“Have you plans for the day until the signing?” asked Adale. Perhaps if she stayed by Esofi’s side until then, she could make sure Theodoar’s plan did not cause the princess any harm.
“Certainly nothing that cannot be postponed,” said Esofi, looking up at Adale with hope in her eyes. “Now that we’ve settled the issue of stationing the battlemages, I’ve found myself with far fewer worries.”
“The battlemages?” repeated Adale. She vaguely remembered hearing something about that.
“To defend against the dragons,” said Esofi. “Your country has withstood them admirably, but it’s really wiser to engage them with Talcia’s magic. There will be far fewer casualties. When I first arrived, many were hoping a battlemage could be assigned to each particular location. Yesterday, I had to convince the Temple of Reygmadra that most battlemages are not powerful enough to defeat a dragon alone. The archpriestess was not pleased, but everyone agreed that we must take time to determine where the mages are needed most.”
“Oh,” said Adale. The Temple of Reygmadra, Goddess of Warfare and Eighth of the Ten, commanded Ieflaria’s military. They were the largest of the Eleven temples in Ieflaria, and second only to the Temple of Iolar in influence. Adale could not help but be impressed by Esofi standing up to the archpriestess. “The dragons have troubled us for as long as anyone can remember, but in recent years, it’s become…excessive. Nobody seems to know why.”
“Dragons can smell the presence of wealth,” Esofi explained. “Precious metals and jewels have a scent to them, like meat or bread. Legends say they were once wise and reasonable creatures and even had the ability to speak. But as mankind grew civilized under Iolar’s guidance, we began to draw more wealth from the earth and the temptation became too great to resist any longer. When Talcia realized what they had become, she took their wisdom away and they became like animals. I suspect your nation is only suffering from these attacks because their population has grown too large for their islands. If we can cull their numbers, the worst of the attacks should cease.”
Adale realized that Esofi seemed to be walking in the direction of the castle’s chapel, but she wasn’t sure if this was intentional or not.
“How do you intend to do that?” asked Adale. “You wouldn’t send soldiers to the Silver Isles, would you?”
“Oh goodness, no!” said Esofi. “That would be a death sentence. There must be hundreds, perhaps thousands of dragons on those islands. Nobody can fight that many all at once.”
“You seem to be quite certain of things,” said Adale. She wondered if she would be equally confident if she hadn’t been such a terrible student.
“Not all things,” replied Esofi. “Only the few which I have been educated for. But few kingdoms can say they boast a mastery of magic in the way Rhodia does, and so I suppose that makes me valuable.”
Esofi paused as they reached the doors of the Chapel of the Ten. They were painted with a scene of Iolar and Talcia standing before the sun and the moon, respectively. The two reached for one another, their fingertips meeting briefly where the two doors fit together.
“Did you wish to go in?” asked Adale.
“No, I think not,” Esofi mused. “I do love this design, though. I see so little of Talcia in your country. She must be feeling neglected, I think.”
“Oh.” If there was anything Adale thought of less often than the worship of the gods, she could not recall it.
“Do you know how many babies are born in Ieflaria with Talcia’s magic?” asked Esofi. “I asked Archmage Eads yesterday. One in ten thousand.”
“That’s bad?” guessed Adale.
“I’ve never heard of worse.” Esofi shook her head, setting her curls bouncing. “But this must be why. Once we restore her worship, she will look upon Ieflaria more kindly. I only wonder how she managed to fall out of favor to begin with.”
Adale said nothing. She had always been of the opinion that if the gods truly did exist, they cared little for Inthya below. But Esofi spoke of them as though she knew them personally.
“I’ve been told that your parents will take petitions today,” said Esofi. “I would like very much to observe them.”
“Oh,” said Adale in surprise. “If you’d like.” Once every month, her parents would open the castle gates and grant audiences with common Ieflarians. It usually ended in sending out more supplies and soldiers to small settlements that she had never heard of. Adale had not been to one since Albion’s death, for he was no longer there to urge her into attendance.
“My parents only opened their throne room once every six months,” said Esofi. “I suppose since Rhodia’s population is so much lower than Ieflaria’s, there was less of a need. I am eager to see what issues your citizens find most pressing.”
“It will be nothing but requests for aid against the dragons,” predicted Adale. “They’re striking all across the country. It’s strange—they’ll cross our borders and fly peacefully for days, unless intercepted. Then suddenly they’ll decide they’ve had enough of a certain town. You’d expect they’d simply attack the first settlement they come upon.”
“Yes, I had heard,” Esofi murmured.
“Well, let’s hope they don’t ruin too much of our harvest this year,” said Adale. “I don’t know how much we have left in the storehouses.”
“You don’t?” Esofi gave her that wide-eyed look of surprise that Adale was rapidly growing accustomed to.
“Here, the throne room is this way,” said Adale quickly. “If we don’t hurry, we’ll have to stand in the back.”
In fact, they still had about half an hour before the audiences began, but something about the line of conversation was making Adale feel terribly inadequate.
Albion would have known, an ugly voice inside of her chastised. Albion could have told her exactly how many grains of wheat are left in the storehouses.
They reached the throne room as it was beginning to fill, and Adale took a spot near to her parents’ thrones, determined to show that she could be a responsible heir if she chose to be. Knight Commander Glaed was already there in his usual place, with Sir Livius just behind him. Both wore chain mail beneath dazzlingly white tabards, marked on the chest with an image of the sun.
Adale supposed they’d been there for an hour, probably discussing the evils of sleeping in late and eating cake. She could not understand why a person might be compelled to join the Order of the Sun.
“Crown Princess,” the Knight Commander said, not completely managing to keep a note of surprise from his voice.
“Don’t start with me, Glaed,” said Adale darkly. On top of swearing off drinking, gambling, and having any sort of fun at all, Paladins of the Sun were also forbidden to tell even the smallest of lies. Because of that, Glaed had never disguised his disapproval of her. But it seemed Glaed wasn’t in the mood to criticize her today, and instead, he turned his gaze to Esofi.
“It is an honor, Princess,” he said, bowing deeply. “I am Glaed of Armoth, Knight Commander of the Order of the Sun in Ieflaria. My companion is Sir Livius, formerly Knight Commander of the Order of the Sun in Xytae. We are both at your service.”
“Thank you, Knight Commander,” said Esofi. “I am told your paladins have been instrumental in protecting Ieflaria’s people. It is fortunate that you are so numerous here—I don’t think I’ve gone more than a day without seeing a paladin somewhere since I stepped off the ship.”