Castle Kingside - Chapter 65

Dimitry stepped out of a cold tower and into a spacious corridor. His heavy boots hit the sleek and solid floor, every clack and tap echoing across granite and marble walls. The castle’s third floor, and a destination he visited with increasing frequency.

Just three days ago, court sorceresses brought him here to cure the queen’s plague. Today, however, no one forced him to come. He marched through the passageway of his own volition to tell Her Majesty that he accepted her offer. That he would serve as the court doctor in exchange for a dilapidated cathedral.

His hospital.

Or what would become one, assuming he played his cards right and managed to reach the queen’s chambers.

Barraging him from all sides were the piercing glares of robed women and steel-clad men. Dozens of them. They stood against the walls, their plain yet menacing getups coated a shade of blue by enchanted stones embedded in the floor.

Were there always this many?

No.

Something felt off.

Despite Dimitry’s attempts to avoid eye contact with the stone-faced guards, one threw out a hand to halt his advance. Her stalwart and incriminating eyes attacked him from the shadow cast by her yellow hood. “Her Majesty demands your immediate presence.”

Dimitry took a step back. Why did the queen want to see him now? Did she know he came to meet with her, or was it something else? For example, him ordering the murder of a rival surgeon. “May I know why?”

“You’ll find out.” The court sorceress beckoned him forward.

Although Dimitry’s gut feeling nagged at him to escape, to run away from an imminent trap, he followed her lead. Declining her command would only make him more suspicious than he already was. Even if he tried to leave, how far would he get before being stomped into the ground by trained warriors?

As he trudged forward, the number of court sorceresses, combat mages, and armed soldiers increased. They concentrated at the end of the corridor in front of a pair of marble doors, whose grandiosity reached the ceiling. Muffled voices came from beyond.

Whatever the occasion, it was doubtlessly more important than Dimitry.

The court sorceress he followed nodded at two more, signaling them to pull on the doors’ golden handles. With a heavy and prolonged creak, a large room slowly revealed itself. A chandelier with engraved illumina rocks hung over a round table playing host to a teapot, eight cups, and a person sat behind each one.

Among them was the queen herself. Unlike the times they met in private, her red eyes exuded prestige and power.

“I remember him,” a portly man in glowing armor blathered in a demeaning tone. “We don’t need a surgeon right now.”

The woman sitting across from Marquis Richter, perhaps only a decade younger than the queen, straightened the yellow cuffs of her decorated red robe. “So that’s the famed Jade Surgeon? Personally, I wouldn’t mind hearing his opinion on the matter.”

“We’re discussing war with demons and bandits, sweetheart. If my knights find a constipated heathen, I’ll call for him personally.”

“How simple-minded.” The woman took a sip from her cup. “As expected of a brute who knows nothing more than how to swing a heavy stick. Magic like his could change everything.”

“Brutes, huh?” Richter leaned forward, an amused frown on his face. “Would you and your delicate sorceresses like to try fighting on the front lines for once instead of hiding atop a wall?”

“Do you think you can ground flying and carapaced devils in our place?”

“Richter. Mira. That’s enough,” Amelie Pesce commanded. “I called for Dimitry personally.”

Mira? Wasn’t that the name of the Sorceresses guild’s guildmaster? It would explain her robe’s unique design.

The queen glanced up at the controversial surgeon. “Have you decided?”

Dimitry took a relieved breath. The queen didn’t accuse him of anything. Instead, she followed up on their deal—one that would be foolish to decline. Not only did she want his input on city-wide decisions, but she also offered him ownership of a cathedral in return. An asset that would prove invaluable for saving lives, making money, and as a pharmaceutical manufacturing facility. Although managing it would be nothing short of challenging and cause endless problems, they were the sort worth tackling. And, as the queen’s personal doctor, Dimitry would have access to information and resources few others did.

His decision was easy.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I intend to serve to the best of my ability.”

“As of this moment, you are this court’s doctor.” She curled a finger. “Bring him a chair.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” a maid muttered. She leaped away from the circular room’s wall to fulfill her duty while another poured a fresh cup of tea and set it onto the table.

“Take a seat.”

Dimitry did as the queen commanded and glanced at the indigo-eyed girl sitting beside her. He gave Saphiria a nod in response to her hesitant smile.

“But we don’t know anything about him,” Richter grumbled. “He could be working with the other kingdoms or even the Church itself.”

“I understand your concerns.” Amelie glanced at the person sitting next to Dimitry. “Lukas, did you learn anything about our mysterious guest?”

The man held a cup in a hand missing a pinky. “On orders from Her Royal Majesty herself, I sent one of my best men to track Dimitry as he navigated Malten. He spent most of his time inside the hospital and its cellar, communicating with no outsiders except for the ill, cursed refugees, and the prominent Blue Compass merchant Sophie. In addition, I took it upon myself to investigate the death of a rival surgeon named Josef.”

Richter tapped a finger against the table impatiently. “And what did you find, spymaster?”

Lukas shook his head. “The Jade Surgeon was in his guest room at the time of incident, so his involvement is unlikely.”

Although Dimitry took a sip of bitter tea as if unfazed, he was anything but. Why did the queen order her spymaster to trail him? Did she wish to protect him from the conspiring surgeons, or was it to ease her subordinates’ suspicions of him?

Neither.

According to Precious, someone had been stalking him since his second day in Malten aside from intimidating thugs. The spy Lukas mentioned. Back then, Dimitry was just another surgeon tasked with curing the plague.

Did the queen distrust him from the start?

“How about you, Mira?” Amelie asked. “Did Angelika uncover anything?”

A pang of betrayal struck Dimitry. He considered that Angelika wasn’t a mere guard. In a city where militarized mages held more value than doctors, it made little sense for him to receive personal protection when Josef and the other surgeons didn’t. Dimitry had assumed Angelika’s support was his reward for returning Saphiria to her home, but discovering the truth so suddenly stung.

Did the curly-haired girl rat him out for Josef’s murder?

“Nothing of the sort. I’ve only heard praise from her.” The sorceress guildmaster folded her arms onto the table. “Not only did the young man save her mother—my head enchantress Raina—from the curse, he also displayed rare magics and spent every waking moment saving lives. I believe he will make an excellent addition to your court, Your Royal Majesty.”

Dimitry’s pounding heart eased its relentless assault against his ribcage. Angelika covered for him. He guzzled his tea in relief.

“Do you need more testimony?” The queen asked.

Marquis Richter groaned. “No, Your Majesty.”

“With that settled, let’s continue to where we left off before the Jade Surgeon’s tumultuous arrival. Klaire?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” A beautiful woman with bundled light blue hair lifted a book off of her lap and set it onto the table. As if knowing its contents by heart, she flipped open the cover to her desired page and scrolled down with her finger. “This week, Amphurt’s refined iron and vol production decreased once more. From ninety-four and four and three-quarter cartfulls to eighty-nine and three and a half cartfulls.” She looked up. “At this rate, we might not have enough to bargain with Ontaria and Feyt for supplies.”

The blacksmiths guildmaster sitting to Dimitry’s right, who wore a shirt for perhaps the first time in his life, sighed. “Metal quality has been getting worse, too. Often, my wrought iron shipments have far too many slag inclusions, making them difficult to work with.” Elias crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “We need to get the finery forges working right.”

“Is that why your rock hammers blunt so quickly?” Richter asked. “Before, my men could crush a carapaced devil’s shell without issue, but now even a crawler heathen’s leg is enough to dent them.”

“My smiths are doing the best they can with what they have.”

Saphiria looked up from her lap at Dimitry, expectation in her eyes. She had mentioned that Amphurt was a vital town east of Malten that served as the center for this kingdom’s mining and smelting operations—the queen’s primary source of income. The ongoing conversation only reaffirmed Amphurt’s importance.

Without metal, this city would fall.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t do anything to help: Dimitry couldn’t fight and knew little about mining. Perhaps the man in the dark hall would grant him a spell allowing him to assimilate Earth’s collective knowledge, but he didn’t get his hopes up. This world never made it easy for him.

Did something else exist that could help?

He hoped so.

Mira brushed her short, hazelnut hair from her face. “Klaire, will the vol shortage be problematic for my girls?”

“Not this month or the next, but I predict it will soon.”

The sorceress guildmaster frowned. “As if the taxes weren’t bad enough.”

“We have to slaughter those damn bandits before they cause any more damage,” Richter blurted. “Do we even know where their outpost is?”

The spymaster, whose pinky-less hand now hid in his pocket, met the marquis’s gaze. “My men questioned a few bandits and learned that it’s in the eastern forest. It’s only a matter of time until we find it.”

“I leave the matter to you, Lukas,” the queen said. “Richter. How goes Amphurt’s defense against heathens?”

“Not well, Your Majesty.” The portly man adorned in glowing armor sighed. “My army can’t patrol the northern border and defend Malten at the same time. The local militia isn’t organized, either. They’re useless in a surprise attack. I propose we build proper towers and walls around Amphurt and its mines to give them a fighting chance.”

“That won’t be possible,” someone short and stout spoke up. It was Moritz—Dimitry’s former patient and Malten’s stonemason guildmaster. “My people are struggling to make repairs to this city’s walls, let alone Amphurt’s. We can’t transport and shape enough stone in time.”

“Would more refugees help?” Lukas asked. “My scouts report that Einheart lost half of its defenses this past night of repentance. Desperate people in search of work should arrive soon.”

“That won’t help,” Moritz said. “Although they’re not dying on the job anymore thanks to the Jade Surgeon’s efforts, I’d still have to train and house them, hoping they don’t flee south as soon as they learn to quarry.”

Amelie’s red eyes narrowed. “How fares Volmer?”

“Better than Einheart,” the spymaster said, “worse than us. I guarantee their survival for several months.”

“Are Feyt and Ontaria still sending them aid?”

“They are, Your Majesty, but I fear grain won’t be enough to save them.”

“I see.” The queen glanced at Klaire. “And what of our own food stores?”

The blue-haired woman fiddled with a pen-like object resting on her ear. “They’re dwindling rapidly, Your Majesty. Despite lax hunting laws and increased wheat prices, I fear we might have to further our reliance on the southern countries.”

“She’s right, Your Majesty.” Richter exhaled a prolonged groan. “My fields’ productivity isn’t what it used to be.”

“Hmm.” The queen leaned back. “What of our fishing boats?”

Klaire flipped ahead a few pages in her book. “The three we sent out yesterday returned with damage to their hulls and little to show for it. They’re currently in port receiving repairs.”

“Damn fishmen,” Richter groaned. “My army can’t afford a war with heathens, bandits, and aquatic demons all at once.”

Mira straightened her robe’s cuffs. “For once, we are of the same opinion.”

The queen stared at Dimitry as if coaxing something from him. Did she want him to speak up? Perhaps it was why she wanted him to be her court’s doctor in the first place—his ability to communicate with aquatic demons.

A skill that would doubtlessly bring him trouble.

‘How much trouble?’ was the question. Assuming the aquatic demons that attacked the merchant vessel he rode from Coldust returned to their ‘hierarch’ with news regarding Dimitry the human diplomat, it would grant him a modicum of safety during negotiations. They seemed graceful and understanding, even amid a ship raid. Precious was proof that humanity could cooperate with corrupted creatures. Why would aquatic demons be any different?

Could Dimitry establish diplomatic ties with them? It shouldn’t be too difficult. After all, the best basis for an international treaty was already in place.

Shared enemies.

The Church and the ‘rock giants’.

Not only would Dimitry end a ceaseless war, but he could also set the foundation for a human-demon alliance that fought united against heathens. How many lives would he save on both sides? Would it prevent damage to the city? Could it lead to the development of novel technologies using magic known only to corrupted creatures? For example, faeries could locate and manipulate people by preying on their emotions. Did aquatic demons possess a similar ability? Perhaps something more potent? Or maybe a spell Dimitry could modify with his scientific knowledge?

Yes.

His decision would lead to trouble.

But it was trouble worth undertaking.

Dimitry cleared his throat, keeping a deceptively calm expression as everyone in the room, even the guards and maids stood against the walls, burdened him with heavy stares. “As many of you heard earlier, I am in possession of strange magic.”

Mira smiled. “From my sorceresses and the enchanted bedclothes Her Majesty allowed me to study, I’d describe it as powerful rather than strange.”

“What of it?” Richter blurted.

“Besides being able to modify preservia like I did to cure the plague, I have other spells, too.”

“Do you speak of your disappearing magic?” Mira asked.

“Disappearing magic?” Lukas leaned forward. “My men in Amalthea reported hearing of such a thing. Does it truly exist?”

“My head enchantress and her daughters saw it. They wouldn’t jest about such a matter.”

“In that case,” Lukas said, rolling a dark green pellet across the table, “would the Jade Surgeon demonstrate it for us?”

Of course a spymaster would be interested in a spell that turned things invisible. His eager face and that of the others sat around the table. The expectant maids, court sorceresses, and soldiers stood against the room’s walls compelled Dimitry to reach for the marble-sized vol pellet.

Although he would reveal his ace in the hole, a spell that allowed him to escape from peril, declining Lukas’s request would lose him credibility and what little respect Dimitry had from those in the room. Conversely, showing off his magic would win him support.

A trade-off. One that netted positive.

Like a washed-out circus performer who could only repeat the last trick he remembered, Dimitry placed a palm onto the table.

“Invisall.”

It vanished from sight, leaving a stewardess’s book, nine cups of tea, and a teapot floating in mid-air.

Mira stared with composed yet wide-open eyes.

Lukas ran a finger along the table’s edge.

Then, murmurs. Talking. Excited voices erupted throughout the room. Even court sorceresses, who spoke only as much as necessary, engaged in furious debate amongst one another. Everyone glanced at Dimitry as if desperate to learn his secrets.

Before they could ask him questions he preferred not to answer, he rushed back into his speech. “As I was saying, I am in possession of strange magic. This spell makes people and objects disappear. Another works only on myself and allows me to communicate with aquatic demons. I’ve negotiated with them before. They’re not the unthinking monsters most people envision they are. I believe it’s possible to peacefully end the war.”

“A-absolute madness,” Richter exclaimed.

“It makes sense.” Elias ran a giant hand across his bald head. “They know how to make basic weapons and armor, so they can’t be simple beasts.”

“Blasphemy,” a guard stood against the wall muttered.

The discussion quickly became chaotic. Some voices hopeful, others furious.

Her Majesty gave Dimitry a reassuring smile, one that lasted a split second, then slammed her fist against an invisible table.

“Silence!”

The chatter ended.

“While consorting with corrupted beasts is blasphemous, unthinkable, what does that mean to us who lost the Church’s blessing so long ago?” Amelie shook her head. “No. We didn’t lose it. They took it from us, abandoned us. How many here lost friends, family, lovers in a senseless war? Everyone here should know by now what really happened eight years ago.”

An armored guard behind the queen lowered his spear and gaze, perhaps remembering something he wished to forget.

“Does anyone else have a better plan? Should we throw away more lives while blindly following the teachings? Wait for the Church to rescue us? This surgeon, the one who saved many amongst us already, offers his aid once more. Are we to spit in his face? Personally, I want no more needless bloodshed dirtying my hands. I already have enough.”

Only creaking furniture and the clanking of metal armor filled the room.

“However.” Her red eyes focused on Dimitry. “Can you truly end this senseless war without sacrifice?”

“I believe it’s possible to negotiate a truce, Your Majesty. Heathens threaten aquatic demons as much as they do us. When I spoke to them on Malten’s shores, they weren’t averse to cooperation. I am known as a diplomat to one they call ‘hierarch’.”

“Hierarch?” Lukas asked with furrowed eyes. “I’ve never heard of such a creature.”

“That’s my point exactly.” Dimitry glanced around at a sea of dubious faces. “We are blindly fighting a war with a race we know nothing about. What else could we learn about them? Gain from them? Access to fishing locations to feed a starving city? Magic that could turn the tide in battle or change the way we live? Something else we’ve never imagined? The possibilities are endless.”

“New spells, you say?” Mira sipped her tea. “I believe I speak for every sorceress in this room that your words are tempting, indeed.”

Klaire scrolled through her book. “If we regained uncontested access to our old fishing spots, we could offset our agricultural losses and reduce our reliance on neighboring countries by thirty percent.”

“And you volunteer to speak to them?” Richter asked. “Why would you, a surgeon with no ties to this city, risk your life for us?”

“It is precisely because I am a surgeon,” Dimitry said. “Although it is my job, I take no joy in mending dying men. I prefer them to live. If we’re successful, not only will we risk fewer lives, but we’ll have an ally to help us ward off heathen attacks. Prevention is the best cure for death.”

Intrigued whispers leaked from the corners of the room. Contrary to her primal nature, a court sorceress stood against the wall nodded at Dimitry.

“I’ll support the Jade Surgeon’s efforts by sending a boat and diplomatic gifts,” the queen said.

Richter rocked in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, then came to a halt. “I assume we’re going to Fishman Island to negotiate? I’ll send a few soldiers and nothing more. I can’t afford to lose men to silly games.”

“Although I’d love to come myself to see your magic in person,” Mira said, looking at Dimitry, “my endless duties require me to stay here. You will have Angelika and several of my other girls.”

“I’m not much use in a fight,” the blacksmithing giant Elias said, “but I will send some of my best work. Hope it helps.”

Lukas the spymaster maintained a blank expression. “I’ll allocate messenger pigeons and a keeper.”

“I’ll throw in some stuff too, I guess.” Moritz the stonemason grinned. “Maybe aquatic demons like gypsum statuettes.”

“Mother,” a quiet voice belonging to a girl with raven black hair spoke up.

Everyone turned to face her.

Saphiria’s face was full of resolve. “I wish to go as well.”

“No. You will stay in the castle.” The queen turned to look at the woman with light-blue hair. “Klaire, you’ll accompany Dimitry.”

“But Your Majesty, I cannot—”

“Few know this kingdom as well as you do. You will serve in my stead in the negotiations. I will see that you’re properly rewarded.”

Klaire’s hands trembled as they closed her book. “Y-yes, Your Majesty.”

“Everyone has until tomorrow night to finish their preparations.” Amelie gripped the sides of her royal mantle and slowly rose to her feet. “This summit is adjourned.”