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For Ged, Rod and myself, or rather my predecessor, the first Tiana, the central tenet of our education had been the security of the Kingdom. No matter what happened to any individual person, no matter how dear they were, the Kingdom and its people came first.
Although I know it is probably not the case in all other kingdoms, I would like to think that royal children are always brought up with that idea in their heart.
It guided my two older brothers to train and educate themselves for leadership. Ged would be king, and Rod would take some major role. Perhaps, before Mother became pregnant with Owen’s child, the plan had been for Rod to become Duke of Pendor through marriage to me; I don’t know that for a fact, but it makes sense.
It also guided Amelia to educate herself for either some major civil role or marriage to a ducal heir, although once the Hero’s Summoning occurred, she instead willingly took on the role of the ‘sacrificial princess’, who would likely become Ryuu’s bride.
And, thanks to that same education, when Tiana, who never knew about her own royal status, decided what she would become, she chose service in the Royal Knights.
At that moment, riding in that carriage on the way to Langram, I had no doubt that both Ged and Rod were feeling the same thing I was, a bitter frustration that we could not immediately go searching for our parents because the Kingdom comes first. Ged had to announce his father’s absence and his regency to the public as soon as Rod took command in Langram. For that reason, Rod absolutely had to go to Langram, uniting the troops facing the rebels with the stamp of royal authority and telling the world that they were fighting for Ged. And I had to go with Rod to ensure his safety in this dangerous location.
We rode in silence for a long time, with these same thoughts of mine likely also going through Rod’s mind, as the discussion in Dwarvish between Matthias and the Reladorian Archmage continued. Finally, though, Rod broke the silence with a new topic.
“I understand Destia will attempt the divination you requested today.”
It took me a second or two to remember that ‘Destia’ meant Allia.
“Are they going for a straightforward, ‘Where’s Lady Sasara?’,” I asked, as an issue dawned on me.
“Is that a problem?” he wondered.
“It might be better to ask how to find the Duchess of Pendor,” I said. “But this isn’t a good time to discuss why.”
I glanced with meaning over at the Reladorian in the carriage. Matthias knows who Mother really is, but I had no idea whether or not the archmage knew.
Rod nodded, catching my hint. He suggested, “Why don’t you discuss it directly with Destia when we get to our destination?”
“Alright,” I nodded. “But speaking of divination, are the royal mages going to try again today?”
They had, of course, already tried more than once to locate Uncle Owen. We had been receiving reports on it, but while we were not sure who was in charge, those reports had to be heard with a measure of caution. But if the news was accurate, the divination had been spectacularly useless.
“He rests in the arms of his bride.”
This is the peril of asking ‘where is x’ questions in a divination. You usually get a perfectly factual, utterly meaningless answer.
This answer had an additional problem, though. An especially troublesome potential interpretation was that he had gone to join his deceased wife, Queen Sylphana, in death. But the divination might simply be recognizing the unusually close relationship of king and concubine between our parents to qualify as ‘bride and groom’. The Sea of Knowledge really couldn’t give a flip about pesky mortal laws, even though it certainly has a record of each an every one of them, so what even defines a ‘bride’ could be a bit murky.
And, even more troubling, on the second try, with the question ‘Has Cullen captured Owen?’, the answer had been, “The king lies beyond the usurper’s grasp”.
We had received that report shortly before we departed the estate. Now, the mages would need to rest again, unable to make another attempt until late the following day, just when they had served up an even more troubling divination. I mean, that could really mean Owen was gone.
The question was, would the reply really have used the term ‘the king’ in that case? Wouldn’t it be ‘the late king’ or ‘the former king’, because, if Owen were dead, Ged would be ‘the king’ now?
“Have they summoned additional diviners, yet?” Matthias asked, suddenly joining our conversation. “If they could perform more than one per day…”
Rod shook his head. “Most of the Southern mages returned to their home provinces when the fighting broke out, and many of the remaining mages are in combat units. The resulting shortage means we’re lucky to have enough high-level mages for one divination per day.”
“It’s troubling how many of your people were loyal to the other side,” the archmage commented.
Rod was the first to defend them, to my surprise. “The Southern lords rule by tyranny. I’m sure most who left did so in fear of what would happen to their families if they didn’t. I won’t condemn them for it.”
He knew about how Chiara had betrayed Amelia because her mother’s life was threatened. Chiara herself was a Northerner, but she was the illegitimate daughter of a Southern noble who turned out to have no sense of decency. He had abducted her mother to use as leverage against her, and the Royal Knights hadn’t noticed she was compromised until it was too late.
When I told him about it, Rod had not been surprised at all. It turned out, this was normal behavior for Southern aristocrats, and he had already seen other cases.
Rod asked the archmage, “Could you and your crew do a divination for the prince, Lord Tobir?”
‘Archmage’ is a title of authority, not an upgraded form of mage, and its holders are called ‘lords’. Although it would be unlikely for anyone lower than a sixth level mage to become one, they don’t wear the title because of their mage skills. They receive it when they become part of the leadership on the mortal side of the strangely organized country of Relador. On paper, they are civil servants of the Fairy King, but in practice Oberon and the archmages have separate jurisdictions.
And in that jurisdiction, this Lord Tobir serves as a combination legislator, magistrate and general. He’s an important individual, not a common functionary.
Nevertheless, Oberon told the archmages to send one of their number along with some high-powered underlings to serve under Rod, and they obliged him. This man was here to do as the prince commanded, by the request of the titular monarch of Relador, the Fairy King.
The archmage pursed his lips, then noted, “This camp where we are headed is suffering frequent attacks. We were sent here to ensure the prince’s safety in this dangerous place. Of course, if Your Highness wills it, we shall do so, but I don’t recommend using us that way. We would be unable to defend you for a day following the attempt.”
Rod nodded. “I’m not planning to ask for that, just yet, My Lord Archmage. We’ll save that for a last resort.”
He was looking tired again. I wrinkled my brow and considered doubling down on telling him he was working too hard. But he had just admitted it, a few minutes ago.
But before I could speak, Lucy suddenly popped up in front of me and announced, “Dilorè call!”
That confused me for a bit, until I remembered Dilorè’s contracted wind spirit, who had communicated with Lucy when we were in the Tabad and in Oseri. She still had that spirit with her?
I nodded. “Alright.”
“Your Highness,” Dilorè’s agitated voice spoke from the air, “Langram is under attack. Please alert your escort and delay your arrival.”
“What sort of attack?” I asked immediately. We were within a mile of the camp already.
“It’s an air raid. Hippogriff-mounted aerial cavalry. No ground forces. Our riders have met them, but our side is out-numbered, and the enemy flying beasts are dive-bombing. It’s dangerous right now.”
Rod had already turned around and opened the speaking vent to instruct the drivers to halt the carriage. I slid open the window beside me, where Garen the Pendor house knight was riding on the running board.
“Pass the word, watch out for air raiders,” I told him. “The camp is under attack.”
“Understood, Young Mistress,” he answered with a nod, then turned his head to inform the box seat.
As the driver reined back the horses and braked the carriage, I looked across at Rod while drumming my fingers on Durandal’s scabbard. His lip twisted as he stared back.
“No,” he said, plainly.
“About what?” I retorted.
“You were thinking about flying ahead and helping out.”
I wanted to deny it, but he had read it perfectly. My visiting dress had an open back and a back-flap, the innovation I had insisted all my wardrobe be re-tailored with, back when I first came home from the Hero’s Party. It was quite possible for me to fly and fight in it.
Then it became a moot issue, as shouts of warning rose outside.
I pushed my fairy sense outward, searching for the cause of the alarm, then paled. I yanked the door open while yelling at the other three, “Get out of the carriage!”
Before Rod could react, I had grabbed his shirt and hauled him out the door with me.
“Ti! What…”
As I grew my wings and flew, the sudden lurch interrupted his protest. I kept him pressed to my chest with one arm while I drew Durandal with the other. Flying backwards, I pointed the blade up at an incoming hippogriff which was already perilously close.
“[Holy Smite]!”
I think dive-bombing aircraft of the old World War II militaries would come down in a steep dive, approaching vertical. I and many other fairies can dive vertically, but no flying mount is capable of it. The ‘dive bombing’ technique of Huade’s aerial forces involve dives of less than forty five degrees, so the rider can hurl magic explosive javelins the size of jousting lances with arrow-like fletching at the target.
Hitting such an incoming flyer at top speed with a single shot would normally be quite a feat of marksmanship, but I used Will to steer Durandal’s attack in like a guided missile. The incoming rider had not yet released his missile when the Earth mana fist struck home.
The blow altered the hippogriff’s dive into a vertical drop and struck the beast senseless. With its limp wings no longer supporting it, the hippogriff plummeted to the ground, where the already armed explosive javelin blew up, killing beast and rider.
More attackers were on the way, but I had enough time to drop to the ground and let a very shaken Rod off, near where Garen was helping Genette down from the box seat.
Yes, Genette. Benedetta had insisted that the house knight and my lady’s maid had to accompany me as the First Daughter. I had appealed to Rod, but he had agreed with the Head Maid. So, before we left, I told Garen, repeating the order for good measure, that no matter what anyone else said, his job was to protect Genette and I could look after myself.
For a few moments, I was very angry at the fairy warriors for allowing the bombers through, until I saw that they were fully engaged with the larger group of fairies who were defending the bombers.
Springing back into the air, I chanted, “[Light Bullet]”, and used Durandal as my magic focus as I sent a machine-gun stream of the mana bolts at the next hippogriff. Again, I used Will to guide every shot to the target. In a panic, it broke off the dive before the rider could release his bomb. I redirected the fire stream to a bomber attacking the second carriage and drove him away as well.
I knew I was a bizarre sight right now, a noblewoman in a visiting dress with a tiara and black wings wielding a sword, but I couldn’t worry about that at the moment. Holding Durandal high, I amplified my voice, adding a broadcast of spiritual voice to back it up.
“I am Tiana of the High Forest, a knight of Faerie in service to His Majesty, King Owen, and a royal knight of Orestania! Retreat or die at my sword!”
