Morgan Rice - A Joust of Knights

“Brothers and sisters,” he said, “tonight we enter the Land of Blood.”

Gwendolyn walked side-by-side with the Queen, escorting her across the golden skywalk that spanned the capital of the Ridge. The path was made of solid gold cobblestones, elevated fifteen feet above the city streets, spanning from the castle exit to all corners of the city. It was a walkway reserved for royals, and as they walked the Queen’s servants trailed behind them, holding up parasols to block the sun.

The two strolled arm-in-arm, the Queen affectionately linking arms with her and insisting that she take her on a tour of the city. The Queen fondly showed Gwen all the sights as they went, pointing out notable architecture and orienting her to the various neighborhoods of this ancient city. Gwendolyn felt comforted by her presence, especially after such a long stretch without female company. In some respects, the Queen was like the warm mother that she never had.

It made Gwendolyn reflect on her own mother. Her mother had been a cold and hard Queen, always deciding based on what was right for the kingdom—but not necessarily what was right for their family. She had also been a cold, hard mother, and Gwendolyn had had endless arguments and power struggles with her. Gwendolyn recalled the first time she had met Thorgrin, her mother’s epic struggle to keep the two of them apart. It brought back fresh bitterness and resentment.

It also caused Gwen think of other times, other places; she recalled the balls in her father’s court, everyone dressed in their finest, the jousts, the festivals, the endless years of bounty and good times, years Gwen was certain could never end. She recalled the first time she had ever met Thorgrin, back in the bounty of the Ring, just a young, naïve boy entering King’s Court for the first time. It felt like another lifetime. She felt so aged since then, so much upended in her life. Even here, within the splendor of this place, she had a hard time imagining days of comfort and security like that coming back to her again.

Gwen snapped out of it as the Queen pulled her along and pointed up ahead.

“This quarter is where most of our people live,” the Queen said proudly.

Gwendolyn looked down at the beautiful city, afforded a sweeping view from up here on the skywalk, and was in awe at its beauty and sophistication. The city was crammed with pristine houses of every shape and size, some built of marble, others limestone, all snuggled in close together, giving the city a cozy feel. The city looked perfectly worn, crisscrossed by cobblestone streets, horses walking through, slowly pulling carriages through the streets. Lining the streets were people selling their wares, and everywhere there was the smell of food: stalls were overflowing with massive fruits, while vendors sold sacks and barrels of wine. Other shops were everywhere, tanners selling hides, blacksmiths weaponry, and jewelers sparkling gems. Everyone was dressed in their finest, and they strolled about this luxurious city in harmony.

Gwen looked up and saw the impressive fortifications walling in the city, its ancient stone walls lined with knights, their armor gleaming in the sun. She saw the castle towering over the city, like a watchman, its ramparts staggered and lined with more knights, beacons of strength and perfect discipline. Church bells tolled softly in the distance, dogs barked below in the streets and children squealed in delight as they ran after them. A gentle breeze, heavy with moisture from the lakes, caressed her as she walked, and Gwen realized this place was as close to perfection as one could imagine. In the distance, the waters glistened and in the far distance, the peaks of the Ridge loomed over all of them, a faint outline on the horizon, shrouded in mist, making this place feel even more protected.

Gwen saw people open and closing their shutters, hanging clothes out to dry, and as she glanced down, she noticed many people waving up at them affectionately. She felt too elitist walking up here, on this pathway.

“You are distracted, dear Queen,” the Queen said to her, smiling.

Gwen blushed.

“Excuse me,” she said. “It’s just that…I prefer to interact with my people. I like to embrace them, to walk the same streets as they.”

Gwen hoped she hadn’t offended her, and she was relieved to see the Queen’s smile widen.

“You are a girl after my own heart,” she said. “I was hoping you would ask. I don’t like to live as royals do, either—I would rather be with my people.”

She led her down a curved, golden staircase, into the streets, and as they descended, there was an excited rush amongst her people; they all gushed at the Queen’s presence and rushed forward to greet her, handing her fruits and flowers. Gwen could see how loved she was by her people—and she understood why: she was the kindest Queen she’d ever met.

Gwen enjoyed walking the streets, loved the vitality, the smells of cooking meat stronger down here; it was bustling with people, and she loved the energy of this place. These people of the Ridge, she was coming to realize, were warm and friendly people, quick to smile and to embrace strangers. She was beginning to feel at home.

“Our walking through the street is, in fact, most convenient. My daughter whom you wish to see is on the far end of the city, perched in her library. This is the quickest way to get there.”

Gwen thought of where they were going—the Royal Library—which she so badly wished to see, and she grew excited. She also thought of the Queen’s youngest daughter, whom the King asked her to see first, and she wondered once again about her.

“Tell me about her,” Gwen said.

The Queen’s face lit up at the mention of her.

“She’s remarkable,” she said. “She has a mind unlike anyone I’ve ever met. You will see that there is really no one like her. I don’t know where she gets it from—certainly not from me.”

The Queen shook her head as she spoke, her eyes watering with admiration.

“How can it be that a ten-year-old girl can have an intellect powerful enough to be the scholar of the kingdom? Not only is she the fastest thinker I’ve ever met, but she retains scholarship unlike anyone I’ve ever met. It’s more than an affinity—it’s an obsession. Ask her anything about our history, and she will tell you. I’m ashamed to say her knowledge is greater even than mine. And yet, I am so proud of her—she spends all her days in that library. It is making her far too pale, if you ask me. She should be out, playing with her friends.”

Gwen thought of it all as she walked, remembering her first meeting her at the feast, and how taken she had been by her. Clearly, this was an extraordinary girl. Being so enamored of books, the two of them had clicked instantly, as Gwen had sensed a kindred soul in her. It made Gwen think of her time spent in the House of Scholars, and she knew that if her father had not intervened, she would have spent all her days locked away in that building, lost in books.

“Your husband told me I must see her first,” Gwen said. “He said I should ask her of the history before visiting the tower and your other son, Kristof. He said she would give me a primer, a better understanding of it.”

Gwen watched the Queen’s face darken at the mention of her other son. She nodded sadly.

“Yes, she will tell you all about that cursed tower and more,” she said. “Though I don’t know what good it will do. My children in that tower are lost to me now.”

Gwen looked at her, stunned.

“Children?” she repeated. “The king mentioned but one son. Have you others?”

The Queen looked down as they walked, cutting through the streets, passing vendors, and she remained silent for a very long time. Just when Gwen began to wonder if she would ever answer, finally, the Queen wiped a tear and looked at her, her face filled with sadness.