Author's Note: Plot resolution here. No sex.
Chapter Seven
Neral Jaye rode with an odd sense of calm. She had her army behind her. It was by no means all of it, but the formations were substantial. A token force had remained in Erette and the populace enlisted should the Draleth have sent a force to try to sack the city. The rumors of the fire from the sky had not been dispelled and Evaline didn't try. Those that fervently believed that it was the end of Erette if not the end of days would still believe it and unrest would still fester.
Instead she chose to downplay those rumors. People knew that stories got exaggerated for effect, and one like that was ripe for it. Add to that that people simply didn't
want
to believe that their lives could be snuffed out in a heartbeat, and you have a people willing to believe any plausible theory so she played to that and, in so doing, quelled a great deal of fear. That there was a new weapon and that the King of the Draleth had issued a formal challenge was what she told them and that in this case it was her responsibility to meet it.
Even in the space of that day by the time they left, Evaline, Neral, and the army they'd mustered passed through an impromptu parade. They had both put their worry aside, smiled, waved, and projected the confidence that the people needed to see as people waved and cheered them on to war and victory.
The formations grew larger as they pressed forward towards the inevitable as the forces of the kingdom met them on the path, swelling their numbers. Civilians joined as well hoping to defend their kingdom, homes, and families. They inhabited the back of the lines looking like the ragtag bunch they were, but they had heart and will. Artillery was left behind as well in favor of speed with even the infantry in wagon or on horseback.
Neral was content. Her troops were at her back, her queen was to her left and Dion and Nelina to her right. She would fight to her last breath to come home, but she had said her farewells and made her peace. And at least she went into whatever would come with some of those she respected most at her side. She looked at the queen with her golden-armored brown steed whose plating matched the queen's own armor, from breastplate with the noble bird-of-prey that served as the symbol of her people etched upon it, to gauntlets, to boots. It was ceremonial garb, given away by the perfect white linen that covered what would otherwise have been exposed skin and the cape that settled in a flourish over the saddle.
Then there was the crown.
Evaline noted the appraisal."Have something to say, General?"
"No, Majesty," she said casually, as though discussing the menu at a Court dinner. "I simply note that it's been a long time since I've seen you in battle dress."
"There's a reason for that, not the least of which that I do not know how any of you breathe in it."
"Perhaps if you lashed them down."
"You have a flippant tongue for one of your station." She tried a breath and felt the unintended and unwelcome hug of the bindings. "Besides...they are and I still feel smothered by this thing. I'd rather have your mail."
She looked down at the fine silver webbing that adorned her. "I like to get down and scrap, so I have to move. You just have to look pretty."
"Since you're into that now."
Neral sounded exasperated for the dramatic effect in reaction to the quip. "You're the one thinking about it. Must you?"
The smirk she had played with grew. "Royal privilege. Is it distracting you?"
"Not at all, but it does seem to be consuming a fair number of your idle thoughts."
In the ever-shrinking distance between them Neral could see the columns of troops in front of and behind the red banner with hashes of black that came together to form the head of a bear. Neral gave credit, their columns were tight and they appeared as professional as her own as they formed lines. She expected no less, honestly, but, to her it was at least a hint that there was some honor among them.
"A good day for a fight?"
She looked up and around. It was cold, but warmer than it had been. The sun was peeking out from under the clouds. "The ground will be slippery," she noted with detachment, "but no glare from the snow on the ground. "There have been better days, my queen, but I'll take this one."
The Draleth marched ahead, though they slowed their approach. "Response?"
Dion watched Neral think it through. "Form the infantry lines, hold them here." She raised her voice. "Cavalry, follow in five staggered columns and let's be casual about it."
They moved carefully ahead, not rushing to them or expecting to be rushed, though she was prepared for that. Tanik and the White Guard fanned out behind the queen between her and the cavalry. As they closed the distance Neral could see Mareth's own royal garb. No cape, but armor of black steel and red trim was, like Evaline's own, made to impress but not fight. It was at that moment that Neral noted his right gauntlet.
Mareth tried to cover it in mud to cover that what had been cut to nestle into the leather was more something Deres would understand than she, but she was smart enough to know that the colored lights and text that fought to be seen under the dirt were likely the keys. She didn't know what all of the lights meant, but she weighed how quickly she could lop off his arm at the elbow and if it could be quickly enough.
General D'ravek, on the other hand, looked like a mobile wall all by himself. She had never met him in battle, but his reputation was known well. He was merciless to bandits and, in instances of unrest, he was almost equally merciless to his own people. His eyes were deep set and a light brown while his face was smooth shaven but gnarled from age and battle. That he wore leathers told her that he too liked to move. Full armor had its place, but too many relied upon it, thinking it made them invincible or would make up for a lack of skill.
The bulk of the troops on both sides lagged enough so that when both sides with their honor guards met they were initially alone. Neral saw that Tanik was cutting them both up in the safety of his mind. D'ravek tried to wither Neral, who responded with practiced indifference. Mareth, for his part, looked upon her as one might look upon a bug. He was a man who believed he held all the cards. "Queen Evaline."
"King Mareth. Welcome to Erette."
"Thank you." He laughed, allowing himself a moment to appreciate the humor. "Let me begin by saying that I forgive your, shall we say, lapse in diplomatic skill."
She gave him a grin in return, almost as though she might banter with a friend. "A lapse in diplomacy perhaps, but every word was heartfelt."
Mareth's sense of humor faded slightly. "All you
really
had to do was invite me to personally accept your surrender. I would have been happy to come as you please."
"I did not bring troops here just to surrender, bend knee, and pray for mercy that you'd never give me or my people anyway."
