Gav Thorpe - The Crown of the Conqueror

Autumn, 212th year of Askh

The docks were thick with ships and boats, the cranes swinging above, loading and unloading the last surge of trade before winter. A grey sky thick with dark clouds hung over Geria, bloated with a coming storm. One wharf was conspicuously empty, and it was to this that the captain of Ullsaard's ship directed the tillermen.

The king prowled the foredeck and scanned the dockside for any sign of ceremony or other nonsense. He had been clear in his letter to Urikh that his arrival was to be conducted with the minimum of fuss. Ullsaard saw a few companies of legionnaires arranged along the open area beyond the quays; his son's ceremonial guard. Other than this obligatory gesture, it seemed as if the docks were operating as normal, much to Ullsaard's relief.

As the boat swung towards the quay, Ullsaard watched the labourers going about their work. He saw the distinctive black robes of the Brotherhood amongst the half-naked men. Askhos had told him that Lakhyri's response would be swift, but the king had still been surprised by the speed with which the Brotherhood had resurfaced. Within a few days, long before Ullsaard's letters to the governors had arrived, the Grand Precincts in Askh had been bustling again. For most, Ullsaard's change of policy had been a relief, and he had been inundated with visits and messages of approval from across Askh as the news had spread.

In part, it was to escape the confines of the palaces that Ullsaard had come to Okhar. He had reason enough to be here; the Mekhani attacks had subsided but had not stopped and it was the king's opinion that they were gathering their strength for some greater move. Urikh had assured him by herald that the extra three legions brought in from other provinces at the king's command were sufficient to contain any threat, but Ullsaard had little faith in his son's military acumen.

With a grind of wood on wood, the ship slid along the wharf, shaking beneath Ullsaard's feet. As ropes were tossed to the waiting men ashore, Ullsaard headed down to the main deck, impatient to be on dry land again. The deck thudded with feet as his accompanying guard of a hundred legionnaires from the First assembled behind him. As soon as the gangway had been lowered, the king strode from the ship, his bodyguard's captain calling out a hasty order for the soldiers to fall in behind their king.

Turning along the wharf, Ullsaard saw Urikh stepping out from his own guard. The king could see Luia standing a little behind her son. She seemed to be in conversation with one of the company captains. Judging by the officer's nervousness, the topic was not to his liking with Ullsaard bearing down upon them with a body of armed men. Ullsaard wondered for a moment if Luia was offering some new proposal, or simply making conversation with a current partner. The king dismissed the thoughts; he had more important things on his mind.

Urikh waited for his father where the quay met the dockside. He looked relaxed and his skin was tanned from the Okhar summer. Forgetting for a moment that he was a king meeting one of his governors, Ullsaard smiled with pride. In his official white robes, the green-and-gold sash of Okhar across his chest, Urikh seemed to have matured by ten years. Gone was the scheming boy who used to trick his brothers into taking the blame for his misadventures; gone was the gambling teen who used to fleece his friends with his wrestling wagers and loaded set of bones; gone was the speculating trader who would risk a fortune on a rumour of a bad harvest or the loss of a cargo ship.

A sudden thought struck Ullsaard and he stopped in mid-stride. He did not just look at his son as a respected governor of the empire; he looked at the future king.

Gathering his wits, Ullsaard continued and reached the end of the wharf. Urikh welcomed his king with a short bow. He looked as if he was about to say something, but the words were caught in his throat. Ullsaard was similarly tongue-tied, unsure whether to be formal or not. The two of them suffered an awkward silence before Urikh finally resolved whatever dilemma had plagued him.

"Geria and all of Okhar greet you," he said. "You have made good time from Askh. May I present my guard of honour?"

Ullsaard nodded and Urikh turned and gestured to his senior captain. At a shout from their commander, the legionnaires raised their spears with a cry of "Askhor! Ullsaard!" and returned to attention.

Luia drifted over, her carefully tailored red dress clinging to her shapely body, slits in the woollen gown showing her arms and thighs. She drew up a white shawl from her shoulders as scattered drops of rain began to fall onto the stone of quayside.

"Greetings, husband," she said with a nod of the head. She directed a look at Ullsaard, which the king found difficult to read for a moment. At first he thought it was anger, but realised it was a look filled with desire, an almost predatory hunger. He found it quite disconcerting coming from a woman who had regularly pronounced her hatred of him and scorned him so vigorously in the past.

"Greetings, wife," he managed to reply, confused by the unexpected desire her glance had roused in him. "You are well?"

Unbidden, she turned next to Ullsaard and linked her arm in his. They strolled towards the riverside warehouses as Urikh dismissed his guard with an irritated order and followed behind.

"I find Geria to be most satisfying," said Luia. "The weather is more favourable than Askh, and the governor's palace, though austere from the outside, has all of the comforts a woman could desire."

"All of the comforts a queen could desire?" Ullsaard asked with a lopsided smile. Her grip on his arm tightened for a moment and the feel of it sent an unusual thrill through the king.

"Perhaps all a queen desires is her king," said Luia. There it was again, that look of animal need.

Ullsaard knew that she was trying to manipulate him. He could not remonstrate with her, not in such public view. And there was part of him that enjoyed it. Always she had craved a powerful, important man, and yet sought her physical pleasures from elsewhere. Perhaps on becoming king, Ullsaard had finally managed to make himself a man worthy of Luia. They had copulated before — Urikh was testament to that — but never before had Ullsaard sensed such desire in her. It had been more than half a year since he had last lain with a woman, and Luia's attentions were reminding him of that fact.

"I know that you do not wish there to be any fuss, but I have organised a formal reception for you tonight," Luia told him. "You presence here would be more widely remarked upon if you were not to have some kind of banquet."

"You're right," said Ullsaard. "Tongues will wag, whatever I do, so best not give them more than necessary to wag about. The usual merchants, nobles and dignitaries?"

"Yes, and a few Second Captains from the palace guards. Oh, and Lerissa will be there too." This news brought an instinctive tension to Ullsaard. Luia laughed at his involuntary reaction. "I always thought there was something between the two of you."

"I've never laid a finger on her," said Ullsaard, pulling his arm free from Luia's.

"Touchy subject," she said. "You have certainly laid eyes on her, haven't you? There is no shame in it."

"I love Allenya," said Ullsaard, as if that was all the explanation that was needed.

"And yet you have slept with me and Meliu," answered Luia. "You have a strange sense of loyalty, Ullsaard. You treat a simple physical act as if it was something to be treasured."

"It is important to me."

They reached the plaza beneath the concourse leading up to the palaces. Turning up the roadway, Ullsaard again took Luia's arm in his, feeling oddly guilty about his outburst. He remembered that Luia knew nothing of her sisters' predicament in Magilnada. It was time that she did.