Morgan Rice - A Rule of Queens

Gwen looked off in the distance, watching the messenger sprint back to his village, and she slowly shook her head.

“No,” she said, “I fear something far worse.”

Godfrey hiked with Gwendolyn and Kendrick and the large contingent of Ring members as they all emerged from the cave and hiked carefully down the mountain, clinging to the mountain side so as not to slip and not be detected. As they approached the village, he spotted hundreds of villagers crowded around the village center, and he could sense the chaos from here. All wore disturbed looks, and he sensed something awful had happened.

As they entered the village, Godfrey saw the boy in the center of the crowd, Sandara’s brother, the one they called Darius; beside him stood a girl who appeared to be his girlfriend—he had heard her called Loti. They faced the village elders, and the girl looked distraught. Godfrey wondered what had happened.

Godfrey joined Gwen and the others as they silently stood near the center.

“But why did you kill him?” came a voice, panic-stricken, condemning. Godfrey turned to see a woman who must’ve been Loti’s mother, standing beside the elders, yelling at her. “Have you learned nothing? How could you have been so stupid?”

“I didn’t think about it,” Loti said. “I just reacted. My brother was being whipped.”

“So what!?” Bokbu, the village elder, yelled at her. “We are all whipped, every day. But none are so foolish as to fight back—much less to kill them. You bring death upon us all. Every one of us.”

“And what of the Empire?” Darius yelled out, beside her, defending her. “Have they not broken rules as well?”

The villager, falling silent, looked to him.

“They have the power,” one of the elders said. “They make the rules.”

“And why should they have the power?” Darius said. “Just because they have more men?”

Bokbu shook his head.

“What you have done today, Loti, was stupid. Very, very foolish. You gave in to your passions, and it was short-sighted. It will change the course of our village forever. Soon they will come here. And with not just one man—with one hundred men, maybe one thousand. They will come with armor and weapons, and they will kill us all.”

“I am sorry,” Loti said, loudly, boldly, for everyone to hear, “yet I am not sorry. I would do it all again for the sake of my brother.”

The crowd gasped in outrage, and Loti’s father stepped forward and smacked her across the face.

“I’m sorry I ever had you,” he said, scowling at her.

Her father wound up to smack her again. But this time, Darius rushed forward, caught his wrist in midair, and held it.

Loti’s father looked to Darius, a look of bewilderment and anger across his face, as Darius locked eyes with his.

“Do not lay a hand on her,” Darius threatened.

“You little bastard,” her father replied. “You can hang for this. You do not disrespect your elder.”

“Then hang me,” Darius replied.

Loti’s father stared back in rage, then finally he backed away as Darius released his grip.

Loti reached down and quietly took Darius’s hand, and Godfrey saw him hold hers back, squeezing it, reassuring her, letting her know he was there for her.

“All of this is inconsequential now,” Bokbu said, as the people fell silent. “What matters now is what can be done.”

The entire village looked to each other in the thick silence, and Godfrey looked at them all, shocked at what had happened. Clearly, this changed everything; it would certainly make it awkward timing for Gwen and her people to just walk out. Yet staying here would be suicide.

“Give the girl up!” a villager cried out.

There came a muted cheer of approval from some villagers.

“March her to Volusia and hand her over!” the man added. “Maybe they will accept her as offering and leave us be!”

There came a few more grunts of approval from some of the villagers—but not from others. Clearly, they were divided.

“You will not touch her!” Loc, Loti’s brother, cried out. “Not without going through me!”

“Or me!” Darius yelled.

The villagers laughed in derision.

“And what are a lame man and a long-haired boy going to do to stop us!?”

There came some derisive laughter among a corner of the crowd and Godfrey tightened his grip on his sword, wondering if a fight was going to break out.

“Enough of this!” Bokbu yelled. “Do you not see what the Empire has done to us? We fight ourselves when we should be fighting them! We have truly become like them.”

A silence fell over the crowd, as the villagers lowered their faces, humbled.

“No!” Bokbu continued. “We will prepare our defense. We will die either way, so we will die fighting. We will take positions, and attack them as they come.”

“With what?” another elder yelled out. “Our wooden swords?”

“We have spears,” Bokbu countered, “and their points are sharpened.”

“And they will come with steel and armor,” the elder countered. “What will your wooden spears do then?”

“We must not fight!” another elder yelled. “We must await their arrival and beg their mercy. Perhaps they will be lenient. After all, they need us for labor.”

The villagers all broke out into heated arguing, and chaos ensued as men and women shouted at each other. Godfrey stood there, in shock, wondering how it all could have fallen apart so quickly.

As Godfrey watched, he felt something stirring within him, something he could not contain. He was struck by an idea, and his entire life, whenever he had been overcome with an idea, he’d been unable to contain himself. He’d had to get it out, and now, he felt it boiling over within him. He could not keep silent, even if he tried.

Godfrey found himself stepping forward into the village center, unable to control himself. He stood in the thick of the crowd, jumped up on a high stone, waved his hands, and yelled:

“Wait a minute!” His voice boomed, a deep, loud voice, coming from his big belly, sounding, strangely enough, like the voice of his father, the king.

All the villagers quieted, shocked to see him standing there, with his big belly, a man of white skin demanding attention. Gwendolyn and the others looked even more surprised at his appearance. He clearly was not a warrior, and yet somehow, he demanded attention.

“I have another idea!” Godfrey called out.

They all slowly turned to him, all eyes riveted.

“In my experience, any man can be bought, for a high enough price. And armies are composed of men.”

They all looked at him, puzzled.

“Gold speaks in every language, in every land,” Godfrey said. “And I have a lot of it. Enough gold to buy any army.”

Bokbu stepped forward in the silence, turning to Godfrey.

“And what are you proposing exactly? That we hand the Empire soldiers bags of gold? You think that will send them away? Volusia is one of the riches cities in the Empire.”

Godfrey shook his head.

“I will not wait for their army to come,” he said. “That is not how men are bought. I will go into the city. I will go myself and bring enough gold to buy whoever needs to be bought. I have conquered men without raising a spear, and I can turn this one back before they even come.”

They all stared up at Godfrey, speechless. He stood there, trembling, feeling shocked himself that he had spoken up like this. He did not know what had overcome him; possibly it was the injustice of it all, possibly seeing that poor brave girl in tears. He had spoken before he had even thought it through, and he was surprised as he felt a hand clap him on the back.

A villager stepped forward and looked at him approvingly.