The Brush Tiger of Derven Ch. 32-33

Mora nods slowly, "Am I to understand that Geofen women are considered inferior to men?"

This time, Irving turns his gaze out the window, remaining silent for quite a while. "Yes. As a whole, women are considered no more than a commodity, a thing to be obtained once a man becomes of age, a vessel to carry a child, a servant to tend to his needs. In their religion, women are considered to be of the sea—unable to remain constant or reliable, ever changing and wild. Men are their Keeper, the ones responsible for taming them, forcing their submission, commanding their virtues."

When an ironic laugh escapes her lips, Irving turns a surprised look to her. Mora shakes her head, muttering under her breath, "That is where they have it wrong. Women are the Keepers. Women are the ones that provide the land with life and without them it would cease to exist." She meets his gaze and sees the curiosity within him; desperately she wants to tell him the secrets that she holds. Knowing that he will be hers and she his, Mora feels a moral obligation to be forthright with him yet she knows that now is not the time, she must wait until she has gathered all of the facts. Even then, though, she is unsure if she would divulge the true origins of the immortals.

Irving doesn't press her like Rick would; he understands that when she is ready, she will open up to him. He slips into the seat next to her, taking the veil from her hands. Expertly he swathes it over her hair, folding and wrapping the length around her head until just the sheer part remains. When he drapes it over her face it covers her yet she is able to see through it though everything takes on a reddish tinge. His gentle hand caresses her cheek through the fabric.

"Thank you, Namora, for all that you have done. Not only for me, but for Derven, for Alumenia, for Sceadu and for Geofen. I am privileged that I will be able to call you my wife one day and I will forever work to become worthy of being your husband," his voice is quiet and sincere.

Mora stares deep into his eyes, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. She can feel her connection to him, her desires towards the man whom not that long ago didn't exist to her or to the world. Though she still very much wants to lead a quiet, humble life with a solitary partner who cherishes her as much as she does him, she has begun to accept the fact that she is destined for more. Last summer she believed she would never have a husband and now here she stands to have four. Her worries still plague her of the nature of Prince Philip but she considers herself beyond lucky to have both Rick and Irving by her side.

"Thank you, Irving. I cannot imagine this is without difficulty for you. I myself am having moral hesitations with the thought of...more than one husband. It simply isn't normal."

He huffs a laugh, an easy smirk on his face as he sits back and gazes upon her, "I am fairly certain that not a single one of us would qualify as normal, Namora—not I, nor Rick or Philip and most definitely not you. You, my dear Queen, are one of a kind."

A smile touches her lips, "You say that as if it is a good thing, Irving."

"Believe me, it is. You are just the woman our land needs in order to repair the damage that has been done. No one but you would be capable of this." Mora tenses when she feels the carriage slow to a halt but Irving places a gentle hand on hers, "I asked Jackson to stop here."

He pulls the hood of his cloak up, ensuring that his face is covered, before opening the door and stepping out. Mora takes his hand when he offers it and joins him on the public road. She barely recognizes it from a distant memory of her past, one of the few trips she made with her father when she was a child. They are well beyond the meadow, which is no doubt still stained with blood. The forests of Scedau and mountains of Alumenia have begun to dissipate into the loamy soil and thick vegetation of Geofen. In the distance she can see the gleam of the sun off of the royal palace's teal dome though they are still too far for any prying eyes to see more beyond the black dot of the Derven carriage.

Greystar walks up to Mora, the puff of his snort swaying her veil as he inspects her new attire. She reaches up and gently strokes his nose before staring into the darkness of Irving's hood, barely able to make out his eyes. "Care to enlighten me?"

"Those of Geofen are horse people. They take pride in their abilities to tame the beasts and associate status with the merit of them. Your father understood this, so while he traveled by carriage for a majority of the journey he always made sure to cross into Geofen on one; he gained respect for this and for his horsemanship."

She nods slowly, recalling the few times she remained in the carriage for the entire journey while her father always rode to the palace. The memories make her heart ache as she misses him dearly yet she pushes those emotions aside in an attempt to remain focused on the task at hand. When she is about to mount Greystar, Irving stops her.

"Women in Geofen always ride sidesaddle," he says softly as if ashamed that he is correcting the Queen, "to show their modesty."

Jackson, having just joined them, eyes Mora curiously, "I'm not entirely sure if the Queen has ridden sidesaddle before."

"I have not," she replies as she begins undoing the buckles beneath her horse, "nor do I have one. So, I will go bareback."

"That will most definitely gain you prestige, Namora," Irving reaches up and removes Greystar's saddle.

"Well in that case," Mora unclasps his bridle and removes it as well, speaking in a hushed voice to Irving, "might as well show off a bit. Perhaps that will ease some tension amongst the citizens that any sovereignty will cause."

With a mere command, Greystar tilts his massive body down to the ground so that Mora can perch herself on his back. When she pats him on the neck and he rises again she finds the asymmetry of both her legs on his left side to be a bit cumbersome but knows she will manage well enough. Glancing down, she speaks to Jackson, "Once we reach the palace, make sure you remain with Irving at all times. The meeting is set for this evening after dinner so keep him out of sight until then. I will send for you, understood?"

Jackson shifts uneasily, "And who will be your guard?" Irving mirrors his hesitation.

Though he cannot see it, she smiles beneath the veil, "I am perfectly capable of handling myself, Advisor Jackson. None the less, I will have Prince Varicken with me as well as Advisor Laren. The three of us will be able to take on any situation that arises."

He bows his head, holding his fist over his heart before returning to the seat of the carriage. Irving runs his fingers over Greystar's thick neck. Mora can see the apprehension in his stance, even if she cannot fully see his face. Before she can question him, he offers a short bow and retreats back into the carriage.

Greystar leads the way, needing no command; Mora takes in the surrounding country side, watching as the thick jungle like vegetation changes. The grass becomes more sparse until it is simply rough tuffs haphazardly scattered in the sand; the trees shrink in thickness but tower high in the sky, reaching for the brightness of the sun that beats down upon the land. Though it is the beginning of winter, the temperature is amiable, to the point where Mora is comfortable without need of a cloak. As the town grows large in the distance she can make out the peculiar buildings; not wood like Derven nor stone like Alumenia but they almost appear to be made out of a seamless material resembling the sand around them with clay tiles adorning their roofs.

At the large gates framing the main road into the town, Laren waits atop a horse. He tilts his head curiously at her, a slight smile on his face while he takes in the sight of the Queen of Derven arriving in Geofen for the first time. Word has spread quickly and the road is lined with townsfolk all wanting to catch a glimpse of the new ruler. She can hear their excited murmurs of approval of her appearance, even if she cannot understand the local tongue itself.

Laren takes up his place at her side. He bows his head, "Queen Namora."

"It is good to see you again, Advisor Laren."

"The hunter bids you haste, lest you miss the meal. While all was well within the chase, the fish and friend are cutting a deal."

Her head turns sharply to him as the message becomes clear—Wallace and Sheyenne are attempting to finalize the outcome of Alumenia without her. It is a strategic move as her vote would be the only opposition and therefore worth nothing, at least that would be the case if Irving didn't exist. Steadying herself by gripping a tuft of Greystar's mane, she spurs him into a quick trot, her entourage matching her pace. She would have rather made her way slowly through town to allow the citizens a chance to inspect her but now she must rush in order to prevent a disastrous outcome.

Within minutes she reaches the palace, surprising the Geofen guards. While one rushes to get a step stool for her so that she may climb down, she dismounts easily. Irving steps out of the carriage, Jackson immediately by his side; both men can sense that something is wrong. Her voice rings out clear, sharp and commanding, "Laren, you two—with me now."

Rick is waiting for them just as they enter through the palace doors. He swiftly bows to Mora as she drifts by, scurrying to catch up to her while taking the position on her left, Laren on her right. The entourage make their way through the large tiled hallways until they come before a pair of grandiose, brightly colored doors at which two guards are stationed in front.

"Let us pass," Rick says to the men.

"I am sorry sir, we have our orders that no one is to enter the royal hall," one bravely replies.

When Rick and Laren both tense for a fight, Mora's cold voice stills them all, "Do you know who I am?"

"Yes, Queen Namora," they reply in unison, both bowing.

"Good. Now move, or I will move you."

Though they share a brief hesitant glance, when they move aside it is clear that tales of her abilities have proceeded her. Pushing the large doors open, she calmly strides inside much to the surprise of the occupants.

"Queen Namora," King Wallace offers amiably though he doesn't mean it, "so good to see you again."

He, Sheyenne, their advisors and Philip are all sitting around a crescent shaped table in the middle of the room. Mora comes to a halt, staring them down from behind the sheer veil still covering her face, "It appears that you have moved the time of our meeting."

Sheyenne narrows her eyes at Rick, "We were just having an informal discussion over mid day meal, is all."

"An informal discussion, with your advisors and a scribe? If I didn't know better, it would seem that the pair of you are attempting to form an alliance against Derven."

"Please," Wallace says while waving his hand about, "it is nothing like that. However, Sheyenne and I have come to an agreement in regards to the fate of Alumenia. As majority vote would enact it I am afraid that your opinion wouldn't hold much merit."

"Is that so. Pray, tell me, what decision you've come to?" Mora casually walks forward and perches herself on the edge of the table, leaning back onto her hand to emphasize her lack of fear in their decisions.

Wallace shifts awkwardly, taken aback by her demeanor, "Sceadu will take over rule of Alumenia. As they are the closest nation it makes the most sense."

"You have no right to that throne," Rick snaps, unable to remain silent any longer.

All eyes turn to him though it is his mother who replies, "Oh? And I suppose you believe your future wife has a stronger claim? Having been engaged to the King she then murdered in front of everyone?"

Mora's laugh cuts through the air, "Well, at least you and I finally agree on something, Sheyenne—neither of us has a right to the Alumenian throne. The point is moot however because there is someone who does."

"Who?" Wallace demands.

She raises her slender hand towards the cloaked figure behind Rick. Irving steps forward. There is no hesitation in his movements, his confidence and sureness would never belie the fact that he was living alone, in a cabin in the woods just a week ago. His voice is smooth as he pushes his hood back, "I do."

"May I introduce Irving of Alumenia, Irron's only son and heir to the throne," Mora's voice is quiet and her eyes drift from Irving's handsome face over to the surprised ones at the table behind her.

"You—you think that just because he looks like Irron that means he has a right to—" Sheyenne stutters out, clearly flustered.

Laren cuts her off immediately, producing a parchment from his cloak, "A signed affidavit by both King Nathanial and your own father as well, my King."

If it were at all possible, Sheyenne's face becomes more pale as she examines the document along with Wallace. When she attempts to speak, Mora interrupts her.

"King Irving's ascension to the Alumenian throne is whole heartedly backed by myself, Derven and our army. Should either of you choose to dispute his claim, well, I suppose we could schedule another battle on the meadow. I do not have plans for later this week, if your schedules are free?" Despite the flippant nature of her comment her voice is flat and threatening.

"No need," Wallace says quietly, "it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, King Irving. Please accept my hospitality while you are here; I shall have rooms prepared for all of you at once. Perhaps this evening we can meet for supper?"

"I whole heartedly accept, thank you Wallace," Irving's voice is warm and friendly, enough to offset Mora's threat.

Mora knows that it isn't the red tinge of the veil but rather the rage flushing to Sheyenne's cheeks that give them their glow.

...

Laren arranges for both Irving and Rick to remain in the large suite assigned to Mora; smoothly wording it to the palace staff that he has an obligation to both the King and the Queen and as the Queen's betrothed, the Prince should not be far away. The five of them, Jackson included, carefully check the large drawing room and the four smaller rooms adjoined to it before they all relax in the seating area near the fire place.

Mora removes her crown before carefully unwinding the fabric of the veil until her head is finally liberated.

"The veil was your idea?" Rick asks Irving; he continues after getting a nod, "Brilliant. She was utterly terrifying with it on."

"Oh?" Mora laughs, "why is that?"

"Red is not a common color in our land," Philip's voice drifts over as he silently shuts the door behind him, "at least not in so much abundance on one person. Combined with your stature and presence and you are like both an angel and death in one being." He bows deeply to the gathered group, "You sent for me, Varicken?"

"Indeed," Rick says, motioning for him to take a seat, "I think it is time that the lot of us has a discussion. While I have brought Laren up to speed on the situation in Geofen, there is still the other matter we have yet to broach."

Mora frowns deeply, her eyes fixated on the fire as she stands before it. She can feel Laren's gaze trying to bore into her, in fact everyone stares at her.

"Advisor Jackson, would you please step outside and guard the room?" Mora asks quietly.

He hesitates momentarily but obeys her wishes none the less. Once the door is shut, Mora draws in a deep breath, steeling her nerves before turning around. Rick and Irving glance briefly at each other before returning their gaze to her.

Philip's handsome, rich brown face wears a slight frown; though he has a life time of experience navigating tense situations it is clear that he is nervous. Laren, on the other hand, appears somewhat bored, a slender graying eyebrow cocked, his arms crossed over his chest.

Seeing her mentor, her teacher retain his composure at such a time gives her peace of mind. "It is my intent to become the Sovereign Queen of our lands. That seems to be the only way to ensure that all four nations will remain in harmony with one another."

Philip startles slightly, "Oh," he says, taking a moment to process the information before he glances at Rick and Irving, "Oh. Now I understand why you two are so...calm."

Irving turns to him, "This is all dependant on you, Philip. Namora will not be able to claim Sovereignty without a claim to the Geofen throne as well."

"Oh," he says, his eyes growing wide as it dawns on him. He finally turns to Mora, catching her gaze. She can see the shock in his eyes as he processes the options.

"If you need some time to consider it," Mora offers with a casual wave of her hand, providing Philip an opportunity to take a moment, despite the fact that they both know neither of them have a choice if they want to save Geofen as well.

"There is no need," Philip replies smoothly, regaining his composure. A few steps bring him before her, where he kneels down on one knee, extending his hand towards her, "Queen Namora, it would be my honor if you would become my wife." She places her hand in his, her lightly colored skin contrasting against it. Philip gently kisses the back of her hand while gazing up into her eyes, "Thank you, Queen Namora."

Offering a gentle smile with a nod, she watches him rise, the third man that she knows will become hers, she his.

"I must say, this is a rather brilliant plan," Laren speaks. "If memory serves me correctly, though, you will have to choose a husband of Derven as well, to rule as King there."

Mora stares down at the mosaic tiled floor, slightly nervous at what she is about to say next, "I already have." There is no response as the men wait in anticipation of her proclamation; when her gaze slowly raises and fixes on Laren, she watches her mentor's façade crumble for the first time in her life.

"No," he fumbles, "I am too old for you."

"It does not matter."

"You are like a daughter to me, I could never—I can't even imagine—"

"You will be my fourth husband, Laren, or I will not do this at all. You are the only man worthy to speak for that country. You are the only man I could ever trust to raise my Derven child properly in my absence. You have given your life for our land, sacrificed you own personal happiness to serve the throne without even batting an eye. This is the least I can do to offer you thanks for that, to repay you for all that you've done for me. For all that you have done for Derven."

Laren looks away from her, unable to meet her gaze any longer.

Though the other three men are in shock, it is Rick who speaks as the voice of reason, "Mora is right, Laren. You are the only one who can be trusted with Derven."

She walks over to Laren, surprising everyone when she gets down onto her knees before him. He looks upon her face, his own wrought with conflict as he gazes upon the woman that he helped raise from a child, the woman he trained to fight, to rule, the woman he considers as a daughter.

"Will you be my fourth husband, Laren?"

*****

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