Someone Else's Kingdom, BOOK I - Chapter 10

The route from Eldbee to Keneeshka cut through the Black Kingdom like an arc. With the long train of carriages, cavalry and wagons traversing it like a long, slow-moving snake. All the various servants, horsemen and other hangers-on all in tow, creating a seamless chain. The King of Tunid seated in a large, well decorated carriage, pulled by a team of six horses. Surrounded by his finest guards. With just Madame Maleeva and her son, Seaspell, accompanying him in the carriage. King Mizmeam, the King of Caster, seated in his own carriage, perhaps half a mile further up the long caravan.

As the King of Tunid watched out of the silver-framed window he was greeted by the occasional scene of degradation and misery. Broken in between dark woodland, rusted farm settlements and brown patchy-grassed fields. A far cry from the mild glamour of Eldbee, and its more gardened countryside. The carnival feel of the long carriage train drawing onlookers from the odd little villages and towns it passed. A rare sight for the country peasants.

Slavery was a heavy feature of life in the Kingdom of Caster, though it came in various graded forms. From rare, but noticeable outright slaves, sometimes even in literal chains, to semi-slaves, trapped in perpetual serfdom, to state eunuchs tending King Mizmeam's gardens and palaces. Many of the people watching on were of these lower castes. Observing the luxury and finesse from their field work as the endless procession passed by. The freer classes, such as the shopkeepers and farm owners, coming to the side of the road to doth their hats and wave at the luminaries. Often, their bright faced children alongside; notably impressed by the display, and trying to spot with enthusiasm the carriages holding the most important passengers. The King of Tunid being the main star they were most eager to catch a glimpse of.

As he watched out however, he felt rather sullen. Even amidst the celebratory atmosphere the bleakness was too difficult to miss. "What do you think of all this?" he asked aloud, turning to young Seaspell, putting the question to him in a school teacher like manner. The dutiful child quickly racked his brain, hesitatingly, fearing to give the wrong answer. "No wrong answer," intoned the king, sensing his eagerness to give the right one, "I just want your opinion. Do you think this is a good kingdom? Does it it look good? Do you like it? Would you change anything about it?"

"It's organised," noted Seaspell, wryly.

"Yes, it is organised. That's true."

"What are you trying to get at?" interrupted Maleeva, her teasing tone from earlier returning to the fore. "You don't like it, do you? You think this place could be run a little differently. That's your point, isn't it."

"Everything can be improved, but that never seems to happen here. It's always grim, and always has been. Little has changed since when I first arrived here with my father as a child."

"It is grim," replied Maleeva, "And grim for a reason. The territory demands it. The kings of Caster have always ran things like this, not out of choice, but because it has to be like this. You know it too well, you just don't accept it. We can't have this kingdom weak - there would be chaos."

The King of Tunid mulled this over for a few seconds, glancing out the window again as he thought on.

"I'm not too sure."

"Really?"

"Truly." Then a slight mischief crossed his own face, "I think all these years have jaded you. You were always cold, but never quite this cold."

"I'm wiser," she smiled.

"Tired. You're tired."

As he said this he understand full well that the accusation of aged lethargy would irk her.

"I don't blame you too," he continued, "..It's an endless task, keeping all this in check. The Kingdom of Caster isn't the most cultured place in the world, but still, it's dizzyingly grim even given that. I'm sure things could be a little better ..with a little energy."

"So what should we do? Throw a party for all the slaves? Dress them up in fancy clothes? ..Or just set them free them altogether? Plus, as you yourself know, it's not for me to tell the King of Caster how to run his own kingdom."

"I'm still surprised how comfortable you are with it. You seem very comfortable in this environment these days."

"And I'm surprised how comfortably you disposed of your brother."

Seaspell looked up aghast as his mother uttered these blunt words to the greying, but puissant monarch.

"That was my duty," stated the king calmly, repeating his earlier plea. Then, looking at Seaspell, he added, with a deliberate unseriousness, "I had to do it. Believe me, I really had no choice." Making sure to reassure with his tone that he wasn't the least bit offended by Maleeva's terse remark. The light quip from the king also brought a small smile to Maleeva as well, which she tried to suppress, but didn't completely manage to. Her stern nature dissolving slightly in the moment.

With a pleasant calm returned to the carriage it continued to clack its way through the outskirts of Keneeshka. The city itself now very much apparent in the distance. It was a military city first and foremost, and the vast areas of surrounding lands were given over in large part to military needs. Be it barracks for the disposable slave soldiers, or the vast equestrian centres, where high ranking cavalry men earned their spurs. As the long wagon slowly weaved beyond the brown-green farmlands and into these outer areas this vast prowess became dominant on the landscape. The organised displays of slave soldiers, marching in unison, or training in one-on-one combat, a deliberate and impressive show of numbers and power.

In the Kingdom of Caster soldiers were purposefully selected for such a role at a very young age, and raised their entire childhood with this purpose in mind. In fact, it was usually deemed that anyone past the age of 18 was already too old to even take up training. Though occasionally prisoners of slightly older years could be fed into the system if they were deemed especially suitable. Or, as was sometimes the case, the supply of good soldiers was running low. The life for those selected for such a role was harsh and brutal. With early death a likelihood. If not on the battlefield, then in the training itself. The upside however was that those enlisted, if they survived these pitfalls, could rise up through the ranks, and, if especially successful, even escape their slavedom entirely.

Such an array of eager fighting men, stretching out into the distance, was a vivid spectacle, even for the King of Tunid, who cast his eye over the sprawling scene with contemplation.

"You don't get this sort of military might in a country that isn't a slave state," asserted Maleeva, approvingly, as she watched his face, "Show me a free state that can muster something even close to this - and it's this that all our order and control rests upon. Admit it, we would struggle to keep things in line were all this gone."

"What use are land forces, when the battle is at sea?" replied the king, in retort, "We never have enough sailors ..because they're too hard to control. We have to let them out of our sight. We have to trust that they'll come back." He laughed as he made this last remark. "Why would they be loyal to us, when they fight for their own servitude?"

"We have enough sailors ..we just keep losing them. Were it not for the advantage that the Western Islanders have, we'd be as dominant at sea as we are on land. As we always were."

"We've never been truly dominant at sea ..it's always been an ebb and flow. A cat and mouse. Though we never say that out loud, of course. Both in the western and in the eastern seas. Especially the western one. The Western Islanders are better at it, and plucky. I admire their nature. It's just a shame they're like precocious children, that need reining in for their own good. With this latest development they've outdone themselves."

"When we do get on top of this we'll have to take full control of Brynnyfirdia, that is for certain ..and then we will need these men and their muscle," pressed Maleeva.

"I don't look forward to it."

The King of Tunid looked out again at the vast formations, blurring out into the distance. The grey-soaked clouds seeming to touch the tops of the forest trees on the far-off horizon, prefiguring his apprehension. With this heavy fog on his mind he then turned to another cause of concern.

"And what about Prince Aralak?" he asked, "What is he up to at present? Does he understand the fullness of this situation? Or is he still busy enjoying the pretence and grandeur of being a war leader?"

Maleeva looked back at the king with a shared worry.