Sail from the String of Tears

[Cryria]

During the 13th-Century Battle of Breze
Near Modern-Day Charlottesborg

The blast of a winding horn ripped across the waves and rent through Scyles’ aching skull.

All the world had gone askew. His beloved Madyesa was listing portside, the groans of her timbers a final death rattle. Somewhere in his muddled brain, Scyles knew that the ship was taking on water, her hull shattered by an enemy ram.

Leidensen’s fleet had circled the Czernomykki defensive rings like sharks. Someone had broken, Scyles knew. An overconfident commander seizing upon a feigned weakness, or perhaps one losing their nerve. But where one broke in a ring, all others broke in turn. What had followed? Gouts of Cryrian witchfyre were forever seared into his eyes. The hellish screams rising from burning vessels still echoed through his mind. And amidst it all the Vriden had danced like some twisted god of war, gliding through the chaos towards the Madyesa , ripping her oars to splinters and…

Scyles tried to move, but felt only pain. He felt slick blood on the wooden deck beneath him and idly wondered if it was his own or another’s.

He could not hear his crew.

Perhaps they are dead.

Perhaps I am too.

His throat burned with a desperate thirst. Could dead men still be thirsty? That seemed unfair. But above him the blue skies beckoned, marred only by the columns of smoke that had once been ships and men. Scyles summoned a final prayer.

The words caught on dry, cracked lips. Heavy footsteps vibrated through the deck, and then he heard shouting that seemed to come from a thousand leagues away. The red ensign that still waved proudly atop the Madyesa ’s mast dipped out of sight, and in its place rose the White-and-Blue.

And in the distance, the horns screamed their song of madness and triumph.

[Cryria]

Segolstad
Formerly Breze
Modern-Day Charlottesborg

The baleful blast of a horn echoed across the waters.

“They are signaling us in, Starosta.”

Saka sighed, her eyes on the waves lapping against the shipside.

“This is where it happened, is it not?” she asked, more to the sea than to her crew. As ever, the cold ocean offered no response.

Somewhere, deep beneath that murky surface, Scyles was resting. Him, the Madyesa, and all the rest. Czernomyk’s finest, lost to the flames. He at least had left a lock of hair for them to burn in the last rites. Others who had been more certain of victory had not been so wise. Their souls now lay trapped and rotting beneath the waves.

It had only been her insistence which had led her brother to consider the possibility of death, and now that the bleak prediction had come true Saka could not help but wonder if she might not have in some small way drawn ill-fortune through her worries.

Mlythla will do was Mlythla wills, the Starosta told herself. Mortal qualms meant nothing, for good or ill.

Someone moved up beside her, and Saka looked down to find Madyes. Her nephew too was gazing down at the waters below.

“It doesn’t look red,” the child muttered, as though the seas should have left some marker of the men and women it had swallowed.

“No,” Saka agreed. Just seeing the boy sent a pang through her heart. They all knew why Madyes was here on this most dangerous of voyages. They were about to put their head into the shark’s jaw, and leave the child behind as tribute.

The Cryrians always demanded wards from their vassals - Hostages, in truth. A far heavier sort of tribute than the one Celanora had claimed. But Celanor was a distant and dying power now, and Leidensen’s star was on the rise. That little display of defiance outside Breze had been her idea - Hers and Scyles’ both. But it was only the dead man who would be blamed, and who better to offer as tribute than the child of the one who had led Czernomyk to such a bitter defeat?

That had been what her councilors had said, and even as Starosta she was in no position to refuse them.

All this, Madyes knew. But what could the child truly know?

Gods, curse me and curse me again.

“Starosta?” the Captain’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“Take us in, Captain,” Saka said aloud, “And see that our colors fly high. Let us see how Leidensen will treat with us.”

From atop the walls of Breze, the White-and-Blue waved lazily in response.

[Cryria]

Segolstad
Formerly Breze
Modern-Day Charlottesborg

All the world had turned dark for King Segol. It pained Sture to see his old friend now, defeated in the aftermath of his own victory. Seated within the shadowy banquet hall of Breze Citadel, the King was diminished, his face marred by burn scars and bandages wrapped around his now-useless eyes. A victim of his own victory.

“Tell it to me again, Lord Almkvest,” the King rasped.

“The garrisons at Sargos, Lisis, and Salnai have all yielded,” Sture reported, “And Count Widfross has laid siege to the fortifications at Kaioldo.”

Segol nodded to himself. The invasion had gotten off to a grand start - Buoyed by favorable weather their vessels had arrived at Breze faster than its defenders had expected. The fleets of Czernomyk and floundering Celanor had failed to complete their planned ambush, and the enemy flotilla had been smashed upon the Asciec Sea.

But the good Lord Luck was a fickle beast, and the King, riding high on glory, had chosen to partake in the storming of the city. Sture had been proud in the moment - It had been like seeing Magnus come again, a proper warlord of old.

But a battlefield cared not for rank or office, and Segol’s wounds told the rest of the story.

“Scraps of what we’d hoped to gain,” Segol said bitterly. Sture said nothing, but knew it to be true. Their war had petered out with the King’s injury. Oh to be sure, they were still roving across the northern peninsula, seizing the coastal fortifications which had for centuries held firm against Cryrian raiders and sacking the inland villages. But the grand thrust onto the Mainland was now lost.

“The reinforcements from Vesterholm will be arriving soon,” Sture said optimistically, “With those we might yet push further south. Breze is a fine port, and the interior is open to us now. Celanor is dying, and the spoils are many.”

“Perhaps,” Segol said tersely. The King turned his head towards the light shining through one of the high windows, as though he could still feel the warmth of the weak sun.

“Has there been news from the Drifting Court?”

“None, Your Grace,” Sture said. “Save that it still rests at Tarva. Per your orders, we have sent no word of your injuries. Yet… I cannot say for certain if no word has been sent at all. There are many ships that accompanied us here, and many more which were already in port. Lords, mercenaries, merchants and priests. It can only be a matter of time before your brother hears of what has happened.”

The King’s expression turned grim. “We should never have let Valter remain in the Isles.”

“You feared for the succession,” Sture noted. Segol clumsily pushed himself to his feet, and Sture hastened to take his arm and assist only to be shrugged off. “Aye, I feared for it in the case of my death,” Segol growled, “But I still live, and given half a chance Valter will seek to rectify that. I must cloak myself in what victory I can, and return to the Court.”

“Then let us return,” Sture urged, “You have taken Breze, that alone will please the Talveri greatly. The households that have followed you here can ensure Leidenstad remains loyal too. We need only give them the spoils of our conquest.”

“Soon. Soon,” Segol nodded, “There is one last thing I mean to do here. The Starosta of Czernomyk, she has come to yield, has she not?”

“Her ship has just arrived in port,” Sture affirmed, “Czernomyk is a worthwhile prize, if freely surrendered.”

To that, Segol offered a low chuckle.

“Nothing is surrendered freely, Lord Almkvest.”

[Cryria]

Segolstad
Formerly Breze
Modern-Day Charlottesborg

How quickly things returned to normal.

The Uctydr’the had pulled into Breze Harbor, and Saka could not imagine that scarcely a fortnight ago these walls and been filled with dying men, the seawaters stained red with blood. The dockside bustled with activity as merchants and traders from across the Asciec Sea moved their wares, and the piers were a field of wooden masts and creaking timbers. Everywhere she looked, Saka saw the Leidensen colors flying proudly, as Breze determinedly proclaimed its new allegiance.

It was as if the city was in a haste to forget the battle, and those who had fallen for it.

If Saka had been a lesser woman, that thought would have enraged her. As it was though, even she had to admit that Czernomyk was now little better - And as its Starosta, that sin was her own as well.

None came to greet the Uctydr’the as it berthed alongside a pair of merchantmen, save for a harbormaster collecting his due. It was a slap in the face, one which the Starosta had expected, but one that stung all the same. She had gathered her council of war just a few moments prior - Perhaps her last.

“The Cryrians will not greet us by the docks,” Saka had said, “No more than they would any other petitioners. Nor will we be offered direction or ceremony. They wish to make it known that we are not their peers, and are owed nothing - And we will let them play these games, as we must now play our own.”

Captain Ateas interjected here. “It is not for the Starosta of Czernomyk to walk these streets unescorted,” he had insisted.

Saka could feel nothing but appreciation for the man, but he had voiced her thoughts as well. “So it is,” she had nodded, “Ariantas and Lykos will accompany me. And you too Saulios - Fetch my arms and armor! We will make all haste for Breze Citadel, and see what awaits us there. I leave Madyes in your care, Captain. Should you feel that anything has gone awry, you are charged to abandon all loyalties and ignore all commands, and sail with haste to Partomyk.”

She had offered a wan smile then to her crew, “I took the liberty of writing my will on our voyage. You will find it in my cabin, and present it to the Council there. I pray whatever respect they still hold for me will see my wishes respected from beyond the grave.”

With that said, the crew swung into action. Saka had knelt down by Madyes - The boy had been silent all throughout, but watching all the same. He did well to hide his fears, but he looked ever so much like Scyles, and that was a face the Starosta knew to read.

“You will have the command now, my good nephew,” she said, clapping him on the shoulder as if to impart some final confidence, “But you’ll have the men and women for it too. Take care of them, and they shall do the same for you. Captain Ateas will see to the rest.”

The boy nodded mutely, and there was nothing more to be said. Moments later they had said their goodbyes, and were in the streets of Breze.

[Cryria]

Segolstad
Formerly Breze
Modern-Day Charlottesborg

King Segol could see nothing. Clerics, surgeons, and a hundred worse charlatans would claim otherwise he knew, offer him miracle treatments or pretty lies in exchange for Leidensen silver or royal favor. But Ademar had spoken, and through Him, God. He would never again watch the fog lift over Leidenstad, or see the waves crash upon the cliffs of Trauer. No more sunrises, no more sunsets.

Only the deep and abiding night.

No, King Segol could see nothing, but he could imagine everything. The knives that might wait in the dark could be anywhere when the dark was everywhere, and though he may have lost his sight his ears still heard the whispers that came from distant Tarva. Rumors that he was incapacitated, unfit to rule. How long, he wondered, before such things reached Valter’s ears? How firmly would brotherly love hold then, when the throne was so near for the taking? How would their lady mother choose, between a crippled son and a traitorous one?

These all swirled in his imagination, yet there were some things the King could picture clearly in his mind’s eye. The Cardinal Segolstad, young for a woman of her rank, yet filled with schemes and blood as cold as a shark’s.

“Your Grace must know the Church’s disapproval of this decision.”

“His Grace,” the King ground out the words, “Is above such disapproval. Or has the Church become a body that forgets its own head?”

“The Church merely channels the disapproval of God,” Segolstad’s smooth words came out of that darkness, “And no mortal is above God.”

Segol kept himself from snorting. He held his faith of course, every good Cryrian did. It was a warm flame to guide him even now when every other light was lost. But somehow he did not feel that this was a matter to concern the God-on-Urth.

“You are a holy woman, Cardinal,” the King said, “Tell me, why does God disapprove of the man who has brought His light back to the Mainland?”

“God does not disapprove of Your Grace’s victory,” the Cardinal responded, smooth as ever, “He disapproves of Your Grace’s decision to cast it aside.”

“Do you suggest, Cardinal, that I mean to retreat?” Segol asked drily.

“I think Your Grace means to hand Segolstad over to the Talveri,” the Cardinal said, “And allow Talveri law and Talveri faith to hold sway here.”

Silence filled the room, and the King regretted allowing it to persist as long as he did. The space between words all but confirmed Cardinal Segolstad’s insinuation. She was correct, of course. Given a choice between courting the Church and courting the Talveri, Segol knew which he would choose. Particularly when so many within the Church cared not one bit what happened to this spit of land, while the Talveri claim to Breze had underlain this entire expedition.

But these were not things the Cardinal should have known, not with such confidence that she might make such accusations before him.

But of course, the Church has ears… and eyes.

“The God-on-Urth may be worshiped freely under Talveri law,” the King said, though he knew full well that this alone would never be enough for the Cardinal, “Nor has the Council of Cardinals issued any edict in opposition to this. By what right, then, do you alone claim to know God’s will?”

“It is by God’s will Your Grace has lost your sight.”

Another silence, more deafening than the last. Had Segol not held this audience in private, his court would have been in an uproar. Even now he could sense the tension among his guards. To raise a hand against a masked priest was anathema, yet they might be ordered to avenge such an insult all the same. The King wondered if even the closest of his soldiers would obey such a command.

Today was not the day to find out. Instead, the King gripped the arms of his chair and rose to his feet.

“And it is by God’s will,” he grated out, “That I have survived, and may thus dispense of my duties in Segolstad as benefits the Realm.” Without waiting for a response, the King inclined his head and uttered the line of dismissal.

“This audience has pleased me.”

[Cryria]

Segolstad
Formerly Breze
Modern-Day Charlottesborg

Citadel Breze loomed up over the *Starosta’*s party as it made its way through the city streets. Or was it Citadel Segolstad now?

No matter the name and no matter the flags, it was a formidable sight. Gray towering stone walls and towers dotted with crenellations, machiculations, and likely a hundred hidden surprises for any attackers.

For all that, the Celanoran fortress, by Saka’s reckoning, had fallen without a fight. No doubt the as the Cryrians had swarmed the rest of the city the Citadel’s commander had made the decision to surrender rather than hold out for a reinforcement that would never come. Here on the periphery, the empire was already lost, as was the faith of its soldiers. The stronghold which had once held Cryrian fleets at bay now played host to their power, and from it the Leidensens could reinforce themselves at will and range inland freely. The hard shell had been broken, and now the soft interior was open for the taking.

It had been as Saka expected - No greeting, no honors. Just the guards at the gate motioning them to a halt, with some nobleman in their company.

“Lady Starosta,” he inclined his head in some semblance of respect, “His Majesty bids you welcome.”

Which means you know full well that we were coming, Saka surmised. It made the lack of a reception all the more insulting, and by now she was obliged to bite back.

“It is good to know that we are welcomed, Sir,” the Starosta responded, “It would be better still if the King did not leave the task of welcoming to you alone.”

The Cryrian’s face tightened. “His Majesty is presently indisposed,” he said, “With victory comes an… administrative burden. I am Count Sture of Honningfjord, here in His Majesty’s stead.”

“And I am Saka of Czernomyk,” Saka said simply, “And those with me are Sirs Ariantas, Lykos, and Saulios of Lokia respectively. Allow me to extend my condolences to His Majesty, and my well-wishes on recovering from his injuries.”

The Starosta’s face twitched into a knife of a smile as she spoke. They had heard of the King’s wounds, taken in this very city no less. Just like that the King’s absence could be treated not as a display of indifference, but a sign of infirmity. A flash of irritation came over Sture’s face at the mention.

“His Majesty entreats you to enter the Citadel as his guest,” the Count pushed on determinedly, “And invites you to dine with him tonight, so that you may both discuss the future.”

Now that was unexpected. Not an audience before the full court, such as it was in Breze, but a private reception. But Saka had no time to consider the implications of this now, and she instead offered a humorless smile.

“We gratefully accept, Count Honningfjord.”

[Cryria]

Segolstad
Formerly Breze
Modern-Day Charlottesborg

The sun was hanging low over Breze, and a fateful hour was soon to come. Saka found herself atop the Citadel battlements, overlooking the city below.

How many times had she stood here in her life? From Czernomyk, Breze had always seemed like the center of the universe - An unbreakable fortress of Celanoran power, a nexus of trade and travel. She had come often, first as a girl and then as Starosta, and never once had the city lost its splendor. Even now it seemed the same, on surface, but there was a muted strangeness to it all. And the Citadel was filled with Cryrians, speaking their alien tongues, their masked clergy trailing about.

And what of it anyhow?

Celanor could fade, and the world would keep on turning. Saka, Czernomyk, all of it could go up in flames, and come the morning the sun would still rise.

Put that way, and it all seemed terribly unfair.

A muffled voice called her name from behind.

“Lady Saka, I presume?”

Saka turned to sight one of those masked priests - Priestesses, she soon realized.

“Aye,” the Starosta said, “That is me.”

The priestess tilted her head in greetings, “I am the Cardinal Segolstad. I bid you welcome, to this fair city of mine.”

Saka bit back a sharp retort. The insult was far too obvious to be worth a response.

“Aye,” she finally said, “So you do.”

The priestess paused - Saka would have liked to think that she was taken aback, but the mask revealed nothing.

“I understand that you will dine with the king tonight?”

Saka eyed the woman cautiously, thinking she surely knew the answer to that, “It is the plan, aye.”

“To discuss your future fealty, no doubt,” the Cardinal continued.

Saka’s mounting impatience pushed aside any remaining sense of tact. “My apologies, Cardinal,” she said, “But this has been a taxing journey. Is there something you require of me?”

Now it was Segolstad’s turn to consider her words, “Not as such,” she said, “Though I much desire to speak with you all the same. No doubt your treating with the King will be important to us all, yet… Well, let us not mince words. His Majesty will be on his way soon, but I will remain here, in Segolstad. It is important then, that we should speak as well, no? As longtime neighbors to come?”

Saka’s eyes narrowed. On his way soon. Oh, the double meanings that could lie behind those words. And that the Cardinal would so brazenly seek to undermine the Drifting Throne by speaking to her first… Just the Cardinal? Or perhaps even the Church as a whole? Yes, there was division here in the Cryrian position, and where there was division there was weakness.

And yet… dare she exploit it?

Something told her that she might not be the one doing the exploiting here.

“We surely should, Cardinal,” Saka said, “But propriety demands that I speak with His Majesty before I speak with his subordinates, yes?”

A long moment passed as she awaited the woman’s reply. “As you say, Starosta,” the Cardinal finally said, her mask revealing nothing.

[Cryria]

Segolstad
Formerly Breze
Modern-Day Charlottesborg

“I trust you will enjoy this fare of my homeland, Lady Starosta.” A fork scraped sightlessly against a stone plate. “I have never had the good fortune to visit Czernomyk myself, but I am told that yours is a similar cuisine, for we are indeed a similar people.”

The Starosta’s voice returned to him, out from the darkness that was his world. “Few are the Cryrians who have had the good fortune to set eyes on my homeland,” she began, and Segol could feel the edge in her tone. The waters of Czernomyk had long been littered with the shattered timbers of Leidensen raiders. “But doubtless, you have heard many things, and doubtless many of them are true, Your Grace.”

That much acrimony, Segol decided, he could allow. History and honor all but demanded it, and he had expected as much. This night had been carefully prepared for, as what he had once expected to be a simple matter of victory turned into a much more complicated matter of survival. He’d already been seated at the table when the Starosta arrived, the location of every dish and utensil memorized as best he could. His blindness was obvious, but the King was ill-inclined to make a display of it.

Better, to pass it off as nothing at all.

“I fear I will likely never set eyes upon your fair isles now, Lady Starosta,” Segol said wryly, “Though I am pleased to know that I may visit them in their full splendor all the same. There were those in my court who felt that rather than a messenger, it should have been a fleet that I sent to your walls.”

That much he was required to say, the soft reminder of the violence he could do, but had chosen to withhold of his own volition. Once, the bearings of a conqueror would have suited him, but now even the proposal did not did not sit well with the King.

Any decent man who suffers in war should balk at starting another.

But fear, Segol knew, was a healthy thing. Fear created peace, and peace was now what he desired. Yet, when the Starosta’s voice returned to him, there was no tremor in it.

“It is well that you did not, your grace,” she said, “For our walls are strong and splendid as those we now sit behind.”

Segol carefully scooped up what he estimated to be a chunk of fish meat, and raised it to his mouth. “The walls of Breze fell.”

“Breze?” the Starosta said lightly, “Segolstad now surely, your grace?”

To that, the King had to laugh, and his food fell back into the plate. The Starosta spoke on, quick to ease her words of defiance now. “I do not mean to say that we would have held, your grace,” she said, “Only that we would have fought.”

“And fight you did,” the King said, “In these very waters. But the time for fighting is over now, Lady Starosta. Your ships were sunk. Your Celanoran allies are in retreat. My army holds Breze, and my fleets hold the seas. I can strike at my want and will, without opposition or contest. There is no honor, in seeking a doomed battle. And as I say… we are a similar people. It is not for us to destroy one another.”

He placed the fork down, onto where he thought the plate should be. Every piece and dish had been laid out carefully for him, in that regard.

“Do you yield?”

[Cryria]

Segolstad
Formerly Breze
Modern-Day Charlottesborg

“Do you yield?”

The fateful question lay on the table.

Saka regarded the man sitting across from her, those ruined, sightless eyes covered by a cloth strip. An unkempt beard that clashed with carefully arranged royal regalia.

This one will not last long now, she thought to herself. And what came after? The Starosta knew it was a dangerous thing to wonder.

“I am here, your grace,” she said simply, “Unarmed and in good faith.”

The King grunted in agreement. “I’m aware,” he said, “Yet there is a formality to it all, is it not?”

The Starosta fell silent for a moment.

“Is this that then, your grace?” she finally asked, “The formality? Here?” Saka looked around at the private setting. This was no place to announce a victory, or a surrender. Such things demanded publicity.

Indeed, Segol’s lips quirked up into a smile, “No,” he admitted, “I suppose not. I had thought to speak with you alone first, before all of that.”

And yet you ask me to yield first all the same, Saka mused.

“Terms,” the King said simply. A silence hung in the air, one which Leidensen clearly expected her to fill. She did not oblige. “I understand, that you brought your nephew with you.”

A pang of sorrow shot through Saka’s heart as she recalled the boy’s face, so much like his father, only now filled with sorrow. “It is the way of things, is it not?”

“So it is,” the King agreed, “But ways change with need, and I’ve no desire to hold children as hostage. I am prepared to offer a more equitable arrangement.”

Saka’s eyes narrowed, though she knew that the King could not see them. “Is that so?”

Segol barked out a laugh, as though guessing at his own implication. “Nothing so forward, Lady Starosta. No, I am prepared to have Czernomyk swear its allegiance, not directly to the Drifting Throne but instead to the Duchy of Talvere.”

“Of which your grace is still the Duke,” Saka observed.

“And which enjoys independence from the religious oversight of the Church,” Segol said plainly. “That independence would then extend to Czernomyk as well. You would not be required to convert. Your lands would not be subjected to the inquisitions.”

“It is a kind offer,” Saka said carefully. She could see something of the monarch’s plan beginning to fall into place here. Her brief conversation with the Cardinal earlier, and now this… Was this some play by the King against the Church?

“I assure you, I benefit from it much as well,” Segol said, “And there is some merit in honesty between us. This move, along with the seizure of Breze, will strengthen my support among the Talveri aristocracy.”

“And your grace will be needing that support.”

Segol snorted. “He will. And it is in your interest that I get it. There are other powers at play in the Drifting Court which do not have my incentive for kindness towards Czernomyk. You will swear yourself to Talvere… and you and your nephew both will accompany me in a royal progress through the Duchy. Then you may return to govern your lands as a protected vassal of the House of Leidensen.”

“And that’s it, then?” Saka said quietly. She felt elated and sunken both. The King’s offer meant a measure of protection for Czernomyk, and ensured that no knives would be held at Madyes’ throat to ensure her compliance. But they would be a pawn in the Leidensen’s game here. And perhaps worst of all…

A royal progress.

A chance for Leidensen to display both his victory and his magnanimity to all of Talvere, with herself as its centerpiece.

“There would be a tithe, of course,” Segol responded, “And there will be those in Talvere who seek appointments and titles within Czernomyk, some of which I shall grant. But your presence will allow you to have a say in these matters, and as I have said - It is good for both of us that my position in Talvere remain strong.”

“So I shall ask again. Do you yield?”

[Cryria]

Segolstad
Formerly Breze
Modern-Day Charlottesborg

’Do you yield?’

The question sat upon the table once again, the conversation returning to the point at which it had started. An inexorable insistence, however polite it may have been. It would return, Saka realized, again and again no matter how long they spoke or how honeyed the King’s words. Segol would raise it until she gave the answer he wanted.

This politicking suddenly sickened her. It might have been a kinder matter entirely, to demand the traditional surrender, and then for her to return to Czernomyk to find whatever peace remained to her. Instead she was offered this - A call into the rat’s nest of Cryrian intrigue, in exchange for… what, exactly?

Her duty. To her people and her nephew both. To see the former secured in the Drifting Throne’s good graces, and the latter free of Leidensen’s grasp.

If you are good to your word.” She regarded the blind King from across the table, as if to find some deceit in those sightless eyes.

“I should be honored to accompany your grace to the Evergreen Isle,” Saka finally spoke aloud, “And as any companion of road and sea, I am compelled to give you my good advice.”

“Oh?” Segol tilted his head. There was no hint of amusement, nor irritation.This one at least, was taking her words seriously. “I value the counsel of all in my service, Lady Starosta. We stand closer to your home than to mine. Advise me.”

His service. The insistences grew ever less subtle, and she suspected that the King’s own patience had begun to wane. But there was one dictate of her own that she would make on this day, with all the little leverage that remained to her.

“I should indeed accompany you to Talvere, your grace,” Saka began, “Czernomykki and Talveri are as one people, even in war. And it will benefit those of Talvere to know that their brethren across the sea are well sheltered beneath your grace’s protection.” She took a breath, “But it will benefit you to have my nephew return to Czernomyk. He is my heir, and holds the legitimacy to reign in my stead and in your name. These remain tumultuous times, and were we both to be absent, even fair Czernomyk may be moved to disorder and unruliness.”

’If I do not have a strong and loyal voice in my homeland, they may not accept my surrender as their own.’

The truth she laid out was plain enough, and dangerous too. It could not be proven or disproven, not at this table. Yet she had all but admitted that her control over Czernomyk’s nobility could fail in her absence. And yet…

Madyes will return home. That was what we had decided, in this moment. If nothing else, her nephew would not spend a moment longer in the Cryrian’s custody, not after all that had already been taken from him.

The King was silent for a moment.

“Your nephew is a young man, is he not? Scarcely more than a child, I am told.”

“He is young,” Saka agreed, “But he will serve well in your name.”

To her surprise and relief, Segol was already nodding.

“The people and lands of Czernomyk reside beneath the protection of the Drifting Throne,” he said simply, “It is my imperative to see that they are cared for. Your nephew shall return to you isles to take up your position there, until such a time as when you return. And I shall see that he is protected from his own youth, and appoint one of my own to act as his counsel and guide. Count Honningfjord will accompany him on his journey home.”

Saka thanked the gods that the King could not see how her face hardened at his words. Madyes would return home, with a Cryrian overseer.

But he will return home. There, safely in Czernomyk, under the watchful eye of her own people, Count Honningfjord could be afforded fewer liberties, no matter his retinue.

Silence again. The King was waiting, and of all that she could say, only one thing would be acceptable now.

“The battle was well fought. Czernomyk yields.”