17.8
Jewel attended the funeral, it seemed like all of Burning Depths Ford was present for the funeral, and of course the rest of the vassals of the realm large enough to be considered as electors were there too.
Between Imre and Jewel the entirety of the realm’s Ridgetail Vault territories were represented. The others were less well known to her, the smells of some of them were familiar, having been present the few times she had come to the Capital, but for the most part she had never dealt with them.
Imre’s father and Bathory’s husband had been the Electors of Arva and Viznove when Mathias was appointed to the throne. But no other matter of the High King’s legitimacy had been up for debate since, today would be the first convening of all the Electors of the realm since his coronation.
The streets were filled with mourners, in the richest parts of the city they wore dark clothes, black and red flower petals were scattered into the air to fall by some one, there was a scent of faux fire to it, a minor working but one apparently known to many.
There was a deep tolling of the bells, there was mournful singing that filled the city, there was sombre music played on street corners, there was a procession through the city over each of its great rivers (sometimes three at once with the highest bridges) and then the corpse of the High King with its hollowed out head was taken to the House Stein Tomb beyond the walls of the city and interred with his ancestors.
It was done rather quickly all things considered and then it was over, afterwards the work of Jewel and the other Electors was taken up in earnest.
They convened in the feasting hall, under the false sky of the Old Cantor Dome. The fare on the tables was rich, opulent after a fashion, but not so excessive as to bring a refeathered roast peacock to the table. Dariusz had commandeered a kitchen so platters of candied pork joined the treats the other Elector’s staff had called for.
It made for a fascinating spread of mingling scents and flavors in the air, even if those present ate only lightly of the offerings available, Jewel included.
She barely knew the other Electors, even if she had read letters of them and studied records of the Process they would all contribute to now.
First was the Temple Electors, the weakest voices in deciding the next High King.
Nine Archpriests to see the chosen High King was suitably unfettered by their specific god or see that any bondage to them was properly annulled. Then Nine High Priests of the Realm’s temples without direct divine affiliation to balance the others and their interests.
Then came those rulers which had earned favor for a voice at this table, meant to be weighed greater than the Priests of the Temples. However in what records Jewel had read their decisions could vary wildly in how strongly a candidate was empowered by their support.
Jewel and Imre were among the Eleven Low Electors, Arva having earned a voice at these proceedings through the elder Thurzo’s place as advisor to Mathias, Viznove from its contributions to and later Debt held by Mathias.
And then of course the heaviest weight of all the Nine High Electors, whose voice would be the final deciders. If the High Electors were unanimous even with all the Temple and Low Electors Combined their word would choose the High King on the throne.
But such agreement among the High Electors almost never happened since the founding, and from this discord the Temple and Low Electors had historically tipped the scale of who would wear the crown in the Realm of Cantor Reborn.
A man Jewel had never met sat at the centermost seat of the High Electors. He’d been announced as Spitihnew of House Přemyslid, Duke of Boiihome in the ceremonies and he spoke with an aged tone, he smelled only slightly less of death then Mathias had, but he was nowhere near as wasted in his strength or vigor.
“So, which Stein will it be? None of the acceptable ones are at the best age for it. Just as decrepit as old Mathias or barely off their mother’s teats.”
From among the Temple Electors was a familiar voice.
“What about his eldest son? A simple, straightforward continuation, like the father, so will stand the son.”
Archpriestess Ursula did not speak loudly, but it carried, filled the room in a way that was impressive for a mortal woman, if you could not feel the way the miracles ferried every word. Jewel tried to focus anywhere but the woman’s veiled face.
Spithnew did not speak in response, already seeming bored with the gathering, instead the voice of Count Ezzo of Lotharingia rang out from his left among the High Electors.
“You want more of the same?! To waste the treasury of the realm on a collection of ‘warbeasts’ that never see battle? Nevermind the Pantheon speaking of censoring all the temples in the realm over his position with them? No, enough bleeding our lands to keep animals in luxary, enough strife with the Pantheon, best to have another of the line far from his madness that will settle this matter with Old Cantor!”
The Archpriest of Lugus rumbled a reply to the Lotharingia count, his own miracles bringing a quality to the air that honestly reminded Jewel of Erhard.
“Do you want a war within the Realm? A High King that bends to the Pantheon in this matter will split Cantor Reborn apart; the temples will not accept such a man upon the throne if he fails his mandate.”
One of the High Priests from somewhere Jewel had not even heard of added in a softer and less miracle reinforced tone.
“The Pantheon’s Council are divided in the matter anyway, The Realm would gain little from backing a King who would bow to the whims in the south before they are even settled.”
One of the minor Electors across from Jewel grinned with malice at her before raising his voice.
“Well then why not go the opposite? You want change so much, and there is one beast that properly did fight for the Realm, we already have a force that not even Magarska could match, I say we put the wool hoarding wyrm on the throne as High King! A counter to the Magarskan’s own!”
Jewel was filled with terror at the thought of what managing the entire realm would be, no! Absolutely not! Viznove was more than enough! She had to ensure that there could not be enough support to see her put in charge of this whole mess!
“I’d much prefer to see to my concerns in Viznove and the security of the Realm’s border to the South directly, In fact I’d be willing to agree to lifting the forbiddence on tithe of Wyrmspun wool if I am not elected to the throne!”
That earned a laugh from a different woman absolutely buried in pearls then the last one Jewel had met, she thought it might have been the same ornaments however.
“Well! That’s a blessing to hear ‘Countess’, so long as we don’t elevate the Late Stein’s pet warbeast she’s willing too-”
Jewel rumbled deeply, voice carrying through the feasting hall, her will spilling enough to shatter the miracles the Archpriests had been using to extend their voices so far.
“I am the legitimate Countess of Viznove and holder of a lower elector position along with my ally Count Thurzó of Arva. I am an esteemed voice at this table just the same as you, do not insult my position.”
The woman had paled beneath the paint and color she wore. No one else in the feasting hall raised their voice. Not until she quavered into the silence.
“O-of course Lady Jewel of Viznove, my apologies, my heart is still grieving the loss of our fine High King. I mispoke.”
Jewel snorted at the blatant lie, but she did not call it out to the woman in pearls. Spitihnew’s voice washed over them, it was firm, agitation now taking over from boredom.
“Well it’s good to know who we evidently shall not be having as our High King, but the longer we take to choose the more the Freemen to the lower west will be itching to take advantage, and the greater chance that a beast tide will come pouring into our lands from the north and upper east. The Realm needs to be united before the end of the season!”
With his piece said it cleared the way for the discussion to continue, and how it did, favor trading, promises, offers of betrothals, calls for alliance and just general gossip dominated. The arguments and dealings continued for hours until finally the Duke of Boiihome called an end to the day’s deliberation.
It was exhausting to be involved in so much banter and barter, but Jewel had to give the lords and ladies of the Electorate some praise.
They were able to ignore Jewel’s presence better than most strangers. She’d only ever met some of them in her sparse visits to the Capital. For others she had either dined with their parents, uncles or aunts according to their scent.
But many of those that attended were new to her, and as such new to dealing with a Wyrm. Yet beyond the one outburst and a few confirmations that yes she was indeed willing to let the new reign see a lifting of the forbiddance on tithing Wyrmspun wool in their own lands they mostly ignored her.
Which meant that there was little for her or Imre to do but listen to the High Electors and murmur with their peers on which candidates being discussed they would be willing to support.
It had started at dawn and then dragged on an hour past noon before Duke Spithnew declared a recess for the day. After being cooped up in the feasting hall for most of the day Jewel sought refuge in the gardens.
For now, Mathias’ menagerie was still kept, some of it had changed from last she walked its gardens, the fox family with human faces were nowhere to be seen, heard or smelled, whether they were not free to roam the space Jewel was presently walking or gone entirely from the grounds she did not know.
Still it was good to have the late Debt Season’s sun shining down upon her and the wind in her hair and whorling over scales. She lounged in that warmth, wings partially extended, eyes closed, head tilted back to let the sun’s warmth fill her.
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Simply enjoying the peace of this place.
The sound of footsteps upon the garden path were the first hint she would not be allowed to enjoy this recess from the Electorate discussions alone.
The pace was even and practiced, assured in the turns it made, solid and firm but also light enough to not clack against stone.
She took in a deep breath to pull the air from the surroundings up into her snout, her tail flicking in irritation only just so much at the very tip, Her wings flaring slightly more in agitation. The footsteps actually paused even at that very subtle expression of her frustration.
Long enough for her to properly catch the scent of the figure before they began walking again.
A servant of the menagerie, she was certain of it even without trying to listen to the world in their veins. A healthy age, not yet begun to decay with age, fit and steady heart beat.
One of the men dressed in the distinctly scented cloth finery of the Palace staff with the lingering perfume of a clearly pungent feline odor. As his steps drew even clearer and closer he slowed, an attentive wariness to his motions, it too was familiar in how the cloth shifted.
Jewel had found all the Menagerie staff acted that way near her, not dismissing her as an unthinking beast, not terrified by her vastness, but wary of her as a strange being who could do them grave harm in provoked. She assumed it was practice, hard trained and otherwise learned from dealing with the fantastic beasts that populated Mathias’ Menagerie.
It was one of the things Jewel appreciated about Burning Depth’s Ford.
She listened as he approached, to the way that his garments shifted as he bent, gauged by the sound of his heartbeat the angle he lowered his chest too.
He bowed to her precisely as deeply as another noble’s servant should. Then raised his voice to a soft murmur that no human ear would have been able to hear from the heights she had raised her head to soak the sun into her throat.
“Shining Countess Jewel of Viznove, The Sphinx of Burning Depths Ford requests an audience with you.”
She briefly considered pretending that she did not hear him, but eventually tilted her snout to look down on him, only then opening her eyes to thin slits to confirm the colors of his garments did indeed match what her nose and ears suggested.
“Is that so? Did she say why?”
The man cleared his throat before speaking, still conversational, still quiet enough only Jewel could hear, although he had the good sense to meet her gaze with his own, despite the craned neck it required.
“The Sphinx insists that the Lady Jewel can assist in the... whereabouts of the late High King Mathias Stein.”
He hissed the last words barely over his breath. Jewel paused at that, Adelyne had mentioned that the Sphinx seemed to take a great familiarity with the High King from her brief encounters with it.
“Is the Sphinx not aware that the High King Mathias has died?”
The man winced at her statement and she could just slightly see the helpless motion of his shoulders that did not turn into a full shrug. Smell the slightly more panicked sweat that began spilling from his pores despite the chill air.
“She has said that she understands, but insists that the Lady Jewel can direct her to his whereabouts besides. I apologize, oh Shining Countess, but the beast is peculiar at the best of times and is only just barely being cooperative in this matter right now. If it pleases you I could tell her you will not meet her but-”
Jewel could smell the terror rising as he spoke and interrupted him with a rumble that while not making his terror any worse at least silence the man.
“There is no need for that, I will gladly attend the Sphinx to discuss this further. It is no trouble at all, if you would please lead me to her?”
The attendant’s relief was a palpable stink under his finery, and he turned in place to begin leading her through the gardens, through an archway that Jewel only needed to lower her head halfway to pass, and then down another passage into a space that smelled stronger and stronger of that same feline odor, but more than that as she drew close the scent grew to be one she knew far too well.
That of misery.
This part of the Menagerie Gardens had been prepared for the largest beasts, great alcoves large enough that even Jewel could have curled herself within one even now (although she’d have filled it to capacity.
Many were empty, some had iron bars or great wooden doors blocking them, but this one was entirely open, and its stone floor was covered in fine rugs, scattered with heavy steel baubles and in one corner was an Axe Breaker post with gouges dragged up and down it.
Within a section of the Palace that resembled both a cave and her own bedroom was the Sphinx of Burning Depths Ford.
The creature she saw sprawled on its side atop finely woven rugs was certainly the Sphinx she remembered meeting, the scent of it far stronger then that night, the muscles were just as toned, the face just as round, the skin still flush with life despite the sagging wrinkled hide, but the face with its peculiar round ears was changed, eyes sunken into sleepless rings, there were tracks of tears over the cheeks shining clean where dust had otherwise settled on the skin.
The creature looked dirty where Jewel recalled it even under starlight to have been immaculate.
Even with a face that was as tall as the attendant that led her here it had somehow made itself seem shrunken, small.
Jewel lowered her face down to meet the gaze of the creature. It was not proper, but the Sphinx had never acted with the same social graces or rules as men.
“Hello, you asked to speak to me.”
Adelyne’s experience kept her warned to not offer a question, to not begin to engage with the game. The eyes that looked out of those sockets to meet hers seemed duller than they had that night, subdued and also wet and shining.
“The grandmother has grown, not so much in her dawn is she. She knows where the boy has gone. So many years and never grown, poor stupid little boy. Such a failure of mine. No matter all the stories or trials, the boy never grew.”
Jewel took in a deep, slow breath, her flame clenching in sympathy. She could hear the pain straining that rumbling throat. Its tone was not entirely unlike her own when she wished to be motherly, and the smell and sound of it? All together Jewel could not deny the guilt on that face or in the words it spoke.
The wyrm spoke softly, as if with her words alone she could hold the delicate thing that had become of the great beast.
“Mathias is dead, I saw it happen. I was there when his heart stopped.”
The Sphinx’s brows curled inward and down, the lips bared back in a snarl revealing the many teeth.
“And you saw he was taken anyway, you know the iron hand holds him still, I promised the mother to watch over her son until he was grown, to protect him as my own! A fair prize and a fine thing it was, but now he has died and was yet ungrown, so the boy is yet my own!
Oh grandmother made young, she knows he has been taken. Can make the iron hand bring me what is mine!”
There was a clatter of pottery filled the air as the many beaded locks of the Sphinx shifted. She rolled off of her side and onto her paws and belly. Claws pressed out from her digits to catch on the rugs beneath her. Jewel could hear the pain in that voice. The loss, not even Mathias’ wife had spoken of him at the funeral with that grief.
The woman had seemed almost relieved at his passing, and was already making arrangements to leave the palace and Burning Depths ford entirely.
Jewel stared at the grieving Sphinx, her flame roiling uncomfortably, no one seemed to have cared that Mathias was dead, not Erhard, not his wife, not his children (she’d not even seen any of them in the palace for his funeral!), not any of his Vassals that had been trusted enough to choose his successor!
Perhaps the elder Thurzó might miss him but Jewel’s friend was not here, and not far from his own death besides. Not even Jewel could say she missed the High King, he was her liege but nothing else, he was not her Father, or Brother, or even friend.
She turned to the attendant that was standing back with a stoic expression and a cloud of confusion in his nervous sweat.
“Send for Court Wizard Erhard to meet with us here.”
The order sent the man walking with a stately grace that all of the Palace staff maintained, but she could hear his heart thundering and his breath just held back from the sigh of relief overwhelming him.
She turned back to the Sphinx, then took a breath to prepare herself for what she was about to do. Adelyne had said it was like a hunt, and the Sphinx was whatever else she was much like a cat.
A cat thrived on hunting.
“Mathias is your son. At a promise you made to his Mother. Until he is grown?”
The sphinx extended her forelegs out, arched her back, raised her hindquarters and lashed her tail hard enough to send some of the iron baubles clattering, claws splayed out at her fullest extent then drawing back as she pulled inward to settle down again.
“It was the deal struck with his mother, a simple hunt, a boon for me. My request is you will secure him for me so I may keep him as my own and tend the foolish foolish boy who shall never be grown.”
Jewel nods to the statement.
“I will agree to that.”
The Sphinx stared at her own paws, gaze distant, flexing one claw at a time, catching the rug beneath them and pulling just hard enough to fray a single thread at a time.
Finally without breaking her fixation on the slow and precise dismantling of the fine tapestry beneath her the Sphinx spoke.
“The grandmother is not so young anymore, past her dawn, clouds in the sky, who did she lose?”
Jewel’s breath hitched a moment before she settled onto her belly as well, trying to flex her own fingers imitating the Sphinx’s action, it was in fact quite nice to feel the pull of the carpet at the root of her nails, although she could not catch individual threads with how dull hers were, her own claws too thick for that. Still even a slight flow of Wyrmflame made it stick to the tips anyway.
“My father, a woman who might as well have been my mother, and my daughter who was also myself. A favor for me as well, I will secure what remains of Mathias for you to care for, but you will not harm Erhard-”
The Sphinx Hissed.
“-for as long as the three of us are meeting together. After he or I depart I will hold you to no further binding.”
The snarl faded slowly, followed by a scowl, a frown and then a flat expression and a rumbling groan that led into a nod.
“Agreed, I tire of the hunt, we will play no longer.”
Jewel nodded, watching the creature that might possibly be the only one in the world that missed the High King Mathias, or perhaps not the only, how many of his Menagerie were kept by fondness for him then any real chains?
She never found out, but even then she suspected not many.
The silence seemed to grow to be too much for the Sphinx however because she began to speak again.
“The boy is so foolish, so afraid, the promise could never be the end of it, the prize could not have ended if he grew, but so stupid and foolish the boy was, so clever and cruel his mother.”
There was a yowling cry, a snarling fury, then a shuddering breath.
“Even if he’d grown he would still have been mine. Stupid boy to not realize that. Stupid boy dying before he was grown because he was so afraid.”
Jewel sighed and nodded, politely ignoring the tears running down the Sphinx’s cheeks and trembling of the her shoulders.