“Spellmaster! Come, sit. You look more haggard than usual. What has happened?” King Jorrne asked, motioning for the Spellmaster to take a seat beside him.
The Spellmaster sat heavily, and looked far older than his years. He was a good man, and a talented mage, but his aura felt weary and ancient. It showed on his face and voice, which had gone pale and reedy. “Your Grace, I pray you can find a cure for the Queen’s poison soon. I am doing what I can, but I can only do so much. I’ve spoken with all the healers of Aldoran, visiting mages and folk medicinal practitioners alike. We’ve all come to the same conclusion, Your Grace.”
“And what would that be?” Jorrne asked. He dreaded the answer.
“Your wife, the queen…” The Spellmaster took a breath. “The poison that coated the assassin’s blade was drawn from a basilisk’s fang.”
“I know people who have used such poisons before. Can an antidote be created?”
“One can be, Your Grace, but not in this case. The process of the antidote is the find the animal from where the poison came, extract it, and brew counteracting agents from it.”
“Yes, yes, I have heard. So what is the problem? Simply send soldiers to find a basilisk!”
The Spellmaster wrung his hands. “Your Grace, it is not that simple. Basilisks have been found to nest in the Kilrough Mountains, and it would take an expedition to rout one, but even if we captured one…”
“Spit it out, man!” The king was starting to loose his patience.
The Spellmaster winced. “There are traces of magic on the poison, Your Grace. I suspect it would be Queen Haedria of Sagna’s own magic, tying the poison to one singular creature. The only way to create the antidote now is if we capture Queen Haedria’s personal basilisk.”
“That would be tantamount to declaring war.” The king said. His gaze fell on the carving of the map, where Sagna lay at the base of a great mountain. “She is forcing our hand with every step. From the attempt on Katarina, to Gaturr, now even to save the life of my beloved.”
The sound of the king’s armored fist smashing into the carved wooden table echoed throughout the room.
Chapter Ten
The princess was instructed to stay within the castle for a few days. She supposed it was punishment for her leaving on her own, but the energy within the castle itself had gotten frantic. Soldiers were rushing about, the king and the Masters spent more time within the War Room, only emerging from it to shout orders down the hall at waiting soldiers. Loren felt like she was confined to the castle only to be kept out of the way while the adults focused on more important tasks.
Loren kept the queen company in the latter’s chambers, frequently asking for stories about Queen Katarina’s trophies and her childhood. Loren always found herself enamored by the Queen’s tales of hunting and adventure from her childhood. She pictured herself in her mother’s place: trapped in a tower within a tower in the Plaguelands after having been placed there by people trying to force her father the king to abdicate the throne. She was a young girl then, just a few years older than a decade.
It took a few years, but Queen Katarina escaped her captors and left the castle on her own with only a bow she fashioned herself, and a pack of the barest provisions. Along the journey back to Markholme, she took refuge inside an inn, and found a young knight downing ale as if tomorrow would never come to still his nerves.
The knight was Jorrne, the future king. The two were childhood friends, and when Jorrne received word that Katarina had been taken, he disappeared. He left to train for years till he was confident and strong enough to storm the tower, slay any guardians, and rescue the princess. His princess. When he explained his story to the disguised Katarina in the roadside in, she could only laugh. He didn’t know that his princess had already saved herself, and she didn’t have the heart to tell him his adventure would have to end before it began.
“I’m sorry Loren, do forgive me.” The queen said after a while. She had been telling the tale of her childhood for about an hour. “I never thought speaking would be so tiring.”
Loren’s eyes, filled with awe, grew concerned. Queen Katarina looked more tired than the day before. “No mother, I should be the one saying that! I kept you up, you should be resting. Is there anything you need? Can I help?” she asked.
Queen Katarina shook her head. “No need, no need. I’ll just lie down a while.” She groaned, easing herself back down onto her pillows. Loren rushed over to help. “I’m sorry, Loren.”
“For what?”
“A parent is supposed to protect and care for their child.” Queen Katarina said matter-of-factly. “I can’t do that in this state. If I was stronger, I could have dissuaded you from going off on your own.”
“I left so I could find a cure for you.” Loren said softly.
The queen chuckled, and reached for Loren’s hand. Loren took it, and was shocked at how cold her mother’s skin had become. “You’re a brilliant girl, I’m sure you’ve realized by now that it isn’t as simple. Spelled basilisk venom, I heard it was. Retrieving the basilisk, or the antidote itself, would be a declaration of war at this point.”
“What would it matter?” Loren said suddenly, standing. “They started this! Haedria started this, she sent assassins after you! Attempting to dispatch the ruler of another kingdom is a declaration of war! Why shouldn’t we retaliate? They came after us!”
