The Lady Governess maintained a neutral expression but Lyrna saw she was carefully phrasing her response. “For myself Highness, no,” she replied after a moment. “And for many of my people who suffered at Volarian hands. However, there are some corners of Cumbrael untouched by war where old resentments will linger.”
“To be dispelled by the Blessed Lady’s words, I should hope,” Lyrna told her. “Perhaps you should return home for a time, Lady Reva. Let your people see you, hear the tale of your deeds, for they are so inspiring.”
Reva’s nod of assent was immediate and her tone free of any rancour. “As Your Highness commands.” Never the slightest glimmer of disloyalty from this one, Lyrna mused. So why does she cause me such unease?
She set the question aside for further consideration and turned to the Shield. “Fleet Lord Ell-Nestra, please advise on the strength of your command.”
As was his wont these days, the Shield’s perpetual half grin disappeared as he addressed her, his eyes only briefly meeting hers. “Just over eight hundred ships of varying draughts, Highness. We’ve captured quite a few Volarian traders but the seas grow ever more empty as the winter storms descend.”
“A decent-sized force to repel any invasion,” Count Marven commented. “Crewed by the best sailors in the world. Plus, this time we are forewarned.”
“How many soldiers could your eight hundred ships carry?” Lyrna asked Ell-Nestra.
The Shield frowned in puzzlement, his tone cautious as he responded. “If we make full use of the Volarian vessels, perhaps forty thousand, Highness. And certainly not in any comfort.”
“Comfort is a long-forgotten luxury, my lord.” She calculated for a moment, feeling the silence thicken. They know what you’re about. And they fear it. “Your man is here?” she asked Vaelin who nodded and ordered the Realm Guard on the door to bring in the shipwright. Sergeant Davern marched to the centre of the chamber, giving a smart salute and a formal bow, seemingly completely untroubled by his august audience.
“My Battle Lord tells me you build ships, sergeant,” Lyrna said.
“Indeed, Highness.” He favoured her with a smile that would have shamed the Shield for its innate confidence. “I was inducted into the Shipwrights Guild at sixteen. The youngest ever, so I’m told.”
“Very impressive. I require a ship capable of carrying five hundred soldiers across the ocean to Volaria. You will design and build it in such a manner so as to be easily duplicated and constructed by unskilled hands.”
Davern blanched as the other captains at the table stirred in discomfort, apart, she noted, from Vaelin, who betrayed no surprise at all. “Such a task is . . . a mighty one, Highness,” the sergeant began. “Requiring much labour, not to say timber . . .”
“Brother Hollun has compiled a list of surviving subjects with suitable skills and experience,” she told him. “They will be placed at your disposal. As for timber, rest assured it will be provided. I name you . . .” She pondered for a moment. “Davern Al Jurahl, Master of the Queen’s Yard. Congratulations, my lord. I shall expect your designs on the morrow.”
Davern stood in dumb silence for a moment longer then gave a hesitant bow and walked from the chamber.
“I believe that concludes today’s business,” Lyrna said, rising.
As expected it was Count Marven who spoke; the Nilsaelin commander was brave by all accounts, but also unabashed in counselling caution. “Highness, if I may?”
She paused, raising an eyebrow as he faltered then forced himself to continue. “So there is no misunderstanding, it is Your Highness’s intention to invade the Volarian Empire?”
“It is my intention to win this war, my lord. By the most expeditious means.”
“To sail across the ocean with so many. I must voice my doubts as to the practicality of such a thing.”
“Why? The Volarians managed it.”
“With years of preparation,” the Shield pointed out. “And not borne from a Realm so damaged as this one.”
“A Realm that has already performed wonders.” She scanned their faces, finding doubt on most though once again Vaelin alone gave no sign of unease. “My lords, this council is not a debating chamber. I ask for counsel as I see fit and issue commands accordingly. And I command a fleet be built to carry our justice to the Volarian Empire, for when our business there is complete they will never again dream of returning to this land save in their nightmares.”
She paused, awaiting further dissent, but finding only wary acceptance. “I thank you for your counsel and set you to your duties.”
? ? ?
Lakrhil Al Hestian failed to rise when she entered his cell, merely glancing up at her with dull eyes, slumped in a corner on bare stone, shackles on his wrists and ankles. Iltis gave an angry grunt at the discourtesy but Lyrna restrained him with a wave. “Guard the door, my lord, if you would.”