Out of the Ashes Ch. 18

Chapter 18: Of hidden daggers and silver tongues

(5,6k words, futa, character focus, dialogue, plot chapter, medieval politics, character motivation, political drama)

----------------------------------------

Small victories may not win a battle, but they certainly could win a war. This proved to be a piece of wisdom applicable on battlefields as well as on royal ballrooms.

The days in the palace seemed to come easier now that the young highking slowly settled into her new role. Like her mothers displayed for many years, the key was keeping a rigorous routine and upholding the utmost level of discipline suited for the heaviest burden in the kingdom. Margaret knew she was not nearly there yet, but every journey starts with the first step. Even with one as miniscule as joining her sister before sunrise on her early morning routine to sharpen her senses. Or accompanying her mother for breakfast to learn about the ongoings in the kingdom from one of the most skilled administrators in the realm.

They rarely had more than 30 minutes for themselves before one of them would be called upon dealing with tasks that apparently always required royal intervention. Or before queenmother would head to the dungeons to be with her wife -- like she did whenever she could.

The palace saw many scandals and historic moments in its long existence. The unification of two people, their divide and their near downfall even. But accommodating a de facto still reigning highking in its cells, while her heir sat on the throne was unrivalled in its uniqueness... and in its absurdity.

Margaret's own journey may lead her on a path less steep than she first anticipated, but she was aware how everyone's eyes were resting on every one of her steps. And also, how the most charming and sweet of voices offering their unconditional friendship were also whispering from the shadows.

Anastasia's presence loomed over the palace like storm clouds and followed Margaret everywhere she went. Noblewomen from all over the realm heralded their early arrivals at the palace as soon as the news of Margaret's sudden reign reached their lands. Their titles and their consequential obligations demanded such a visit, but Margaret knew by their replies alone that their loyalty was still with her predecessor -- sitting in a cell not too far from the throne.

Some didn't even pretend to hide their old allegiances and addressed Margaret with the bare minimum of respect her new role rightfully demanded. Queenmother and Alexia had prepared her mentally for this, but it would be a challenge to keep offering a hand to people she knew were wishing for her deposition if that meant the return of their former king.

Today would be certainly one of those days when she would find herself caught between warm, soothing words and split, poisonous tongues. A day when she had to remain steadfast and unshakable when her visitors were testing the steel of their new king. Especially one in particular.

News reached Margaret that a delegation from the north, from Archduchess Theresa, was approaching. And some even said she was leading that delegation in person. This would have been a special, a rare visit, from one if not the most powerful woman besides the royal family. And also, a known long-time friend and former patron of Anastasia.

The ballroom needed to be newly decorated in order to shine in new splendor for the aristocratic elite to adore. Everything had to be a showing of elegance and power. A balance between diplomacy and domination. In a sense everything the visitors could see had to be an extension of Margaret herself, and the king she wanted to be to her subjects.

One would think that decorating a ballroom was quite enjoyable and a well-deserved break from the other urgent duties in a king's daily life. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Margaret spent hours with her mother to get every last detail right and wouldn't it have been for queenmother she certainly wouldn't have finished in time and lost herself in the countless ideas and starkly differing visions of her advisors.

Margaret was by no means a stranger to the customs of the royal court, but even while knowing the deeper meaning of such a lavish presentation this overwhelming amount of thought and care put into the ballroom felt highly exaggerated. Only later did she find out that her mothers had to go through the same taxing procedure after they won the war. And that both felt even more anxious than she did. Ironically, Theresa was one of the most helpful hands and minds in both of her mothers early reign. Today, she would return to determine in which direction her daughters reign would head.

"My highking," another countess proclaimed with the same enthusiasm as her dozen predecessors. "Thank you for inviting myself and my daughters. Please accept our humble greetings and gifts of friendship," the slender woman said in a thick western accent.

Margaret nodded and smiled royally while softly stroking the ebony grip of the royal sceptre.

"Greetings to our friends in the west. And thank you Countess as well as your daughters for arriving today with friendship and warmth in your hearts. I assure you the feeling is mutual," Margaret proclaimed and guided the countess and her kin to their seats with a soft gesture of her left.

She was getting the hang of dealing with the onslaught of visitors that kept filling the hall. The first greetings made her heart throb with fear but it soon turned out that the anxious tension was mutual among most lesser nobles.

This was the first visit for many of them, especially for their heirs. There might be annual occasions and festivities that would grant them the privilege to visit the royal palace, but to most the journey, often through the whole kingdom, was a burden too great to undertake.

They were overwhelmed with awe and Margaret silently smiled upon seeing the excitement in the eyes of their children when meeting a king for the first time. This would be a journey they would probably never forget and one that they would certainly keep talking about for many years to come.

While they were clearly taken aback by of the ornaments and splendor they rightfully associated with royalty would they also be enthralled by the performance of their new king?

A king that resided on the throne yes, but didn't wear a crown. And a king that was more often than not much younger than her visitors.

Queenmother and her discussed that fact until minutes before the first banners passed the main gate. They settled on not displaying the ultimate royal power by wearing Anastasia's crown, but decided to wield the royal sceptre instead, nor did Margaret made queenmother abandon her throne next to the king's.

They would present themselves as a blend of the new and the old. With the young taking over the mantle from the experienced, but with their blessing and their good will. That was the initial plan, but like all things these days there was no certainty in how things would work out.

A good dozen visitors in Margaret allowed herself to form a first assessment.

While many of the lesser nobility seemed blinded by the wonderous spark that was the first visit to the royal palace, the same couldn't be said about their overlords. Most duchesses and even some of the more seasoned countesses looked grimly at the sight of what they perceived surely as a clueless child sitting on a throne that wasn't truly hers and pretending to be their king.

Margaret couldn't allow to let herself be infested with fear and falling victim to hunting shadows that might only exist in her own, overly sceptical mind.

The countess from the west bowed for what must have been the third time and long enough that Margaret couldn't stop herself from getting a good view of the countess' daughters. They all were vibrantly brunette and also naturally beautiful... and met the kings gaze like they were clearly instructed to.

"We may speak later my friends. And I will keenly listen to what stories you brought us from the western frontiers," Margaret said without showing any annoyance about that clumsy attempt of a seduction.

They were not the first and wouldn't be the last. The news of the vacant throne of the queen seemed to have spread as fast as the heralds could announce the arrival of a new king. For many nobles this was the one opportunity to take a massive leap towards the top of the feudal hierarchy. And towards the start of their own dynasty, and one of royal blood.

Margaret looked over to her right as the westerners kept exchanging looks with queenmother. She knew most of the visitors by name, many more than Margaret did. Naturally some visitors looked for her approval and maybe silently for a favour after years of dutiful service. This might have been the norm under Anastasia's and Euridike's reign, but Margaret was anything but thrilled to have her subjects turn to her mother to undermine her authority as king. Especially regarding a topic like the search for a queen, where their opinions greatly differed.

The crownless king didn't have to word her anger and the former queen silently nodded after the unspoken demand. She bowed gracefully while keeping her royal presence on her throne to the king's right. Even a little disagreement like that could escalate into a dispute about the legitimacy of Margaret's takeover if the wrong people would pick up on it.

Margaret might be sitting in her elevated throne, dressed in silk and ermine fur, wielding the royal sceptre, looking down at her subjects from a position of power, but she also knew that her position was anything but absolute. And the slightest of slip ups would turn the court yard into a battlefield where she would have to fight for her crown. A battlefield of words, not of fire and steel, but a battlefield nevertheless... and the fiercest opponent was ready to enter the scene.

"My king. May I introduce your next visitor?" the herald asked as she stepped forward after the countess finally left the stage.

"You may. Who am I to welcome next?" Margaret asked.

"Archduchess Theresa and her retinue, my liege."

Margaret's heart almost skipped a beat and for a moment she could feel her fingers dig harder into the wooden railing of her cushioned throne.

"Splendid. She may enter and introduce her with all your poetic might. The archduchess deserves the warmest of welcomes," the king said with faked optimism.

The trumpets of the musicians echoed through the hall just a tad louder and more bombastic than the other times before. They proved to be the first indicator that this next visitor was different to the others. Her actual appearance didn't refute that initial feeling either.

The archduchesses' walk was fast and focused and as she passed by the rows of nobles some were bowing involuntarily or out of respect as the by now white-haired "lioness of the north" marched by. Even some members of the royal guard.

Theresa had clearly aged since the last time Margaret had seen her. Age might have caught up with her but she refused to sacrifice any of her authority for a few more years of youth, as she had to trade in her famous golden mane with her new, exclusively white one. The wolf fur around her shoulder partially covered the militaristic robe beneath and for a second Margaret thought that the archduchess was wearing actual armour. Although this wasn't the case still, neither she nor her by now grown-up daughters following her were any less of an imposing sight.

"Your highness," Theresa said and instead of taking the knee like the other nobles thus far she instead chose to just bow down, like her two daughters.

"My liege! The stories and achievements of your visitor reached the ear of every mother and child from the tundra in the west until the deserts in the east. Her lordship has shined as an example of strength and wisdom throughout the decades of peace and prosperity as well as a beacon of hope in our people's darkest days," the herald proclaimed in a nervous tone.

This marked only the beginning of an introduction that certainly displayed all of the herald's "poetic might". Sadly only in regards to quantity and not to quality.

Margaret looked also puzzled why the herald decided to indulge in what started to sound like an excerpt from a history book. Admittedly, the arch duchess certainly earned her place in those. While the herald kept on and on, she managed to miss mentioning the most important chapter in that tale. That Theresa was the one who started manufacturing and engineering the weapons that brought Anastasia the victory in the big wars. Also, the fact that the archduchess received the most prosperous and most cultivated lands in return would have deserved a mention.

"The archduchess of the highlands reaching from the sea to the ice deserts near the northern frontiers. Baroness of the great plains. Warden of the shrine of our divine goddess. Guardian to the keeps of our ancestors..."

The herald lost herself in a frenzy of titles and possessions and so much so that many of her audience were puzzled by her insistence to keep going.

Theresa, still in her bowed stance also looked up eventually and pierced the herald with her vibrantly blue eyes. That only further prompted the herald to keep speaking faster and continue even more feverish in her pursuit to appease the archduchess. Who clearly didn't feel impressed in the slightest, but bored at best.

... and the royal engineer," the herald eventually finished with a fiery red colour on her face after enduring the archduchess' gaze.

"Thank you for that... thorough introduction," Theresa said and slowly straightened her back.

Her eyes wandered between Euridike and Margaret and then through the decorated hall.

"Any more titles and one could have thought I was the one hosting this gathering," she mused loud enough for the visitors to hear.

Some laughed at what could have been dismissed as an innocent joke, but Margaret wasn't smiling in the slightest. She knew that this woman was not renown for her humour. Nor for making such comments without much thought.

"My greetings are with you Euridike. It has been ages since I last addressed you without your title," Theresa said.

"Greetings, Archduchess. Although the circumstances of our reunion might have changed the ways we address each other, I hope that our mutual respect and admiration remained untouched," Euridike said with her signature soft voice.

"Aye. Such things never change," Theresa said with a soft smile.

The wrinkles on her seasoned face now fully revealed that she was truly in her late sixties.

But unlike most women who crumbled when they lost the battle with time, Theresa still acted like the woman that many regarded as the mastermind behind their people's victory. The archduchess spoke with the authority of a living legend -- and also as one who was well aware that she controlled half of the kingdom's grain reserves if she so desired.

Eventually she faced the king she insisted on ignoring until now.

"My blessings and gratitude are of course also with you, my king. May I add that I congratulate you to blossoming into a beauty I found myself unable not to compare with the loveliness your mother possessed in her earlier days," Theresa said and once more bowed down without averting her gaze.

Once again, she didn't address the king by much more than on a superficial level and only after catching up with Euridike first. Margaret was silently fuming at what she realised was not the pretended friendship the archduchess implied, but a clear challenge by the second most powerful woman in the realm.

"My gratitude and my friendship are with you as well, Archduchess. While your list of achievements deserves the utmost admiration, even the one of kings, I look forward to reunite with a friend of our family and loyal servant to the kingdom," Margaret said.

Theresa didn't flinch. She had the same cold confidence in her stare as Anastasia. A piercing grimness that was almost overshadowed by the unrelenting certainty that her razor-sharp mind was able of countering everything thrown at her.

"Indeed, your highness. Our families have been bound by chance and fate for decades to make this kingdom what it is today. A refuge for our people where nobody ever has to fear the threats from within," Theresa said.

"And may it be that way for as long as I reign," Margaret said assertively.

"In the name of all our people, I pray that this may be the case," Theresa said and for a moment appeared to have finished her verbal skirmish as she turned to her side and look into the crowd.

Just to ponder for a moment and return her attention to the throne.

"But I can't help but notice that the circumstances of which our kingdom's fiercest protector is shining with absence have been a surprise to everyone. Even to us in the north," the archduchess said.

Margaret's grip around the royal sceptre grew tighter and whitened her knuckles, which Theresa must have noticed since her eyes kept focused on every little reaction of the young king.

"I may assure you that the circumstances you are referring to were in the interest of all our people and made with the utmost consideration of the protection of every last of my subjects," Margaret proclaimed.

Theresa barely moved throughout the exchange, but her presence was felt through the countless eyes of the crowd. Many nodded in agreement as the archduchess addressed what they were thinking but lacked the bravery to address.

"Certainly, your highness. As your mothers before you, your family as well as mine were the vanguard of our people. And every last soul in our kingdom rejoices in hearing that their liege commits to upholding that tradition. My humble family as well."

Margaret's royal gown felt somehow tighter as her fury was swelling within her. She could feel that her fingers were about to leave an imprint on the ebony grip of her sceptre.

Archduchess Theresa. A woman deserving of her reputation proved what Margaret was realising throughout the earlier days of her reign. That the pit of snakes that was the royal palace was even more unforgiving than the life as the king's daughter. And that she would have to learn on how to live with compromises she thought she couldn't. And she had to learn fast.

"It saddens me to see you have to look for reassurance that this is indeed the case with your new king," Margaret said calmly.

Theresa smirked menacingly and offered the palms of her until now idle hands.

"Forgive me, my king. I am none to question your devotion nor your wisdom, but as your mother before you, our kingdom was built on reassuring that there was no margin for errors. Errors that could slip past the wisest and sharpest of minds if preparation didn't match the intellect."

"OUR kingdom?! Say our kingdom one more time! This is not YOUR kingdom," Margaret screamed in her head and felt her body temperature rise when being faced with the archduchess' remarks.

She bit her lip and pondered on what to reply when Euridike jumped in to help.

"Your worries, like in the past, are being heard and spoken with wisdom, archduchess. And like in the days gone by, I can assure you that the realm is left in very capable and considerate hands. I might no longer be in a position of actively taking part in the daily dealings of the crown, but I have rarely been this confident in the direction we are heading," Euridike lied.

The white-haired archduchess lifted an eyebrow and silently questioned the former queen if her words were indeed true. Whatever she had searched, Theresa seemed to have found on Euridike's face what she was looking for from afar and returned to facing Margaret, who would have loved to thank her mother for what she just did. Especially since the king knew, that her mother's mind was telling a starkly different story than her heart.