Chronicle 34
The registration office was considerably smaller than Elara
expected.
Then again...
Everything about becoming Queen had been considerably
smaller than Elara expected.
A desk.
Several chairs.
A computer terminal.
A camera mounted against one wall.
A Unity flag.
...and a man Elara immediately recognized sitting behind the
desk.
He looked up.
Then smiled.
"I had a feeling you'd be back."
Elara blinked.
"Boyd?"
Unity Officer Boyd stood.
He had presided over the little ceremony that morning.
The ceremony.
If signing a document in an office while Eldred filmed it on
his phone qualified as a ceremony.
"Your Majesty."
Elara smiled.
"You don't have to do that every time."
"I suspect you're going to hear it quite often."
Elara sighed.
"I'm beginning to realize that."
Boyd looked toward Eldred.
Then at the VISITOR card hanging from his neck.
His smile widened slightly.
"I see you've already encountered our security
procedures."
Eldred lifted the card.
"I'm very important."
Elara laughed.
"He can't enter the government areas because he isn't
registered."
"Correct."
"That's why we're here."
"I assumed you'd be back eventually."
Boyd returned to his chair.
"You need to register your government officials."
Then he pointed toward the camera.
"...and you still haven't taken your Unity
identification photograph."
Elara looked toward it.
"Oh."
"I mentioned that this morning."
"You mentioned a lot of things this morning."
"I did."
"I was busy becoming Queen."
"Understandable."
Boyd sat.
"I just didn't expect you back today."
Elara and Eldred sat opposite him.
Elara placed her purse beside the chair.
"I need to talk to the Emperor."
Boyd stopped.
"The Roman Emperor?"
"Yes."
"Petraeus?"
"Unless Rome has another one."
Boyd smiled.
"No."
Elara leaned forward.
"I want to hold a summit here in Ercolanum."
"An Aetherian summit?"
"Yes."
"I want to bring representatives from Aetheria here and
discuss what happens next."
Boyd nodded slowly.
"That's ambitious for your first morning."
"I've already called Palatine Hill."
Boyd stared at her.
"The public number?"
Elara's expression answered the question.
Boyd smiled.
"Oh."
"I learned."
"I imagine you did."
"The receptionist told me I need my Foreign Affairs
Minister to contact the Master of Offices."
"Correct."
Elara pointed toward Eldred.
"So I need one of those."
Boyd looked at Eldred.
Eldred raised his hand slightly.
"Apparently that's me."
Boyd turned toward his computer.
"All right."
His fingers moved across the keyboard.
"This shouldn't be particularly difficult."
Elara relaxed slightly.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
"I need the structure of the Aetherian
government."
Elara stopped relaxing.
"...Oh."
Boyd looked at her.
"You don't know?"
"I know some of it."
She frowned.
"I wasn't involved in my father's government."
"That's fine."
"We can work from the previous registration."
Boyd typed again.
The screen changed.
"King Havin's government is still archived."
Elara leaned forward.
Names appeared.
Some she knew immediately.
Others she vaguely remembered.
A few meant nothing to her at all.
Then-
"There."
Elara pointed.
"Royal Chancellor."
Boyd nodded.
"That was the senior court office beneath the
monarch?"
"Yes."
Elara thought.
"Technically."
"Technically?"
"The Royal Chancellor was the highest-ranking member of
the Royal Court after the monarchs."
Eldred glanced toward her.
"Monarchs?"
"The King and Queen."
Elara paused.
Then looked at him.
"...which creates another technicality."
Eldred raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"We aren't married."
"No."
"So you're not King."
"No."
"More properly, King Consort."
Eldred stared.
Elara's cheeks reddened.
"I'm explaining the law."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were thinking something."
"I was thinking I'm not King Consort."
"Good."
Boyd politely pretended to be fascinated by his computer.
Elara continued.
"So the highest office I can appoint him to is Royal
Chancellor."
Boyd nodded.
"...and that would make him your highest-ranking
government official?"
"Yes."
Eldred looked at Elara.
"Do I get a crown?"
"No."
"A small one?"
"No."
"A hat?"
"Eldred."
"Just checking."
Boyd suppressed a smile.
"Royal Chancellor it is."
He began entering information.
"Full legal name?"
Eldred provided it.
"Date of birth?"
Again.
"Citizenship?"
Again.
Boyd continued through the required information.
Then he reached another field.
"Authority?"
Elara thought.
"The Chancellor appoints the Royal Ministries."
Boyd looked up.
"Not the monarch?"
"No."
Eldred turned toward her.
"I do?"
Elara nodded.
"You do."
"I didn't know that."
"I'm not surprised."
She leaned back.
"My father's Chancellor was a lapdog."
Boyd stopped typing.
Elara shrugged.
"Technically, the Chancellor appointed the
ministers."
"In reality..."
"...if the Chancellor didn't appoint whoever my father
wanted..."
She made a small flicking motion with her fingers.
"...my father fired the Chancellor."
Eldred nodded.
"...and appointed someone who would."
"Exactly."
"So the Chancellor had independent appointment
authority..."
Boyd said carefully.
"...subject to the monarch having the power to dismiss
the Chancellor."
"That's basically how it worked."
Eldred looked thoughtful.
"So technically..."
Elara smiled.
"Technically..."
She pointed toward him.
"...you can appoint yourself Foreign Affairs
Minister."
Eldred's eyebrows rose.
"...and everything else."
"Everything else?"
"Finance."
"Defence."
"Justice."
"Interior."
"Whatever ministries are still legally
constituted."
Eldred stared at her.
Elara smiled sweetly.
"Congratulations."
Boyd looked between them.
Eldred leaned back.
"...but what if I want to hire someone else?"
Elara's smile disappeared.
She glared.
Eldred held the expression for perhaps two seconds.
Then laughed.
"I'm joking."
"You'd better be."
Boyd shook his head.
"All right."
He returned to the computer.
"For the moment, I'll register Mr. Eldred as Royal
Chancellor and acting head of the currently vacant ministerial
portfolios."
Elara nodded.
"Minister of Everything."
Boyd smiled.
"That is not what I'm putting into the database."
"It should be."
"It won't be."
Eldred looked disappointed.
Elara patted his hand.
"When the time is right..."
She looked at him seriously now.
"...you hire people."
Eldred nodded.
"Absolutely."
"People who actually know what they're doing."
"Preferably."
"Especially Finance."
"Definitely Finance."
Elara smiled.
Boyd entered the final information.
Then-
"Contact number?"
Elara and Eldred looked at each other.
Eldred gave his personal cell number.
Boyd entered it.
"Secondary?"
Elara gave hers.
Boyd stopped.
"That's your personal phone?"
"Yes."
"...and yours?"
Eldred nodded.
"Also personal."
Boyd leaned back.
"For now."
Elara frowned.
"For now?"
"You both need government phones."
Elara looked at Eldred.
"More phones."
"Apparently."
Boyd continued.
"Security is one reason."
"Privacy is another."
"Recordkeeping."
"Separation between government and personal
communications."
"Continuity if either number is compromised."
"Volume."
Elara frowned.
"Volume?"
Boyd looked at her.
"You're Queen."
"Oh."
"Once this number starts circulating among government
officials, diplomats, Unity offices, Peace offices, ministries, military
commanders, journalists-"
"Journalists?"
"-and anyone else who legitimately needs to reach your
government..."
Elara slowly looked down at her phone.
"...you're going to hate that thing."
Eldred laughed.
Boyd pointed toward him.
"You too."
Eldred looked at his own phone.
"I already get enough messages."
"You haven't seen anything yet."
Elara sighed.
"We used to have government phones."
Boyd nodded.
"They're listed in the archived registration."
"They're gone."
"The Fall?"
"Burned."
"Destroyed."
"Lost."
Elara shrugged.
"Pick one."
Boyd nodded sympathetically.
"So personal numbers for now."
"For now."
He entered them.
Elara watched the screen.
A thought occurred to her.
"How did this work before?"
Boyd looked over.
"What?"
"All of this."
She gestured toward the computer.
"Did my father come here every time he appointed
somebody?"
Boyd laughed.
"No."
"Normally the recognized government sends Unity an
updated list of officials."
"That's it?"
"Essentially."
Elara frowned.
"So Unity just believes them?"
"No."
Boyd smiled.
"We know the communication comes from the registered
government."
He turned the monitor slightly.
"Think of the government itself as the authenticated
source."
"Once Unity recognizes a government, changes within
that government are usually administrative."
"A minister resigns."
"Someone replaces them."
"An election happens."
"A cabinet is reshuffled."
"A monarch dies and the lawful successor takes the
throne."
"The government sends us the appropriate
documentation."
"We verify it."
"We update the registry."
Elara nodded slowly.
"So normally..."
"...this is boring."
"Extremely."
Eldred smiled.
"We ruined that."
"You certainly complicated it."
Boyd looked toward Elara.
"Usually the transition itself is clear."
"An election."
"A resignation."
"An abdication."
"A death."
"A constitutional succession."
He paused.
"Sometimes a court ruling."
Elara nodded.
"Like me."
"Like you."
"...but that's uncommon."
"Not unheard of."
Boyd leaned back.
"Your situation is particularly unusual because you
didn't arrive here with a government ready to take office."
Elara looked at him.
"You didn't expect to become sovereign."
"No."
"You weren't assembling ministers."
"No."
"You weren't preparing a transition."
"No."
"You weren't even seeking the throne."
Elara shook her head.
"No."
Boyd nodded.
"That's what makes this unusual."
Elara looked toward Eldred.
Three hours ago...
She hadn't possessed a government.
Now her entire government sat beside her wearing a visitor
badge.
Then another thought came.
A much darker one.
Elara's smile faded.
"Boyd."
"Yes?"
"What happens if Forman is acquitted?"
Silence.
Eldred's expression changed immediately.
Boyd became more serious.
"That's complicated."
Elara's stomach tightened.
"...but ultimately..."
He chose his words carefully.
"...the court's current ruling is temporary."
Elara nodded.
She knew that.
Knowing it did not make hearing it easier.
"Judge Caron preserved the legal continuity of your
claim because the validity of the transfer to Forman remains unresolved."
"She did not rule that the transfer was invalid."
Elara stared at the desk.
"Right."
"If the legal process ultimately determines that Forman
validly acquired sovereign authority..."
Boyd paused.
"...and that no other legal disqualification prevents
him from holding it..."
"...then Unity would be required to recognize that
result."
Elara looked up.
"He becomes sovereign."
"Yes."
"...and I can't stop it."
"Not simply because you disagree with it."
Elara's fingers tightened around Eldred's.
He immediately squeezed back.
"So I could rebuild everything."
"Establish a government."
"Bring people together."
"Actually make things better."
"...and then lose it."
Boyd nodded slowly.
"Potentially."
Elara looked away.
The possibility felt cruel.
Eldred spoke.
"Is there anything she can do?"
Boyd thought.
"There are possibilities."
Elara looked back.
"The cleanest?"
He paused.
"Forman abandons his claim."
Elara almost laughed.
"He's not going to do that."
"I wouldn't assume he will."
"He hates me."
Boyd nodded.
"Then the question becomes political as well as
legal."
Elara frowned.
"Political?"
"If you govern well..."
"If Aetheria stabilizes..."
"If its people accept your government..."
"...and if Forman eventually emerges from these
proceedings insisting that he should replace a Queen whom the population
overwhelmingly regards as legitimate..."
Boyd spread his hands.
"...he may discover that possessing a legal argument
and possessing a viable government are not quite the same thing."
Elara considered that.
"He could be pressured to withdraw?"
"Certainly."
"By whom?"
"His supporters."
"Unity."
"Foreign governments."
"Aetherian institutions."
"His own advisers."
Boyd paused.
"...the Aetherian people."
Elara remained quiet.
"There is another possibility."
"What?"
"You could eventually petition Unity for permanent
recognition."
Elara's eyebrows rose.
"Even before Forman's case is finished?"
"You can petition."
Boyd emphasized the word.
"That doesn't mean Unity grants it."
"What would I need?"
"Legitimacy."
Elara frowned.
"I have legal legitimacy."
"For now."
Boyd shook his head.
"I'm talking about something broader."
"The people."
Elara understood.
"Aetherians have to accept me."
"Meaningfully."
"Not everyone."
"No government enjoys unanimous support."
"...but Unity would need compelling evidence that your
government genuinely represents a stable and legitimate political order."
"Not simply that a court temporarily placed you
there."
Elara looked down.
That sounded much harder than signing a document.
Boyd continued.
"Fortunately..."
"...you have time."
Elara looked up.
"The Forman trial isn't happening next week."
Eldred nodded.
"The preliminary proceedings alone have taken long
enough."
"Exactly."
Boyd folded his hands.
"A case like this could take a very long time to reach
final judgment."
"Then appeals may follow."
"So unless something dramatically changes..."
He looked directly at Elara.
"...you have time to govern."
Time.
Elara sat quietly.
Time to rebuild.
Time to prove herself.
Time to show Aetheria who she actually was.
Time to discover whether she could be the Queen she used to
imagine becoming.
...and perhaps time to convince people who hated the House
of Havin that Elara did not have to be Havin.
She took a slow breath.
"Okay."
Boyd waited.
Elara straightened.
"Then I suppose I should start."
A smile returned to Boyd's face.
"Good."
Elara looked toward the camera mounted against the wall.
Then remembered.
"Oh."
Boyd followed her gaze.
"Yes."
"My picture."
"Your identification picture."
Elara sighed.
"Right."
She stood.
Eldred stood with her.
Boyd looked toward him.
"You too."
Eldred blinked.
"Me?"
"You're Royal Chancellor now."
Elara smiled.
"...and Foreign Affairs Minister."
"...and everything else."
Boyd shook his head.
"I'm still not putting that on the card."
Eldred removed the VISITOR badge from around his
neck.
He looked at it for a moment.
Then smiled.
"I suppose I'm getting promoted."
Elara took it from him.
"From visitor..."
She placed it on Boyd's desk.
"...to Minister of Everything."
Boyd sighed.
"Royal Chancellor."
Elara smiled.
"Minister of Everything."
Boyd pointed toward the camera.
"Your Majesty."
Elara laughed.
"Fine."
She walked toward the backdrop.
Then stopped.
Looked toward Eldred.
"How do I look?"
Eldred smiled.
"Like a Queen."
Elara's expression softened.
This morning...
Those words would have terrified her.
Now...
She smiled.
"Good."
She stepped in front of the camera.
Boyd adjusted the lens.
"Look straight ahead."
Elara did.
"Don't smile."
Her smile disappeared.
"Why?"
"Identification standards."
"Being Queen is remarkably boring."
Boyd looked through the camera.
"Three..."
Elara straightened.
"Two..."
She lifted her chin.
"One."
The camera flashed.
For the first time...
Queen Elara of Aetheria was officially on file.
Five people had managed to occupy a couch designed for
approximately three.
Zas wasn't entirely certain how.
Joanna had claimed one end.
Zas had claimed the other.
Phoebe and Armintie had somehow fitted themselves into the
middle.
At some point, Joanna had stretched her legs across Zas.
Armintie had partly collapsed against Phoebe.
Phoebe had partly collapsed against Zas.
Nobody seemed interested in fixing any of this.
The television remained on.
Arel-Sin was watching too.
He was the only person not on the couch.
Mostly because there was nowhere left to put him.
He stood beside it, still wearing the suit he had been so
excited about that morning.
His tie hung loose around his neck.
He took it in one hand.
Swung it once.
Twice.
Then-
"Arel-Sin."
He stopped.
Zas didn't even look away from the television.
"Stop."
"I wasn't doing anything."
"You were using your tie as a lasso."
"I was not."
Zas finally looked at him.
Arel-Sin was still holding the tie in a loop.
Zas stared.
Arel-Sin slowly lowered it.
"...I was seeing if it could be used as a lasso."
"No."
Arel-Sin let the tie fall against his shirt.
Phoebe giggled.
Joanna smiled.
"Let him have fun."
Zas looked at her.
"He'll strangle himself or knock something over."
"I would not!"
As if on cue, Arel-Sin’s “lasso” knocked down the hotel
telephone.
Joanna mentally conceded the point as Zas pointed Arel-Sin
toward the television.
"Watch."
Arel-Sin sighed.
Then watched.
...
Wolf Kohlman's program was playing on the television.
Not directly.
A Roman news network had picked up the broadcast and was
simulcasting it.
Nobody in the room cared particularly much about most of the
day's news.
They were waiting for Aetheria.
More specifically...
Elara.
They knew this was her first day as Queen.
They knew she had signed the recognition documents that
morning.
They knew she was somewhere in Ercolanum trying to figure
out exactly what being Queen meant.
Joanna had already checked Elara's social media several
times.
Phoebe had checked more.
Armintie claimed she hadn't.
Nobody believed her.
Then Wolf appeared again after a commercial break.
"Here."
Joanna immediately reached for the remote and turned the
volume up.
Wolf sat behind his desk.
A photograph appeared beside him.
Petraeus.
Emperor of Rome.
Wolf smiled.
"...and before we move on, Emperor Petraeus opened an
otherwise unrelated press conference this morning with an update on Aetheria's
newest sovereign."
The screen switched to Petraeus standing behind a podium.
Petraeus smiled toward the assembled journalists.
"I have an important announcement."
Several reporters looked up.
Petraeus leaned toward the microphone.
"Elara called me one hundred and thirty-four times this
morning."
Laughter immediately filled the press room.
Petraeus shook his head.
"Elara..."
He looked directly into the camera.
"...you're lovely..."
Another pause.
"...but I'm a married man!"
The room erupted.
Petraeus stepped back from the microphone with an enormous
grin.
Joanna burst out laughing.
Phoebe laughed.
Even Zas smiled.
Armintie stared at the television.
"She called him a hundred and thirty-four times?!"
Zas turned toward her.
"No."
Armintie pointed at the screen.
"He just said she did."
"He was joking."
Wolf returned.
"For anyone concerned about the apparent persistence of
Her Aetherian Majesty..."
Wolf smiled.
"...no, Queen Elara did not personally telephone the
Emperor one hundred and thirty-four times."
Armintie relaxed.
"Oh."
Wolf continued.
"According to the Palatine Hill, its public reception
line received one hundred and thirty-four calls this morning from people
claiming to be Queen Elara."
Joanna laughed harder.
"Seriously?"
"Apparently."
Wolf continued.
"The calls became frequent enough that Palatine Hill
administrators eventually implemented an automated AI screening system to
filter suspected impersonation calls before transferring callers to human
reception staff."
Phoebe looked toward Zas.
"So none of those calls got to the Emperor?"
"No."
"Not even Elara's?"
Zas paused.
"If she actually called that number..."
He smiled.
"...probably not."
Armintie frowned.
"...but that's the Emperor's number."
"No."
"It's the Palatine Hill."
"Yes."
"Where the Emperor is."
"Yes."
Armintie looked increasingly confused.
Zas shifted slightly beneath the pile of people occupying
the couch.
"The Palatine reception desk is public."
"So anyone can call?"
"Yes."
"Then why can't you call the Emperor?"
"Because that's not what the reception desk does."
Zas thought about how to explain it.
"If you want government records..."
"...you might call them."
"If you want information about touring parts of the
palace complex..."
"...you might call them."
"If you need to know which Roman government department
handles something..."
"...you might call them."
"Public documents."
"Government services."
"General information."
He shrugged.
"Things like that."
Phoebe nodded.
"...but not the Emperor."
"Definitely not the Emperor."
Joanna smiled.
"So you can't call and say, 'Hi, can Petraeus come to
the phone?'"
"You can."
Zas looked at her.
"They will not put Petraeus on the phone."
Joanna laughed.
Armintie looked toward the television again.
"So how does Elara call him?"
"Official channels."
Phoebe turned toward her father.
"You know those?"
"Some."
"Why?"
Zas looked at her.
Phoebe stared back.
Then-
"Oh."
Zas smiled.
"Yes."
"Because you're a diplomat."
"Technically."
Joanna raised her head from his shoulder.
"Technically?"
Zas shrugged.
"I am registered."
Phoebe frowned.
"I don't really understand what that means."
"You never asked."
"I am now."
Zas nodded.
"All right."
He adjusted himself again.
Joanna's legs remained across him.
Phoebe remained pressed against his side.
There wasn't much adjusting available.
"When Peace established the Khoistan Mandate..."
Arel-Sin took hold of his tie again.
Zas immediately pointed at him.
"No."
Arel-Sin dropped it.
Zas continued.
"...they had to establish some way of communicating
with the tribes."
"The Mandate covers many different peoples."
"Different villages."
"Different tribal governments."
"Different customs."
"Peace didn't want to simply arrive and decide who
spoke for everyone."
"So they went to the tribes."
Phoebe listened.
"They asked each tribe to provide a
representative."
"Someone Peace could recognize as having authority to
speak for that tribe."
Armintie looked toward him.
"...and that's you?"
"That's me."
"Why?"
Zas thought.
"The Elder trusted me."
Joanna smiled.
"Good answer."
"It's the answer."
He continued.
"If Peace needs to formally communicate with the Blue
Shield, I can receive it."
"If our tribe needs to formally communicate with Peace,
I can do it."
"If we need formal dealings with another tribe, I have
the authority to represent us."
Phoebe frowned.
"...but you barely do that."
"Correct."
"Why?"
"Because we barely need it."
Zas gestured vaguely.
"The tribes already know one another."
"We have dealt with each other for generations."
"If Azamat needs to speak with someone from another
village about livestock, he doesn't send a diplomatic note."
"He goes and talks to them."
"If The Elder needs something from another tribal
leader..."
"...he usually knows that leader personally."
"If there is a wedding, funeral, trade dispute, grazing
issue..."
Zas shrugged.
"...people talk."
Armintie nodded.
"So you're only really needed when it's official."
"Or when Peace is involved."
"Yes."
Zas looked back toward the television.
"Peace mostly leaves us alone anyway."
"That's part of the arrangement."
Phoebe thought about this.
"So..."
She looked at her father.
"...you don't have an embassy?"
Zas laughed.
"No."
"A diplomatic car?"
"No."
"Staff?"
"No."
"An office?"
Zas looked around the hotel room.
"No."
Joanna smiled.
"Expense account?"
"No."
"Fancy diplomatic dinners?"
"No."
"First-class flights?"
"No."
Joanna looked horrified.
"Zas."
He laughed.
"What?"
"You need to negotiate a better deal."
"I think my deal is fine."
"They don't even pay you."
"No."
Joanna sat up slightly.
"They don't pay you?"
"Peace doesn't."
"You are an international diplomat working for
free."
"I am a tribal representative."
"Working for free."
Zas smiled.
"It isn't much work."
"Still."
"The tribe gives me a house."
Joanna stopped.
She looked at him.
"The house is because you're the diplomat?"
"In part."
Phoebe nodded.
"That's actually a pretty good perk."
Joanna considered it.
"Okay."
She pointed toward Zas.
"Still negotiating."
Zas laughed.
"I don't want more."
Joanna looked genuinely confused.
"Why not?"
"Because more would probably mean more work."
That silenced her.
Zas smiled.
"Exactly."
Phoebe laughed.
Zas continued.
"My diplomatic responsibilities aren't comparable to
someone representing Rome."
"Or Estonia."
"Or Kanem-Bornu."
"Those governments have permanent ministries."
"Embassies."
"Professional staffs."
"Trade negotiations."
"Military agreements."
"Treaties."
"Constant international disputes."
He shook his head.
"I don't want that."
Armintie smiled.
"You just want your house."
"I like my house."
Joanna rested her head against him again.
"I like your house too."
Zas smiled.
"Good."
He wrapped an arm around her.
"I already have enough work."
"The Order."
"The tribe."
"Patrols."
"When The Elder needs me."
He glanced toward Phoebe.
Then Arel-Sin.
Then Joanna.
"...and home."
Joanna smiled.
"Especially home."
"Especially home."
Phoebe looked offended.
"We're not work."
Zas looked at her.
Phoebe stared back.
Arel-Sin quietly began swinging his tie again.
Zas pointed without looking.
"Stop."
Arel-Sin froze.
Phoebe started laughing.
Zas looked back at her.
"You were saying?"
Phoebe smiled.
"Never mind."
Wolf's voice continued from the television.
The segment had already moved on.
Joanna reached for the remote.
"Wait."
She rewound slightly.
"What?"
"I want to hear if there's anything else about
Elara."
Armintie settled back against Phoebe.
Zas relaxed into the couch.
Arel-Sin finally sat on the armrest.
His tie remained where it belonged.
For approximately fifteen seconds.
Zas looked over.
Arel-Sin's hand was already moving toward it.
"Arel-Sin."
His hand stopped.
"...I didn't do anything."
"Good."
Zas turned back toward the television.
"Keep it that way."
Joanna kept the remote.
Nobody objected.
Wolf's program moved on to something involving an election
in Estonia.
Then a dispute over fishing rights.
Then something about a Roman senator.
Arel-Sin's hand drifted toward his tie.
Zas looked at him.
Arel-Sin immediately placed both hands behind his back.
Zas returned his attention to the television.
Finally-
Wolf appeared again.
Behind him was an image of Aetheris.
Or...
What remained of it.
Joanna immediately sat up.
"Here."
Phoebe shifted.
Armintie lifted her head.
Even Arel-Sin forgot about his tie.
Wolf looked toward another camera.
"Queen Elara may now have international
recognition..."
The screen beside him changed.
"...but whether she has the recognition of Aetherians
themselves is a considerably more complicated question."
Zas became more attentive.
This was what he had been waiting for.
Wolf continued.
"Our correspondent spent the morning speaking with
residents throughout Aetheria, including Aetheris, Curgarden and several
surrounding communities."
The broadcast cut away.
...
A woman stood in what appeared to be a marketplace.
Behind her were damaged buildings.
Some had been repaired.
Others remained boarded.
One appeared to have no roof.
Workers moved through the street.
The reporter stood beside an older man.
"Do you recognize Elara as Queen of Aetheria?"
The man barely let her finish.
"No."
"Why?"
"She's a Havin."
He shook his head.
"We fought to get rid of them."
"We buried people because of them."
"Now the world tells us another Havin is Queen?"
"No."
"Absolutely not."
Text appeared beneath him.
CURGARDEN
Armintie frowned.
The screen changed.
Another resident.
A younger woman this time.
"She shouldn't come here."
"Elara?"
"Any Havin."
"None of them."
The woman pointed somewhere beyond the camera.
"My brother died during the Siege."
"My uncle died during the Fall."
"You want me to celebrate her?"
She shook her head.
"No."
The report moved on.
Another Curgarden resident.
This one was calmer.
"I don't hate Elara."
The reporter tilted the microphone toward him.
"I don't know Elara."
"That's the problem."
He shrugged.
"I know Havin."
"Everyone knows Havin."
"So if she wants me to accept her..."
"...she needs to show me she's not him."
Phoebe looked toward Zas.
"That's fair."
Zas nodded.
"Very."
...
The location changed.
Aetheris.
A woman stood outside what appeared to be a rebuilt grocery
shop.
"Maybe she will be different."
The reporter asked,
"You support her?"
The woman thought.
"I didn't say that."
Joanna smiled slightly.
The woman continued.
"She's Havin's daughter."
"That matters."
"...but she's not Havin."
"That matters too."
She folded her arms.
"Let her govern."
"Then we'll know."
The broadcast changed again.
An elderly man sat outside a damaged house.
He shrugged when asked about Elara.
"Give her a chance."
"Why?"
"Because somebody has to run the country."
Armintie laughed.
"That's not much of an endorsement."
"No."
Zas smiled.
"...but it is an endorsement."
The old man continued.
"Havin is dead."
"The princes are dead."
"Forman is in jail."
"Elara is alive."
He shrugged again.
"So let her try."
...
Then came another man.
He looked exhausted.
Not angry.
Not hopeful.
Simply...
Tired.
"Queen?"
He sighed.
"President?"
"King?"
"I don't care anymore."
The reporter paused.
"What do you care about?"
The man immediately pointed behind him.
"My house."
The camera turned slightly.
Half of it was still covered in construction sheeting.
"My street."
He pointed again.
"The school."
"The water."
"My wife has been waiting months for the clinic to
reopen."
He looked directly into the camera.
"I don't care what Elara calls herself."
"I want my country back."
The hotel room became quieter.
The report moved to another resident.
A woman holding a small child.
"We've had the Siege."
"We've had the Fall."
"We've had soldiers."
"Militias."
"Peace."
"Trials."
"Politicians."
She shook her head.
"I'm tired."
"Fix things."
"That's all."
Another man.
"I don't want revenge anymore."
A pause.
"I wanted it."
He looked away.
"A lot of us wanted it."
"...but look what revenge did."
The camera showed the street behind him.
Burned buildings stood beside newly reconstructed ones.
"Enough."
...
Joanna had stopped smiling.
Phoebe stared at the television.
Armintie was completely still.
Zas watched silently.
He had walked those streets.
He knew what had happened there.
...
The reporter appeared again.
"One of the more surprising findings from our
conversations was that opposition to Queen Elara did not necessarily translate
into support for Forman's claim to lead a future Republic of the Khotan
Valley."
The screen changed.
A Curgarden man laughed immediately when Forman's name was
mentioned.
"Forman?"
He shook his head.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I've already had Havin."
The reporter frowned.
"What do you mean?"
The man adjusted his coat.
"Forman will be Havin in a business suit instead of
royal robes."
Joanna made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a wince.
"Ouch."
Zas nodded.
"Very."
Another resident appeared.
"I supported Curgarden."
"Do you support Forman?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because Curgarden wasn't supposed to be about
Forman."
The answer came quickly.
"It was supposed to be about us."
"Our pay."
"Our homes."
"Our families."
"Our rights."
"Then everybody with a gun decided they spoke for
us."
The room went silent again.
Another resident.
This time from Aetheris.
"Havin was a tyrant."
"Forman would have become one."
The reporter asked,
"You believe they're comparable?"
The man frowned.
"No."
"They're different men."
"Different causes."
"Different supporters."
He paused.
"...but men who think they're the only person who can
save you usually become dangerous."
...
Wolf returned to the screen.
The image beside him showed photographs of Elara and Forman.
Wolf folded his hands.
"What our correspondent found was not a population
neatly divided between royalists and republicans."
"Nor between supporters of Elara and supporters of
Forman."
"The strongest sentiment..."
The images disappeared.
They were replaced by footage from the Fall.
Aetherian soldiers.
Curgarden fighters.
Burning streets.
Civilians fleeing.
"...was exhaustion."
Nobody on the couch moved.
Wolf continued.
"Among those who personally lived through the Siege of
Curgarden and the Fall of Aetheris, there was remarkably little appetite for
assigning innocence exclusively to either side."
"Former supporters of the Crown blamed Havin's
government for corruption, repression and the escalation of the Curgarden
crisis."
The footage changed.
"Residents sympathetic to Curgarden blamed royal forces
for the Siege..."
Then-
Curgarden fighters.
"...while also condemning the abuses, reprisals and
atrocities committed by forces fighting against the Crown during the
Fall."
Zas' expression hardened.
He remembered.
Elara.
Eldred.
The crowd.
What they had intended to do.
Wolf continued.
"Different people assign different degrees of
responsibility."
"...but almost nobody we spoke to who witnessed the
destruction firsthand described what happened as a simple story of heroes
defeating villains."
The screen showed Aetheris again.
Rubble.
Scaffolding.
Construction crews.
People walking through streets that were slowly becoming
streets again.
"For many Aetherians..."
Wolf said quietly.
"...the political question is no longer who won."
A worker lifted a new window into place.
"It's who can rebuild."
...
The segment ended.
For several seconds...
Nobody on the couch spoke.
Finally Armintie broke the silence.
"So..."
She looked toward Zas.
"...do they want Elara?"
Zas thought about the question.
"Some do."
"Some don't."
Armintie frowned.
"That's not an answer."
"It is."
Phoebe looked at her father.
"What about everybody else?"
Zas looked toward the television.
The broadcast had moved to commercials.
"I think everybody else wants to see what she
does."
Joanna nodded.
"That's probably the best she could hope for right
now."
Zas looked toward her.
"Yes."
He thought about the man standing beside his half-rebuilt
house.
I don't care what Elara calls herself.
I want my country back.
"She doesn't need everyone to love her today."
Phoebe leaned against him.
"Just not hate her?"
Zas smiled faintly.
"That would help."
Joanna laughed softly.
Then Zas became serious again.
"She needs them to believe tomorrow might be better
than yesterday."
Armintie considered that.
"...and if she can do that?"
"Then eventually..."
Zas looked toward the television.
"...they may stop caring whose daughter she is."
Phoebe smiled.
"...and start caring who she is."
Zas looked at her.
"Exactly."
Joanna rested her head against his shoulder again.
"She can do that."
Zas didn't answer immediately.
He hoped so.
He genuinely did.
...but he'd spent enough time in Aetheria to know that hope
wasn't the same thing as certainty.
Then Arel-Sin spoke.
"I think I'd rather have a Queen than a
President."
Everyone looked at him.
Zas raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
Arel-Sin shrugged.
"Queens get better clothes."
Phoebe groaned.
Armintie laughed.
Joanna immediately pointed toward him.
"See?"
She looked at Zas.
"Finally, somebody understands government."
Zas closed his eyes.
"Please do not teach my children politics."
"Too late."
Arel-Sin reached for his tie.
Zas opened one eye.
"No."
Arel-Sin dropped his hand.
The commercials continued.
Vince McGeady's mail was rarely interesting.
Important?
Sometimes.
Interesting?
Rarely.
Vince sat behind his desk with a stack of letters beside him
and another, considerably larger stack already destined for somebody else's
problem.
He opened the first.
Read three lines.
"Merchandising."
He tossed it aside.
The next.
"Licensing."
Aside.
Another.
A complaint from somebody claiming WFE had stolen his idea
for a wrestler who dressed like a pirate.
Vince stopped.
Read another paragraph.
Then laughed.
"No."
He dropped it onto another pile.
He knew exactly what was inside most of these before opening
them.
Requests.
Complaints.
Business proposals.
People convinced they had invented professional wrestling.
People convinced Vince personally owed them money.
People convinced they had discovered the next Logan Creed.
Usually...
They had not.
Vince picked up another envelope.
Bright blue.
Glitter around the edges.
He already knew.
He opened it anyway.
A birthday card.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, VINCE!
Vince stared.
Then opened it.
Inside—
HOPE IT'S THE BEST ONE YET!
—LOGAN
Vince looked toward the calendar.
It was not his birthday.
Not remotely.
He sighed.
Logan Creed sent him a birthday card every day.
Every.
Single.
Day.
Vince had never asked why.
The first time had been funny.
The second time had been confusing.
By the tenth, Vince had assumed Logan would stop.
By the hundredth...
It had become tradition.
Vince tossed the card onto a pile containing several other
identical cards.
"Thank you, Logan."
Then he reached for the next envelope.
Stopped.
This one was different.
Heavy paper.
Cream coloured.
An embossed symbol rested near the upper corner.
Vince frowned.
He didn't recognize it.
That alone made him curious.
He turned the envelope over.
No advertising.
No WFE logo.
No legal firm he knew.
No familiar corporate markings.
He opened it.
Slowly.
Inside was a formal letter.
Vince unfolded it.
Started reading.
His expression changed.
First curiosity.
Then confusion.
Then...
Complete bafflement.
He read the opening again.
Then the next paragraph.
Then the opening again.
"...What?"
Vince leaned closer.
The letter identified itself as official correspondence
concerning the estate of His Majesty King Havin of Aetheria.
Vince stared.
He knew who Havin was.
Everybody knew who Havin was now.
Dead king.
Aetheria.
Curgarden.
The Fall.
Joanna's mountain men.
That whole mess.
He continued reading.
The administrators of King Havin's estate had completed an
initial examination of the monarch's final will and testament.
Certain bequests remained subject to inventory.
Certain items remained subject to recovery.
Certain titles remained subject to verification following
the destruction of Aetheris.
Vince skimmed past the legal language.
Then stopped.
Read one sentence.
Went back.
Read it again.
"No."
He kept reading.
King Havin had left Vince McGeady...
...the physical properties of the Crown of Aetheria.
Vince stared.
"What?"
The letter continued.
The Royal Palace.
Vince blinked.
Government administrative buildings held as property of the
Crown.
He blinked again.
Private royal estates belonging to Havin.
Agricultural properties.
Stables.
Horses.
Carriages.
Royal vehicles.
Vince's eyebrows rose.
Military vehicles legally held among the Crown's physical
assets.
"...Military vehicles?"
He continued.
Weapons.
Storage facilities.
Firearms.
Ammunition.
Surviving equipment belonging to the Royal Guard and other
Crown-controlled military inventories.
Vince slowly lowered the paper.
He stared across his office.
Silence.
Then—
"Guns?"
He lifted the letter again.
Yes.
Guns.
Apparently...
Vince McGeady now owned guns in Aetheria.
Potentially.
Assuming anybody could find them.
He continued reading.
Furniture.
Artwork.
Ceremonial objects.
Jewellery belonging personally to the Crown.
Royal archives that qualified as personal rather than state
property.
Vince frowned.
That sounded complicated.
He skimmed.
Then stopped again.
His eyes widened.
"No."
He leaned forward.
The physical Crown of Aetheria.
The royal sceptre.
Vince read the line a second time.
Then a third.
He slowly leaned back.
Somewhere...
Possibly buried beneath rubble...
Possibly sitting in an evidence locker...
Possibly hanging on somebody's wall...
...was the actual crown worn by the Kings of Aetheria.
...and according to this letter...
It belonged to Vince.
Vince looked around the office.
As though someone might explain this.
Nobody did.
He returned to the letter.
No liquid assets were included.
No bank accounts.
No cash.
No bonds.
No investment holdings.
Nothing that could simply be transferred into a WFE account
and forgotten.
Only...
Stuff.
An unbelievable amount of stuff.
Assuming any of it still existed.
Vince began reading the attached inventory.
Royal Palace of Aetheris.
He knew that one had been wrecked.
Western Administrative Complex.
No idea.
Royal Equestrian Estate.
Horses.
Apparently.
Three government transport depots.
Possibly burned.
Fourteen royal vehicles.
Vince remembered seeing footage from the Fall.
Probably burned.
Ceremonial State Coach.
Maybe burned.
Royal Guard armoury.
Almost certainly looted.
Crown jewels and ceremonial regalia.
Vince paused.
He pictured somebody running through a burning palace
carrying a crown under one arm.
Not impossible.
He kept reading.
The list went on.
...and on.
...and on.
Eventually Vince placed the pages on his desk.
Then stared at them.
He had several immediate questions.
Why?
That was the largest.
Why had King Havin left any of this to Vince McGeady?
Vince had never met the man.
At least...
He didn't think he had.
He searched his memory.
No.
Definitely not.
He would remember meeting a king.
Probably.
Then came the second question.
How much was any of it worth?
A palace sounded expensive.
A ruined palace...
Less so.
Government buildings?
Land?
Horses?
Military equipment?
A crown?
How did you value a crown?
By gold?
Historical value?
Insurance?
Could you sell it?
Were you even allowed to sell it?
Could Vince put it in WFE headquarters?
Could somebody stop him?
Another question.
How much of this stuff still existed?
The letter itself repeatedly warned that the inventory
predated the Fall of Aetheris.
Some properties had been damaged.
Some destroyed.
Some occupied.
Some looted.
Some assets remained missing.
Several vehicles had not been located.
Large portions of the palace inventory had not yet been
recovered.
Military stockpiles were particularly uncertain.
Vince stared at the phrase.
particularly uncertain.
Meaning...
Somewhere in the Khotan Valley...
People might currently possess guns that technically
belonged to Vince McGeady.
He rubbed his forehead.
"This is ridiculous."
He picked up another page.
There were instructions.
Estate representatives.
Property claims.
Recovery procedures.
Government coordination.
Unity documentation.
Aetherian authorities.
Possible disputes.
Vince skimmed.
Then stopped.
He didn't want to deal with this.
Not now.
He had wrestling to book.
He folded the letter.
Not neatly.
Placed it beside the birthday card from Logan.
Then looked toward the large screen on his desk.
A match layout remained open.
"EPIC" EMMETT EVERETT
versus
BIG BABY TYRUS
Vince stared at it.
Something was wrong with the middle.
Too slow.
Emmett needed another comeback.
Tyrus needed to cut him off.
Then perhaps-
Vince moved one sequence.
Stopped.
Thought.
Moved it back.
"No."
He leaned closer.
"What if Tyrus catches him there..."
His attention completely returned to the match.
The late King Havin's palace sat forgotten beside Logan
Creed's birthday card.
Vince adjusted another sequence.
"...then Emmett gets the rope."
Yes.
Better.
Much better.
Vince smiled.
Outside his office...
Somewhere thousands of kilometres away...
...lawyers, administrators and government officials were
attempting to determine how much of a destroyed kingdom's royal property still
existed...
...and how exactly they were supposed to hand it over...
...to a professional wrestling promoter.
Vince moved one final spot.
Perfect.
Kingdoms could wait.
Big Baby Tyrus needed a finish.
Elara wanted to go outside.
That was all.
Nothing complicated.
Nothing royal.
Nothing diplomatic.
She wanted to walk.
The sun was shining.
The sky was clear.
The grounds surrounding the Unity complex looked beautiful
from the window.
There were trees.
Gardens.
Paths.
Benches.
Normal things.
Elara stared at them.
Then looked toward the security officer standing near the
door.
Then toward another farther down the corridor.
Then toward the two people who had spent the better part of
fifteen minutes discussing what would be required if Queen Elara of Aetheria
wished to leave the building.
Vehicles.
Advance teams.
Local security.
Unity security.
Route planning.
Crowd control.
Emergency contingencies.
Somebody had even mentioned airspace.
Elara looked back toward the window.
"...Never mind."
Eldred smiled.
"Good choice."
"I wanted to walk."
"I know."
"Outside."
"I know."
"In the sun."
"I know."
Elara sighed.
Apparently queens did not go for walks.
Queens launched operations.
So...
They stayed inside.
There were worse places to be trapped.
The Unity complex was enormous.
Government offices.
Conference rooms.
Diplomatic suites.
Restaurants.
Libraries.
Archives.
Lounges.
Entire sections Elara had not yet seen.
More importantly...
It contained people.
Lots of people.
People who knew things.
Which was fortunate.
Because Elara currently knew almost nothing.
She and Eldred spent the next several hours wandering
through the complex and flagging down anyone who appeared remotely useful.
Unity officials.
Diplomatic staff.
Legal advisers.
Civil servants.
Anyone who had dealt with Aetheria.
Anyone who knew someone who had dealt with Aetheria.
Anyone who might know where someone who had dealt with
Aetheria could presently be found.
The answers were not encouraging.
Most of Aetheria's senior political framework had
disappeared during the Fall.
Some were dead.
Some were missing.
Some had fled.
Some were under investigation.
Some apparently wanted absolutely nothing to do with
Aetheria ever again.
Elara could hardly blame them.
Still...
She needed somebody.
A finance minister.
A treasury official.
A senior civil servant.
A lawyer.
Especially-
"My father's lawyers."
Eldred looked toward her.
"What about them?"
"I need them."
"Why?"
Elara stopped walking.
"Because I need to know what happened to the
Treasury."
Eldred frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Elara's expression tightened.
"The Royal Treasury."
"Yes."
"I need to know what's in it."
Eldred waited.
Elara sighed.
"...because I don't think there's much."
That got his attention.
"How much is not much?"
"I don't know."
"Thousands?"
"I don't know."
"Millions?"
"I don't know."
"Nothing?"
Elara looked at him.
Eldred stopped.
"...Nothing?"
"I don't know."
That answer was becoming increasingly unpleasant.
They found an empty sitting area near one of the
administrative corridors.
Elara dropped into a chair.
Eldred sat opposite her.
For several seconds she stared at the floor.
Then-
"My father was obsessed with control."
Eldred raised an eyebrow.
"That part I knew."
"No."
Elara shook her head.
"I mean everything."
"Everything?"
"Everything."
She leaned back.
"Money."
"Property."
"Appointments."
"Contracts."
"Government spending."
"Everything."
Eldred listened.
"When tax money came into the Kingdom..."
Elara hesitated.
"...my father took it."
Eldred frowned.
"Took it where?"
"His accounts."
Silence.
Eldred stared at her.
"His personal accounts?"
"Yes."
"All of it?"
"Pretty much."
Eldred leaned back.
"...He could do that?"
"He was the King."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"It answered his."
Eldred considered that.
Fair enough.
Elara continued.
"The Treasury still existed."
"Technically."
"It had administrators."
"Records."
"Accountants."
"Budgets."
"Everything a Treasury was supposed to have."
"...except money?"
Elara nodded.
"Except money."
Eldred stared.
"That's insane."
"Yes."
"My father believed that if the money belonged to him
personally, then nobody could spend anything without his approval."
Elara began counting on her fingers.
"Road repairs."
"Government salaries."
"Military procurement."
"Schools."
"Palace expenses."
"Provincial grants."
"Everything ultimately came from accounts he
controlled."
Eldred's expression grew increasingly incredulous.
"So the entire Kingdom had to ask your father for
money?"
"More or less."
"Why?"
"Control."
The answer came immediately.
"He didn't trust ministers."
"He didn't trust governors."
"He didn't trust administrators."
"He didn't trust generals."
"He didn't trust anybody."
Eldred thought about that.
"Did he trust you?"
Elara smiled faintly.
"Sometimes."
That was probably the best answer available.
She continued.
"It wasn't just money."
"He did the same thing with property."
"The palace."
"The government buildings."
"The royal estates."
"The horses."
"The vehicles."
"The military equipment."
"Anything that legally belonged to the Crown..."
Elara shook her head.
"...he decreed belonged personally to him."
Eldred stared.
"Why?"
"Same reason."
"Control."
Elara leaned forward.
"If the Kingdom owned something, somebody could argue
they had authority over it."
"If Havin owned it..."
"...Havin decided."
Eldred nodded slowly.
The logic was becoming clear.
Terrible.
...but clear.
Elara continued.
"He weaponized it."
That wiped away what little amusement remained.
"How?"
"If you were loyal..."
She shrugged.
"...you got things."
"Money."
"Contracts."
"Resources."
"Positions."
"Repairs."
"Whatever you needed."
"...and if you weren't?"
"You waited."
Eldred's expression hardened.
"Sometimes forever."
Elara nodded.
"If a town annoyed him, suddenly there wasn't money for
something."
"If an official challenged him, perhaps his department
discovered its budget had become unexpectedly difficult to access."
"If somebody pleased him..."
She spread her hands.
"Everything became easy."
Eldred was quiet.
Then-
"Your father was crazy."
Elara frowned.
"He was ruthless."
"Yes."
"Controlling."
"Yes."
"Paranoid."
"Yes."
"...and just a little crazy."
Eldred stared at her.
"A little?"
Elara looked at him.
Eldred's expression did not change.
"A little?"
She tried not to smile.
Failed.
"Fine."
"A lot."
"Thank you."
Elara laughed.
For perhaps five seconds...
She genuinely wanted to continue.
There were stories.
So many stories.
The time Havin became convinced somebody was stealing spoons
from the palace.
The month he decided every government memorandum required
his personal seal.
His inexplicable hatred of one particular fountain.
The argument over curtains that somehow involved three
ministers and a military officer.
Elara could have spent hours explaining just how strange her
father had been.
Then reality returned.
The smile disappeared.
"None of that matters."
Eldred's expression softened.
Elara stared at her hands.
"I have thousands of people to pay."
Civil servants.
Soldiers.
Police.
Doctors.
Teachers.
Maintenance workers.
Administrators.
Whatever remained of the Royal Court.
Whatever remained of the government.
People who had families.
People who needed food.
People who had already endured months of chaos.
"...and I don't have any money."
Eldred frowned.
"You have money."
"I have personal money."
"That's still money."
"My father established a trust for me."
"How much?"
"Enough."
"Enough for what?"
Elara considered it.
"Me."
Eldred almost smiled.
Elara didn't.
"It's enough that I never had to worry about being
poor."
"Maybe enough to buy a house."
"Several houses."
"Travel."
"Live comfortably."
"Whatever."
She shook her head.
"It's not enough to operate a country."
Eldred leaned back.
"Aetheria isn't Rome."
Elara looked at him.
"No."
"I mean..."
He gestured vaguely.
"It's not enormous."
"No."
"It's the Khotan Valley."
"Yes."
"How expensive can it possibly be?"
Elara stared.
Eldred immediately became less confident.
"...Very?"
Elara thought back.
Years ago.
She had been a child.
Maybe eleven.
Maybe twelve.
She had been wandering through one of her father's offices
while waiting for him to finish a meeting.
There had been papers everywhere.
Most meant nothing to her.
One had caught her attention because the number seemed
impossibly large.
"I remember seeing an invoice once."
Eldred waited.
"For what?"
"The Royal Court."
"Food?"
"No."
"Salaries."
Eldred frowned.
"How much?"
"I don't remember exactly."
Elara searched her memory.
"Several million."
"In a year?"
"Yes."
Eldred blinked.
"Just the palace?"
"Just the Royal Court."
Silence.
Elara watched him do the mathematics.
Royal Court.
Then government.
Military.
Police.
Schools.
Hospitals.
Roads.
Infrastructure.
Pensions.
Utilities.
Reconstruction.
Debt.
Whatever else neither of them had thought about yet.
Eldred's eyes widened.
"Oh."
Elara nodded.
"Yes."
"Oh."
"Exactly."
Eldred sank deeper into the chair.
For several seconds...
Neither spoke.
Then Elara noticed her phone.
It sat beside her.
Face down.
She picked it up.
The screen illuminated.
Elara froze.
327 MISSED CALLS
Her eyes widened.
Below that-
VOICEMAIL FULL
Then-
936 NOTIFICATIONS
Elara stared.
Eldred noticed.
"What?"
She turned the phone toward him.
His eyes widened.
"...Oh."
Elara tapped the screen.
Messages flooded past.
Journalists.
Government officials.
Foreign embassies.
Unknown numbers.
Unity contacts.
Aetherians.
People claiming to represent Aetherians.
People claiming to represent organizations Elara had never
heard of.
People asking for interviews.
People asking for statements.
People asking for money.
People asking for appointments.
People asking whether they still had jobs.
People asking whether Elara intended to abolish their jobs.
People congratulating her.
People threatening her.
People begging for help.
People apparently wanting selfies.
Elara stared.
Then slowly lowered the phone.
Eldred reached into his pocket.
His expression changed.
"Oh no."
Elara looked over.
Eldred stared at his own screen.
184 MISSED CALLS
VOICEMAIL FULL
Hundreds upon hundreds of notifications.
He looked at Elara.
Elara looked at him.
Neither spoke.
Then Eldred stood.
Elara stood.
They hugged.
No ceremony.
No romance.
No words.
Just-
A hug.
A long one.
Elara rested her forehead against his shoulder.
Eldred wrapped both arms around her.
For several seconds...
The phones continued vibrating.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Neither moved.
Finally Eldred spoke.
"How much more complicated can this get?"
Elara closed her eyes.
Her phone vibrated again.
Then his.
Then hers.
Then his.
Elara tightened the hug.
"I don't think we should ask that."
Eldred considered it.
"...Good point."
Another vibration.
Elara sighed.
Somewhere...
Her father's lawyers existed.
Hopefully.
Somewhere...
The money of Aetheria existed.
Hopefully.
Somewhere...
Thousands of people were waiting for their new Queen to tell
them what happened next.
Elara had been Queen for less than a day.
Already...
She desperately needed a Finance Minister.
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