Chapter Two (SC)

Chapter Two of Skeleton Crown.

Agata had a special place in the palace. It was a small room in the West Wing, with a beautiful, black dome ceiling. Golden stars were painted up there, forming various constellations which Agata used to trace in the air with her fingers. The floor was wooden, but she'd brought so many cushions in here that it was now more made of fabric and stuffing than wood. There was also a floorboard that came up, underneath which Agata kept all her favourite storybooks and her harp. It had once been her favourite place in the whole of Astraia. Now, she had no time for it.

Her special place. She used to come here when she was a child, when her mother had no time for her, and she had no one to talk to or play with. She hadn't come here since she was fifteen years old.

Now, seven years later, Agata needed the escape. She looked around the tiny room, filled with her belongings, and knelt down amongst all the dusty cushions. She found her floorboard, pulled it up and pulled everything out. Her harp. Various sheets of music. Her books. Childish poetry, back when she'd still be obsessed with it all. She gazed down at all of these strange belongings, frowning when she saw the book of her childhood: The Magical Adventures of Tick and Tock.

Agata swallowed. There was a lump in her throat. She placed the book down next to her. It had been her father's when he was a boy. He'd given it to Agata when she was three years old and just beginning to learn how to read, and he'd told her not to tell her mother. Mothers did not like fathers. It was a lesson Agata had been forced to learn.

The harp, the poems, the books: they were all irrelevant. They were not what Agata was here for. She reached her hand under the floorboard again, fingers searching, ignoring the spiders crawling over her hand. She finally found what she was looking for. Agata pulled on the hilt, and retrieved her one and only dagger. In the hilt, various symbols were carved: the written language of her people, Raecarin. The dagger itself was black, and contained three tiny, ruby gems in it. She turned it in her hands a few times, staring at it, biting her lip. She'd never been allowed any weapons besides her bow, with which she could shoot any target after training her whole life. Knives and swords were the weapons of brutes and monsters who liked to get up close to their victim to kill them in ruthless bloodlust. Skelski used swords. Humans, Agata's mother had always said, were not on the same level as Skelski. Humans were too clever to need brute force to kill. Humans were too good.

And yet, Agata felt that she needed this knife now. She'd met the Skelski leader out in the woods; she'd trespassed in Skelski territory. Skelski were liars and broke their word easily: or so Agata had grown up hearing. Just because Kaja said she would not kill Agata outside did not mean she would not send someone into the palace to slaughter her. After all, Reasoners were the root of all Skelski problems. Humans ruled Astraia, not Skelski. With the Reasoner always in charge, Skelski never got a say. They never had a way to spread their ruthlessness. It would be in their best interest to murder Agata.

If they did decide to kill her when she was off-guard, a simple bow and arrows was not going to be helpful at all. Agata would have no time to leap up, nock an arrow and then shoot. A knife would be far more useful in this situation. And she was the Reasoner, wasn't she? She didn't need an excuse to carry a knife. If she wanted one, she would have one. She made the rules. Of course, Gerda would protest. Gerda would say,

“I am here to protect you. The guards are here to protect you. You don't need a knife.”

But what did Gerda know? She wasn't the one whose life was in danger.

With this thought in mind, Agata put everything but the knife back under the floorboard, and fixed it all back into place again. She stood up, brushing the dust from her trousers, and glanced up at the starry ceiling. Her eyes scanned the golden paint, staring at the cracks she had never noticed as a child. This palace was old, and so was the title of Reasoner. As a child, she'd never truly understood the amount of pressure that would be put on her shoulders upon ascension. The whole of Astraia was counting on her. She did not have a daughter, and so, if she was murdered by Kaja and the Skelski, the whole of Astraia would be in chaos as they fought to find a new leader. No, Agata could not afford to die. She just couldn't.

It was the first, but not the last, night that she slept with a dagger under her pillow.

The next morning, audiences took place in the Council Chamber. It was the first time in Agata's reign that she had to hold an audience with anyone at all, and so, three Speakers were present to make sure nothing happened to her. Olga, her mother's main Speaker, stood at her right; Gerda stood at her left. Behind the Reasoner's throne stood Siljie, the most silent of all Speakers, with her beautiful brown eyes and equally dark hair.

Agata had had trouble sleeping the night before, and as a result, there were red rings around her eyes. Gerda kept glancing at her in concern, but Agata ignored her. She was not in the mood to discuss her nightmares. She could deal with them alone.

“Your imminence,” a voice came from the giant double doors. It was one of the guards, wearing the customary black furs. She was familiar; Agata reckoned she'd served her mother, too. “May I announce the first supplicant?”

“You may,” answered Agata, struggling not to yawn. Her gloved hands were tight on the arms of her throne.

The guard nodded, bowing lowly. “Lyosha, of the village Storholmen.”

“She can enter.”

The guard paused. “Your imminence, with all due respect...Lyosha is not a she.”

The guard left the room to fetch Lyosha, and whilst she did so, Agata turned questioning eyes on Gerda. Gerda shook her head in reply; it was strange for her, too. Anyone who wanted an audience with the Reasoner would send a woman. A mother, daughter, sister. The fact that a boy was coming was all too unsettling for Agata, who now had no idea what to expect. Had his female relatives all been taken by the mysterious forces? But if they had, why had he been spared? Male relatives were killed, the females taken. It made no sense.

She didn't have long to wonder. The guard returned, followed closely by a young boy, around twelve years old, with curly red hair and a delicate face. Red hair and pale skin was unusual for Southern Astraia, too. Or at least, it had been since the Ghost War twenty years ago.

The boy, Lyosha, knelt on the floor, as was customary, and did not meet Agata's eyes, as was customary. Even when Agata said, “Lift your head,” he turned his gaze to the floor. It was only natural. People did not meet the eyes of the Reasoner.

“You are Lyosha of Storholmen?” Agata asked.

The boy nodded in silence. He had not yet been given leave to speak.

“You have no female with you,” Agata commented. It was not a question this time; the boy did not even move. “Unusual. Did something happen to them?”

A second nod.

“Is that what you are here to ask me about?”

Another nod.

Agata frowned slightly. “Very well. You have permission to speak. Present your case.”

The room was so quiet, Agata could hear Lyosha as he swallowed. He was dressed in a simple shirt and trousers, with no cloak or furs to keep him warm. Still, Agata could see that the servants had attempted to make him seem more presentable. There were jewels in his hair, like tiny, golden droplets.

"I have come...I have come here..." the boy began. He was speaking Raecarin, but it obviously wasn't his mother tongue. He was stumbling through the words. "I have come to...to tell you about something that happened. To my...uh...village."

He'd mispronounced it.

"Storhelmen is...is gone," he said. He frowned, shifting on the floor. It looked painful, kneeling on such a hard surface. The discomfort was obvious in his eyes. "Your...Your..."

He didn't know the word for Imminence. There was no other way to address the Reasoner.

Agata sighed softly. "You may call me Agata," she said quietly, ignoring the stares from her Speakers. The boy clearly didn't know how to say it. She wasn't going to sit here and let him struggle when she could simply let him address her by name.

Lyosha nodded gratefully. "Agata," he said, testing the word on his tongue. The Speakers tensed beside Agata, but she ignored them again. Instead, she simply nodded at Lyosha, encouraging him to continue.

“They...attacked,” the boy said. His voice was shaking. He was still staring at the marble floor. “It was night time. I was sleeping. Then I heard these noises. Not screams, but shouting. I opened my eyes and there was a bright light.”

“Like fire?” Agata suggested.

“No.” Lyosha shook his head. “Like...gold. Flashes of gold. I don't know what it was. But it was getting closer. I was scared " I didn't know what to do " so I left my bedroom and tried to look for my family. And they were...”

He gasped slightly, drawing a hand to his face. His eyes, Agata could see, were wide between his fingers. “They were all " they were all on the floor. And they were covered in...in red. And they were standing over them. My mama, my sister.”

“They?” Agata repeated, immediately picking up on the word. “Who are they? Who did it?”

Lyosha's whole body was shaking now. When he next spoke, his voice was a barely audible whisper. “The Skelski.”

Agata turned to the Speakers. Gerda and Olga were unmoving, unresponsive, but Agata could hear the sharp intake of breath from Siljie, right behind her throne. Agata swallowed, trying not to think of Kaja and the obvious threats. The knife under her pillow.

“What did the Skelski do?” Agata asked. Her voice was calm, and conveyed none of the anxiety she currently felt dripping down her spine. “Did they just kill your family?”

“No.” Lyosha took a moment to calm himself, taking deep breaths. He removed his hand from his face, turned his fawn upwards to the ceiling. “I heard them speak in their language, but I didn't understand what they were saying. Maybe they were saying they should spare me. They left after that.”

“Without doing anything to you?”

It was Olga who spoke. Her usually expressionless face now contained unrestrained disbelief. Lyosha met her eyes carefully. To anyone else, he would have seemed confused. Innocent. But Agata knew better. Agata had a twelve-year-old brother, and she recognised a challenging expression when she saw one.

“Yes,” said Lyosha. “Without doing anything to me.”

“Well,” Olga replied dryly, raising an eyebrow. “Aren't you fortunate?”

Agata sighed softly. Of course, it would be Olga to make a scene. She adored the attention. “Enough. Go on, Lyosha.”

Lyosha continued, this time keeping his eyes firmly on Olga: “I stayed in the house. Hid. Hid until I couldn't cry anymore, until the food in the house ran out and the light stopped. When I next came out, they were gone. But...the village...my village. It was gone. Razed to the ground. They destroyed it. And everyone in the village was dead.”

He dropped his eyes, folding his hands over his thighs.

Agata, Olga, Gerda and Siljie all stared at him. This was not the first time this had happened. Complaints had come from all over Astraia " terrified pleas for human intervention, tears mixed with ink on the papers. Agata had so many of them that she'd begun to throw every letter she received into the fireplace, already guessing its contents.

Skelski raids. Family dead. Please help.

Agata sat back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. She was considering what to do. Last night, Kaja had said something about Skelski innocence. She'd said that those beasts were not to blame for the terrible things happening in Astraia. But she'd only said that about the murders and the kidnappings. Raids " raids with witnesses " could easily be the fault of the Skelski. If Agata now intervened, she would have a war on her hands. There were too many Skelski for a new Reasoner to fight. Her queendom was too uncertain after the death of her mother; every Speaker at Court was still attempting to work out what they thought of their new leader. It would not benefit Astraia, or Agata, to fight now.

And yet, not fighting would be just as bad: instead of a war, it would bring civil war, as humans from all corners of the world would rush to their pitchforks and torches. The Reasoner was supposed to protect humanity, not sit back and watch it burn. What was she supposed to do? Every option she had led to some kind of war. Did she want to be known as a Skelski sympathiser who let her own people die, or did she want to be known as a xenophobic warmonger intent on useless chaos?

“Get to the point,” Agata said, breaking the cool silence that had befallen them. She was staring at Lyosha as though expecting him to direct her. But he was a child, nothing more, and she was the Reasoner. She was the one supposed to direct. “Why are you bringing me this information?”

“Because,” Lyosha replied, still gazing at the floor, “I came to plead for your help.”

Agata resisted the urge to groan, or moan, or sigh. What was she supposed to do? Did her own people really think she was that stupid, that she did not know about the raids? Couldn't they wait, give her some time, let her think?

Of course not. This was Astraia.

“My whole family died. I lost them, my home, my belongings. Everyone I've ever met or known has now been murdered by those monsters,” Lyosha continued. “I feel like " like I am breaking. But there's nothing I can do. Because they're still dead. And my village is still gone. And I'm desperate.” He looked up, hands up in supplication again " offering. He looked like he was preparing for her to drop something in his hands. She didn't move. “Please, Agata. You are the Reasoner. You are supposed to protect us.”

“And what is it that you propose I do?” asked Agata. She knew it was unfair " he was just a boy " but she did not know how else to approach this. “I've had complaints from all sides. I know that the Skelski are raiding villages.”

“But you still let it happen?”

His voice was not accusatory, but Olga still stepped forwards, her hands poised to grab her bow and arrows. Nobody addressed the Reasoner like this. The fact that Lyosha dared even risk it was proof of his desperation. His family was dead, his village gone, and he was pleading with the one person who could help him. He had nothing left to lose now; being rude to the Reasoner was the least of a grieving child's concerns.

“Stand down,” Agata ordered.

Olga did not stand down, but she did not attack, either. She was still unaccustomed to taking orders from Agata. After all, she'd been there at Agata's birth. She'd taught her as a child. It was difficult for her to take the girl who'd blown raspberries at various ambassadors seriously as her new leader. Agata knew this. But again, there was nothing she could do. She had no way to prove that she wasn't just a naïve little girl with barely half a brain. She had no way to prove that she was a woman with a sharp mind and a sensible heart.

Resisting the urge to cover her face with her small, gloved hands, Agata said, “Yes, I let it happen. This is Astraia, boy. No matter what I do, no matter where I go, I will have to deal with a war of some kind. Forgive me for being unprepared to launch a suicidal campaign against the Skelski in my fourth day of ruling.”

She felt exhaustion dripping like spilled wine through her body. She was really beginning to feel the effects of last night's sleeplessness; she felt like she was functioning on nothing but will.

“I will take your plea into account,” she heard herself say dully. “But do not expect anything to happen immediately. That isn't how Court works.”

The double doors opened, and the guard from earlier entered the room, immediately making her way towards the boy kneeling before Agata. She'd come for Lyosha. She would throw him out of the Chamber, out of the entire palace, with nothing but a loss of pride on which to live. It was how it worked in Astraia, despite its cruelty. Agata knew that. She'd grown up with it.

It was Gerda who protested. “Your Imminence, have I leave to speak?”

Agata sighed softly. “You do.”

Gerda nodded gratefully. Unlike Lyosha, she remained standing, and looked openly into her mistress's face. “This boy has just come to you for protection against the Skelski. I don't think it's right to throw him out into the snow like this.”

Agata stared at her, and Gerda stared back. The room was silent, just for a moment " quiet enough to make the drop of a penny sound as loud as a lion's roar.

Then Agata nodded slowly. “Olga. You take him. Give him whatever he wants.” She paused, then, seeing the glitter of excitement in Lyosha's eyes, added, “Within reason, yes?”

“Yes, mistress.”

Olga bowed low, approaching Lyosha without smiling. She never smiled. Olga despised children, despised everyone. She motioned with her hand, and Lyosha immediately stood, almost robotically, and allowed her to take him by the arm. Lyosha glanced over his shoulder as Olga pulled him, none-too-gently, out of the room, and directed his gaze at Gerda and Agata.

“Thank you for your compassion,” he said.

Agata wanted to say: What compassion? She wanted to say: I'm sorry I can't do more. She wanted to say: This is just the reality of it. There is nothing I can do.

She said none of this. Instead, she watched him go with a painful tug at her heart.

The Reasoner could not afford to be kind.

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© 2017 solsystemtillnervsystem

Author's Note

This is possibly the slowest chapter in the book, so I tried to make up for the lack of action with tension. I hope that comes across. I find writing tension in a slow and closed setting is really difficult.
Also, yes, Lyosha's language difficulties and Agata's ignorance about the Skelski are both completely deliberate. It's going somewhere, don't worry.
Thank you for reading!

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Wayward Soul

A bit slow, its true, but these chapters are nessicary, they let the reader feel the weight that rests upon the reasoner's shoulders, while also provideing characterization for the reasoner. Pitting values against duties, Lovely.