§
The sun had found spots through which it could shine, as the gray desolation of the morning at last gradually thinned. In that slightly less oppressive atmosphere, an amplified voice broke out from the magic amplifiers attached to lighting masts across the camp.
“Attention all troops! Attention all troops! Pipe down and stand by for an announcement from the Commander of the Central Region! I repeat, stand by to hear the Commander of the Central Region!”
A brief pause and some indistinct background noises portrayed the unseen action of a magic tool being handed off from one speaker to another. Then a strong and steady voice that only a few present had heard before rang out.
“Good afternoon, men and women of the Orestanian Military Forces. I am Prince Roderick of Orestania, your acting commander. Your brave stand during the assault on this camp, three days ago, and the subsequent defenses during the follow-up attacks since, have proven your strength and your courage beyond all doubt. I salute the fighters and the support troops of every uniform who have stood together to repel the enemy and hold this ground. The innocent residents of the City of Atius owe their safety to your gallant and steadfast determination.
“As you may already know, the attack three days ago resulted in the loss of most of the primary chain of command over the military forces of the Central Region. However, the field commanders of your individual units proved their worth as officers of the crown, working together smoothly to maintain a cohesive defense and prevent the enemy from taking advantage of the crisis.”
Senior officers across the wide encampment averted their eyes and pursed their lips upon hearing this, remembering the new commander’s displeasure when he learned just how much discord actually occured during that time. Beyond the Royal Army, provincial forces, ducal and comital forces from loyalist regions, militias made up of loyalist irregulars from the great city at their backs, air groups from the Royal Air Lancers and the Royal Flying Corps, and even a division of Royal Marines occupied the grand encampment guarding the capital city. With the entire senior command structure wiped out, none of them could agree who was senior to whom. It was something of a miracle that a semblance of unity had held among the troops.
His Highness had made his displeasure concerning the problems clear the previous evening. The field commanders’ ears were still ringing from his critique, while he hammered them back into a functional whole. He had stayed and worked with them through the night, even though every officer present knew that his fiancée was lying in critical condition under a doctor’s care as a direct result of an attack on their periphery that their forces should have intercepted before it reached her. But he had equally praised the results they had managed despite the confusion, with the same words that he was now speaking to their troops. They still had somewhere to hang their pride.
“I have assumed command of all the military forces in the Central Region, and I will continue in this capacity, bearing the authority of the crown, until a formal command organization is rebuilt. In the capacity of that command, I shall now read to you a communication from my elder brother, Gerald of Orestania.”
Over the sound system came the unmistakable sound of papers being handled, followed by Roderick reading his brother’s written words.
“Greetings to the citizens of our great kingdom at home and abroad. I, Gerald of Orestania, until this day First Prince of the Kingdom, have the sad duty to relay to you grave and troubling news.
“On the 25th Day of the Month of Gentle Rains, in the 3261st Year of the Imperial Calendar and the 1529th year of the Kingdom of Orestania, His Most August Majesty, Owen the Second, King of Orestania and All His Domains, Within and Abroad, and Protector of His Overseas Dominions, was attacked along with his loyal military forces while in command of the armies guarding our great capital from the mutinous forces of the rebel criminal Cullen, sometime prince of this nation, a position that our due process of law forever stripped from him for all time, as well as any right whatsoever to accede to the throne, following his conviction on the charges of many foul deeds and atrocities. His crimes are a matter of public record and I will not sully the public ear by describing them here.
“Over two thousand of my father’s loyal troops died in the rebel attack. Despite their valiant and grave sacrifice, all defenders guarding my royal father, His Majesty the King, fell in the line of duty and His Majesty’s whereabouts became unknown. No effort was spared to locate him, and all serving him have gone beyond their duty in the effort to retrieve him. Despite this, the fairy knight who pursued His Majesty’s abductors, Lady Serera of the Gray Mountain, overcame grave wounds to return this morning and report most awful and tragic news.”
It was obvious what news would come next, yet, to a man, the entire camp held its breath, not daring to miss hearing it.
“Presenting the evidence of his signet ring, Lady Serera reported that the minions of the criminal Cullen and the mutinous dukes supporting him had most cruelly murdered His Majesty in a remote part of the Oserian Highlands. She was unable to retrieve his body at that time.
“For purposes of legal proof, I charged both the Royal Augurs in Atius and Magicians of the Bray Academy with the task of divining corroborating information. The Royal Augurs received the truth of Heaven in the following words: ‘The Crown has passed by the King’s Decease.’ The Brosian Magicians, for their part, divined as follows: ‘Through his minions, the King’s Brother has stained his hands with fraternal blood’. I have accepted these words as clear and sufficient confirmation and determined that my royal father has indeed come to the end of his time in this mortal coil, as the innocent victim of his elder brother’s latest evil act. By Lady Serera’s testimony, I have ascertained that he passed away later in the same day as the attack.
“I have convened the loyal members of the Privy Council to hold Court at the Civic Palace in Thuriben, in order to receive this news and hear corroborating evidence, and in order to render their judgment. With a single voice, they subsequently proclaimed my accession to the throne, declaring me Gerald the Fifth, King of Orestania and holder of all titles previously held by my royal father, Owen the Second. Earlier today, the Lords of the Privy Council separately announced this ruling in their own bulletin.
“As Owen the Second’s son, and as your new king, I hereby swear that I shall spare no effort until the mortal remains of my royal father have returned home and he can take his well-earned rest in the Tombs of the Kings, in Atius, the city of his birth. Neither shall I stay my hand until his murderers have received their just deserts.
“These events transpire at a time when we are faced with a vile and traitorous mutiny in the South and demon-led enemies in the North. In light of this fact, I exhort the lords, mayors and chieftains of the many lands and peoples within our kingdom to delay any celebration of my accession and to hold only a heartfelt mourning for our late king’s passing.
“Please join me tonight during your devotions in praying for my royal father, commending his soul into the embrace of Heaven and requesting a blessing from his patron Oranos upon his faithful and righteous life.”
The loudspeakers fell silent, as the prince paused for a long moment. Then his voice resumed, cracking slightly at last, although he held steady once more after that brief waver.
“That ends my brother’s words. For my own part, as my father’s second son, I also request that you remember him in your prayers, and I further request that you also pray for my elder brother, your new king. We are all, from now on, steadfast soldiers of His Majesty, Gerald the Fifth. Continue to show the spirit and bravery you have demonstrated during these recent trying days in proud service to him and the citizens of our great nation.”
§
Not gonna lie, I was crying.
I wanted to be at Rod’s side while he spoke, but he made me lie down once again, in the cot next to the sleeping Lady Serera, listening to the advice of Aunt Elianora. It was the same tent as before, now our little makeshift hospital ward. It was in close proximity to one of the loudspeakers, so Elianora and I had no trouble hearing him. Since his actual location was only a couple tents away, I could probably have heard him anyhow, if I had listened carefully enough.
I cried, but the original Tiana’s tears were rolling down to my pillow.
My memories of past lives, with the exception of Robert’s, all have a slight separation to them, a sense of distance in time from my present life memories. But the memories I inherited from the original Tiana have another form of detachment. They are almost like memories of reading a book, or watching a movie, except in first person point of view. They are the ultimate vicarious experience, but I never quite lose the sense that they belong to someone else.
Despite that, the personal connections I have with the people I know through her life are connections I feel as my own. In reality, separate from my predecessor, Uncle Owen was actually a man I had only met a few times in my life. I ate dinner with him once, had lunch with him once and danced with him once. All my other memories of him were actually the original Tiana’s memories.
Even so, my heart was aching as if it were hers, and I could cry her tears in her stead.
After a while, Aunt Elianora sent the nurse out of the tent and sat in the chair that had been positioned next to my cot. Without speaking, she placed her hand on my shoulder and cast that Dark magic that seemed to be some sort of diagnostic spell on me again.
Once she finished, she tipped her head and told me, “I would much rather that you went to sleep, My Lady. You are still badly fatigued.”
“What I really need is a blood donor,” I answered. “You know that.”
“I’m reluctant to let you ride a carriage in your current condition, and bringing a prostitute here is… unlikely. Probably impossible. You need to naturally recover more of your strength, before you can make the trip into the city.”
She didn’t mention the other option, letting me fly out, because it was obvious I was unable to do that. I might not even be able to form my wings in my current condition.
“Does this world not have blood transfusions?” I wondered.
Elianora looked confused, and I realized I used the English word ‘transfusion’. If there’s no word, maybe the answer is no?
I explained, “In my previous world, we could donate blood to store for medical use. When someone was short of blood like I am now, doctors could inject the stored blood into their veins.”
Her face lit with understanding. “Blood replenishment. Scholars have been experimenting with it for years, but no responsible physician would experiment on a patient like that. I’ve given you saline, but that’s all I can do.”
“So you do have the concept…” The problem had been that the Ostish word for ‘replenishment’ already meant ‘replenishment’ in my mind, so I had nothing to translate ‘transfusion’.
Elianora nodded. “It’s very risky, and has many ill side-effects, and a very large chance of killing you. It’s not done outside of experiments. And I don’t understand the part about storing the blood for later use. It must be transferred into the recipient immediately after harvesting, or it is of no use.”
“I think they refrigerated it? Or maybe froze it? I don’t know the details. But I’ve donated blood many times. It’s common practice in my old world.”
“Your old world’s doctors must be remarkably skilled,” she mused.
The tent flap opened and Rod entered. He frowned at the sight of Lady Serera still asleep on her cot, but it was a scowl of frustration rather than impatience. She was the only one who could answer our questions, especially the very important question of What happened to Mother?
He wouldn’t get those answers until the [Sleep] spell that Elianora had ordered to ensure that Serera recovered from her severe fatigue wore off.
Aunt Elianora stood after pressing her hand on my shoulder to warn me not to rise. She gave the prince a curtsey.
“Your Highness, how can I help you?”
“I’m just checking on the patients,” he said, with a self-deprecating half-smile that said, Yes, I know I’m useless here.
Gesturing toward me, he added, “Although, if Tiana can talk, I very much need to discuss things with her. If she can remain lying down, would it be okay for me to speak with her?”
I was already nodding my head, but Elianora frowned. “What she really needs is sleep.”
“I’m not going to sleep anytime soon, Aunt Elianora. You would have to call the healer back. And we do need to talk. Mother is still missing.”
She frowned, very visibly contemplating saying no, but in the face of my earnest stare, she nodded, stepped aside and offered Rod the chair.
