- TMK -

Tasiana grasped her teacup, savoring jasmine as bees hummed in the garden. She watched them gorge on towering violet Ander blossoms. When full, they slothfully buzzed beyond the walls to the apiaries in the palace’s south quadrant. There, they would work diligently to ensure a future for the next generation. More importantly, they would dote on their queen. For without her, there were no generations.

           

Or, that was what Tasiana was bred to believe.

           

Yet even before the preceptors, governesses, or eugenicists set Tasiana’s destiny in stone, there were the bees. Of her earliest memories, her tutors and servants were always there. They dressed her, fed her, told what to think, how to act, and how to treat the subjects she would one day rule. That time long past was an endless tedium of eugenic education meant to mold her exactly as they desired. During that time, this garden was her only escape. She was maybe two or three when she’d hide in the Anders, waiting for the call of her preceptors to pass. In those blossoms, the bees would swirl about her, landing on her hands and shoulders.

           

But never would they sting.

           

On the contrary, it was the preceptors trudging through the Anders that would run screaming. They never learned to merely pause for the moment under the blossoms and enjoy the sounds and smells nature provided. They didn’t learn to coexist with the bees, not like Tasiana.

           

No amount of hiding however, could keep Tasiana from the swarm of eugenicists and preceptors within the palace.

           

Because she was the product of the Lorylyn line’s carefully tended pedigree. In her coursed the blood of Marhia Lorylyn and Taul Rend, names that meant more to the new Empress than anyone could understand.

           

In some ways she hated them. How could she live up to their legend? Marhia ended the rule of the Vampire emperors, conquered the basin, and brought Treslynn to its knees. Taul was the alchemist who raised earth from the depths of the ocean, shaping the greatest city the world ever knew. They were the founders of Saironia and all its customs. Together, they forged a dream that superseded race, religion, and creed. Their dream gave birth to the Empire.

           

Ubyd danun sair.

           

That dream of one world under the crimson star. A dream which had faded during the reigns of their granddaughters and great granddaughters. After her legendary forbearers, Tasiana could recall few campaigns that brought glory to the Lorylyn line. The conquest of Chapuis, the harrying of Saluja, even the acquisition of Taxmarch were incremental at best. Plus, Taxmarch wasn’t even conquered. Her great grandmother purchased it for a price that far outweighed its worth. Such actions showed how feeble they were compared to Marhia and Taul.

           

And the invasion of Arrcus, a disaster orchestrated by Tasiana’s own mother, ushered in the nadir of their house. By the time the crown passed to Tasiana, a century had gone with no progress towards that dream that defined them. Of course, there were more wars than she cared to count. Great conflicts that forced the nation to marshal its resources in climactic battles that ended thousands of lives.

           

Despite those sacrifices, the continent’s balance of power kept the borders unchanged. It was a carefully calibrated scale righting itself with any perturbation, any nation attempting to gain a slight edge over the other. If the Kingdom raided the border, Saironia would answer. As Saironia rallied, Arrcus would sack their northern ports. Meanwhile, the Holy Land would stir, striking Arrcus from the south as they left their borderlands undefended.

           

On and on this dance went.

           

Lives were destroyed, cities burned, yet the horror was for nothing. This dance was precisely what Marhia and Taul had sought to end in the only way possible.

           

By eliminating the players until only the crimson star remained.

           

That Tasiana’s purpose–what she was meant for. It was why she was bred, why she woke every morning. Why she tolerated round after round of breeders sent to her bed by court eugenicists desperate to ensure a preserved Lorylyn line.

           

As the tea’s floral zest of the graced her lips, she watched crimson clad servants bustle around the garden’s fruiting trees. With them were guards standing at attention in lamellar armor. They ensured no harm would come to her majesty. Their faces gave her all the confidence she required. Because in time, Tasiana would become their God. Just as the bees would serve their queen with fanatical resolve, so too would Saironia. For the future depended on her and the sires that would grow within her womb. She was not about to let that future slip between her fingers.

           

“Aarturian,” Tasiana called to no direction in particular.

           

Instantly, an explosion of amorphous color appeared beside her. From the vapors stepped a Human with jet black hair, pale skin, and eyes as green as the palace garden.

           

The man with unquestionably Saironian looks went down on one knee before asking, “Majesty?”

           

“Come sit, my dear. Don’t look so dour. I doubt there’s any assassin hiding in the bushes.”

           

“Which bushes? The hythelia offer particularly good cover, if our would-be killer could mind the smell.”

           

“Oh, stop.” Tasiana filled another porcelain cup for her companion. “Tell me, has our guest arrived?”

           

“A bit tardy I’m afraid. You know how Nassians are. An hour late is early, two on time, and three…fashionable,” Aarturian said, sipping his tea a moment later. A serene expression fell over his face. “Lovely.”

           

“Imported from the finest plantations in Caesaria. I believe Osian called this variety ‘the mountain’s tears’,” Tasiana explained, savoring the subtle nectar and vanilla notes within the tea.

           

“Elegantly morbid. I like it.”

           

“Unsurprising. Such a phrase describes you to a tee,” Tasiana said with a grin.

           

Aarturian chuckled as the insect hum echoed around the garden table. A golden bee neared Tasiana’s hand, jolting side to side as it contemplated its next move.

           

Then, a beam of winding hues burst from Aarturian’s fingertips, striking the bee mid-flight. The insect curled in on itself, dropping as a smoking pile of chitin against the ebony table.

           

Aarturian took another sip of his tea and said, “Elegant morbidity is my duty, majesty.”

           

Tasiana frowned, scooping the crumpled bee in her hand. “That was uncalled for.”

           

“I am sworn to defend you from all threats. That being one of them.”

           

“Ruthlessness does not make a good Sentinel.”

           

“But a preemptive guardian does,” Aarturian stated smugly.

           

Tasiana grinned as a vengeful cluster of bees moved for Aarturian. “Indeed?”

           

“Gods!” Aarturian leapt from his seat as the bees fell upon him. Welts formed on his exposed neck and hands while the rest of the bees stung uselessly at his black and crimson tunic. Aarturian snarled, unleashing a torrent of color around his body that cooked the bees on his skin. They fell as the first bee did: smoking curled husks onto the grass. Meanwhile, Tasiana returned the same smug expression to Aarturian.

           

“Tamílauan bees often work in cells to protect one another while gathering nectar. If one is killed, the others in the cell attack the assailant mercilessly,” Tasiana explained.

           

“Would have been nice to know beforehand.” Aarturian rubbed his hands over the welts on his neck. When his hands fell to the side, the red, swollen flesh had vanished. “Much better.”

           

“As Sentinel, you should know that. It is your responsibility to know everything within these walls. How else are you supposed to protect your charge?”

           

“My mistake, Majesty. I should’ve known of the apiarian menace just outside your windowsill.” He fell back to his knees facetiously. “Just give the word and I shall scour the grounds of every bumble and every bee along the grounds. I shall torch their honey and pave the halls with their wings.”

           

Tasiana rolled her eyes. “Oh, dear, you think you’re actually funny.”

 

“I would never,” Aarturian said, rising to his feet. “But how many men are allowed to speak with such candor to their sovereign? Especially without losing their head?”

           

“Technically, the eugenicists do not consider you a man. Not as a Homunculus.”

           

“Do you?” Aarturian asked with an uncharacteristic sincerity.

           

“Whether I saw you as one is irrelevant, my dear. Sixty million souls look to me to provide a better future. And only two-thirds of them are Human at all.”

           

As the words left her mouth, several guards approached them. The leading soldier clutched what appeared to be a telegram.

           

“Speaking of non-Humans…” Aarturian spoke.

           

“Majesty.” The soldiers knelt the moment they reached the pair. “I have a telegram from the Captain-General. The Nassian prince has arrived at the Taulrenius spire.”

           

“And before sunset, too,” Aarturian said under his breath.

           

“Captain,” Tasiana addressed the kneeling Elf.

           

“Majesty?”

           

“Send word to the Captain-General to have our guest meet me upon the Maddox.”

           

The captain nodded. “Majesty.”

           

“That is all,” Tasiana said as the soldier scurried back to the palace.

           

“Interesting place for an audience,” Aarturian spoke plainly. “If you’re trying impress this prince, why not the throne room? Or the grand gallery?”

           

“I do not need to impress him, Aarturian. Not in the way you suppose.” Tasiana stood letting her gold and crimson gown fall to the grasses. “I have a much different agenda for wooing a tardy prince of the east.”