“The rebels?” repeated the sovereign. “People are always talking about them, but I’ve never heard about any real acts of rebellion. Although I did just hear rumors of a significant group in northwest Goran.”
“Yes. They’ve proclaimed a free state there. Everyone on the continent is talking about it. They’ve established themselves in the desert. We think there are tens of thousands of them.”
“I see. But, if I may ask, how does this concern me? I do keep a close eye on territorial issues in your kingdom, but this has nothing to do with Crystallia. Am I mistaken?”
“Actually, you are, Your Majesty,” Willan told her. “Recent reports have led us to believe there are two other, smaller, bands of rebels: one in Thundez and another here in Crystallia.”
“What?” the two women exclaimed in unison.
Her hand gripping the table, the queen felt anxiety flood through her. Rebels, in Crystallia? How was it possible? The Ælves were, after the Ogres, the most peaceful people in Iriah, and their borders were the best guarded, which made invasions nearly impossible. Even in the unlikely case that someone managed to cross the northern border, the habitable areas of the icy kingdom were almost all around the Fort, which meant they were regularly monitored by the royal guard. This had to be a mistake.
“Are you sure of what you’re telling me?” she demanded.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Where could they possibly be hiding? All the habitable zones are within a few hundred leagues of the Fort. The only other habitable places are the village of Volpic and the city of Baral, and the Royal Guard monitors those regularly.”
“But nearly seventy percent of the continent is inhabited,” the prince countered. “Those places are not subject to raids or inspections. According to my father’s sources, the rebels could have infiltrated the north, probably during the last war.”
“It’s possible,” the queen allowed. “But we, Crystallians, know the people who attempted to claim those uninhabitable lands during the colonization wars perished in horrible conditions. The Crystallian mountains are extremely cold and dangerous. There are snowstorms and white rock avalanches nearly every day. There are many dangerous beasts, too, so only the most experienced hunters dare to venture there. And very few of them return. That’s why our ancestors stopped trying to build cities in those places. The construction of the Fort and its surrounding areas was something of a miracle. Shirev had ancient and unparalleled knowledge about Crystallia’s geography; that’s how she guided our first queen to the temperate areas we live in today. How could the rebels possibly survive in places we’ve known for centuries to be uninhabitable and dangerous? It’s highly unlikely they managed to find a livable zone we haven’t found yet. The only perimeter we don’t monitor is the Ice Cemetery . . . but it’s infested with a band of thieves, formidable hunters who only come out at night. We’ve had trouble trying to get rid of them and I do not believe the rebels could have joined up with them. I wonder if. . .”
Suddenly she stopped and asked, “What proof do you have that what you’re telling me is true?”
“None, Your Majesty,” Willan answered bluntly. “I’m simply delivering a message from my father. He claims to have gotten the information from reliable sources and acknowledges that he has not verified any of it himself. But, as you said earlier, we have no control over your territory. It is up to you to investigate the matter and. . .”
Willan paused, hesitant about what to say next. Should he repeat his father’s words, or give his own opinion? The king wanted to take action against the rebels before they became too powerful. But to Willan, they were just citizens seeking peace and freedom. Holding his breath, he reminded himself he had no right to relay a false message and picked up where he had left off:
“ . . . nip the whole thing in the bud”.
“So you believe these rebels pose a real threat?” the queen asked.
“My father believes they could prove dangerous in time. But honestly, I see them as pacifists who wish to free themselves from the Lord Regent’s laws.”
“I see,” concluded the sovereign, rising from her armchair. “I will do what has to be done.”
The prince of Goran stood up, bowed quickly, and was about to leave when Aluna’s face popped into his mind. She would be executed the next day and he had to at least see her one last time. He had promised he would be with her until the end.
He turned around and asked respectfully, “Your Majesty . . . would I be able to pay my friend a visit?”
Errynaël did not seem to understand, so he clarified, “Aluna…”
“Yes, of course, the prisoner! Impossible. Prisoners are not permitted visitors.”
“I’m not going to help her escape,” the prince explained calmly. “I just wish to speak to her for a moment.”
“There are no exceptions to these rules, not even for you. If you are worried about her conditions, Siruth is taking care of it. She will be well treated. I do not make a habit of abusing those condemned to die.”
“But…!” Willan was having more trouble controlling himself.
“Don’t worry,” the princess spoke up, giving him a knowing smile. “I’ll take care of it.”
Willan did not really know the petite blonde with green eyes, but in that moment, he felt he could trust her. He had a little more than a day left, so he decided he would find her later. Without another word of protest, he bowed again and walked out of the room.
In the hallway, he bumped into a guard who said he had been ordered to escort him to his chambers. He followed him at once. Aluna came to his mind again. She was going to die very soon and he was forbidden to see her. What could he do? Could he really trust Princess Symel? And even if she could get him a visit, what would happen afterwards? He was powerless. He would have to watch his friend’s life be snuffed out and say goodbye to her warm smile, her curiosity, her endearing innocence. He had no choice; he had to accept the inevitable. This was not a game he could win. He sighed as he left the throne room and headed towards his temporary chambers.
∾
After the prince left, Symel noticed her mother looking pensive and took her hand to comfort her. “What are you going to do about the rebels?”
“I will conduct my investigation discreetly. That is less risky than waiting until something happens.”
“Do you agree with the king of Goran that these rebels could become dangerous?”
“I am in favor of peace, so I’m tempted to believe that’s not the case. But the last war proved pacifist beliefs can’t always prevent unnecessary deaths.”
“And the prince’s request? What are you going to do about that?”
“Nothing,” she answered wearily, turning away from her daughter to sink back into her armchair. “Rules are rules.”
“Fine,” the princess said. “I’m off to bed if you don’t need me.”
After her daughter left, the queen thought back to her own youth and the passion she had felt at the same age. She knew Symel so well; her daughter would try to grant Willan’s request. And the queen would do nothing to prevent it. After all, a simple visit could not do much harm . . . as long as she was kept out of it. Sometimes it was best that a sovereign remain ignorant of certain things, she thought, smiling. For everyone’s sake.