The Search for Terror (ONC 2021)

Chapter 10

      In the shadows cast by the setting sun, Amaia crept forward into her designated position, closing the entrance to an alleyway just two streets back from the capital. 

      The last of the people were filtering into their houses, curfew setting in with the sun. Dedicated family time had always been something Amaia had never seen the need for. The people in her country spent their days with their friends and family anyway, and for those who were too scared to do so, forcing it on them would only cause further issues and unnecessary pain. Still, it seemed to work for Haglaiya—or at least, there had never been any related protest. 

      Once the roads had emptied, Amaia snuck forward carefully, checking every direction for stragglers. They were so close now. Further down the road, Saqat peeked out from his own hidden place, turning his head to nod her forward. 

      One deep breath later, she was stepping out onto the cold, hard concrete with feet that couldn't feel the floor as they yearned to. Her line of soldiers curved out away from her, all facing the capital city with a mix of eagerness and dread. Her own stomach was in similar turmoil. All her twenty-three years came down to these weeks. This moment. 

      Amaia lifted her hand, pushing the air in front of her and, in turn, bringing her circle out of the shadows and into the night. At first, they moved quickly and quietly, closing the gaps between them as they entered the city. Buildings passed by either side of her, blurring together, singular bricks becoming a red-brown mass. Greys dotted with white tore away beneath her feet and she reminded herself to keep her head up. Homes full of families sitting down to their evening meal, children heading to sleep, showers washing away the day's dirt—they all disappeared into houses, empty shells that stood as nothing but objects between her and her goal. 

      The castle came into view, almost overtaken in height by their newest buildings. 'How small the regular people must feel,' Amaia wondered, momentarily losing her speed. At Saqat's tap on her arm, she pushed on until, finally, her three hundred and three men stood shoulder to shoulder surrounding the castle and its grounds. 

      As expected, their guards bristled visibly, straightening from twenty years of being allowed to slouch on the job. A couple of them ran inside, presumably to alert the king and call for backup. Amaia waited patiently for them, closing the circle further with relaxed steps. In doing so, she pushed a number of her men outwards into a second layer of their now-smaller circle. 

      Returning with another ten guards either side of them was a spokesperson for the king. "What brings you here?"

      Amaia smiled sweetly and laced her fingers together, letting her hands hang in front of her. "I ask that your king stands down and hands his position to me."

      "You- You are already ruler of your own country, are you not?" The spokesperson said, clearly going off-script. 

      Still smiling, Amaia cocked her head to one side—just enough to make a fool of them without threatening that her crown should fall from her head—and answered, "Women can multitask. Haven't you heard?" 

      Swallowing their nerves, they nodded and pointed back through the castle gates. "The king wishes to talk it out with you himself."

      "I'm sure he does," Amaia replied, gesturing for them to lead her into the castle proper. At their unsure pause, Amaia took the opportunity to achieve further build her position over them. "I assume that would be in the throne room?" Bashful and embarrassed, they nodded, turned, and shuffled through the gates all in one action. 

      Reasonably, they would only allow her and two others to pass through the gates with them. Amaia ordered Saqat forward and claimed he would be enough, that everyone else was to stay outside. Her arrogance had frustrated Saqat, but no one else could read it on his face so it didn't bother her. Flanked by the same ten guards either side as the spokesperson had arrived with, they made their way into the final stage of the first part of her plan.

      The castle was huge, though easy enough to map out. They'd gone for a more open plan than her family's designers. She let her gaze wander the halls while her feet kept to the straight path. Everything was done for the aesthetic, a feast for the eyes. 

      Beautiful flowers painted in blues and purples were draped elegantly across windowsills. Other flowers she'd never seen before had been used to frame portraits of the royal family. Decorative vases stood on pedestals carved to look like they were wrapped in rope. Every window was open, the wind pulling the sun through in shivering warmth. The air wasn't as fresh as it was back home, but it felt more alive.

      It felt like everything she'd missed out on. 

      "Queen Amaia Goldmorn, Your Highness," The spokesperson introduced her to the king. "She wishes to claim your throne, King Taavetti Faizan." The king dismissed his servant and turned to her with a questioning look that was more curious than anything. It was clear he recognised Saqat from their meeting the day previous. 

      "It is true," Amaia said, forcing herself to speak formally. "I wish to relieve you of your position here and care for both my country and your own. I believe it would be in everyone's best interest and would make a more stress-free environment for all those in both countries." 

      "And if I disagree?" 

      "Do you have reason to doubt me, King?" Amaia asked, filling her voice with as much genuineness as possible. 

      His mouth quirked upwards in the corners briefly, not knowing that he was falling right into her trap as he said, "No, Your Highness, I do not." His voice was one used to assure a child their art was worthy of putting on show around the house. He did not see her as an equal, and he would fall because of it. "Do you have reason to doubt me?"

      "Yes," she said adamantly, telling him exactly what she thought. "I see people in your streets frowning daily, I see people being forced into homes that care nothing for them at night, and I see a king who would let these things be truths. That is no king I can work with." Without her people's trade they'd be down a fair amount of income, and he knew it. 

      Any sign of kindness was wiped from his face in one fell swoop. "Queen, I do not see how that is relevant. These people chose-"

      "Misery? No one choses misery, king, unless they feel they can never have joy. Do you deny this?"

      "You did not let me finish. Those people chose to work where they do. If those jobs prove dull, I can do nothing for them," he said angrily, all too aware of the wall of guards listening who had lived in ignorance under him for so long. 

      "You mean you would not be bothered to do anything," Amaia countered. "You leave them to their mental suffering because it would be much too stressful for yourself to step in. Correct?"

      "I hardly see-" 

      "You are a king," Amaia pushed. "Your people should come first, and it is all too clear that they do not. Resign at once and hand me your crown. You are not fit to wear it." She had arrived at her point far faster than she had planned to. It suddenly worried her that, in her frustration, she hadn't allowed enough time for the king's men to agree with her. Would they throw hands right here, with only Saqat to protect her? 

      Perhaps a threat was necessary. "I have over three hundred men outside with orders to take you in if you do not comply. There is nowhere to run, and you are severely outnumbered." 

      He didn't need to know it was only two over three hundred. 

      In the silence drawn out between them, breaths stilled, and backs tensed. 

      The king dragged the crown from his head in defeat. "Perhaps one day, I shall earn it back, men," he said, his eyes fixing on each of his guards in turn. 

      As he went to leave, Amaia stopped him once more. She was always going to take the throne but taking more than that was wrong. She didn't like to leave anyone without the comfort of stability. "You may still reside here, Taavetti Faizan. It is only the throne room and the guards' quarters that are now off-limits. This will always be your home for as long as you feel it is." 

      Nodding, he turned his sad eyes to the doors. Taavetti walked back to the men he'd be handing over to Amaia, back the way she'd been escorted just moments ago.