Rebirth of Kingdom

The battle

"Old friend, the path of peace always seems harder." Edward looked back at the window. "Count the cost of war," until you do.

"David won't see it coming." Sir Alaric's eyes twinkled. "He expects weakness, or he expects aggression, either one. This strength and mercy might just save the kingdom."

"We can implement it if we have time." Edward's voice dropped. "Watch the eastern roads. When David's brigade moves..."

"We already have our best scouts in place." Sir Alaric headed toward the door. 'Well, rest easier tonight Your Majesty.' "Sometimes the strongest defense is not to play your enemy's game."

Edward's soft laugh followed him out of the room. "Tell that to Lord Hammond."

"The sword is the only way for some men to understand." Sir Alaric stopped at the threshold. "But you understand people. You will win this fight, that's why."

Edward stood in the torch-lit chamber, his fingers on the ancient carvings of his ancestors as Sir Alaric's footsteps faded. Down the city slept, David's shadow grew longer beyond the eastern mountains. Hope still outweighed fear in the heart of the kingdom.

* * * *

Elena traced circles on her swollen belly from where the moonlight filtered through the gauzy curtains to her private chambers. Tonight, the silver pendant was cool against her chest, and offered little comfort. The torch-bearing guards patrolled with increasing frequency below her balcony.

"Your Grace?" The silence was cut by Lady Mira's voice. I thought I heard you say: 'you haven't touched your evening tea'.

Her rustling silk robe turned Elena from the window. "I can't get what he said at the council meeting today out of my head."

"The tournament?" Elena settled on the window seat with Mira settling beside her, adjusting Elena's cushions.

David was a tournament player. 'He'd drink in the crowd's adoration and dominate every event,' she added. Elena's fingers squeezed the pendant.

"You knew him well?"

"Too well. David had courted me before Edward. He was charming then, and passionate about Babylon's future. A sharp kick from within pressed Elena's hand against it. "Every time I looked in his eyes, there was always something... something that frightened me, hunger."

"What changed him?"

"Power. The mere taste of it." Elena shifted uncomfortably. He asked me to rule at his side, and promised to make Babylon great with strength alone. I chose Edward instead, when... Her voice trailed off.

Sir Alaric emerged in the doorway, his usual steadiness somewhat mangled.

"Come in, old friend. You look troubled."

"Reports from the eastern provinces were coming through. David's forces grew bolder. They've started going after noble families who refuse to swear allegiance."

Elena put her hand on her belly, unthinkingly. "Families with children?"

"Yes, Your Grace. Forcing compliance through fear, that's what he's doing."

"That's why I'm worried about this tournament." "And it's not just Edward anymore." She stood pacing with her awkward step. "David knows that I’m pregnant. Our child will be a threat and an opportunity to him."

Alaric and Mira exchanged glances. "Surely he wouldn't..."

"He would. David thinks strength runs in the blood. A royal child would be..." Elena dropped her voice and steadied herself against a bedpost. "He told me once that you have to break a king's legacy to truly break him."

'We've doubled the defenses of the palace,' Alaric said. 'Every entrance, every passage -'

"It won't be enough. "I know him, you don't." Elena moved to a chest carved and withdrew a worn leather journal. "Before, these are his letters.' He’s patient, methodical, his philosophies, his plans... All calculated years in advance."

Mira took a step forward, concerned. "Your Grace." "You shouldn't dwell on it maybe, should you?"

"Listen to me, both of you. He won't just attack our walls or challenge our armies. He'll get minds wet, fester people with doubt so that they'll turn on each other, make people doubt that leadership or power can change a life for the better."

Elena opened the journal, trembling with her fingers. "Look at this passage he wrote: 'Horror comes after aspiration, not before. It's always going to be a crown placed gently on a child's head rather than one taken with bloodied hands."

Alaric's jaw tightened. "We will tighten up security during the tournament." "Every servant, every participant screened them all."

"He'll expect that." She snapped the journal shut. "Edward's strategy is no longer the tournament. It's David's opportunity. There will be nobles who support him, eyes all over, watching for any weakness."

Distant sounds of the city below were stirred by a cool breeze through the curtains. Elena went back to the window and watched the lights dance across the courtyard.

"What do you want Your Grace from us?" Alaric asked softly.

"Get ready for what follows." "If David..." She said. "If he does survive, this child will survive." "Needs to be protected at all costs. Now with the tournament unavoidable, we need contingencies."

Mira used her friend's name, forgoing the title, "Elena, You're scaring yourself for no good reason. Stress isn't good for-"

"I know the threat, I'm scared." Elena's voice gained steel. David wants to reshape Babylon, he wants to erase everything we've built. "He will use my child as a tool to break both the kingdom and its king."

She gasped, and Mira and Alaric both rushed forward to steady her.

Elena whispered. 'The baby knows.' Finally, her composure broke and tears fell. "She knows she's coming into a storm."

Alaric knelt before her. We will be her shelter, Your Grace, then. Every servant that was loyal, every friend that was true of Babylon. 'We'll protect her with our lives,' he said.

Elena fed his hand with hers. "If the worst happens, if David does succeed, don't let him destroy her."

"I swear it, Your Grace. On my life and honor."

Shadows started to lengthen across the chamber floor, deepening the surrounding night. The press of future possibilities felt heavier than her crown had ever been and Elena felt its weight. The guards patrolled endlessly below, continued to burn torches against a darkness that grew stronger with each day.

* * * *

There were the fading remnants of debate in the council chamber, a turmoil of voices and the pressing weight of decisions not yet solidifying out, maps and scrolls sprawled over a long table.

They echoed down the polished stone corridor, footsteps pushed their way to the chamber's heavy wooden doors, and swung them open with a graceful urgency that silenced the air inside for a moment.

Edward glanced up; his eyes met the scout's. His eyes speared through the space between them, and he narrowed them, unspoken questions burning behind them. All the councilors had hushed themselves to a tense quiet with the discourse of war strategy.

The scout stepped forward with a certain fluidity, 'Urgent news.' He flicked his eyes over each face, trying to estimate the gravity his words would bring. "They're moving faster than expected, David's forces. An attack is imminent."

Sir Alaric folded his fingers beneath his chin and leaned forward. ‘Then you put your life in the hands of this information?’

The gaze of the scout was unwavering. “I myself saw the movements. A considerable force. Spear tip gleaming.”

A dark chill rippled across the chamber like unease. Edward rested his hands on the table, a ripple running through him, a quiet anger summoning. And the target?

'Yes, My Lord,' said the scout, 'the grain stores.' “It’s a direct strike at the heart of our resilience when we get hit by drought.”

Lady Mira folded her arms, eyes on a horizon she couldn’t see, and noted coldly, “It seems David goes for the hearts of our defenders, and for our own stomachs.”

“What then, do you propose, Alaric?” His face a canvas painted with anticipation and determination, Edward turned to his adviser.

Alaric scratched at the thin wisp of beard on his chin and his eyes sharpened through bushy brows. Perhaps an immediate withdrawal to protect our resources, or perhaps an advancement with sufficient strength to prevent David’s men from entertaining the idea of further transgression.

“Both tactics have us vulnerable,” Elena’s voice drifted from the obscured rear wall of the chamber; the queen’s power unrecognized but nevertheless undeniable. "If we withdraw, David sees it as weakness," she said. "Our backs bear ripe for another strike, advance too rashly."

“And what say our scouts and spies?” Turning again to the lean figure before him, Edward queried. The stakes were painted as clear as daylight at every pause in the enclosed stone.

The scout gave a shrewd tilt of his chin with, “David’s spreading his teeth thinly.” “But a show of hand, not full strength yet. It was a feint not a killing blow,' he thought.”

“Not to say the danger does not exist,” Alaric said quickly, “but if it is a feint, they want to terrorize, not conquer. We are vigilant and versatile until their strength compresses.”

Lady Mira offered, a resolve had set her facial lines. “I can increase the sentries. We also organized the townsfolk. Set strategies were whispered from mouth to silent ear. No outburst of fear.”

‘The people must be shown we’re not panicked or looking ever downcast for defeat,’ Elena repeated with warm wisdom to her speech. Panic engenders doubt and strangles hope.

Edward said. Typical Elena, your resolve is as amazing as ever. We need it. We shall rise again.

The scout moved, smoothing his fingers over the well-worn leather pouch he wore at his side. "Before I return, before I give my profession to my king, my whispers of an inside hand feed David, but crumbs of our movements are spreading among the palace servants."

“A traitor?” Her question was an edged whisper. “Can you confirm this?”

The wind’s own bidding does not always rustle foliage, My Queen. But I know who the intent was.

“It is our faith in those that we consider kin on which our survival depends.” Alaric’s voice trailed, dropped to a weighty tone, the dire possibility uncertain behind the bronze light of his eyes. “We made a mistake not in casting nets, prematurely.”

“But we have to trust in the good, we have to prepare for the bad.” Edward’s fingers were white knuckled against his chair’s rim. “By nightfall, we await another report from you.” “We need more proof, and a deeper reach,” he said.

The scout muttered, and a thin smile notched his lips, a crumpled parchment held in his palm, a message unresolved with easy duty ensured.

Alaric said, his voice a benediction veiled within the council chambers’ eternal gray, “Amend what roads,” lie ahead, brave bearer of tidings.

The councilors re-combined their discussions as the scout left, vanishing back into the maze of palace corridors, fear and hope equal parts in their combined voices.

Edward intoned after a slightly drawn out hush, "We stand upon the precipice of change."

Alaric then pledged: “Let us prepare, bide our time, stand in our rightful stead.”

Edward nodded, looking from Alaric to Elena and then Mira. Somehow, the bonds they bound in spirit’s hardened fight strengthened him.

The decision was settled between them. Fate rendered, to their grasp, plans to spin forever in endless motion showing its faith.