Morgan Rice - A Sky of Spells

Having finished entertaining all of her foreign dignitaries, her external affairs were over for the morning, and it was time to turn to her internal affairs. Aberthol cleared his throat, banged his staff on the floor and stepped forward, beginning the proceedings. The room began to quiet.

“We begin with a report from the tax collector,” Aberthol announced.

Earnan, his father’s old tax councilor, stepped forward, bowed, and read from a scroll.

“Two thousand casks of wine,” he announced, his voice dry. “One thousand casks of ale. Eight thousand chickens; six thousand hens. One thousand cows….”

He lowered the scroll and looked up, his face grim.

“The royal festivities and the queen’s wedding, all hosted by us, represent a generosity of a magnitude never displayed before in the history of the two kingdoms. My lady, you are the most generous ruler that has ever sat on that throne. But these festivities are also cause for concern. We have nearly drained whatever was left of our royal treasury.”

A grim silence blanketed the room, as all eyes turned to Gwendolyn.

“I am aware of the costs,” she said. “And yet the people are happy. After all of their hardships, they needed a cause to rejoice. Every penny was well spent. Without a strong soul and spirit, there is no will.”

“HEAR HEAR!” cried out the crowd in the hall, cheering in her defense.

“It may be so, my lady,” he said, “but my responsibilities as treasurer are our reserves. They must be replenished. I propose that we raise a new tax on the people.”

There came a boo throughout the crowd, until Aberthol slammed his cane several times and they quieted down.

Earnan cleared his throat and continued: “Rebuilding King’s Court has cost us dearly, my lady. The people benefit. They must also help pay for it.”

The entire room turned and looked at Gwen. She mulled it over, thinking carefully, until finally she reached a conclusion.

“I thank you for doing your duty,” she said to Earnan, “and you do it well. I shall not tax my people, however. To solve the problem, you can take my own wealth.”

Earnan’s eyes widened in surprise.

“My lady?” he said.

“All of these gifts I have been given—all of these jewels and treasures—you may take for our treasury. Take it all. I would rather you take it from me than from the people.”

Gwendolyn looked to Thorgrin.

“These wedding gifts are yours, too. This is assuming you agree?”

Thorgrin nodded back without hesitation.

“Of course, my lady,” he replied. “These material things mean nothing to me.”

Gwendolyn nodded to Earnan, satisfied.

“I believe it resolves the matter,” she said.

Earnan bowed.

“It does. It is a most satisfactory conclusion, one I had not anticipated. The people are lucky to have you. I doubt any other ruler would have done the same.”

The room erupted with a cheer of love and admiration.

“Whatever gifts you give away, we will give you more in the full again!” a commoner yelled from the crowd. There came another jubilant cheer.

Gwen was feeling tired, and she wondered how much longer today’s meeting would go on. Her back was hurting her from the baby, and she squirmed, no longer able to sit comfortably on the throne.

Duwayne, her advisor on the masses, stepped forward.

“My lady, speaking of the needs of the people,” he said, “our people have come to King’s Court these last six moons and have helped us rebuild. Now that the work is done, they must return to their own villages. But they will be returning to homes and villages ravaged by war. Now it is our time to help them rebuild. We must allocate and distribute badly-needed resources for them: manpower, building materials, supplies, grain, gold. Now that King’s Court has returned, the rest of the Ring must not be neglected.”

Gwendolyn nodded, finding wisdom in his words.

“Agreed,” she said. “I shall appoint one of my councilmen to oversee this. He will be given the duty of touring all the villages and towns of the Ring, and deciding which resources to allocate, on my behalf. Whatever my people need, they will get.

“Steffen!” Gwendolyn called out.

Steffen hurried over to her, bowing, looking at her with surprise.

“I appoint you as the new Lord of the Interior. You will speak with my voice and have all the power and resources of the royal treasury and royal forces in helping the Ring rebuild. You will travel town to town, you will meet all the townsfolk, and you will decide who will get what. Is this a responsibility that you will accept?”

All eyes in the packed hall turned to Steffen. He shifted and ran his palms on his thighs, clearly caught off guard, and uncomfortable being in the spotlight.

“My lady,” he said, clearing his throat. “I am but a simple servant. I am not deserving of such rank and position. What you describe will be one of the greatest positions of power in your kingdom. Why should it be given to me? I am not deserving.”

“That is precisely the reason why it will be given to you,” Gwendolyn said. “Because you act with humility; because you are not puffed up with pride; because you are a loyal and devoted and trustworthy advisor; and because I trust you with my life. You also understand the common people, and you are a fine judge of character. I trust you to speak with my own voice. The position is yours, and I ask you to accept.”

Steffen bowed his head down low. As he raised his head, his eyes were watering.

“My lady, I accept with the greatest humility and gratitude. It is a position that I should hope to be able to live up to.”

Gwen nodded

“Excellent. On this Departure Day, you will depart before the sun has set.”

Gwen turned back to Aberthol, hoping there was no more left on the agenda for this morning; but he stepped forward and unrolled a long scroll, filled with items, and began to read from it. Gwendolyn sighed.

“Reports pour in, my lady, of forts throughout the Ring that were destroyed and need to be rebuilt, fortified. We also need to reinforce along the canyon bridges. The Silver and the Legion need to be strengthened, too, after all of their losses. They do not have the numbers that they did in your father’s day.”

Gwendolyn nodded.

“Kendrick and Erec,” she announced, “you will be in charge of all matters relating to the Silver. I trust you to make us the fighting force that we were in our father’s time.”

“Yes, my lady,” they both said.

“You will also be in charge of fortifying and securing all of the forts and crossings throughout the Ring. We need our military and our posts back to their prior strength. Replenish our Hall of Arms, and fill the Silver’s barracks.”

“Yes, my lady,” they replied.

“Thorgrin,” Gwen said, turning to him, “You will be in charge of rebuilding the Legion. Fill its ranks once again, make it the fighting force it once was, so that it will reflect upon the honor of all those boys who died serving our cause.”

“Yes, my lady,” Thor replied.

Aberthol held up another scroll, unraveled it and squinted. Then he began to read.

“Reports have arrived, my lady, from today’s falcons, of trouble in the Upper Islands.”

Gwen raised her eyebrow, wondering.

“What sort of trouble?” she asked.

“A dispatch from your regent, Srog. He reports of a discontent amongst its people.” Aberthol squinted at the scroll as he skimmed it. “He speaks of an instability amongst Tirus’ sons, and its spreading to the people. He warns of a possible revolt. He asks for reinforcements.”

Gwendolyn leaned back in her throne and folded her hands across her chest. She had not expected this.