The Bond - 7. Chapter 7

Adrian traversed his vessel, looking up only occasionally when a sailor ran by, he sensed there was some object in his path, or when a particularly large wave caused the massive ship to rock. He appreciated the fine craftsmanship of the boat and the excitement that came with being at sea, but nothing was to tear him away from the letter he was currently reading.

“I’m sorry, I can’t be distracted right now,” he said absently to a sailor who had come up to ask him a question, the man quickly turned his back, running off to find some other authority on the ship. The day was hot, and Adrian was already not in the mood to deal with any gratuitous wants or needs. He wasn’t emotionally compromised by any means, but the heat away from the Illjard sapped his energy, and his wardrobe was clearly unfit for life to the south. Holding his letter by the teeth, he took off a well-fitted fur that had draped his shoulders, as part of a customary outfit suited for a dignitary. Bits of white fur and sealskin lined and padded almost all the clothes made in the Illjard, but he had noticed that some of the sailors were more prepared with lighter clothing as they moved into less icy waters. Finally adjusting himself and unbuttoning the top few buttons of the fine blue, white, and purple shirt that he was wearing, Adrian returned to the letter in his attentions, noticing the seal of the Di Coteau household.

So unlike ours, he thought, thinking of his own family emblem, the very same which was displayed in a huge fashion on the sail of his vessel. The Fray family boasted three white icicles hanging downwards, the middle one being larger than the outside two, on a background of blue and encircled with a ring of purple. Adrian had always thought that the black and red Nabian emblems that varied according to general looked somehow more official, as if their colors indicated a more serious tone and orderliness.

And this is certainly official news, he thought as he crumpled up the parchment that had just recently been rolled into an artful scroll. The wax seal of Alexandre Di Coteau broke in his hand, and Adrian tossed the paper ball over the edge of his ship. It caught the wind for a moment, but eventually plunged into midnight blue waters, grew heavy, and sank. Adrian did not want news of this marriage getting into the wrong hands. He was certain his crew would find out eventually, but it would be easier to live on a ship for the rest of this voyage with a group of people that didn’t feel like they possibly were heading into a zone of dangerous political turmoil. Whatever comforts Adrian could allow himself and the people around him on this cramped – despite being massive – ship, he would grant. This was true even if it meant denying most others information.

Perhaps we should turn around, thought Adrian. A marriage between Nabius and Tomacia at this level was historically unheard of, and the stability between the two nations was already non-existent. Would this increase the reach of the war? he wondered. Probably not to an extent that it would cause problems for us, given that we’re going to Alexandre’s region. Too far north, and there would be other places to conquer first. Adrian knew the geography of Nabius from maps, and was fairly sure that there wouldn’t be much in Alexandre’s region that Tomacians might want, other than that it was one of just a few zones of Nabius that boasted access to the sea and ports. But they have access to the sea already, and the Illjard is the only real source of trading that Nabius has. Prince Adrian knew this fact all too well, considering Tomacia had always refused to trade with him. Relations were not bad with Tomacia, but the lush green valleys of the Eastern country produced food goods that were of a comparable quality to what the permafrost permitted Illjardi citizens to grow. Why trade for what you already have, and why trade with a nation that supports your sworn enemy? The Illjard was neutral of course, but if any trading mistake had ended up sending Tomacian-marked goods to Nabius or vice-versa, there would be hell to pay.

But no, Adrian thought, Tomacia knows we cease contact with the rest of the continent after the great snows. We can’t even leave our homes, much less the island. So docking in Alexandre’s territory should pose no problem.

Adrian thought about himself again, wondering if his appearance would cause a stir. I wonder if they’ve ever seen Illjardi people before. But I guess I’ll be in for a shock too. The mainlanders are rare enough at home, and soon everyone will look like them. Adrian briefly wondered if the noble gentlemen of Nabius would find him off putting, and thought to the work that he had been doing with Luca. Surely, someone as compassionate as that could look past the hair and skin. And if he, or whoever I may find, visits the Illjard, they may find they understand why we look this way, with the snow and all. Adrian crinkled his nose and tried to shrug off his insecurities.

I guess I don’t really have a choice anyway. It’s this, or I lose the crown. He scratched around the rim of the piece that he was wearing now, a ringlet of flowing silver and glass made to look like icicles sprouting upwards. Though I could do with passing a law that doesn’t make me have to look so ridiculous all of the time, he grumbled. Adrian had never been one for wearing the heavy works of metal atop his head. He leaned on the edge of a ship, looking down into the waters that coursed by its hull. After briefly considering tossing his crown overboard, he refrained and exhaled with the word “marriage” on his lips accidentally aloud. A nearby washerwoman looked at him, smiled, and went back to his work.

Oops.

At least the marriage is between two men, he thought. Alexandre Di Coteau and Carlisle Cathcart. Those are big names. Adrian knew of marriages between people from opposing countries, but none between figures so important. He wondered what the endgame was, thinking that there was no way a Nabian wanted piece, and an equal improbability of a Tomacian wanting to pardon a Nabian from their strict laws and moral codes. He supposed he would find out when he got there, and figured he should be satisfied with that. Besides making me happy that it’s between two men, it probably bodes well for my chances in Nabius. Maybe the men there will be eager to follow one of their generals in this kind of a marriage choice. He was, after all, an international leader that was looking for a marriage with someone of the same sex. As an afterthought, he considered that Nabian’s might favor marriage between two men in this situation anyhow. Two great fighters, from opposing nations. They certainly would make a strong couple, and that’s the point of marriage in the world of Nabius anyway. Two strong people unite, to become an even more powerful unit. I’m guessing those two might make a fine unit together, and could probably do some damage in defense of whatever they’re plotting.

***

“Alright then,” said Talia as she rudely burst open the doors of the dinner halls, markedly late for the supper that the Cathcarts held so often for she and her traveling companions. She walked over to her chair, and pulled it out was sitting down in a quick graceful drop. “So how are we going to approach the summit?”

Everyone at the table was used to her lack of punctuality by now, but they were all surprised at her rather loud and demanding entrance. She sat down, put a knife into the meat that was being served, lifted it to her mouth, and took a large juicy bite.

“To which summit are you referring to Talia?” asked the queen in her soft voice. “I don’t believe that we’ve called any meeting.”

Talia raised an eyebrow across the table at her brother, who cleared his throat. But before he could talk, Barclay intervened.

“Talia’s talking about a meeting that hasn’t been called yet, but one that’s definitely going to be,” he said. He rubbed a hand over the short fuzz of his hair, and looked down at the table.

“Go on,” said the king.

“Well, sir, the thirteen always meet whenever some big decision needs to be made, by all of the leaders of Nabius. I would’ve thought that the next meeting would have had to be about the next step in conquering the Coynes, but now…”

“There’s a bigger issue at hand,” finished the king. “I see. I expect you are right, news will travel fast, especially since you’ve set out letters to your family.” He looked directly at Alex, who nodded in agreement.

“I expect so. The legitimacy of our marriage and what to do in the case of the war will be voted upon.” He ran a hand through his thick dark hair, and wiped his face with a soft blue napkin.

“And guess who’s turn it is to host the meeting?” Talia asked rhetorically. Carl looked over at his new husband, and asked the question silently. Alexandre nodded.

“Yes. It’s the tradition that the most recent to join the circle of thirteen hosts a gathering when it comes time. That would have been Elsa Torne, in the capitol, but now with my status as general… it looks like I’m going to need to head back home sometime soon.”

“Elsa Torne was truly robbed of such a glorious honor,” Talia said sarcastically. From experience at going with her father to one of these meetings when General Marie Lafeye was instated, Talia knew that these events were precarious situations and required the utmost caliber of planning, security, and secrecy. Talia had not sat in on the actual meeting of course, but huge crowds of noble folk had traveled to her estate to strike business deals, display their prowess, and make connections. Though she was a young girl at the time and was mostly there to meet instructors from some of Nabius’s thirteen academies, she knew even then that the risk factor was immense. When all the most powerful people in Nabius were gathered into one place, danger was around every corner and at least a little blood was always spilt.

And now, she thought, all of the most powerful people in Nabius are going to be at our home, at least half of them more than likely wanting to kill every Di Coteau they can get their hands on. Excellent.

The table drew quiet as it dawned on everyone that their journey and companionship would draw to a close sooner, rather than later. The king, the first to gather himself, immediately spoke of action. “How do we get you there, and how many men will you need?” Alex looked to him in shock, surprised at his willingness to help.

“Well,” Alex replied, “I’m really not sure about that.” His eyebrows angled down, and he scrunched up his nose in thought. “Even if we took an entire army back… the road will soon be dangerous. News is spreading fast, and everyone will be looking for combined parties of Tomacians and Nabians to express their hate upon. I think it might be best if we travel in just a small group, in disguise, similar to how we got here.” The king thought for a moment, and apparently settled for this logic.

“Do you know the route backwards?” the queen asked, eyes lit with concern. Alex nodded yes, but she spoke again, this time even more worried. “No, you can’t do that. If you used the underground trade routes, your faces will be recognized. I’m not sure its worth risking the same tricks twice.”

“I don’t leave witnesses,” Talia said darkly from her chair. Everyone seemed to let that eerie comment roll off of their shoulders, and ignored her. She shrugged, and happily began chewing again.

“It’s still too risky. I’m not going to risk that. I’m not risking you,” Carl said with a look directly into Alexandre’s eyes. “You can’t go back that way.”

“It’s alright. I’d be going through two of my uncles’s lands and Laura Nandra’s. I’m sure they would see me through.”

“Devan?” Carl asked with a doubtful look. Alexandre winced at that, and Talia realized that her brother had probably told his partner all about their paranoid and quite possibly deranged uncle.

He’s right. I don’t know what he will think of all this. Uncle Damien too, for that matter. Talia wasn’t truly concerned given that Jezebel’s father was in Ysabel’s pocket, but Talia realized that she also had not heard from her mother. What if… it… has a bad reaction. She shuddered to think of the other side taking control in response to this news, and didn’t like to think what might happen if the family did not support them.

Death, for one. But let’s hope it won’t come to that, and pay attention to the eye candy. She looked at Carl, and opened her mouth to speak after draining her goblet.

“Do you have any suggestions then? I agree, it’s too risky.” Carl nodded thanks at her, and gave Alexandre an I-told-you-so look.

“You go by sea. You’re the northernmost territory, and we can easily get into a supply ship. The crew will of course be hand chosen, and we’ll dock at your ports. After sailing up the pike and doing the rest in the ocean. If we stay close to shore, we shouldn’t run into too many risks.” He looked around the room, waiting for an objection. Everyone seemed to be mulling this over in their heads, and facial expressions of his mother and father indicated that nothing really seemed to be amiss with this plan.

“I like it,” Talia said. “All of Devan’s troops are consolidated near his stronghold, and General Damien lost most of his men to mutiny here in Tomacia. He should have a relatively small naval presence.” Murmurs of agreement went around the table, and the plan was decided.

“I’ll see to the ships,” said the king. “You’ll want a good crew, the sea can be a dangerous place in the height of the summer. We’ll get you out of here within a week.”

“I’ll help pick the men on board,” Talia said, and Alexandre rolled his eyes.