"May the Carriage Visit You"
A new generation is rising among the nobility; whispers of insurrection and a return to the old conquering ways. But dread Queen Lunix is too cunning to be thwarted.
Book One: Sight Out of Time | Part 2.1
[This series is rated “Mature” for thematic elements, sensuality, and violence.]
_+ in the days of Lunix Queen, the pale sunshine sparks cold upon the flanks of horses and the crests of helmets
There is, in these days, a phrase used among the people when a Baron has pushed them past the brink of taxation and violence. It is a curse: may the Carriage visit you. It is Lunix’s carriage they mean. For in these days, Lunix travels the countryside surveying the lands and the people, but most of all, visiting the Barons.
A decade and some since the scene of her thwarted execution, Lunix has held the throne by exploiting the coward-hearts of the old Barons. But a new generation is rising among the nobility. Fresh and virile young men begin to test their mettle in the streets of their hamlets. The blood for conquering is stirring again. Lunix does not need spies to tell her that they whisper of insurrection and a return to the old conquering ways. She only needs to be suspect of human nature. Which she is—to the core.
The royal carriage rolls along the highway, and the very ground trembles. Not because it is as some say it is, like a crawling gray mountain (though it is tall enough for a Southerner to stand inside of, and gray, made of armored timbers and drawn by nine horses), but because an army on horseback of 300 rides with her. Mystery and awe used to perfection, Lunix rides through the countryside. In her wake, she leaves nobility struck with sudden prudence and economy. Not to say the people love her. She neither asks it of them nor expects it. But they will invoke any frightful thing in the face of their oppression. Lunix and her 300 are that frightful thing.
Old Faldegrath Baron stands at the town center with his son Faldenstan. This heir is a hairy, scowl-faced youth of twenty and more, who carries a fashionable sword across his back too large to be wielded. The youth, a bastard adopted, is soft with his privilege and has only words for ambition. All threat to Lunix lies in Faldegrath, the youngest of the Barons to witness the Day of the Giant. He equals Lunix in age, and would do well for himself if he could rally the heirs of the other nobles. Lunix has come to be convinced that he will rally them to her service.
It is an insult that Lunix’s convoy meets him in the town square, and will not take hospitality in his fine house. It is an insult that she visits him after a few other lesser, remote Barons. Most humiliating of all, Faldegrath is bid by a herald to come into her carriage. She will not even be seen with him in the street. The people only murmur low and some smile in retribution as their lord humbles himself to enter the great carriage.
As the carriage door closes, Faldegrath finds himself in total darkness. And while he can see no hint of sunlight, he can feel the thick presence and breath of people.
“My Queen?” says Faldegrath, and instantly a fireflick strikes, smoke rising from light.
He is met by the glistening eyes of five figures in black, hooded cloaks and balaclavas. The one with the fireflick in his gloved fingers stands head-and-neck above the rest. Faldegrath assumes it is a trick of the light, but then cannot deny how very pale the skin if his brow seems beneath the shadow of his hood. Faldegrath is stunned. He smooths his beard with his hand to gesture nonchalance.
“Faldegrath Baron,” says the towering man, a youthful, but commanding voice resounding from his large throat.
The figure lights two lamps hanging from the carriage ceiling and tilts the fireflick closed with a snap. The additional light reveals knives between fingers of the other figures; forearms resting upon the hilts of swords. Faldegrath is much closer to the five than he would prefer.
“Where is Lunix?” says Faldegrath, spreading his hands. “She has not been to my hall in years; I fear for her health.”
“She is listening,” says the tall figure.
“As you should be,” says the hood to his right with a casual lilt, dragging the tip of his dagger down the center of his brow and over his covered nose, arms crossed on his barrel chest and elbows unconcerned with action.
Faldegrath finds a bench and sits down.
“I doubt she lives,” says Faldegrath. “Else, why send thugs to intimidate me? For all I know, a cousin of mine could be on the throne this day. I must hear the words from her lips—from her own graceful throat. ”
The hoods do not respond, but the barrel-chested one takes a smashed scroll of parchment from his armored vest and hands it to the nobleman. There reads Faldegrath the treasonous words he had written to the Barons’ heirs a month ago. He clears his throat and closes the document.
“She is listening,” says the tall one.
The hoods continue to surround him with their silent breath. The air in the carriage grows thick. At length, Faldegrath stands and holds the parchment to the flame of the lantern. He drops it at the feet of the mercenaries with a smile.
“Long live the Queen,” he says, and turns to exit the carriage door, which is not locked.
No one follows him, and not one soldier moves from their rank as Faldegrath stumbles from the carriage steps into the street. He straightens his mantle, and looks around at the gawking crowds and his son, staring vacantly.
“Long live the Queen!” Faldegrath shouts before mounting his horse and riding to his estate with all haste.
He does not mark the dark riders following but five minutes behind.
Faldegrath calls to his man as he barrels through the doors of his manor. He calls again in frustration, but no one answers. The house is in some disarray. It bears an eerie emptiness.
“Father, please tell me what happened,” says the youth behind him, out of breath for scurrying behind his father with such a heavy sword on his back.
“Faldenstan, you idiot boy!” cries Faldegrath. “Take what you can in a sack and make for the western hills immediately!”
But as the Baron rushes into the reception hall to fetch his casket of precious coins and stones, breath catches in his lungs and he falls to the floor. It takes his son a moment to discover why his father is on the floor, but as his eyes alight upon a woman in a black brocade riding jacket and a circlet of precious metal entwined within her coiffed braids, he falls to the floor as well. The woman drags the tip of her sword along the ancient timbers below her feet, and sticks it in the floor mere inches from Faldegrath’s right ear. His shoulders tighten.
“Lunix, my queen,” he calls out, lips massaging the dirty floor. “Let me speak! Have mercy; let me speak!”
Lunix squats down, her hand on the hilt of her sword. She nearly whispers.
“I’m listening,” says she.
Those who had met Faldegrath in the carriage now arrive in the house. Still masked and hooded, they draw their swords and take places around the room. The young heir is crying.
“Father, is she going to kill you?” says the youth.
“Be silent, my son,” he hisses.
“Quite a barony you have here, Faldegrath,” says Lunix. “Such…wisdom and wit.”
“The people lose faith in us, my queen,” he rushes to say. “They cease to pay taxes and flout our laws…”
“You charge too much and bed their women.”
“They see us as old and weak, my queen, but we Barons know the people and the lands,” he speaks boldly, voice trembling. “Do not kill me, I beg you. This barony will go to ruin. I am well-respected by the heirs of the baronies. Such violence will only send them upon you. Let me live. Please, let me live.”
Rising to her feet, the Queen sighs and then gestures to the tall mercenary, pointing to Faldenstan.
“Very well,”says Lunix, as the tall man steps on the heir’s back and plunges a sword into and out of his brain stem with deliberate precision.
Faldegrath cries out at the sight of his son’s execution, and then comes to his knees, licking the dirty toes of Lunix’s leather riding boots. She shoos him from her person.
“You are not worthy to eat the dirt that clings to me,” she says.
“Bid me eat my own shit, Lunix Queen; I will do it for your mercy—for your mere amusement.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” says Lunix. Then adds in a sudden strike of inspiration, “you will take down your family’s sacred standing stones and build me a temple that is inviolate. It will always be filled with fifty virgins who live in the sweetest comfort and luxury you can provide for them. And next year when it is finished, I will sit in the midst of the people and witness as you consecrate it to me with the blood of your self-castration.”
“Merciful queen,” says he, sobbing.
“I have set your servants free,” says Lunix. “Use your silver tongue to seduce more into your service or build it yourself, but I will have no excuse in its place. You have heard me.”
With this, Lunix sheaths her sword and dons her own black cloak. Mounting a battle horse, the six riders catch up with the caravan in town where Lunix’s body double is waving to the crowd through the open window of the carriage. The riders in black surround Lunix in the midst of the army. The cavalcade rides to the highway over the river, and northward to the castle once more.
Eyes of the Oracle: Sight Out of Time © 2024 kmCarter (Krista M. Carter) all rights reserved. Properly-attributed quotes of less than 200 words (print, digital, etc.) may be used for criticism, reporting, or sharing to social media. Direct Message for media, publication, or collaboration inquiries.
This chapter is so brutal, yet insightful. There is really only one thing I would even consider revising.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” says Lunix. Then adds in a sudden strike of inspiration, “you will take down your...
It's not exactly a whim, I suppose, but it seems a bit too spontaneous for the queen. Maybe seeing the sacred stones settled an idea for her or something... she's been planning how to emasculate, disempower, and thoroughly humiliate him. The stones just showed her the way? How that is helpful and makes sense!