Chapter Text
The newly revitalized castle of Tir Asleen bustled with life and activity. The war had been won, but the task of putting a new government together still lay ahead. Madmartigan sighed as he looked at a stack of papers in front of him. The most pressing issue was Elora’s coronation. Though it was a given that she would be accepted as queen, the formalities and protocol still had to be attended to. The People’s Council, rendered ineffective under Bavmorda’s rule, had reconvened and were arriving for the ceremony that afternoon. From what Madmartigan had heard, the Council was made up of a bunch of crotchety old men, never satisfied unless they had something to complain about. He sighed again. He wasn’t cut out for this. His place was on the battlefield, not behind a desk affixing royal seals to documents he could barely read much less understand. He felt a light hand on his shoulder and the brush of long hair against his cheek. Sorsha had entered unnoticed and now wrapped her arms around him, kissing his cheek lightly. “What’s the matter, Madmartigan? Is the great warrior not up to the challenge of paperwork?”
Madmartigan shot her a glare. “I’m doing just fine, thank you. And where exactly have you been all morning?”
She released him and turned so that she was leaning on the desk. “I’ve been preparing for the Council’s arrival. Everything has to be perfect for them; they’re already liable to be ornery thanks to their long exile. You’d think they’d be happy now that my mother is gone, but reports from messengers indicate that they are just itching to make up for lost time. They’re a power hungry group – let’s hope they don’t present a challenge to Elora’s rule.”
She frowned, and Madmartigan realized how pale she was. He rose to his feet, taking her in his arms in a true embrace. “You worry too much. They would never challenge Elora’s legitimacy. The people would rise up against them. Right now you need to rest – it will do no good if you pass out from exhaustion before they arrive.” She nestled closer to him, her breath tickling his neck. He smiled. “Off to bed, then” he cried merrily, and he threw her over his shoulder as if kidnapping her.
She yelped in surprise, but then began to laugh. “Let me down, you fool, what if someone sees?”
“Who could see?” Madmartigan cried, but just then he heard a cough. A page stood by the door, looking down at his shoes. Madmartigan quickly dropped Sorsha, his face reddening. “Well, what is it?” he asked gruffly, trying to hide his embarrassment.
“My apologies, s-sir,” the page mumbled, going red himself. “It’s the Council…they’ve arrived.”
Sorsha had collected herself and now strode quickly over to the page, fists clenched. “They weren’t supposed to arrive until later this afternoon,” she said angrily.
“Yes, milady, but…they’re here. Maybe the weather was better that expected, or…”
He trailed off lamely as he realized that Sorsha wasn’t paying attention to him. She was staring into the distance, her expression calculating. Suddenly she turned to Madmartigan. “They’re trying to catch us off guard. We can’t let them. Go change into something presentable, we’ll meet them in the entrance hall in ten minutes.”
She left the room at a near run before Madmartigan could voice any protest. He stood for a moment more, then shrugged and headed for his rooms. The Council was an annoyance, but one that they were more than prepared for.
The Council was waiting in the entrance hall and, as expected, they were a group of aged, greying men, with none under sixty. There were twelve of them, one from each region of the kingdom. Madmartigan suppressed a smile as he saw the Nelwyn delegate, a good three feet shorter that the man he stood next to. The sight made him think of Willow, and he wondered what his young friend was doing now. His musings were interrupted by Sorsha’s entrance. He felt his breath catch. She looked ravishing, a long white dress clinging to her delicate frame. Her hair had been tied up and teased into a cascade of red curls, and tiny jewels gleamed at her earlobes. How she’d managed to get so dressed up in only ten minutes he’d never know. She held herself regally as she walked down the stairs, and the councilmen turned towards her. Most bowed, but a few did not. For some reason this disturbed Madmartigan. It was common courtesy to bow in the presence of a lady, especially one as beautiful as Sorsha. He shrugged away his uneasiness; perhaps other parts of the realm had different customs. Sorsha had begun to speak. “Welcome, Councilmembers. We have eagerly awaited your arrival. I trust your journey went well.” The councilmen murmured in assent. “I am glad of it,” Sorsha continued, “We are honored that you have come to witness the coronation of our new queen, Elora Danan.”
One of the councilmen stepped forward. He was a tall, thin man with a long beard stretching past his belt. He held himself with dignity equal to Sorsha’s own. “We too are pleased to be able to attend such a joyous event. The crowning of a new queen is always a momentous occasion, but to be able to see the ascension of the chosen one, Elora Danan, to the throne of our illustrious kingdom is an honor few of us ever expected to receive.”
Sorsha nodded politely at his words, and Madmartigan could see a small smile play across her lips. “Then I shall instruct the servants to lead you to your rooms. I hope that they are to your liking.”
She turned to go but another councilman had stepped forward. This man was shorter, balding with a goatee, and he was one of the men who had not bowed. “I do hope, Lady Sorsha, that we shall have the honor of your presence in meetings discussing Elora Danan’s future. There is a great deal that we wish to see occur in this kingdom that never happened under your mother’s rule.”
Madmartigan bristled at the man’s tone. Something about the way he said Sorsha’s name and the hint of sarcasm when he called her “lady” made Madmartigan want to slap the smile off the man’s face. Sorsha turned to face the group of men once more. “By all means. We have no intention of banning you from influencing the affairs of this kingdom. You represent the people’s voice.”
The man smiled wider. “Indeed. Shall we say tonight then? After the banquet, of course.”
Sorsha looked taken aback, but quickly recovered. “I see no reason why that would not be agreeable.” “Until tonight, then.” Sorsha nodded and left. Madmartigan followed, and as he went he saw the councilmen gather together into a huddle, talking rapidly.
The evening’s banquet was a grand affair, with ten courses and a wealth of delicasies from all over the realm. Normally Madmartigan would have gleefully dug into the food, but his attention was diverted by the presence of the Councilmen. The loudmouth Councilman kept staring at Sorsha, a strange look in his eyes. He was not alone: other Councilmen glanced sidelong at Sorsha, though none were so bold as to stare outright. Madmartigan felt a strange need to protect Sorsha, and he dearly wished she had not agreed to meet with the men that evening. As the final dishes were cleared away, Sorsha stood to address the Councilmembers. “My lords, I believe you have something you wish to discuss. By all means, let us begin. What concerns you this evening?”
The man with the goatee stood. By some coincidence of fate, he had ended up directly opposite the two of them, at the foot of the long table. “Our concerns are these. While we readily accept Elora Danan as our queen, we have grave doubts about the, ahem, suitability of her regents.”
Madmartigan stiffened, hand instinctively going to his sword. Sorsha had shown no sign of distress. “And by suitability, you mean?”
The man stared directly into her eyes. “I, for one, have no wish to see our impressionable young queen raised by a murderess.”
Madmartigan leapt to his feet, sword half drawn. A hand on his arm stopped him from doing anything rash. Sorsha had remained composed, and now gazed down the table, meeting the eyes of other Councilmen. “I see. Is this view universally held?”
Many of the Councilmen looked down, embarrassed. The Councilman with the long beard spoke up, his voice sad. “I am afraid, milady, that the majority of my colleagues have expressed such doubts. Until such time as the Council may decide otherwise, you are requested to abstain from any activities pertaining to the child’s education or to the ruling of this kingdom.”
Sorsha inhaled sharply, but refused to let her calm mask slip for even an instant. Only her hand, clenched around the stem of a wine glass, revealed her true feelings. “I dearly hope the Council will change its mind. However, I acquiesce, and will separate myself from the duties of a regent, provided Madmartigan is allowed to remain active in the rule of the kingdom.”
The Councilmen murmured, and the bald one pursed his lips. “Over my strong protestations, the Council has decided to permit him to remain a regent – for now. The Council has deemed that his service in the war overrides his past deeds as a thief and rogue.”
Sorsha slowly nodded. “I believe this Council to be essential in the ruling of this kingdom. Without the voice of the people, how can one hope to achieve prosperity? Therefore, I shall do as the Council demands.” She rose from her seat, staring calmly down the lines of Councilmen. “If that is all you wish to discuss, then–“
“One moment, Sorsha,” the bald Councilman interrupted, mouth curling into a sneer. “You might have noticed earlier that we named you as a murderer. Murderers, you know, may never walk free in a just society. Your crimes are both heinous and numerous. By order of the Council, you are under arrest, to stand trial as soon as possible.”
This time, Madmartigan truly did draw his sword. Sorsha grabbed his wrist and shot him a sharp look. Turning back to the Councilmen, she asked calmly, “May I make a request of the Council?” The men nodded, many still refusing to meet her eyes. “Might I be allowed two days in which to organize witnesses in my defense?” The Councilmen muttered their assent, and she straightened even higher, the candlelight gleaming off her hair and jewelry. She looked positively radiant. “One more, then?” The Councilmen looked at her warily. “Might I be allowed the dignity of remaining in my own custody?”
The bearded Councilman stood, looking at her kindly. “Milady, we have faith in your honor, and feel no need to chain you.”
The bald man looked as though he disagreed, but voiced no objection. Sorsha nodded regally. “Then upon my honor, I shall appear before you in two days time to stand trial.”