Michael Sullivan - Nyphron rising

Several other heads nodded. She did not know them, but guessed they owned large farms or businesses-commoners all. None of the former nobility remained after the Imperial takeover. All of the Imperials were either dead or imprisoned. Viceroy Androus, evicted from his office, was relocated to a prison cell along with the city guards that surrendered. A handful of other city officials and Laven, the man who had words with Emery in The Gnome, prepared to stand trial for crimes against the citizenry-a new law.

When the battle ended, Arista helped organize the treatment of the wounded. Soon people returned to her, asking what to do next. She directed them to bury the bodies of those without families outside the city. There was a brief ceremony presided over by Monsignor Bartholomew.

The wounded and dying overwhelmed the armory, and makeshift hospitals were created in the Dunlaps' barn and rooms commandeered at The Gnome. People also volunteered their private homes, particularly those with beds recently made empty. With the work of cleaning up the dead and wounded underway, the question of what to do with the viceroy and the other imperial supporters arose, along with a dozen other inquiries. Arista suggested they form a council and decide together what should be done. They did, and their first official act was to summon her to the viceroy's old office.

It was unanimous. The council voted to appoint Arista ruling queen of the Kingdom of Rhenydd.

"There is no one else here of noble blood," Perin said wearing a blood-stained bandage around his head. "No one else who even knows how to govern."

"But Emery envisioned a republic," Arista told them. "A self-determining government like they have in Delgos. This was his dream-the reason he fought, the reason he died."

"But we don't know how to do that." Doctor Gerand said. "We need experience, and you have it."

"He's right," Perin spoke up again. "Perhaps in a few months we could hold elections, but Sir Breckton and his army are still on their way. We need action. We need the kind of leadership that won us this city, or come tomorrow we'll lose it again."

Arista sighed and looked over at Hadrian, who sat near the window. As commander of the Nationalist Army, he also received an invitation.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I'm no politician."

"I'm not asking you to be. I just want to know what you think…"

"Royce once told me two people can argue over the same point and both can be right. I thought he was nutty, but I'm not so sure anymore, because I think you're both right. The moment you become queen, you'll destroy any chance of this becoming the kind of free republic Emery spoke of, but if someone doesn't take charge-and fast-that hope will die anyway. And they're right. If I were going to choose anyone to rule, it would be you. As an outsider, you have no bias, no chance of favoritism-you'll be fair. And everyone already loves you."

"They don't love me. They don't even know me."

"They think they do, and they trust you. You can give directions and people will listen. And right now, that's what is needed."

"I can't be queen. Emery wanted a republic, and a republic he will have. You can appoint me temporary mayor of Ratibor and steward of the Kingdom of Rhenydd. I will administer only until a proper government can be established, at which time I will resign and return to Melengar." She nodded more to herself than any of them. "Yes, that way I will be in a position to ensure it gets done."

The men in the room muttered in agreement.

"Tomorrow we can address the city. Is there anything else?"

The council filed out of City Hall into the square, leaving her and Hadrian alone. Outside the constant noise of the crowd grew quiet, and then exploded with cheers.

"You're very popular, Your Highness," Hadrian told her.

"Too popular. They want to commission a statue of me."

"I heard that. They want to put it in the West End Square, one of you holding up that sword."

"It's not over yet. Breckton is almost here, and we don't even know if Royce got through. What if he never made it? What if he did and Alric doesn't listen? He might not think it possible to take Ratibor and refuse to put the kingdom at risk. We need to be certain."

"You want me to go?"

"No," she said. "I want you here. I need you here. But if Breckton lays siege, we will eventually fall and by then it will be too late for you to get away. Our only hope is if Alric's forces can turn Breckton's attention away from us."

He nodded and his hand played with the amulet around his neck. "I suppose it doesn't matter where I go for awhile."

"What do you mean?"

"Esrahaddon was in Gaunt's camp. He's been helping the Nationalists."

"Did you ask him about the heir?"

Hadrian nodded. "And you were right. The heir is alive. I think he's Degan Gaunt."

"Degan Gaunt is the heir?"

"Funny, huh? The voice of the common man is also the heir to the imperial throne. There was another child. They were twins. The midwife took the surviving one. No one else knew. I have no idea how Esrahaddon figured it out, but that explains why he's been helping Gaunt."

"Where is Esrahaddon now?"

"Don't know. I haven't seen him since the battle started."

"You don't think."

"Hmm? Oh, no. I'm sure he's fine. He hung back when we engaged Dermont's forces. I suspect he's off to find Gaunt and will contact me and Royce once he does." Hadrian sighed. "I wish my father could have known he didn't fail after all.

"I'll take care of things tonight before I leave. I'll put one of the regiment captains in charge of the army. There's a guy named Renquist who seems intelligent. I'll have him see to the walls, patch up the stone work, ready gate defenses, put up sentries, guards, and archers. He should know how to do all of that. And I'll put together a list of things you'll want to do, like bring the entire army and the surrounding farmers within the city walls and seal it up. You should do that right away."

"You'll be leaving in the morning then?"

He nodded. "Doubt I'll see you again before I go, so I'll say goodbye now. You've done the impossible, Arista-excuse me-Your Highness."

"Arista is just fine." she told him. "I'm going to miss you." It was all she could say. Words were too small to express gratitude so large.

He opened his mouth, but hesitated. He smiled then and said, "Take care of yourself, Your Highness."

In her dream Thrace could see the beast coming for her father. He stood smiling warmly at her, his back to the monster. She tried to scream for him to run, but only a soft muffled moan escaped. She tried to wave her arms and draw his attention to the danger, but her arms were lead and refused to move. She tried to run to him, but her feet were stuck, frozen in place.

The beast had no trouble moving.

It charged down the hill. Her poor father took no notice, even though the beast shook the ground. It consumed him completely with a single swallow, and she fell as if pierced through the heart. She collapsed onto the grass, struggling to breathe. In the distance the beast was coming for her now, coming to finish the job, coming to swallow her up-his legs squeaking louder and louder as he advanced.

She woke up in a cold sweat.

She was sleeping on her stomach in her feather bed with the pillow folded up around her face. She hated sleeping. Sleep always brought nightmares. She stayed awake as long as possible, many nights sitting on the floor in front of the little window, watching the stars and listening to the sounds outside. There was a whole symphony of frogs that croaked in the moat and a chorus of crickets. Fireflies sometimes passed by her tiny sliver of the world. But eventually sleep found her.

The dream was the same every night. She was on the hill. Her father unaware of his impending death, and there was never anything she could do. However, tonight's dream had been different. Usually it ended when the beast devoured her, but this time she woke early. Something else was different. When the beast came it made a squeaking sound. Even for a dream that seemed strange.