“The conqueror, celebrated by the conquered. I’ve always found that a curious thing.”
Korden looked up through Brinnock’s tall, red towers. Jularra tracked his line of sight. Squares of lattice wrapped in ivy and flowers extended out every dozen or so feet from each tower, creating a tiled effect on the ground below, alternating between squares of sun and shadow.
“Well, from what I’ve gathered, it’s apparently been a while since Brinnock had any meaningful direction or ambition,” he said. “They’re glad we’re here. And your treatment of the civilians—and even their armies—has earned you even more respect.”
Jularra rolled her head from side to side, stretching while she thought. She shifted one foot into the shade, even as she turned her face towards the sun.
***
Jularra, Korden and a sizable group of Acorilan’s armies made the trek back towards Morganon via the old Catahba Road.
Catahba Road had been established centuries ago—before the Torgurians built Brinnock—as a means for the Acorilinians to reach their holdings in present-day Yubik. The road had fallen into disuse since Jularra returned the Crystal Expanse to the Yubik; regardless, it was their most direct path home.
After a few days of easy marching, the Acorilinians came into acres of overgrowth surrounding the northernmost branch of the Cukenipi River. They were forced to slow down as they made their way through the brush and across the shallow riverbed.
Jularra and Korden sat atop their horses, reviewing their people as they made the ford.
“I thought the road would’ve been far worse before now,” said Korden.
“Mmm,” Jularra murmured in agreement. “But let’s make sure we get it back into pristine shape. We won’t be using it to get to Yubik anymore, but we’ll need it for Brinnock.”
“Right.”
Jularra shifted and turned casually in her saddle. I know there's one here somewhere.
“Sunpost?” Korden asked.
“Mm-hmm.”
“I saw it earlier,” he said, trying to place it again. “Ah! It’s over there, by the apple trees.”
They trotted over to it. As soon as she saw the time, she looked up, a plan already finalizing in her mind.
“I’m going to break off after we cross,” she said.
Korden frowned slightly. “Going to see Vylas?”
Jularra nodded. “I want to tell him the news.”
“Of course.”
Jularra’s head drooped as she sighed.
“What?” Korden pressed.
“I need to make a stop along the way.”
Korden looked at her, puzzled, but quickly settled in understanding.
“It’s time for a renewal visit. I guess I’ll… tell it, too. If it doesn’t already know.”
Jularra waited to see if there was anything else he wanted to say. Korden deflated with shared sadness, but then nodded.
“Let’s just… make sure everyone gets home safe,” Jularra said. “And again, see that the crops and food get distributed equitably.”
Korden bowed his head and steered his horse back to the river.
Acorilan’s returning forces finished crossing the Cukenipi and continued along Catahba Road, while Jularra took a direct route to the Vacant Grave along Gaimge Trail. It was a challenging path, rocky and steep, but Jularra took advantage of the time alone.
For most of the ride, Jularra’s mind was covered in a surreal film of disbelief. She had struggled her entire life to be her own person, independent of the pact and her crown. But there on the trail to the Vacant Grave, she found herself pregnant, and resigned to follow the example of a hundred previous queens. Her mind labored to shift from a mindset of choice to one of destiny.
But as she had tried to convey to Korden recently, choice was an afterthought when it came to the safety of her people. In that regard, she had chosen. She chose to perpetuate the agreement, and in doing so, chose to protect her people.
She wandered in and out of philosophy and rhetorical considerations as she grew closer to the Vacant Grave. She even found herself looking forward. Indeed, she looked forward to looking forward. The acquisition of Brinnock would bring new life to Morganon and Acorilan as a whole. And she had an entire decade to look forward to with the child now growing within.
My child.
Her thoughts drifted to memories of her mother.
***
Young Jularra sat with her mother in their impromptu workshop at the top of the residence tower. The winter sun had just slipped down behind the mountains. Her skin tightened from the quick drop in temperature, and the increasing breeze made the smell of pine more pronounced. On the table in front of them was the culmination of many similar evenings together. Next to an open-topped, black walnut box Amala had just finished sanding was an intricate top made of cherry. The final figure had been carved, and Jularra clapped her hands and bolted for her mother.
Amala let out an “Ooph!” as her smiling daughter landed in her lap. Jularra wondered if she was getting too big for such playfulness, but quickly dismissed the notion.
“We finally finished, Mama! It’s done!”
“Yes, it is,” she replied, starting with a full voice that cracked into an emotional whisper. With one arm she held Jularra close, and leaned in to place the top on the box. They stared collectively at the completed reliquary. Amala then cleared her throat to regain a bit of volume before continuing.
“Now remember, even though it is finished, we still need to have it blessed by someone with Representation before it will ever be more than just a box. And once that happens, if you study, practice, and exhibit legitimate respect, you may be lucky enough to be visited—in person, or through your reliquary. And I hope you are, my sweet child. Dozens of times, or more! The Gifts seem to be becoming less and less common...”
“Yes, mother,” Jularra complied obediently. “But I… I have forgotten some of the steps. What are they again?”
“Well, tell me what you remember,” her mother instructed, wriggling out from beneath her daughter.
Jularra tingled with guilt. She remembered less than she let on.
“Um. First, we must ask a Representative to bless the reliquary.”
“Mm-hmm,” her mother confirmed, prompting her to continue. Amala took a candle out of a nearby sconce and began
