was listening to some officials for something or other, with a wide smile on his face, and it was immediately clear to Roja that King Clarus was a dangerous man. He could tell, because the King was listening to what was being said. There were few things as dangerous as someone who actually paid attention to what you had to say. Selico’s eyes narrowed when he saw the King. Roja remembered that, out of the three of them, Selico had been the closest to actually meeting the King. 

During the parades five years ago, after the Outer ring of Coalis had been cleaned up, some guards had found Selico. He had been living in his parents’ house, now empty. The King and Queen had seen the young boy be dragged away to the orphanage, if from afar. He didn’t talk about it much, and it hadn’t really been notable to most people, but Selico remembered. As a result, so did Maria and Roja. Had being moved to the orphanage in all likelihood been the best thing for Selico? Yes. Did he still resent them for the shame? Yes.

When the officials shuffled off, seemingly pleased with themselves, the three were shuffled forward, in front of King Clarus, who leaned forward, his elbow on his knee, to take a closer look. 

“Ah,” he said. “The young heroes.” 

“You what?” Maria said, with the kind of energy only a fourteen year old can muster when she is preparing to throw hands with the monarch of a medium-sized country. King Clarus’ face broke into a wide grin and his eyebrows disappeared under his crown. 

“My lovely wife told me you’d be coming by today,” he said, “though she neglected to mention which one you are.” He looked at them again, and then frowned. 

When he stood up from his throne, the whole room went quiet. He took a step closer, and immediately the guards knelt down. Despite every muscle in his body screaming at him to take the knee, Roja resisted. Selico and Maria did too, looking defiantly at a point slightly up and to the left of the King’s face. They were only human, after all. Roja almost pissed himself when King Clarus knelt down in front of him. 

“May I?” he said, and held his hand up to Roja’s shoulder. The boy had been steadfast in keeping himself strong and cool and recalcitrant and other, similar words he couldn’t quite think of right then, but even that had his limits. King Clarus the Bright had slain the Cavean, the monster responsible for half the orphans in the city. He had survived not one but two encounters with Emperor Caligon’s top general, and he had saved the whole Kingdom. No armies, only a handful of now-famous mercenaries. Clarus might have been King, but he was a living legend, first and foremost. You didn’t say no to King Clarus. 

“Y—” Roja said, and then clamped his jaws shut, staring right ahead. The King put his hand on Roja’s shoulder and looked deep into his eyes. Then he looked at the others. 

“I see. Not the usual fare, then.” He stood up. “You’ll all be in good hands! There will be nothing to fear, everything will be all right!” He put his hands on his hips. “None of you happen to feel particularly…” He was clearly hesitating, chewing his tongue. “None of you have, uh, died recently? Haven’t been hearing any voices?” The three looked at each other, baffled, then shook their heads. Was King Clarus as mad as his Queen? “No, no,” he said. “Good, good. Of course you haven’t. Haha.” 

“Haha,” Roja said. 

“Well, what are your names? If you’ll be staying at the Palace a few days, I can’t not know the names of my own guests!” He looked at each of them with an excited expression that was, again, hard to resist. He wasn’t asking out of politeness, Roja felt. The King genuinely seemed to care. The worst thing was that Roja got the distinct sense that he wouldn’t forget their names, either.

“Maria,” Maria said. She was still staring defiantly, and Roja wasn’t sure why she’d volunteered the information. But, like the saying went, his friend had just jumped off a bridge, it was only right he did too. 

“Roja,” he said. “Like the colour.” He had wanted to say something snarkier or more clever, a more interesting retort, but that was the best he had in him. He looked to his right. Selico seemed more conflicted than ever. He opened his mouth to say something, when the King interrupted him. 

“And Sel- Selico, if I’m not mistaken,” King Clarus said, with the slightest smile on his face. The three kids looked at him in surprise. 

“Wait, if you knew our names already,” Maria said, “why did you…”

“Oh, I didn’t,” the King said. “Just him. I’m right, aren’t I?” Selico just nodded. “I remember you,” he continued. “It’s been a few years, and you’ve had quite the growth spurt. You’re quite the strapping young lad.” He smirked, flashing a perfect pearly white grin. “I’ll be honest, if you hadn’t glared at me the way you did when you came in, I wouldn’t have recognized you. But you looked at me the same way when we did the rounds of the outer city, half-a-decade ago.” He nodded. “I hope the home has been good to you.”

Selico looked so very lost. He looked at Roja and Maria, his mouth opening and closing. This was not how any of them had expected this conversation to go, but Roja was under the very distinct impression that no amount of well laid conversational plans survived first contact with king Clarus. “It… was. It is,” Selico said. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Roja and Maria’s mouths fell open. Selico had never been the type to show this kind of deference. The King nodded. “Good to hear it. Now, bef—”

“Darling, are you interrogating our new wards already?” Queen Vera stepped into Roja’s field of vision from out of the shadows of a pillar. He wondered how long she’d been there. “They’ve not even had the time to get their bearings.”

“Just reminiscing, love,” he said. “But yes. I saw it too.” He gestured at his face. “They’ve got the eyes, yes?” The three looked at each other again, and their bright green eyes. It was hard to ignore. Then, something strange happened. Queen Vera spoke, but her voice was different. There was an edge to it. She was somewhere in her mid-twenties, but the way she spoke now seemed to carry with it far more years. Even her stance was more… stiff. Despite looking exactly the same, she seemed taller, and her body moved less. Roja got the feeling that she’d creak if she moved.

“You aren’t wrong, my Clarus,” the Mad Queen said. “They are touched. We’ll see what we can find, we must talk soon. We may need to travel to my home soon.” Then she relaxed and the Vera the three had seen before was back. “Yes?” she said, and the King smiled and nodded.

“I trust you,” he said, and there was an unspoken word in the air that Roja could almost touch in its absence. The regents turned to the children, and Queen Vera put her hands on her hips and looked at them.

“Let’s get them into some decent clothes, yes?” she said. “This won’t do at all.” Immediately Roja and Maria both stuck out their tongues in disgust. They could only imagine the kind of noble clothing the Queen would make them wear, fancy as it would be itchy. 

“No, thank you,” Selico said, looking down at himself. He wore a simple shirt and trousers, with leather sandals, all dyed a warm brown, and a white shawl that was useful on cold nights or for a mid-day nap. He looked at the others. None of them were wearing anything fancy, but then again that’s how they liked it. “We don’t need new clothes.”

Queen Vera looked at them dumbstruck, then threw her head in her neck and laughed. Her laugh bounced off the walls of the throne room. “Yes,” she said, “you do.” She turned on her heel and walked to a door at the far wall. “I can’t fight you in those. I’ll see you in the yard in twenty minutes!”

Elamimax

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