Mad Queen, page 22
CHAPTER 25
The train glided through the city center, past buildings that showed the architectural heritage of Arthur's original Avalon. Just like elsewhere in the city, the graceful spires and flowing lines had been gradually corrupted by Draconite additions. Thomas could already see Ursan workers busy removing some of the more obvious signs of their oppressors' influence.
They disembarked at the central station, Gawain leading them through streets that buzzed with revolutionary energy. Groups of Ursan citizens moved with purpose, many carrying tools as improvised weapons as they searched for enemy stragglers. The occasional sound of distant explosions continued to rumble across the city, but here in the commercial district, the uprising seemed to be well in Ursan hands..
"Mercenary Guild Hall is just two blocks this way," Gawain explained, pointing down a wide avenue lined with tall buildings.
They made their way toward it through the crowded streets, drawing curious glances from the populace. Thomas noticed how people's expressions changed when they identified the armed warriors who had clearly led the liberation, headed by a man whose presence carried almost supernatural authority. Arthur's essence stirred within him as citizens began pointing and whispering once they recognized the significance of the group. Word was spreading fast as to who they were and what they represented.
The Mercenary Guild Hall stood three stories tall, its facade decorated with crossed weapons. Guild members lounged on the front steps, their equipment and bearing marking them as professionals despite the casual atmosphere. They barely reacted to Thomas and his group as they trooped up the steps past them. It was as if they were expected.
Inside, the hall buzzed with a companionable atmosphere. Groups of mercenaries clustered around heavy wooden tables sharing war stories, drinking ale, and showing off recently plundered weapons. Others studied holographic job postings that flickered above wall-mounted displays. Laughter erupted from one corner where a group celebrated a successful mission, while quieter conversations near the job boards suggested more serious business being conducted. Unlike outside, conversations died as they entered, every eye turning to study the newcomers with more than passing interest.
Aldrich approached the reception desk where a grizzled mercenary sat reviewing contracts on a holographic display. The man looked up with professional interest, his eyes scanning the group's equipment and bearing.“I don’t recognize you lot,” he said. "You come here looking for work? I'll need to see guild credentials before I can discuss any contracts."
"Aldrich, guild identifier seven-seven-four-nine-six-one-zero,” Aldrich said. “I don’t have my physical creds on me. You’ll have to look it up.”
The clerk tapped on his terminal, then glanced from the screen to Aldrich and back, apparently comparing the real thing to a saved image. "Aldrich…yep, that’s you.” His features twisted as realization hit. “Wait, you're the one I spoke to earlier about the garrison position." His gaze returned to Thomas and the others, taking in their distinctive armor and the mixed composition of their group. "Hold on. You wouldn't happen to be..."
"Excalibur's crew," Thomas confirmed.
The man's weathered features split into a genuine grin as he rose from his seat. "Well, I'll be damned. The Draconite pay decent rates, but I have to say—it's good to see them get theirs for once. What brings you here, of all places? You should be a few blocks over, joining the group trying to breach city hall and kill all the Draconite officials cowering inside.”
“I’m sure the residents can take care of that themselves,” Aldrich answered for Thomas. "We're here because we’re looking for someone. Well, not just any someone. Sir Lancelot.”
The mercenary's eyebrows rose. "Lancelot? As in the legendary knight?"
“Yes,” Aldrich confirmed. “Have you seen him?”
“I didn’t even know he was on Alorion.”
“He is,” Thomas said. “And we urgently need to find him."
The mercenary studied Thomas's face for a moment, clearly recognizing the seriousness of the request. "I'll ask around. Give me a couple hours to put the word out through our network. Come back later and I'll have something for you."
"Thank you," Thomas said. "We'll be back."
They left the guild hall and regrouped on the street outside. Thomas heard shouting close by, followed by three repeated thumps he couldn’t identify. He could only assume they came from city hall.
"Now what?" Gawain asked.
“Can you take us to the thieves guild?” Thomas asked.
“That won't be as straightforward as the mercenary guild,” the young soldier answered. “Thieves don't advertise their locations, for obvious reasons.”
“So how do we find them?"
Percival grinned. “That’s easy, Captain. The easiest way to find the thieves guild is to catch a thief."
“That’s easy?” Garant skeptically asked.
“If they aren’t a very good thief,” Percival replied. “Any crowded tavern should do, the nicer the better. Thieves always go after the most affluent marks.”
They made their way deeper into the city center, inadvertently ending up outside what Thomas assumed was Arthon’s city hall. Here, the signs of revolution were more chaotic. The citizens of Arthon, joined by Ursan garrison troops and law enforcement, had succeeded in entering the building, and were now dragging Draconite officials out into the streets.
Thomas watched as a terrified Draconite bureaucrat clawed at the street, trying to get back to his feet and escape the mob, whose faces were twisted with a century of pent-up rage. The official's screams were cut short as the crowd descended on him with improvised weapons, their fury finally finding an outlet.
It was hard to witness, but Thomas forced himself not to interfere. These people had suffered under tyranny for a hundred years. Their anger was justified, even if its expression was ugly. Intervening now would only undermine the revolution they'd helped start.
“The price of freedom,” Aldrich said, noticing Thomas’ disgust. “It’ll be worth it in the morning, Captain.”
They continued past the city center for two more blocks before entering a tavern called The Copper Crown. The main room was filled with long wooden tables where patrons, who seemed happier nursing ale than joining the excitement outside, huddled over drinks, making quiet conversation.
Thomas and his crew took seats at one of the larger tables, ordering drinks to blend in while they observed the crowd. Percival and Aldrich scanned the room with experienced eyes, looking for signs of charlatans or pickpockets among the regular clientele.
Thomas spotted her first, a woman in loose clothing moving through the crowd with practiced ease. Her movements were too smooth, too purposeful. As he watched, she approached a table where a well-dressed man sat with three others, passing him by without slowing.
The merchant never noticed his purse disappear, but Thomas did. His education on the streets of Bed Stuy had finally come in handy. He rose and followed her toward the tavern's exit, keeping his distance while she made her way through the crowd. She stepped outside into the late afternoon light. He followed her into the alley between the tavern and the adjacent building. finding it empty. The woman had apparently vanished, but Thomas sensed something amiss. He took a few more steps forward, scanning the shadows between the buildings.
Arthur's essence suddenly flared with warning. Thomas spun around just as the thief exploded into view, her knife already angling toward his back. He caught her wrist in a firm grip, but she was quick and experienced. Instead of trying to muscle through his superior strength, she used his momentum against him, pivoting and driving her knee toward his midsection. When he shifted to block, she twisted sharply and slipped from his grasp as fluidly as water.
Before he could regain his balance, she hooked her foot behind his ankle and shoved hard against his chest. Thomas stumbled backward, losing his footing and going down on the cobblestones.. She followed him down, using his momentary disorientation to avoid his guard, her knife finding his throat before he could knock it from her hand.
He stilled as her knife pressed firmly against his throat. "Looking for me, handsome?” she asked.
"Actually, yes," Thomas replied calmly, not attempting to move away from the weapon. "I'm looking for information, if you have it."
The knife suddenly flew from her hand as if pulled by invisible strings. A moment later, she was lifted off her feet and pressed against the alley wall by magical force, her feet dangling inches above the ground.
Thomas turned to see his crew walking into the alley, Arthur’s shard around Halvy’s neck glowing with magical energy as the young wizard held the woman suspended.
"Much better," Thomas said, getting to his feet. "Now we can talk properly."
The woman struggled against the magical bonds holding her, but Halvy's power was absolute. "What do you want?" she demanded.
“I’m looking for Sir Lancelot. He’s—”
“I know who Sir Lancelot is,” she spat. “I’m not an uneducated fool.”
“Have you seen him?”
She laughed. “Here? In Arthon? Why would the mighty Sir Lancelot come here?”
“That’s none of your business. Have you seen him or not?”
She shook her head. "No one like that's come through our territory that I know of.”
“If I wanted the thieves network to keep an eye out for him, who would I talk to?” Thomas asked.
“Kelwick,” she replied. “He’s…actually, that reminds me. We did have a strange visitor to the guild hall earlier," she admitted after a moment. "Got into it with ol’ Kelly. Stranger took his coin and gear after beating him in a fight. The funny part is the stranger claimed they had a duel, and it was honorable for him to steal everything Kelly had.”
“That sounds like our man,” Percival said.
“It does?” the woman replied. “Since when does Sir Lancelot beat up on thieves? I thought he had bigger targets to go after.”
“He hasn’t been himself recently,” Thomas answered. “That’s why we need to find him. Do you know what his plans were?”
“No,” the woman replied. "You'd have to ask Kelwick.”
Thomas nodded to Halvy, who gently lowered the woman back to the ground. The magical bonds holding her dissolved, leaving her free to move.
"You're going to lead us to your guild hall," Thomas informed her.
She laughed. "Like hells I am."
"The local garrison has sworn fealty to me," Thomas said quietly, Arthur's essence adding weight to his words. “The rest are likely to follow. Once the dust settles from this revolution, I'll have the power to shut down your operations entirely."
Her laughter died. "That wouldn't be as easy as you think."
"No," Thomas agreed. "It would be complicated for everyone involved. I don't want that any more than you do. I just want to find Lancelot."
The woman studied his face for a long moment, clearly weighing her options. Finally, she sighed. "Fine. I'll take you to the guild hall, but if this goes sideways, just remember—you forced my hand."
"Understood," Thomas replied. "Lead the way."
She guided them through a maze of streets, moving with the confidence of someone who knew every shortcut and secret route in the city. She made Thomas think of himself in his past life as a bicycle messenger in Manchester. And another woman in an alley.
The guild hall, when they finally reached it, looked like nothing more than a modest residential building squeezed between two larger structures. Inside, the narrow foyer opened into a larger space where several men were engaged in gambling and drinking. The conversation died as Thomas and his crew entered, weapons and armor marking them as clearly outside the guild's normal clientele. They shot to their feet, daggers in hand, ready to defend their turf.
“Dorica, what in the hells is this?” one of them cried.
“Relax,” Thomas said. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I just need to talk to—”
"Kelwick!” Dorica called out. "Someone wants to talk to you about your visitor from earlier."
A man with brown hair and suspicious eyes entered from an adjacent room. “Did you find that bastard?” he asked with a grin. “Quick work for mercs. I only put the bounty out a couple of hours ago.”
“No, we haven’t found him yet,” Thomas answered, “but that’s why we’re here. We’re looking for him. Tell me what he wanted.”
Kelwick’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, so you’re here for information. Well, I’m sure you know that around these parts, information doesn’t come free.”
“Tell me what he wanted,” Thomas repeated, this time allowing Arthur’s essence to add power to his words.
Kelwick's eyes narrowed, his homely features twisting as he was compelled to share. "He was looking for passage to Vrakos."
"Vrakos," Thomas repeated, feeling Arthur's essence stir with recognition. That particular Ursan world lay closer to the center of the galaxy. Closer to where Camelot had once orbited its sun. “What does he want there?”
“I have no idea,” Kelwick replied. “He didn’t say.”
“Did you give him what he asked for?” Aldrich asked.
"Probably," Kelwick admitted grudgingly. “I told him about a cargo hauler that takes on passengers and doesn't ask too many questions. He stole enough from me to pay for the ride.”
Thomas nodded, the pieces falling into place. Ironside was on his way to Vrakos, probably already aboard the merchant vessel and beyond their immediate reach.
"Thank you," he said to Kelwick. "You've been very helpful. I’ll remember that.”
They left the Guild Hall. "Vrakos," Percival said as they regrouped on the street outside, the sounds of ongoing revolution providing a chaotic backdrop to their planning. “He might already be there by now.”
“That depends on whether or not the hauler was making multiple stops,” Aldrich countered. “We may have a chance to catch up to him if we leave right away.”
“We can’t leave right away,” Thomas said. “The revolution will last the night. But in the morning, these people will want to turn to someone for direction and organization. As much as I don’t like it, that someone is me.”
CHAPTER 26
Morgana stood in her private chambers, fingers drumming against the window sill as she stared out at the familiar sprawling nighttime vista of Hreth. The golden beam from her palace illuminated the surrounding mountainside, bathing her military districts in endless light so bright it was almost as if it were daylight. The beacon had shone for nearly a century. Tonight, however, it felt less like a mark of unshakeable strength and more like a desperate call reaching out into the void.
The comms terminal chimed with its distinctive crystalline tone, breaking her from the brooding contemplation that had consumed her thoughts since returning from Kheir-Lossan. General Strix's features materialized above the holographic projector. His vertical pupils contracted as he took in her appearance, likely noting the tension in her posture despite her attempts to maintain imperial composure.
She could never fool her most trusted servant.
"Your Majesty," he said, exposing his throat in the traditional gesture of submission. "The shuttle is inbound. ETA fifteen minutes to the palace landing pad."
"Acknowledged," Morgana replied. The single word emerged clipped and precise, betraying none of the anticipation that churned beneath her composed exterior. "Any word on Excalibur's movements?"
Strix's expression darkened with barely suppressed frustration. "We know the ship visited both Avalyeth and Falias, Your Majesty. Likely to inform them of your cancellation of the agreement and rally their ongoing support. Reports indicate significant activity at the Druid capital, though the details remain unclear. It appears Excalibur has left Falias." He paused, clearly reluctant to deliver unwelcome news to a sovereign already pushed beyond her limits. “Since there haven't been any reported sightings, we don’t know where they’re going.”
Morgana's orange eyes blazed with sudden fury, the pupils contracting to vertical slits as her scaled features twisted into a snarl that revealed rows of her sharp teeth. The transformation—the composed empress becoming something far more primal and dangerous—was instantaneous and terrifying.
"How does a ship that distinctive simply vanish?" she hissed, rising from her chair. "Excalibur isn't some smuggler's freighter that can blend into commercial traffic. It's the most recognizable vessel in the galaxy! That sword-like hull profile should stand out like a beacon against any stellar backdrop!"
"I understand your frustration, Your Majesty. Our intelligence networks are working around the clock to—"
“Our intelligence networks are useless," Morgana snapped, cutting him off with venomous precision. “Sir Dragon has six months to build a rebellion. He can’t possibly waste it floating around the void. He should be easily tracked and traced across the galaxy. I want every listening post, every spy, every collaborator across Avalon searching for that ship. The Daeardrayke is building his little alliance, gathering strength for whatever pathetic resistance he thinks he can mount against us. I will not allow him to operate in the shadows like some common terrorist."
The general's features tightened, years of military discipline warring with the natural instinct to defend his competence. "It will be done, Your Majesty. I'll personally oversee the expansion of our surveillance operations. Every merchant captain, every station commander, every planetary governor will receive updated intelligence protocols within the day."
“I want more than that,” Morgana replied. “Put out a posting across the mercenary network. A thousand gold for every solid tip that comes in.”
“It will be done, Your Majesty,” Strix pledged.
Morgana began to pace her chamber, her movements sharp and controlled despite the rage burning beneath her composed exterior. The elegant furnishings restored since her earlier rampage seemed fragile, susceptible to damage, in the presence of such fury.
"What about the Turquine sympathizers?" she demanded, not slowing her circuit of the room. "Have they been dealt with?"
