Electra Rose
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Sword point diplomacy 43 complete
🕑 Added 2024-02-05 11:51:45 +0000 UTCThe first two hours of the ride were excruciating in their stiff silence, heads held high as soldiers gawked and saluted again, again, and again. It was nothing like Rose’s initial trip out to the war front. She had ridden side by side with Etienne, far enough away from others to laugh and hold conversation.
This group had to pass through miles of encampment to get alone. The royal army stretched out across the horizon.
Rose had to admit that from an outsider’s perspective, the sight was likely overwhelming and depressing.
She felt a moment of pained empathy for them again: the North country had been invaded with little notice. They hadn’t stirred up a similar army. They were nearly as large as her home, true, but no one kept a true standing army. The vast majority of these soldiers should have been working in the fields, mines, and coasts. Instead they were called to kill their neighbors.
She’d never wanted any of this. She didn’t care to prove anything. Father had wanted to make them a vassal state like their only other geographic neighbor, but for all Rose cared they could live their lives. They made enough money by trade. She didn’t need taxes from them as well.
Well. She could fix this. It wouldn’t make anyone less dead, but they didn’t have to compound the error.
When they were finally on the open road, the tension abated slightly. Still, no one broke the silence. Rose was considering doing it herself when the Chamberlain cleared his throat politely. “It’s been a decade since I was this far south,” he said mildly. “I thought that there should be the orange blossoms on the trees by the time of the year.”
It took Rose a moment to understand what he was talking about. “The fragrant trees,” she said, and looked over to the treeline. No cheerful orange clusters were visible from this distance. “I suppose they must have been cut. The ones in the capital gardens will bloom now.”
It was weird to hear someone talk about international travel. Rose stole a look at him, aching with curiosity about what that must have been like. The invasion force was the only group she’d been in that had ever crossed national borders.
‘Things used to be very different. My mother wasn’t even from this continent.’
“I look forward to seeing them when we arrive.” He sounded like he genuinely did. “It’s one of my favorite scents. My daughter favors it for her perfume.”
“Osmanthus,” LaGown said, a little triumphantly, as if she had just finally remembered the name. “I recall now.”
“Do you have them?” Rose asked politely. Context said no, but it was best to keep the conversation going.
“No, they aren’t native and we haven’t had them imported in great numbers,” the Chamberlain said. What was his name again? Celestin had said something. Hells. Rose frowned to herself. …Grant! His family name was Grant. It was vaguely familiar.
“Perhaps you can bring saplings home for your daughter,” she suggested. It wasn’t subtle, but it was a reminder of her promise. Play along, work with me, I’ll end this.
Technically speaking, she should be worried for her safety now that she had freed them and left camp. None of them had any reason to like her. They outnumbered her, and they were now armed. She was a fantastic combatant, but she had to sleep sometime.
“That would be lovely,” Chamberlain Grant said.
There was a sudden huff of anger. Rose stiffened and swiveled to see the source just as Willamette kicked his horse to speed and passed to cut her off. Her horse screamed and bucked, pulling at the bit.
“Sir!” LaGown shouted, furious. “Stand down.”
Willame ignored her. “Where is Prince Marcel?” His tone was open in dislike and hostility. “You promised us that you would return him to his family. Clearly, that is not the case.”
“Stand down.”
He shook his head ever so slightly, expression mulish. “I do not wish to play these games.”
Rose felt her eyebrows rise up. Goddamn, he was a good friend to Marcel. “When we attempted to leave camp, my father the King intercepted us, recognized him, and drew his sword,” she said. Rose had to stop before her voice shook. She avoided Avoie’s wide eyes. She couldn't say it. They knew now but she could not say-
Willame drew back a little in alarm. “Did- surely he did not-”
Rose lifted a hand to stop him. Her pulse was thudding in her throat. “Prince Marcel has no blame, nor would he for defending himself.” She licked her lips and tried to say it. Say it.
She couldn't. They existed in a tense silence for tortured seconds.
Willame pulled the reins to turn his horse to face ahead. He nudged her to walk.
The five of them moved without speaking for a time.
“Where is he now?” LaGown prompted.
That was easier. Rose swallowed. “His is with two of my trusted associates, traveling under notice.”
“Traveling where, exactly?” Willame asked sharply. “Is he going home?”
Rose shook her head. “You'll see him at the coronation,” she said. She almost stopped there but that was a bit deceptive. If she left it at that and Marcel wasn't there when they arrived, as he surely would not be, they would be angry with her again. “He will be visiting two of our major seats of political power to retrieve the necessary items for the ceremony.”
“When should he arrive at the capital?” Willame demanded. His voice overlapped with LaGown’s asking, “Who are these companions?”
Avoie drew closer to her. It occurred to her for the first time that he was probably frightened. She turned to give him a comforting look before she started to answer. “Perhaps a week after we arrive,” Rose estimated. “If they meet no troubles. However, this group is well prepared to meet troubles.” She nodded to Avoie. “Marcel travels with Kian of Hartsbluff and Vivian Treveylan. Kian is a formidable swordsman and Vivian is-”
“A battle mage?” LaGown cut her off, openly surprised but clearly quick witted. “You brought her to our-”
“My father kept her to the rear camp,” Rose said blandly. That wasn't much better, really. But it hadn't been her decision.
“We still have those?” Willame asked, nose crinkled. “Barbaric.”
Rose cut him a sideways look. “You do not excel in diplomacy,” she said. She didn't try to keep the ice from her tone. There was nothing wrong with Vivian.
“Nor do you,” he retorted.
The chamberlain winced.
‘Fantastic’, Rose thought to herself, gritting her jaw. ‘Fantastic.’ She so enjoyed meeting these people. What would they know of decency? They'd started the personal hostilities by kidnapping her.
…And she still didn't know who in the camp had collaborated with them.
Her stomach twisted.
