Amber Waves - 21. Chapter 21

AARON

The Crown Prince of Astara let out a relieved breath as the plane touched down. He peeled his eyes open, staring at the white wall in front of him.
“It wasn’t any easier that time,” Aaron muttered.
Amber smiled wanly.
“Flying is certainly not my favourite mode of transportation. But it would take us a day to get here otherwise, and that’s if we drove nonstop. I don’t think even Captain Darren has that sort of stamina.”
“Why didn’t we transfer in Sarelin?” Aaron asked, watching Ren and Duncan pass them.
Amber held the prince back, letting the other passengers off the plane first.
“Do you recall a discussion I had with General Soria a few years ago?”
Aaron frowned, thinking back. He remembered meetings, hundreds of meetings, but he couldn’t recall ever meeting a Soria. The prince sighed and shook his head.
“She is nominally the lady-steward of the Hall of Blood, and has a seat on the council, despite rarely sitting in meetings,” Amber provided. “She is in charge of security within the Kaliden Mountains, specifically the borders between Mydara and the Ythin Desert. Functionally, the mountains act as a no-man’s-land between the two states, but we received reports of certain… disgruntled individuals who were looking to make a point.”
Itumak and Captain Darren passed them by, yet Amber still held Aaron back.
“But that was a few years ago,” Aaron pointed out.
Amber smiled bitterly.
“The Kaliden Mountains are vast. If you remember your history, entire armies, both neko and elven, have been lost in its depths. Rooting out insurgents is not an easy task. As such, air traffic from Sarelin stops at Khorsa, and traffic from Khorsa is nonexistent. We cannot take the risk of a plane being targeted.”
“I always thought Astara was peaceful.” Aaron frowned. The last major conflict had been the Neko Rebellion, and after that fight, no one wanted to risk war. It had made King Joren’s task of bringing the nekos into Astara’s fold much more peaceful.
“Unfortunately, some people do not want to keep it that way.”
Finally Amber let Aaron up, and the two exited the plane, followed closely by Greggory and Aime. Aaron looked around curiously, but this airport looked just like the ones in Ceos and Astara, all grandeur with no substance. The decor was nice, he supposed — there was a statue of King Paelias, sword aloft as he led his werewolf guard into battle.
He didn’t even notice Itumak sidling up behind him. The neko’s footsteps made him jump, and Itumak laughed.
“Got you.”
“Fuck off,” Aaron muttered.
“Aaron, watch your tongue,” Amber scolded.
The elf drooped as he followed his mother through the airport. He closed his eyes as they stepped outside, protecting them from the flood of camera flashes that followed them everywhere.
Guards in red uniforms lined a walkway, creating a path through the press. At the end of the tunnel, a set of cars waited for Amber and Aaron, with an elf guard waiting beside the closest one.
“Itumak, you’re with Ren and Duncan,” Captain Darren said as the group hurried through the corridor.
Aaron’s ears were already ringing from the questions being shouted at him, questions he studiously ignored. He slid into the car after Amber, into blissful quiet, and Aaron let out a relieved breath as the door was closed behind them.
Captain Darren got in the front seat, and the elf guard who’d opened the car door took the driver’s seat.
“Your Majesty, your Highness, we’ll be at the castle in twenty minutes’ time,” the guard said.
“What is your name?” Aaron asked.
“Er… Lysan, your Highness,” the elf stammered.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Aaron flashed a smile at Lysan.
He couldn’t be much older than Aaron was, and the prince felt the walls of his station closing in again. Try as he might to retain any semblance of normalcy, Aaron had to accept that things could never go back the way they were before. Even if he bowed out of his position, and went his own way, Aaron would always be recognised and remembered as the prince of Astara. Six years later, he was too far gone to ever be normal again.
“Chin up, Aaron. Don’t stew in your thoughts,” Amber said beside him.
She was right. This was their vacation, their time away from politics, from constant verbal duels. He should enjoy it while it lasted.
“Thank you, Mother.”
He flashed her a tiny smile, and looked out the window, at the City of Spires.
All around Mydara, a wall of mountains barred access. The only way in or out was through a winding road that led past the airport and into the actual city. It surprised Aaron; why was the airport outside the city? Maybe the planes needed the space to land and take off? The entire valley was their runway.
The car struggled up a hill. Aaron leaned forward, listening to the engine grind and groan. He trusted Lysan to know what he was doing, but that did not sound good at all.
But they made it over the hill, and rolled into Mydara proper.
The prince peered out the window at the city, spread out below him. A flash of awe struck him — even the view from the palace could not hope to capture the entire city of Astara, yet here, on a random hill, Aaron saw all of Mydara. The skyscrapers nestled in the north east corner of the city. The small lake that bordered the city to the west. The castle that sat atop yet another hill behind the city.
He didn’t know what he expected. Walls prevented access to Mydara save through the single road. Aaron could even see walls breaking the city into sections that fed into each other, with guard towers lining each barrier. This was a city designed to withstand a siege, to be impossible to capture without reducing every building to rubble first. This was a city that wouldn’t have a palace. No, this city would have a castle, a fortress within a fortress. A place where nobles could shelter while their army defended them.
Aaron wondered what Itumak would make of all of this. It would have been nice to share his first view of the ancestral elven homeland with his best friend. But he understood Captain Darren’s actions; Itumak would be best used in concert with Ren and Duncan if anything went wrong.
He still wasn’t happy about it.

ITUMAK

“Holy crap…”
Both Ren and Itumak stared out the window at the home of their ancestral enemy. The car began rolling down the hill, following the royal procession while the nekos gawked.
“You two have never seen Mydara?” Duncan asked, looking back at them. “I thought you went when you first became guards.”
“No, I’ve been with Prince Aaron since he moved to the palace,” Itumak denied. “This is his first time here too.”
“Interesting. I was supposed to be sent here to guard Nicanei Castle, but Captain Darren overrode my orders.” The human chuckled wryly. “I’ll tell you, there’s nothing like getting a glimpse of a city, then turning right around to get on the plane because someone made a mistake.”
“I won’t be asking you where the best brothels are then,” Itumak smirked.
“Please do not,” Duncan agreed.
Ren leaned back in his seat, rubbing the bracelet on his wrist. Itumak must have struck a nerve somehow; the Askani only fiddled with his beads when he was pissed. It worked — Ren hadn’t gotten into a fight in over a year now — but Itumak never could figure out what set him off.
Probably mentioning sex around Duncan. The werewolf was extremely protective of his mate.
“Skidding Lane.”
“Huh?” Itumak frowned, looking at their driver.
“Skidding Lane. Best girls around. Guaranteed lycanthropy-free too,” the elf said. “Plus a few decent bars. Granted, there is the Moonlight Inn if you’re into freaky stuff, but most people stay well away from there.” He pointed toward the lake, just before it went out of sight. “And the name isn’t what you think. It’s on a hill that freezes over regularly during winter. Kids are always riding sleds down the lane and onto the lake, the little idiots.”
“Thanks,” Itumak grinned.
Not that he’d take the elf’s advice. He hadn’t been with a woman since Aime, and the memory of that still made him shudder. Nothing against the werewolf, of course, but he still did not remember that day fondly.
“Don’t go out there without a buddy, though,” the elf added. “There’s been some disappearances there. Always nekos. Always male. Fucking weird shit.”
“Really?” Ren demanded beside Itumak. “Has the guard been informed?”
“Oh yeah, but they have better things to do than to look into a few streetwalkers,” the elf shrugged. “It’s kind of the ass of Mydara. But the girls there, I’ll swear by them.”
“Farms?” Itumak glanced at Ren.
“Farms,” Ren agreed. “Maybe keep your dick in your pants here.”
“Yeah,” Itumak muttered. The last thing he needed was to get picked up by thugs looking to milk him.
He reached up, touched his mic, then lowered his hand. There was a time and a place, and this was neither. He would just have to corner Captain Darren at some point and warn him. Until then, Itumak would make sure no nekos went anywhere without an elf or human companion.
The road wound through the city, growing sharper and sharper as they approached the castle’s hill. Narrow switchbacks, barely wide enough for the cars to pass up, added yet another layer of protection — Itumak could see more guard towers preserved at each bend. He didn’t know how the elves were ever able to man the towers, unless they only manned a random few and trusted the unmanned towers to frighten assailants.
“These towers can’t be functional, can they?” Duncan broke the silence as they crept up yet another switchback.
“Depends on who you ask, and what period you ask about,” the elf shrugged. “Supposedly they’ve been around since the Mage Wars, and weren’t manned at all — geomancers animated the towers themselves to hurl stones at attacking armies. Of course, that begs the question of special forces. If the legends are true, Mydara had an army teleported on it in the dead of night. If a mage had that kind of power, surely they could teleport a select few knights into the castle itself.”
“I always thought spatial mages were just a horror story told to build resentment against modern day mages,” Itumak said. “Along with most mage stories. I mean, if people were hurling around fireballs back then, why can’t they do it now?”
“The bloodlines were extinguished,” the elf suggested. “It’s what stopped the wars; the mage families who bred for teleportation were put to the sword. And it makes sense. Magic, especially magic that can be used offensively, would have undermined anyone’s rule. All it would take was one enemy mage and you’d be royally screwed, pun intended.”
“You know a lot about this.” Itumak leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs as much as he could. Two flights and a half hour drive did not make for much exercise.
“Local legends are my passion,” the elf smiled. “I joined the Guard because I thought I’d be stationed in one of these towers, and would be able to explore them. But they’re not used anymore, save for the checkpoint at the top of the hill.”
“If I remember correctly, the only reason Astara was never taken was because the rulers at the time kept paying off the mages, and raiding Ceos for the gold,” Duncan added. “They’d come, raze a town, let the people flee into the city with their demands, and then repeat it every few years. It became safer to focus defences around very narrow points, like the Astar River, or the Mydaran Valley, or the Ceosan Mines. Places where even if an army teleported behind the walls, they could be caught in a death maze of streets and buildings.”
“Yeah, that’s why most of Old Mydara is so labyrinthine,” the elf agreed. “Well, that and the geography. The straightest spot in the valley is the airport, and that was a massive engineering feat, from what I’ve heard.”
Itumak watched the last tower fall behind them. The cars climbed up the last stretch of road, and passed through the castle walls beyond.

AMBER

The queen of Astara collapsed on her bed with a drawn out groan. She’d forgotten how exhausting the trip from Astara was. It was totally worth it — she loved the architecture and history here. She would have moved her entire court to Mydara if King Finley had let her. But just being able to visit this place was like a dream.
She’d have to visit The Elven Touch tomorrow. It had been ages since she’d had a massage of any kind, and it would be nice to scrub the stench of politicians from her mind. And maybe they would be able to relieve the aches that came from the altitude; her back was killing her.
But first, Amber needed to change. Nicanei Castle was more than just a royal vacation home. It was living history, and played host to several local schools when they taught Mydaran history, just as the Hall of Blood offered a glimpse into commoner life of the first millennium.
The decision to come to Mydara had been spur of the moment, and that meant the castle was booked for tours for the rest of the day. The least Amber could do was make an appearance.
A dress hung in her closet, an outfit she’d never touched. King Finley always told her a princess should look the part, and the clothes certainly did that. Amber was pretty sure it was a replica of the dress Queen Masia had worn centuries ago. It would fit perfectly with the feel of the castle. If Amber could figure out how to get it on.
She pressed a button by the door, and moments later, a quiet knock sounded.
“You may enter.”
An elven woman peeked into the room.
“You called, your Majesty?”
“I did,” Amber nodded. “Your name is Celia, right?”
“Yes, your Majesty,” the elf said.
“Celia, do you happen to know how to put on a dress from the mid-eighth century?”
“Of course, your Majesty. Allow me to help.”
Amber removed her travelling clothes as Celia strode toward the wardrobe. She was a little surprised Captain Darren hadn’t answered the summons; he always hovered around her whenever she came here. Amber wasn’t sure if the bubbliness in her chest was relief or regret.
“Are you going to watch the tour, your Majesty?” Celia wrapped a bodice around Amber’s torso, drawing it tight before lacing it.
“That is the plan, yes.” Amber sucked in a breath. “I may not last long if that dress is as heavy as it looks.”
“The old royals preferred style over function. At least it kept the worst of the drafts at bay.” Celia smiled wryly. “If you’d like, I can leave the layers off.”
“No, no,” Amber brushed off. “If I’m doing this, I’m going all the way.” Celia draped a loose gown over Amber’s body, before adding a tight belt around her waist. “I might need someone to distract the captain of my guards though. If I faint from heat exhaustion, I don’t need him making a fuss.”
“I’m sure it won’t come to that, your Majesty.”
Finally, the cream satin dress went over her head, falling until the hem flowed across the floor. Amber frowned at the length — the floor would be well swept by the time she was done. Hopefully any dirt wouldn’t ruin the dress.
Celia draped the golden sun of Lynestra over Amber’s chest, then slid several gaudy rings on her fingers. “I apologise, but we do not have any functional shoes from that period, your Majesty.”
“That’s okay,” Amber looked down at her feet. “I think the skirt will hide my feet anyway.”
She turned, looking into a mirror. Amber bit back a wistful sigh — she looked like a child playing dress-up. Oh for the days long past, when her cares were so few.
“And the last touch is the headdress,” Celia said, leaning up to set an embroidered hood over Amber’s head. “Normally, it would be secured with the crown, but that’s another thing I don’t have.”
“That’s alright,” Amber smiled. “Thank you for your help.”
“Of course, your Majesty. I usually help the actors dress; we try to keep things as historically accurate as possible.”
“It looks accurate to me. I think you did a great job,” Amber said.
“Thank you, your Majesty.”
“You may go.”
Celia bowed low, backing out of the room. It was all Amber could do not to laugh. She certainly committed to the role; no one had bowed like that in Amber’s memory.
Sucking in a deep breath, Amber frowned at the dress. It seemed a bit tighter than she thought; it was a little hard to get a full breath. Then again, it was always a bit harder to breathe this high up. But not impossible. Brushing the minor issue aside, the queen strode from her room.
She swept through the castle, heading for the old throne room. Amber had only taken the tour once, as a curiosity her first time in the castle, and if she remembered correctly….
“Can anyone tell me what the old rulers used for their throne?” Aaron asked, standing in front of a group of kids in the throne room. Amber motioned for the door guard to remain quiet, a small smile on her face.
“Gold!”
“Rock!”
“Trees!”
“Close,” Aaron said. “Old thrones are made of two materials. A monarch would be nothing without their golden throne. But gold is malleable. That means it can bend easily. And it wouldn’t do for a king or queen to bend their throne and fall on their bottom, would it?”
Laughter flooded the room, and Amber permitted herself a small chuckle, hidden safely behind the group. Aaron met her eyes, and the prince smiled. He wore a blue tunic with golden trim embroidered across the shoulders. Where he had found the outfit, let alone one that fit him properly, was beyond Amber.
“Mydaran rulers used wood for their thrones, to give it the strength it needed. The mountains around the city are home to many trees, but one in particular was a favourite among elven rulers,” Aaron continued. “They used sugar pines to build the throne. And then they had their goldsmiths cover the throne in a thin layer of gold, to give it that shiny gleam it still has today.”
“You may announce me now,” Amber said quietly.
“Right away, your Majesty.” The door guard turned smartly into the entrance of the hall, thumping the stone floor three times with the butt of his spear. “Now arriving, Queen Amber Etaro, First of her name!”
Several people gasped. Amber saw teachers quickly ushering children out of the way as the guard stepped aside. She began walking toward the throne, a beatific smile on her face.
“It would seem we had the same idea,” Aaron chuckled quietly, bowing as she reached the dais before the throne.
“So it would,” Amber agreed, turning to face the room. An elf approached nervously, bowing low.
“Your Majesty! I pray we didn’t disrupt your day!”
“Be at ease,” Amber smiled. “I thought perhaps the class might like to meet a real life queen. I find history lessons are best remembered when there’s a bit of excitement.”
“Of course, your Majesty. We are honoured by your presence.”
“Please, carry on with your tour. I would never wish to interfere with learning.”
“Right away, your Majesty.”
The man bowed again, before ushering the class from the throne room.
“Gods, I hope we didn’t give him a heart attack,” Aaron said as the last child left.
Amber laughed quietly.
“Regardless, I believe this is a day he will never forget. Where did you get that outfit?”
“From my closet.” Aaron grinned bashfully. “Truth be told, I had it made in Astara, hoping I’d have the chance to use it when we did come to Mydara.”
“You look very smart in it.”
“And you look like a princess someone would save from a dragon.”
“Poor dragon, to have to put up with me,” Amber laughed. She sucked in a deep breath, as deep as her clothes would allow. “But if you’ll excuse me, I need to get this gods-blasted torture device off me.”
“Of course.” Aaron turned back to examine the throne as Amber retreated from the room.