Someone Else's Kingdom, BOOK I - Chapter 6
The name of the woman in black was Madame Drua Maleeva. Her father had held the position of Head Treasurer until his death a few years earlier. Now he was gone Maleeva filled the vacuum. The Head Treasurer oversaw all things financial, across all the various kingdoms. Executing this through a network of formal and not-so-formal channels. With each kingdom having its own bank and treasury. The Head Treasurer sat at the top, though he, at this precise moment, she, answered ultimately to the King of Tunid.
The system, if it could be called such, had developed organically, over the untold previous centuries, and it allowed the King of Tunid to maintain a degree of power and control over the other kingdoms. A subtle, but firm influence - through whispers and money - that helped to maintain the balance and keep the peace. Though this was not always the case. The velvet touch did mean that each individual kingdom still kept a large degree of leeway however. Allowing for a false sense of independence on each kingdom's part, and licensing each to pursue their own paths and policies. Policies that would at times run contrary to any whispers and nudges of advice. With some kingdoms, or rather one kingdom, eschewing the presence entirely. The currently kingless kingdom of the Western Isles, who had once again expelled all external influence from their shores. As they had done countless times before in their history. Mindless of the material cost, and almost as unperturbed by the physical one.
"I see you are still sitting pretty at the helm," noted King Dogfael, the King of Tunid, as he approached Maleeva.
"Yes, still."
She uttered the word still with a satisfied self-poise. The S-sound linking the two words pushed through the teeth with an attractive, snake-like hiss.
"I thought we were supposed to have someone else in place by now?"
"There is no one else," she smiled, with playful calm, "Who would you have run things?"
The King of Tunid understood only too well that she was for the most part right, and that in truth there was no other candidate capable of the task at present. Nevertheless, it was still extremely unusual for a woman to hold the position. In fact, it was completely unprecedented. So at the last meeting, over a year ago, when the king's father, King Edvard, had visited, it had been agreed that she would find a suitable figurehead, sooner rather than later. One that she could no doubt guide to some degree, but who would fulfil the requirements of the role in a way that was more concordant with established tradition.
It was normal practice that the role of Head Treasurer passed down through the male family line. And, in theory, it could pass to any male, provided they were from the treasury caste - another loosely defined and centuries-made social status - that one was born or married into. The Head Treasurer would nominate a favoured son or nephew to take his place upon his death. The emphasis being not on seniority, nor direct hereditary rights, but always on capability. The task of Head Treasurer requiring such intelligence, craft and numeracy that able-mindedness was the primary criteria. And it was of utmost importance for everyone that a good choice was chosen.
Unfortunately for the last Head Treasurer he had no sons. Nor any other immediate male protégés worthy of the role. Just a single daughter: Maleeva. As able-minded as her father, with a similar flair for statecraft, but a daughter nonetheless. So for the two years following his death she had performed the role, but without the title. Simply due to the fact that she was the only one experienced and knowledgeable enough to do so.
In that time things had ran smoothly, with the exception of the recent uproar in the Western Isles, which was beyond anyone's powers of premonition. So it was a situation where no one saw any real practical need to change things. Likewise, her sex had never hindered the actual running of affairs, as it largely went unnoticed. Partly due to the fact that she was such a familiar presence from all the days she'd spent at her father's side. Especially so in his later years, when she shouldered so much of the burden. Making it in reality a seamless transition. A woman holding the position was still highly unusual and unorthodox though. So the official line was that it was expected to be only a temporary situation. Furthermore, disgruntled voices were beginning talk and speculate about who would replace her. Such speculation worried the king, and like his father before him, he feared that even though she was accepted by the various kingdoms now there would come a time when this would not be the case. The disregard for custom, putting the whole system - so rooted in tradition - in a state of jeopardy.
"There is no one else," she smiled, with playful calm, "Who would you have run things?"
The King of Tunid understood only too well that she was for the most part right, and that in truth there was no other candidate capable of the task at present. Nevertheless, it was still extremely unusual for a woman to hold the position. In fact, it was completely unprecedented. So at the last meeting, over a year ago, when the king's father, King Edvard, had visited, it had been agreed that she would find a suitable figurehead, sooner rather than later. One that she could no doubt guide to some degree, but who would fulfil the requirements of the role in a way that was more concordant with established tradition.
It was normal practice that the role of Head Treasurer passed down through the male family line. And, in theory, it could pass to any male, provided they were from the treasury caste - another loosely defined and centuries-made social status - that one was born or married into. The Head Treasurer would nominate a favoured son or nephew to take his place upon his death. The emphasis being not on seniority, nor direct hereditary rights, but always on capability. The task of Head Treasurer requiring such intelligence, craft and numeracy that able-mindedness was the primary criteria. And it was of utmost importance for everyone that a good choice was chosen.
Unfortunately for the last Head Treasurer he had no sons. Nor any other immediate male protégés worthy of the role. Just a single daughter: Maleeva. As able-minded as her father, with a similar flair for statecraft, but a daughter nonetheless. So for the two years following his death she had performed the role, but without the title. Simply due to the fact that she was the only one experienced and knowledgeable enough to do so.
In that time things had ran smoothly, with the exception of the recent uproar in the Western Isles, which was beyond anyone's powers of premonition. So it was a situation where no one saw any real practical need to change things. Likewise, her sex had never hindered the actual running of affairs, as it largely went unnoticed. Partly due to the fact that she was such a familiar presence from all the days she'd spent at her father's side. Especially so in his later years, when she shouldered so much of the burden. Making it in reality a seamless transition. A woman holding the position was still highly unusual and unorthodox though. So the official line was that it was expected to be only a temporary situation. Furthermore, disgruntled voices were beginning talk and speculate about who would replace her. Such speculation worried the king, and like his father before him, he feared that even though she was accepted by the various kingdoms now there would come a time when this would not be the case. The disregard for custom, putting the whole system - so rooted in tradition - in a state of jeopardy.
There was also the problem of her son. The thirteen year old Seaspell. Who accompanied his mother everywhere she went, as she had accompanied her father. There were strong, though quietly spoken rumours that the boy's father was Prince Aralak. The unruly eldest son of King Mizmeam. Such gossip was given short shrift by all official voices, and it was unpolitic to even speak it aloud. Madame Maleeva simply making no comment on the situation at all - it was no one's business was the curt dismissal. So this was another major problem for the King of Tunid, and it created a clear potential for conflicts of interest. There was also a heavy taboo, though no actual law, against people from the treasury caste intermarrying with those from royal households. A social convention organically engendered precisely to stave off such problems. Meaning if it was indeed acknowledged that Prince Aralak was the father, ever more contortions would ensue. This is all created yet more good reason to advance the appointment of an actual Head Treasurer. It all bothered Maleeva very little though.
"Did you really execute your brother?" she asked, with a wry, but mildly flirtatious smirk. Enjoying the opportunity to now put the king on the backfoot.
"Yes, or course."
"I don't believe you."
"I had to, it was my duty. It's just the way it is. I had no real choice in the matter."
"..But you and he were so close ..I really cannot see you doing such a thing."
"It was my duty. It pains me, but we must all do our duty."
There was a brief pause in the conversation as Maleeva struggled to gauge the tone of the king. Though she then pepped up and prodded a little further.
"I remember now. You were always prepared to make personal sacrifices to fulfil your duty. That certainly is true, ..but still, this is much bigger. It surprises even me. Your father doing it, I could always believe that, but you? I always assumed you would end the barbarity. In fact, I was certain you would."
"And this is why it had to be done, and why it always has been done. If you see me as too weak, or too soft to do such a task, then how would the rest of these kings, rulers and warlords see me if I'd have failed to carry out the task? The world needs order, and this is how my family have always kept it. So sadly, sacrifices have to be made. Both me and my brother always understood this. My brother did a great duty to the world in dying. We were raised for that moment, and it was always inevitable."
Maleeva dropped the flirtatious grin. It being replaced by a rare look of puzzlement. An usual position for her to be in, and she disliked the feeling of confoundment. She always thought she knew the king so well. She really had believed that such an act was beyond him. Sure, she understood the rationality of the decision. It's something she herself might well have done in the circumstances, but not him. She felt a coldness as she thought about it. He looked much more callous now, though little was outwardly different. He was not the familiar confidant he once was, and it instantly put an added distance between them. Drying up the normal easiness of the conversation.
Suddenly she felt the age difference too. In their younger days their relationship had always been one of near equals. The natural chemistry making the decade or so years barely noticeable. The king, then just a prince, had always been youthful in outlook, and in looks. Whilst she, like most girls, had always been much the more precocious. They balanced out. It was an easy match. Now it didn't quite seem so even. Both had aged well. The king still young-looking at sixty-two. Herself looking much younger still. Yet, to Maleeva, the king seemed truly older now. The stony cracks and wrinkles visible to her on his face and hands. A deader and less life-full person.
"And this is why it had to be done, and why it always has been done. If you see me as too weak, or too soft to do such a task, then how would the rest of these kings, rulers and warlords see me if I'd have failed to carry out the task? The world needs order, and this is how my family have always kept it. So sadly, sacrifices have to be made. Both me and my brother always understood this. My brother did a great duty to the world in dying. We were raised for that moment, and it was always inevitable."
Maleeva dropped the flirtatious grin. It being replaced by a rare look of puzzlement. An usual position for her to be in, and she disliked the feeling of confoundment. She always thought she knew the king so well. She really had believed that such an act was beyond him. Sure, she understood the rationality of the decision. It's something she herself might well have done in the circumstances, but not him. She felt a coldness as she thought about it. He looked much more callous now, though little was outwardly different. He was not the familiar confidant he once was, and it instantly put an added distance between them. Drying up the normal easiness of the conversation.
Suddenly she felt the age difference too. In their younger days their relationship had always been one of near equals. The natural chemistry making the decade or so years barely noticeable. The king, then just a prince, had always been youthful in outlook, and in looks. Whilst she, like most girls, had always been much the more precocious. They balanced out. It was an easy match. Now it didn't quite seem so even. Both had aged well. The king still young-looking at sixty-two. Herself looking much younger still. Yet, to Maleeva, the king seemed truly older now. The stony cracks and wrinkles visible to her on his face and hands. A deader and less life-full person.
She also thought of the king's wife, the Queen of Tunida, who in many ways was the polar opposite to herself. A traditional woman, dutifully fulfilling the quiet, but visually vivid role common to royal females on the Tunidan island. A porcelain-skinned, well-dressed statuette, with pursed lips. Her opinions firmly behind a stoic veil. Expressed only in vague symbols and well-chosen fashion choices. The contrast to Maleeva, with her active tongue and dark attire, could not be starker.
Feeling the awkward lull in the conversation the king moved the discussion on to more state-orientated issues. The overriding one naturally being the situation in the Western Isles. The official line was that there had been an outbreak of the Pox. Necessitating a full quarantine of the islands. Yet, both the king and Maleeva knew the real picture. That it was something much more unexpected, though perhaps more deadly.
A strange development had occurred on the island of Brynnyfirdia. A chemical discovery. A powdery substance, that when exposed to sparks of fire gave rise to deadly explosions. Explosions unlike anything before seen. Black powder. Advanced in secrecy, perhaps even by accident, on the windy island. The mainland kingdoms now felt its force in their battles at sea, but its chemical make-up remained elusive to them. A mystery they were now desperately trying to solve.
Feeling the awkward lull in the conversation the king moved the discussion on to more state-orientated issues. The overriding one naturally being the situation in the Western Isles. The official line was that there had been an outbreak of the Pox. Necessitating a full quarantine of the islands. Yet, both the king and Maleeva knew the real picture. That it was something much more unexpected, though perhaps more deadly.
A strange development had occurred on the island of Brynnyfirdia. A chemical discovery. A powdery substance, that when exposed to sparks of fire gave rise to deadly explosions. Explosions unlike anything before seen. Black powder. Advanced in secrecy, perhaps even by accident, on the windy island. The mainland kingdoms now felt its force in their battles at sea, but its chemical make-up remained elusive to them. A mystery they were now desperately trying to solve.
For all of history war had been fought with sword, spear, bow and arrow. With basic devices such as catapults, trebuchets and battering rams the height of technical warfare. Now a new wizardry had appeared, and it threatened to turn the world upside down.
"How many people now understand the true situation?" questioned the king, eager to get a better view of the unfolding narrative. His firm grip on control held together by slowing fraying threads.
"There are rumours amongst the sailors and shipbuilders - that are now spreading to some of the soldiers and sailors still on land. The penalty of death is still in place for those that disclose anything they have knowledge of, but it's getting difficult to stifle the speculation. Too many people are seeing the state of the ships that are returning to the harbours. Plus, we can't afford to keep losing men."
"We need to keep the story in place," pressed the king, cautiously, "Until we can match the technology. If it becomes widely known how weak our position is we could have rebellions everywhere. When we reach Keneeshka tomorrow evening we must enforce a stricter quarantine across the whole arch of land adjacent to the Western Isles. Hermetically seal off the inland harbours from the rest of the kingdoms. We also have to make sure we up the contingent of ships in the Western Sea, especially around the Isle of Erba. As if they have the initiative to take that they'll then control all traffic to the Three Deserts."
Maleeva sighed with shared frustration. "I've already tried to impress this line of reasoning upon the other kings, but they can't think more than two steps ahead. Even when led by the hand. They continue to underestimate the islanders, too. They insist that Brynnyfirdia simply wants independence and nothing more. That it's an issue of containment, until we get the black powder ourselves. King Brijsk in particular wants to negotiate a ceasefire with them to buy us time. He doesn't understand that without the constant blockade they'll traverse the entire ocean and word will spread further. I've had to overrule him, but he begins to drag his feet in pressing ships and men."
"Have the Maiden Lands sent any ships?"
"No. As usual, only promises."
"We have to press them a little more too."
As this point a group of Eldbeean dignitaries shuffled across the room, ending the private tête-à-tête. The king quickly masked his concern and dropped back into more cordial mode. Feigning, with impressive effect, an interest in the empty words of the now rather tipsy dinner guests. Madame Drua Maleeva, the woman in black, made no such effort to change her facial expression. She turned, cat-like, then headed off to conduct affairs elsewhere.
"How many people now understand the true situation?" questioned the king, eager to get a better view of the unfolding narrative. His firm grip on control held together by slowing fraying threads.
"There are rumours amongst the sailors and shipbuilders - that are now spreading to some of the soldiers and sailors still on land. The penalty of death is still in place for those that disclose anything they have knowledge of, but it's getting difficult to stifle the speculation. Too many people are seeing the state of the ships that are returning to the harbours. Plus, we can't afford to keep losing men."
"We need to keep the story in place," pressed the king, cautiously, "Until we can match the technology. If it becomes widely known how weak our position is we could have rebellions everywhere. When we reach Keneeshka tomorrow evening we must enforce a stricter quarantine across the whole arch of land adjacent to the Western Isles. Hermetically seal off the inland harbours from the rest of the kingdoms. We also have to make sure we up the contingent of ships in the Western Sea, especially around the Isle of Erba. As if they have the initiative to take that they'll then control all traffic to the Three Deserts."
Maleeva sighed with shared frustration. "I've already tried to impress this line of reasoning upon the other kings, but they can't think more than two steps ahead. Even when led by the hand. They continue to underestimate the islanders, too. They insist that Brynnyfirdia simply wants independence and nothing more. That it's an issue of containment, until we get the black powder ourselves. King Brijsk in particular wants to negotiate a ceasefire with them to buy us time. He doesn't understand that without the constant blockade they'll traverse the entire ocean and word will spread further. I've had to overrule him, but he begins to drag his feet in pressing ships and men."
"Have the Maiden Lands sent any ships?"
"No. As usual, only promises."
"We have to press them a little more too."
As this point a group of Eldbeean dignitaries shuffled across the room, ending the private tête-à-tête. The king quickly masked his concern and dropped back into more cordial mode. Feigning, with impressive effect, an interest in the empty words of the now rather tipsy dinner guests. Madame Drua Maleeva, the woman in black, made no such effort to change her facial expression. She turned, cat-like, then headed off to conduct affairs elsewhere.
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