13: Court Is Boring

Pye much preferred trousers over the bulky dresses that she was forced to wear during court.

She didn't know for certain that her father found these sessions as boring as she did, but she strongly suspected. All the nobles of the city gathered in the audience chamber to put forth grievances, to report on taxes, to look for favour, but mostly to be seen. Pye sat in an uncomfortable chair to her father's left and got bored. It was so boring that sometimes she was forced to actually listen, just to pass the time. Her father, King Boras of Bridgeport, showed some actual interest in what they said, but for at least some of the time he had to be dissembling. Today, though, it seemed to be about some battle or other.

“No, Majesty. Our losses were minimal, while those of Lord Pragen completely devastated his military capability. It was like he gambled everything on this one battle, with very poor odds.”

The man speaking was General Trent, the King's Master at Arms and commander of the army.

“And Pragen himself?” asked the King.

“Killed in the battle, Majesty. He led the first charge against the centre of our veterans.” Trent shrugged. “He was cut to pieces before any of them realised who he was.”

“Hm,” said the king. “That's a shame.”

“Yes, Majesty.”

As far as Pye could tell, Pragen had attacked with very little chance of winning. Pragen ruled – had ruled – over a city state that had never recognised Bridgeport's authority. Not the only one of course.

Bridgeport was one of the largest, oldest, and richest of the city states. Its position at the mouth of a major river meant that the king had a commanding interest in all the trade that went up and down the river, as well as all of the coastal traffic.

In addition to the port, there was also the bridge. The Bridgeport kings had always levied a travel tax from those who would cross. The river was fast and wide, and Bridgeport was the only place to cross for many miles, unless travellers wished to go all the way to the mountains. Bridgeport's patrols ensured that no other crossings were viable.

Bridgeport held the entire river, all the way up to the Smelters and the mines in the mountains, which were yet another source of wealth. Iron, steel, copper, tin and gold were barged downriver from the mining town of Kingsfire, while the city's jewellers had sapphires and emeralds the size of thumbnails.

All this wealth made Bridgeport the most prosperous and the most militarily capable nation in all of Aetelia.

Of course, other nation states envied Bridgeport's wealth, and occasionally made attempts to claim some of it for themselves. Pragen was one of them. His castle was inland and to the north, in the fertile farmlands. He traded grain and vegetables throughout Bridgeport's area of control and until recently the king had allowed him some leeway. But over the last month the travellers and traders had been saying that Pragen had been speaking in open defiance of the King's rule, and only a week or so ago, Pragen had sent a missive claiming the title of king for himself.

Boras had of course been extremely angry, and it was during this time that the assassin had struck. Well… attempted to strike.

Very few people ever found out what had really happened, but Pye had been in the room at the time. The would-be assassin, a guest at the feast, had been stopped and disarmed well before reaching the king and bundled off to the dungeons before anyone had a chance to react. Most people, if they thought about the incident at all, assumed that the man and whatever co-conspirators he might have been working with had been executed.

“Well,” said the king, “I suppose we'd better go take the castle then. Do we have any more information about why he suddenly became so bold? Was there anything to those rumours?”

“Of some kind of secret weapon?” Trent chuckled. “No, Majesty. No-one's even sure where he might have got a secret weapon, or what form it would take.”

“Well, if it were some kind of pre-Cataclysm thing, it'd be worth knowing about, yes?”

Pye suddenly started paying attention. It was the rumour of a pre-Cataclysm artifact that had lured her out of the castle that night – the night her keys had failed her.

It was, unfortunately, probably true that no working devices had survived from before the Cataclysm, but rumours occasionally drew scholars and treasure hunters, all hoping to find out something about those mysterious times.

The stories told of a time wen people had created great devices and weapons, but the stories also told of wizards and monsters, so very few people took them seriously. Those who did hunted down every rumour of ancient devices, occasionally claiming success. Her father in his youth had been one of them. But old King Boron had died before he had found anything, and Boros' brother Bower had succeeded to the throne. Bower's reign had been very short – he had been killed in a border skirmish even before his formal coronation. That had been twenty-odd years ago – right before Pye had been born.

The Church of course frowned on all of this, saying that the Master had brought the Cataclysm for good reason – to destroy the sinful world that came before and all of its works. As a result, the king was no longer free to pursue his interest in pre-Cataclysmic artifacts.

But Pye was. As a daughter, she would not be in the line of succession unless something happened to her older brother. Boter commanded the garrison at the Smelters, so technically she was the senior child in the castle, which was why she was forced to sit through court.

“It would, Majesty, yes,” Trent replied, with a glance at the Primate Pinter, who seemed to be inspecting something unpleasant he had just found under a fingernail. “But there is no suggestion of such a thing at this time.”

“Were any prisoners taken?” the king asked, still leaning forward. Pye realised that she had been unconsciously adopting the same posture. She glanced about, but the only person who seemed to have been looking at her was that abominable boy Ethen, the son of one of the courtiers, and she knew very well what he wanted. She made a face and sat back in her chair, returning her attention to her father and his Master at Arms.

“A few, Majesty. Most of the survivors scattered, not that there were many of them. But those we took are being interrogated as we speak.”

“Good, good. Let me know what you find out as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“Was there anything else?”

“There was… er… nothing else, Majesty.”

It seemed to Pye that Trent had been about to say something different, but for some reason had changed his mind. It almost looked like he had glanced to one side. She looked in that direction and saw Golen, the Commander of the Guard, rubbing his eye. Curious, she thought.

“Very well then. Thank you, Trent. You may go.”

“Majesty,” Trent bowed and retreated into the crowd.

“Let's move on,” said the king. “Treasurer Blund.”

The king's Treasure came forward and started droning on about income and expenses, about trade and taxation. Pye lost interest very quickly and soon she found herself nodding. All her nightly excursions would have to catch up to her eventually, and they chose now, while Blund's monotonous voice blurred into the background.

She was roused by a loud noise, like falling rocks. It almost felt like the castle shuddered.

“What was that?” her father asked. Trent replied.

“We're… trying to find out, Majesty,” He gestured to some of his men and conferred quickly with Golen. “Perhaps it would be best if you retired to your chambers for now.”

“Very well then. We'll continue this at a more appropriate time.” He stood, and Pye stood with him, as the guards started ushering the courtiers out of the chamber, heading back to wherever they spent their time when court was not in session.

The king caught her by the elbow as she was just about to depart herself.

“Go find out what's going on, would you?” he said quietly. “These lickspittles won't tell me anything.”

“Yes, father.”

“Good girl.”

He allowed himself to be bundled away by the Castellan, but Pye was able to slip away without, she thought, being noticed.