ILLUSTRATION AND DESIGN FOR THE COMMUNITY

Buildings, even in the mysterious days of miracles and sorcery, were not known to talk. But if there were any place in all of Kings Round that seemed to have something to say, it was the Castle of Babish. Hewn from blue-gray forest stone, standing high, adorned with slithering vines, and guarded at every cardinal direction with epic gargoyles of that same blue-gray stone, the large, dark oak door and round windows littered on its face looked to any outside visitor like a many-eyed sentinel. But you had to be a regular visitor to eventually notice the thick air that hung around the bastion, and to hear the soft warning she uttered.

The moon was especially white tonight, and as Silvia rode further away from the acrid smells and hazel glow of Bear's Cave, skirting past scraggly, pine trees and beneath large knotted oaks, slivers of silver moonlight peaked through the leaves overhead, flashing at unpredictable intervals into her eyes. On these twilight rides, the moon was normally her favorite travel companion but tonight, she couldn’t shake a feeling of irritation as it followed her through the trees, like a predator hiding in the bushes with its luminescent eyes. Silvia began to go out of her way to ride within the thickest shadows and as the night swept down onto the castle road, it swallowed up the bodies of her and her steed, leaving only the sight of her shiny black hair bobbing along, glinting in the moonlight. The young woman rode in the dark with expertise, pressed down, clutching the reins. This trek from her apartment to the Castle of Babish was all too familiar to her. The Babishes, as long as there had been any, were known to value their privacy. The winding, inhospitable castle road indicated as much, separating the people from their sovereigns even more than the mean castle walls and shrouding them in myth and majesty. Above privacy, Silvia could not help but think the King just liked it that way. 

Silvia galloped slowly as she neared the fortified gate, the torches at each watchtower glowing high above. The castle's heavy oak door drew upward and a palace guard on duty came out and searched her belongings haphazardly, their head down with fatigue. As soon as the guard cleared her, Silvia shoved her horse’s reins into their hands, slipped them a few coins and waved goodbye, jogging through the castle courtyard until she got to the main entrance. She fixed a solemnity on her naturally jovial face and straightened her spine, knowing that King Jonbareau would not appreciate her conviviality at this point in the night. But if it were up to her, she would avoid seeing him all together – after all it was his daughter Emila, not the king, that she was here to see.

An old and splotchy-faced palace attendant shivered with indignation as Silvia waved him away and blazed ahead to the war council room. Booming voices, layering over each other, echoed down the hall as she got close. Once she was right at the doorway, Silvia pressed herself flush against the cold, black slate walls and chanced a peek around the doorway. Sitting around the circular council table was, of course, King Jonbareau, square in stature, sharp in tone, the reflection of his crown casting a golden glow off of his bald, brown head. Then counterclockwise of the table sat mustachioed General Peer, Captain Parcel, young Lieutenant Landa, General Raveca, Captain Hun, and finally urbane, salt and peppered General Tasou, who was in the middle of explaining something to the council. 

Silvia caught Tasou's eye with a subtle wave and dashed his composure, the edges of his ears turning red as his speech faltered. The general's gaze locked forward in every effort to ignore the young woman in his periphery but others at the table had noticed the slip. 
 
"S-So as I was saying-," 
 
"Tasou." King Jonbareau rumbled. 
 
"...Yes, Your Majesty?"
 
"Am I deceived or is that your daughter out there interrupting our council meeting?"
 
There was a stale silence, broken only by a chuckle which escaped involuntarily from Landa's lips. 
 
Tasou cleared his throat, pushing his seat back as he stood. "Yes, Your Majesty. I'll… go have a word with her." 
 
"No need." The King sighed, standing as well. "She's here for me. The rest of you carry on." 
 
The red crept from Tasou's ears to his cheeks. "Y-Yes, Your Majesty…" The general reclaimed his seat, casting a baleful look at his daughter. 
 
What did you do? He asked with his eyes.
 
Nothing. She replied, smiling somewhat impishly at the doorway.
 
King Jonbareau stepped into the hall in front of Silvia who snapped her heels together, straightened her spine, and bowed at the waist.
 
"Silvia. I thought I said to be here at 10."
 
"Yes, Your Majesty, but the urgency of your letter made me think perhaps I ought to come sooner."
 
The King walked ahead as Silvia trailed behind. "With all your thinking, somehow you forgot to think about the fact that the war council and I have no need for interruptions."
 
Silvia rolled her eyes. Jonbareau peeked over his shoulder as if sensing her reaction, missing it only by a fraction of a second.
 
Palace guards bowed as they passed corridors and long stretches of hall. Eventually they climbed five flights of stairs until they came upon a passageway veiled by a gold, silk curtain. Two guards bowed and parted the curtain, exposing the dimly lit hall lined with regal stone busts, mounted swords along the walls, and shelves and cases covered with potted plants whose vines crept along the cracks in the slate. Nestled in the length of the ceiling was a strip of skylight, which at this hour cast a white line of moonlight onto the stone floor. At the end of the hall stood two grand dark oak doors like the gate at the castle entrance. One hard-skinned woman sat cross-legged, eyes closed, palms up, sword flanked across her lap. Her hardness was intimidating but elegant & mature, leaving a strong impression of beauty like a grand magnolia tree.
 
"Don't bother getting up, Monré."
 
"I wasn't planning on it, Your Majesty." The woman's gravelly voice quipped, eyes still shut. 
 
Silvia side-eyed the King who instead of popping a blood vessel like he would if she’d said something like that, bit his lip to hide his small smile. She had to resist the urge to gag. 
 
"How is she?" 
 
"You know Mi — she's frustrated. She keeps trying to understand why you decided not to just let her do what she does best."
 
"I've told her the answer: because helping to maintain our alliances i-,"
 
" - 'is an important duty expected of a princess.' Yes, I've heard her mumbling it in scarily spot-on impressions of you enough times to know it by heart." 
 
"Then I don't see what her problem is."
 
Monré finally opened her eyes to roll them. "She's young, Barry. Strong. Talented. Your best fighter. Why in the world should she want to go to Avandol at a time like this?"
 
"Because she knows it is her duty!"
 
"No, she knows she is being wasted. You know it, too." The woman whispered.
 
"After what happened at War Hill, I'm not so sure…" 
 
Silvia cleared her throat, feeling the need to remind the two of them that she was still in the hall. The king acknowledged her.
 
“Well,” he huffed, puffing his chest out with authority as much as air, “the fact remains: she’s going to Avandol. If she wants to throw a temper tantrum, it better be over by tomorrow when the ambassador is here to retrieve her.”
 
“Fair enough.” Monré shrugged.
 
“And she better be grateful that I’m allowing her to see her friend in the hopes that it’ll lift her foul mood instead of making her spend the night going over Avandolian history bec-,”
 
“Oh! She gets a night off?” Silvia scoffed sarcastically. She’d meant it to be under the breath but her comment definitely didn’t go unheard. She knew this time she’d really crossed over his very narrow threshold for patience. The skin on King Babish’s head was rippling. Silvia cursed herself and looked down at her feet. “I… apologize, Your Majesty.” 
 
"…Silvia?" The king spoke after a few seconds.
 
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
 
"I know that taking any and every opportunity to make an embarrassment out of your father in front of his colleagues is your idea of fun, but that kind of behavior won't be tolerated for my Emila. Personally, if I were Felice, I'd have sent you to a boarding school off in the mountains by now to learn the proper way of things. See that my daughter understands she's walking a thin line."
 
Silvia clenched her fists until the prickling pain from her fingernails crawled up her arms. She couldn’t bring herself to nod but she kept her gaze lowered in submission. King Jonbareau stepped aside. Silvia walked past and followed Monré, who’d finally risen, down the rest of the length of the hall. The king swept away, presumably deciding that with Monré, whatever happened next was in good hands. The older woman knocked and called kindly through the oak door.
 
“Your Highness?” 
 
The door opened immediately, only a crack, a dim, golden glow and the smell of burning candles wafting out from inside. A dark eye peered up at the pair of them.
 
“Is he gone?” The princess whispered.
 
“Thankfully.” Silvia replied.
 
The door opened only slightly wider, an arm reached outward, grabbed hold of Silvia, and pulled her inside. Then the oak door shut once again. 
 
Silvia blinked rapidly, her eyes desperate to adjust to the dim light. Even without the guidance of her full vision, she moved deeper into the bedchambers, her body more than familiar with the space. She’d been entering this room since she was seven years old, shuttled off to entertain the princess and keep her out of trouble while Silvia’s father trained his students or attended war council meetings. She couldn’t help but scoff at how little things had changed.
 
Though the room's inner contents (the size of the bed, the color of the curtains, the presence of freshly-picked flowers) weren't the same, resigned to the natural growth of its occupant, it too had hardly changed. Silvia’s hands let go of the brass door handle, inlaid with notches and cuts, and ran about two feet to the right along the curved wall of the oval room. From here, her feet moved nine paces forward before stepping slightly higher on the tenth, avoiding the floor tile which had been cracked in half during an indoor training session. It hadn’t been fixed quite right so that now, one half of the tile sat slightly higher than the other and made guests prone to trip. Silvia then twisted her body leftwards, and backed up six steps, hands out behind her in order to grope for the tweedy upholstery of her favorite arm-chair. The back of her thigh, however, found the edge of the chair first, and she was forced to sit down a little abruptly. Oops. she thought. Five steps.
 
With her eyes grown a bit more accustomed to the candlelight, she focused on the short silhouette moving determinedly about the room, pulling out what looked like garments from a tote bag and tossing them on the princess’s bed. 
 
“You’ve got a few hours, Princess. Don’t get me in trouble.” Monré’s voice called through the oak.
 
“Yes ma’am!” The princess called back, in a polite air Silvia knew was not Emila's. Indeed, as her vision finally acclimated, she took note that it wasn’t just the princess’s attitude that was different; her arms were thinner, her hips narrower, her face…
 
Silvia laughed. “Damn, Lilli, that disguise is so convincing I almost fell for it myself."
 
Instead of Emila, there stood Princess Lillianne grinning from ear to ear, her cheeks as round as apples. Lillianne made a persuasive look-alike of her older sister - especially in the dim light. Her hair, normally parted and twisted, now fell freely in a cloud around her heart-shaped face. She donned one of Emila’s crisp linen sets, a padded leather chest-piece of blue and gold buckled around her torso, and wooden slippers on her feet. The young princess quickly began, however, to shed her costume. “I thought Papa might have tried to come in with you so I had to be convincing.” She said over the clinking of the buckles and the shushing sound of silk sliding over skin as she adorned herself in a plain red gown. “I didn't want to risk making a mess of things before we could even get out of the castle." 
 
"Good idea." Silvia nodded, moving from her seat towards one of the small circular stained-glass windows set within the stone walls. She turned her head this way and that, scanning the view outside from whatever angle she could manage. "So I take it Mi's already made it out?" 
 
"You didn't see her on your way in?" Lillianne asked, twisting a few strands of her hair at the bangs and tying a scarf around the rest. Silvia shook her head. "She should have been at the watchtower." 
 
Silvia could tell Lilli’s mind was beginning to wander down the road of all terrible possibilities. “I’m sure everything’s fine, Lilli. It’s Emila we’re talking about, right?”
 
Lilli tucked her disguise into the tote bag as she nodded to Silvia, her face calm but not entirely placated. “I’m ready.”
 
The two girls opened the oak door cautiously, letting the bright, moonlit hallway stream light momentarily into the bedchambers before shutting the door back behind them. They passed Monré, once again seated, her shoulder blades shifting calmly up and down as her torso expanded and contracted with each deep meditative breath. As they crept quietly around her, Lillanne paused to rest an affectionate hand on the older woman’s shoulder. They crept on. 
 
Once they made it to the end of the hallway, Silvia proceeded down the stairs, but Lillianne held her wrist. “Hold on, Sil. We can’t just waltz down the staircase.” she whispered.
 
“Sure we can, just follow my lead.” Silvia whispered back. She took a few more steps down the staircase, pulling Lillianne along with her. Then, she cupped her hands around her mouth, inhaled, and yelled, “Wait, Lilli, come back!” Then taking hold of the princess’s shoulders, she spared just enough time to whisper, “Queen Babish and Gharinan,” then pushed her forward. Lillianne stumbled down the last few steps, trying her best not to fall and letting the velocity launch her abruptly into the next foyer.
 
As her feet hit the landing with a loud ‘stomp,’ two guards standing along the foyer already had their eyes on her, definitely having heard Silvia’s plea. Lillianne quickly fixed a scowl on her face and threw a “not until she apologizes!” over her shoulder and she marched past the foyer to the next flight of stairs. She could hear Silvia’s footsteps now, one flight behind her to make it seem as if Lillianne had gotten a head start. 
 
One of the guards from the foyer came to the end of the hall and looked on as Silvia passed. “Lady Silvia, is everything-,”
 
“Just a squabble between friends. No big deal. Carry on.” she huffed, as she continued to chase after the irate princess.
 
Lillianne stomped down the next few flights of stairs, passing heated remarks back and forth with Silvia until they made it to the main staircase of the grand foyer. By now, they’d caused enough ruckus that several attendants and guards stood watching them in the foyer and the King himself came storming around the corner from the war room, veins thumping in his face. 
 
“SILVI-!” King Jonbareau roared, but Silvia’s cry somehow pierced over the depth of his voice.
 
“Lilli, please don’t go!” Silvia pleaded, catching up with her and pulling on her arm, but Lillianne kept her arms crossed and her body stiffly turned away. 
 
The King blanched at being interrupted. “SILVIA, WHAT IS THE MEANING OF-,”
 
“No, Silvia!” Lillianne hissed, tearing her arm dramatically from her friend’s grip.
 
“Can SOMEONE-,” 
 
“But why?” Silvia continued, her voice racked with grief and desperation.
 
“Because!” Lillianne shouted, finally turning to face Silvia, eyes wild. “Because tonight, Emila has pulled the final thread. I’m supposed to be her sister! And for a sister to hurt a sister like that? I could never stay.”
 
“But if you love Emila-,”
 
“It’s because I love Mi that I must leave, Silvia.” She turned away once again, her head hung low, and a dramatic silence fell over the foyer. The attendants were rapt, some clutching their hands to their mouths. Even the king looked bewildered, his brows so furrowed that they became one as he glanced anxiously back and forth from Silvia to Lillianne, unable to remember his anger in all the confusion. 
 
Lillianne’s shoulders tensed as she slowly raised her head. The whole of the foyer breathed in at the same time as the princess’s lips parted to deliver her final line. “If I stayed, I could only do so as her enemy!”
 
Then without so much as a backwards glance, she stormed toward the castle doors, pushed them open and retreated into the night. 
 
Somehow Silvia forced anguished tears out of her eyes, her face slowly scrunching and screwing up as they silently spilled out. “Lillianne!” she wept. And she ran after the princess, leaving their audience, king included, staring after them both, flummoxed.
 
Silvia emerged outdoors, sniffling, wiping the fake tears from her eyes as she looked from left to right for a scarfed head.
 
“Sil!” a voice hissed and the scarfed head availed itself a little further down the sidewalk from around a tree. Once they were reunited, they both burst into laughter.
 
"You were amazing!" Silvia gasped.
 
Lillianne half grinned, a little shakily, the adrenaline of the moment wearing off. "I could've used more of a warning..."
 
"Loosen up a bit! You know you had fun.” Silvia elbowed the princess. 
 
“…That was pretty good…” 
 
“Right? I know I used to always play Gharinan, but that last line, 'I could only do so as her enemy!' Ugh, it's like you were born to say it!"
 
Lillianne gave a shy nod. "I don’t know about that…but, thank you. Anyway, let’s go find that sister of mine.” The pair walked hurriedly through the courtyard toward the gate. "She said she'd be here." Lillianne noted once again with some agitation. At this time of night, the gate was mostly abandoned save two or three guards on the night watch. Silvia noticed the same guard who’d let her in was back at their post. 
 
"Maybe they know something?” Silvia suggested.
 
“Like what?”
 
“Like maybe Mi left them a message for us?" 
 
"I don't know…" Lilli shrugged. "Maybe. Sounds like something she might do."
 
The young women made their way over to the guard and Silvia tapped their shoulder. "Excuse me. Would you happen to, uh…” Sil looked to Lilli who simply shrugged. She turned back to the guard. “Um… well, Princess Emila told us we might find a message at the gate? Would you know anything about that?"
 
The guard turned around to Silvia, a gleam in their eye. "I think I might know a thing or two." they winked and then Silvia recognized the two brown eyes that stared back at her. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing or screaming, she didn't know which. 
 
"Emila!"
 

 





























Silvia stood against the door to the watchtower office as Princess Lillianne rifled through her tote bag, handing her sister various pieces of clothing. Princess Emila with much effort, tugged the guard helmet off her head, unleashing all her thick, coily hair. “Damn, these things are suffocating.” she huffed, combing through her tresses with her fingers, trying haphazardly to fluff it back out.  
 
Silvia snorted as she watched the pair of them, trading articles of clothing back and forth. "What is with you guys and disguises?" 
 
"They work," was all the sisters had to say, shrugging in tandem.
 
The two princesses were, indeed, much alike but watching them side by side, their converse features stood out so glaringly that it was a wonder anyone could ever confuse them. Emila, by all accounts, appeared the elder. She carried herself with more weight. She appeared solid, firmly planted in the ground. She was thicker and more muscular, her features more hardened. Jagged battle scars littered her skin along her arms, her stomach, her back. Despite this hardness, her face glowed warmly with something untenable like a fire that could catch hold of a person at any second. When needed, she could strike fear or else inspire those around her with just one look, but she was a princess after all. Beyond inciting glances, she'd been trained to keep that untenable something in check - she was a master of restraint.
 
Yet, tonight, that fire had definitely won out. "How'd you both end up making it out of there?” Emila asked, beaming as she hopped on one foot, trying to extract a guard’s boot from the other.
 
“Oh, Mi, Lilli was brilliant!” Silvia exclaimed. 
 
Emila's smile grew even larger as she glanced at her younger sister. "Yeah?" 
 
Lillianne's cheeks grew warm. "I-It wasn't anything crazy…"
 
“Oh come on," Silvia insisted. "Remember that play we all wrote when we visited your aunt in Tunorsi?”
 
Emila laughed. “When we were, like, ten? Yeah, what about it?”
 
Lillianne and Silvia told the princess everything that happened in the palace, how they’d at a moment’s notice resumed their former roles and had the whole court enraptured.
 
“Emila, you should have seen your dad’s face!” Silvia clutched her stomach as she cackled. 
 
Lillianne was laughing as well. "I was worried there for a second that Papa would remember where the lines were from."
 
"Thankfully he’s never paid that much attention to us." Emila snorted flippantly, throwing a cloak over herself. “But did you guys have to make me the bad guy? Now Papa's going to think I’m even more of a brat than he already does."
 
“I love you,” Silvia began, “but let’s be honest, he probably wouldn’t have believed us otherwise.”
 
Princess Emila pondered this for a second. “...Social casualties aside – good job, friends. Parts one and two of our plan are complete." She grinned, rubbing her hands together mischievously.
 
"So" Lillianne began. "What's part three?"
 
"At this point," Emila said, as she opened the office door. "Don't get caught."
 
Silvia and Lillianne looked at each other. "Emila, I thought you said you stayed up all night working on your part of the plan!" Silvia balked.
 
"I did, but when it came down to it, it was clear that the simplest plan was the best plan."
 
"More like you remembered Lillianne was going to be there and if we do get caught," Silvia punctuated with a punch to the arm, "she'll be your scapegoat."
 
Emila went to retaliate but Silvia dodged out of harm’s way. “I wouldn’t say scapegoat.” 
 
“No?”
 
“More like… buffer.”
 
“I’m not hearing the difference…” Silvia smirked. 
 
“I mean come on, if Lilli’s doing it, Papa can’t punish me too harshly, right? She is his favorite after all.”
 
Lillianne listened to their back and forth, giving her best imitation of a jestering smile, but Emila could see her eyes didn’t match the expression and made her look strange. “Papa doesn’t have favorites.” Lilli muttered.
 
“I know, just one.” Emila said with a pinch to the cheek. “Come on."
 


They were all cloaked and ready as they hurried to the stables. Silvia retrieved her horse, Bisky, while Emila and Lillianne chose their steed. "Best to just take one, Lilli.” Emila said. “We don't want to bring more attention to ourselves than we need to by taking one too many."
 
Lillianne nodded, her head slightly down. "Right. Don't get caught."
 
Any decent city is most alive at night and the same could be said of Babish's capital, Bear's Cave. The city was Silvia's hometown so she griped often about how it wasn't the same as it used to be, Lillianne was quiet and content by nature so she would almost always rather be in her room or the palace gardens than anywhere, but for Emila, Bear's Cave was her favorite place in all the world. She thrived on the hustle and bustle, watching people hawk in the marketplace, children running between carts and legs, horse and human alike, but what she loved the most about Bear’s Cave was that it was a place where people came together. People blended in Bear’s Cave. Of course there were extremes - nobles and new money merchants dressed in such excess as to draw attention to themselves, and then there were those so unmistakably in the grips of poverty. However, for the most part, when people went into the city, they donned their cloaks, they forsook their individuality, and they melded. Oh, how she longed to meld, too. Whenever she was allowed to go into the city, the energy she got from the citizens greeting her with gifts or asking her to visit their family homes, even from people lodging their complaints would leave her feeling buzzed for hours, but she wished so often she could just be one of them. Emila grinned at the moon. Tonight was her chance.

 
The young women slowed as they made it out of the forest on the royal road and entered the cobbled streets of the upper city, where the townhouses and apartments of nobles, interspersed with private dining places, Babish’s university, and the kingdom’s art museum, lined either side of the road. For blocks, half black, half white flags with a golden bear embroidered in the center hung from the lamp posts that accented the sidewalks. 
 
“We can use my stable.” Silvia suggested. “Dad won’t be home for days and Mom’s definitely asleep by now.” 
 
They rode deeper into the neighborhood which was half asleep with curtains drawn in the windows, half awake as university students, soldiers, and middle-aged couples made their way deeper into the cultural district at the city’s center where from the music seductively wafted. They stopped at the wrought iron gate of the Tasou family apartment and as it opened, it made some unfortunate creaks but nothing too alarming. The humble yet elegant apartment stood two stories tall with a small circular drive, various topiaries, and garden boxes in the windows. Ivy weaved itself up the face of the stone building. As they passed underneath the Tasou’s peach tree, Emila reached up and picked one of the fruits, holding the fuzzy skin to her nose, and she looked on at the apartment which had often been her home away from home. The sweet, nectarous scent flooded her with memories of when her family actually left Castle Babish together and sought quiet respites here - when her father was clean shaven and his eyes were bright and he and Felice would sit inside by the cottage window, playing some card game and laughing from their bellies over large tankards of beer; when her mother was still strong enough to walk, and talk loudly, and she would do so with René as they brushed and fed the horses; when the girls would climb or run around or dig at the roots or sit under the shade of the peach tree and imagine all the adventures they would go on and act them out; and when Marietta was still with them. If she wasn’t busy reading, she would act too.  Emila blinked herself back to the present and handed the peach, over her shoulder, to Lillianne.
 
“A little treat for later.” She whispered. 
 
Her sister gave a small smile as she received the peach and put it in her tote bag. 
 
“Hey, you pick it, you buy it.” Silvia demanded, sticking her hand out. “Form of payment is up to you.”
 
Emila laughed. “Surely we’re too old to still be charging a peach tax?” Silvia remained unmoved. The princess returned the petitioning palm with a smack of her calloused hand. “I’ll buy you some eel when we get to the market.”
 
Silvia smiled with satisfaction. “Fried, please and thank you.” 
 
With the horses safely in the stable, the trio was on its way, falling in with any number of trios laughing down along the cobbled streets toward the city center. Lillianne clung close to Silvia, nearly making her trip. 
 
“Are you sure no one’s going to recognize us?” she whispered nervously.
 
“Yes, Lilli, I’m sure. Trust me, with a good cloak, anyone, even someone like your dad Big King Bald-Head can disappear in a crowd. Sometimes when my mom wears hers, I lose her in the marketplace.”
 
Emila snickered. “That’s because of her cloak or because you’re too busy ogling at the blacksmith?”
 
Silvia’s tan face got pink. “I told you! I don’t like him! I just like….watching him make weapons…” 
 
As they continued on, the wide residential roads of the upper city slowly narrowed and the cobblestones became more mismatched. The shutters on shopfronts and apartment faces sported chipped layers of highly saturated paints. However, it wasn't the architecture that let one know they'd made it to the city center, but rather the wall of sound and scent that welcomed you first as you passed through the veil. And as they passed finally through a winding cobbled corridor of an alley, it opened out wide into the grand city plaza.
 
Other alleyways weaved between buildings and into the plaza like rivers into an ocean, people weaving in and out like so many swimming fish. One could almost feel a buzzing down to their bones - All the shopfronts had since been closed, but makeshift stands made of small tables and bamboo tents took up the sidewalk space, the smell of their pies and fish and produce sitting next to one another and mixing in a way so sickly sweet yet clearly alluring. 
 
“Come try the pies! Eel for sale! Apples 3 for 1!” they called and just as the smells blended, their hawking voices became one, harmonies in a song that called out to the passersby. They in turn did their part, performing the desired dance, pushing past one another to get up to the front of the tables to order things by the doubles or dozens before making it back to the refuge of the open plaza. These merchants made a great show of being adversaries but Emila, Lillianne, and Silvia knew an actor when they saw one; they all had a theory that the food merchants secretly worked together, performing their feud for all of Bear’s Cave by night, splitting the profits by day. 
 
Presiding over it all, this nightly display of merry-making, was Queen Babish the First in the form of a massive fountain, her lips softly smiling and her eyes, though carved, bright with some knowledge unshared. One of her hands sat upon a mighty hip and the other was outstretched, her palm open but whether in a gesture of offer or demand was as unknowable as the look on her face. The stone visage of one of the five First Kings crowns sat regally upon her head, long thick braids trailing down her back to her ankles like rope. Her stone gown pooled into the softly rippling waters which jostled coins left behind as wishes. Buskers and craftspeople sat at the queen's feet, trying their hardest to make carrying their various tools down to the city plaza for the night worth it.
 
Emila was momentarily swept up, cloud high, by the pure energy of it all - the sound and smell of food sizzling; the light hum of instruments; the orange gold firelight and the blue silver moonlight blending and glinting green off of the cobblestones, still slick from yesterday’s late summer rain; the laughter and the freedom. She closed her eyes, breathed in deep through her nose, let her mind get quiet, and she melded.
 
But the silence was promptly interrupted.
 
"So, snacks?" Silvia asked, smiling pleasantly as the culinary fragrances drew her closer. 
 
Emila smirked. “Would you be dissuaded if I said no?” 
 
“Of course not,” Silvia nodded, “Besides, you still owe me that eel, so give me my money." she demanded, palm outstretched like the statue of Queen Babish behind her. 
 
"What money?"
 
"The money I thought I was giving to some poor guard on the nightwatch." 
 
Emila chuckled and dug around in the pouch sewn to her belt and gave her impatient friend the coins she'd been given. Silvia grinned, clutching the money in her tight-fisted hand. Then, as they locked eyes, Silvia made a small gesture towards Lillianne before running off to the food stalls.  
 
The princess watched her morph into the crowd. So she wasn’t the only one who thought something was up with Lilli. Emila looked back at her sister whose eyes were blocked by the hood of her cloak as she hung her head, and she sighed.
 
"Lilli-," The elder sister prompted, but Lillianne cut her off with that same brave, strange smile. 
 
"I’m fine.”
 
Emila hesitated, but proceeded. “You’ve been pretty quiet…”
 
“I’m always quiet…”
 
They eyed one another for some time, each silently imposing their will upon the conversation, but Emila gave in first. "...If this is about what I said - the buffer thing..." But before the other could speak, Silvia reappeared, two fried eels in hand.
 
“Eat up.” Silvia said, munching on an eel and handing one to Lillianne. “And enjoy it. I almost died trying to get it.”
 
Lillianne looked away but graciously received the snack. “Thanks.”
 
“Aw, you didn’t get me one?” Emila grumbled. “I thought this night was supposed to be about me?”
 
“Gather ‘round, gather ‘round, all!” a voice suddenly interjected into the night. The steady, rumbling rhythm of conversation in the square shifted as people turned their heads, some asking each other where the voice had come from, and others pointing to the Queen’s fountain. “Gather ‘round to hear the song of the Warrior of Babish! Come now, no need to be shy!” the voice beckoned again. 
 
Silvia smirked at Emila. “Your wish is my command.” 
 
A short, jovial man in a simple brown tunic stood on the edge of the fountain, waving his hands as signal flags, addressing the patrons of the square. Sitting upon the stone on either side of him was an elderly woman tuning her guitar, her wizened face screwed up in concentration, tongue sticking slightly out of the corner of her mouth and another man who was nearly identical to the first, holding a small set of drums in his lap. A flute player who had been sharing the musician space (and doing rather well) glared over her shoulder as she climbed down from the fountain. 
 
“Gather ‘round, friends! Don’t be afraid to get close to one another. Yes, yes, short in front, tall in back, you all know how this goes!” the man joked, and the crowd laughed along with him. They followed his directions, and streamed in together, everyone feeling the brevity of good food and the promise of entertainment. The girls, even Lillianne, laughed as well and allowed themselves to be immersed in the mass. 
 
The executant of the moment put his hands on his hips and looked out into the throng with a satisfied smile. “Aren’t you all a beautiful sight?” he boomed to which the people clapped and cheered in agreement. “And what about us?” he asked, gesturing to himself and his companions. The crowd cheered once more, though not quite as passionately. “I’m Stegeid, this handsome devil is my twin brother, Havadh, and this,” he said with a reverent bow to the woman, “is our lovely mother, Taite. All you fine people are gathered here just days away from our battle with the barbaric Bancehans!” to which the crowd enthusiastically booed. “But we have no need to worry, because we have a protector! The eldest daughter of our kingdom, as strong as she is beautiful and clever, Princess Emila, the Warrior of Babish!” 
 













































The roar of applause was deafening. Emila ducked her head down, cheeks growing warm.
 
“Happy?” Silvia elbowed her in jest.
 
‘I’d be happier if I were actually going to be here to protect them,’ she thought, but as Taite finished tuning her instrument and began deftly plucking at the strings, the princess’s heartbeat quickened, and she felt a rush of electricity running up her spine. She couldn’t help but smile at their pride in her. 
 
“To honor our dear Warrior tonight, wherever she may be, we will sing the Warrior’s Ballad.”
 
Taite and Havadh knew their cue and their melody began, the strings twanging out into the square as lulling waves, the drum beat colliding with the nearby windows and brick and rumbling back at the crowd. Stegeid opened his mouth and a scratchy, beautiful warble escaped as he harmonized with the instruments:
 
Queens and Kings of our Kingdom Round
Some obscure in memory's will
Others hated or disdained 
Some beloved more still
Sons and Daughters of our Kingdom Round
Avandol, Banceh, Tunorsi, Stravat
And we honor most of all
Babish in that lot
 
Silvia clapped, bellowing along to the ballad with the rest of the patrons, casting eager glances at Emila to get her to sing, too, but she simply counter-offered with a nod to the tune. 
 
Smallest, youngest, sister-child
Mother of us now
Bravest, wisest, fiercest foe
Who made Goliaths bow
From her womb our kingdom grew
And many heroes brought to life
But none more than the Warrior Girl
Who’s never lost a fight
 
The warmth in the warrior girl’s cheeks returned as her fingers trailed absentmindedly to her lower stomach. The crowd’s energy began mounting as Taite and Havadh played the instrumental before the next stanza.
 
Oh Warrior of Babish
First Daughter of our land
She always turns the battle
With the might of her own hand
Oh Warrior of Babish
Mistress of the sword
With her you know it's Babish 
Who gets to have the last word
 
The muscles in Emila's throat stiffened, her eyes stung, and she bit her lip. She couldn't be doing this right now, not in front of the girls, not in this crowd while they sang her praises. She needed a distraction.
 
She searched around for anything that could occupy her mind, and her thoughts came back to Lillianne. The elder sister glanced over to the younger. While the audience's attention was fully enraptured by Stegeid and his family, Lillianne's glance was focused elsewhere, brows furrowed, her lashes brushing up against the hem of her hood. Something - or someone - had caught her eye.  
 
Emila’s attention had been fully diverted as she followed the thread of Lillianne's gaze past the performers' moving bodies, past the water spraying up in the fountain, and to a figure across the plaza. The figure was cloaked, not unlike the majority of the people there. They were tall and slender but not abnormally. They wore all black, as had become the recent fashion in Babish, especially among the young men in university. What had Lillianne seen? The only special thing Emila could see was that other than she and her sister, this figure was the sole person distracted from the performance. The figure looked at their pocket watch instead, and Emila wondered for a moment what time it was. It had to be getting late. 
 
The figure closed their pocket watch and looked up, but instead of looking at Stegeid, their eyes met those of the sisters, watching them. Lillianne gasped, realizing she’d been caught staring, and looked down sharply. Emila pulled her eyes away more reluctantly, glancing now at her sister. 
 
“Lilli?”
 
Lillianne’s head snapped up and her eyes bulged out, panicked, or perhaps excited. “Mi! That - ,” She whispered, but as she continued to speak, her face changed and suddenly her mouth clamped shut. She shook her head and looked down.
 
“What, Lilli?”
 
“N-nothing…”
 
“Lilli, what is it?” Emila urged, grabbing her sister’s shoulder, but before she could answer, Emila looked back across the fountain to see the figure slowly drawing towards the back of the crowd. They chanced one last glance in the sisters’ direction, before turning around and walking away.
 
Emila had no way of knowing in that moment whether it was instinct or the still strong desire to escape her own thoughts that made her act, but she grabbed Lilli and Silvia (who gave a ‘what gives!’) by the wrists and began pushing and pulling them with her out of the crowd. 
 
The figure moved quickly, now nearly out of the square and into the safety of the alley shadows. She could not let them get away. The girls finally made it out of the throng of people and into a more open area of the square. As the figure passed the last storefront in the square, another figure suddenly joined them, and they both disappeared into the alleyway.
 
“What’s wrong?” Silvia huffed, allowing herself to be dragged along obediently. “The song was almost -,”
 
“Follow me.” was all Emila said.
 
As Lillianne and Silvia followed Emila into the alleyway, the two figures were barely visible, but visible still, up ahead in the distance. 
 
“Emila-,” Silvia began.
 
Emila set a finger to her lips and motioned for the girls to press close to the building walls and hide in the shadows. “We don’t want them to know they’re being tailed.”
 
Silvia raised her eyebrows at Lillianne, who just bit her lip and looked to Emila. 
 
“Let’s go.” The elder princess instructed and the others complied, following their marks without so much as a click of a heel on the cobblestones. 
 
The girls followed the two mysterious persons up the steep alley and out into downtown for a few blocks, passing workshops, kitchens, and tall, smushed together brownstones. They stopped every now and then behind parked horse carts or barrels as the cloaked figures looked over their shoulders, double-checking that they weren’t being followed. Finally, though, it seemed they had reached wherever they had been heading. Emila, Lillianne, and Silvia stood around the corner of a nearby shop as the figures stopped at Reedy’s Tavern & Inn. Reedy’s was normally packed full, laughter spilling out into the street as the door slammed open and shut with patrons’ comings and goings. Tonight, however, the inn was uncharacteristically, hauntingly, vacant. The second figure stepped around the first, opened the door for them, and the first figure walked through. The second took a moment to glance once more up and down the street before also stepping inside Reedy’s, closing the door behind.
 
“Okay,” Silvia said, now that the figures were gone. “You want to tell us what's going on? Who are those guys?"
 
“I don’t know.” Emila said, a glance at Lillianne.
 
Silvia looked at the younger princess as well, question on her face. 
 
Lillianne pressed up against the shop wall as if she were trying to pass through it. She shook her head. “I…I don’t know either.”
 
Silvia put her hands up in the air. "So we're just following random people for no reason? I thought we were supposed to be having a fun night out before Emila leaves." 
 
"I-I didn't want to follow anyone! That was Mi's idea."
 
“Only because you were watching that person back at the square,” Emila retorted. “And I know there must have been a reason."
 
Lillianne bit her lip and considered this. Silvia balked at her. "So you do know who those people are?"
 
"No!"
 
"But you have an idea." Emila said. "That's what you almost told me back in the plaza."
 
There she was, glancing at her feet. "I'm not sure…"
 
"Come on, Lilli," the elder sister said with gentleness, "We've already come this far."
 
Lillianne bit her lip again, her fists clenched, her leg bouncing. She had to close her eyes in order to finally speak. "...I think that’s the Avandolian ambassador."
 
Emila's brows crept up her forehead. "Seriously?" 
 
"And you think that because…?" Silvia asked, but Lilli did not answer. “I mean, why would an ambassador from Avandol, the wealthiest kingdom in the whole Round, be staying at a place like Reedy’s? The king normally has some plush uptown apartment for people like that.” Silvia pressed. Emila was afraid her sister might puncture her mouth from biting so hard; it was clear they had pushed her to some limit but Silvia also appeared to be near hers. She looked at Emila and shrugged her shoulders with a scoff, an inaudible 'typical.'
 
“Well, we can keep theorizing about it, or we can find out." Emila decided, turning into the street, pulling her cloak closer to her skin. "Come on."
 
With one uncertain glance at each other, Silvia and Lillianne took off after the princess up the street to Reedy’s. 
 
“Let’s go around back.” Silvia suggested as they caught up to her. “You can see into the sitting room from the courtyard. There’s a good chance they’re in there.”
 
They ran with knees bent and heads tucked down as they cut around the side of the building and entered the courtyard. Light shined onto the brick walkway of the small square from a few large windows, and the smell of hay and horse manure caught on the wind from the adjoining stables. Silvia led the way, nearly crawling now as she crouched beneath one of the lit windows, the princesses doing the same. 
 
Shadowy silhouettes played in the light of the sitting room window, and as they sat down, backs against the wall, they could hear voices, just barely audible, seeping through the glass. 
 
"Nice thinking." Emila whispered to Silvia as she tilted her head and dared to take a peek into the inn. 
 
"Careful, Mi!" Lillianne hazarded, but her sister merely offered a not-so-reassuring pat on the arm in return as her eyes made it over the windowsill.  
 
The glass had etchings of reeds of grass sprawling across its surface, the frosty blades only leaving a few transparent gaps between them. Emila weaved her head from side to side like a snake, persistent yet careful as she tried to make out the figures inside the sitting room. 
 
“One. two…..three…and four.” she hummed, her head still weaving as she counted. 
 
“You see them?” Silvia asked, now chancing a peek through the window. 
 
“I see Reedy. Luce, too. She’s holding a…tray, with cups and food on it. She’s offering it to the shorter figure who’s sitting down. Reedy’s holding his hat in his hand and he’s saying something but…” she paused, “I can’t make it out. They both look nervous…”
 
“Maybe they’re in trouble…” Silvia pondered. 
 
“Or they’re just nervous to be hosting a foreign ambassador.” Lillianne posited softly, now also trying her best to peek through the glass. 
 
Silvia puckered her lips. “Where’s the tall one? I can’t see them. You counted four didn’t you?” 
 
“Yeah.” Emila nodded. “They’re lurking out in the hall. I saw them pacing back and forth.”
 
“A guard, then?”
 
“Safe to assume.”
 
From their vantage point, they stared at Reedy and his wife Luce and the back of the stranger’s black-cloaked head as they sat in one of the stout, wood and leather sitting room chairs. Reedy and Luce laughed suddenly at something their guest must have said. Luce nodded. Reedy smiled through his beard, the gap in his teeth on full display. Then the stranger stood and Reedy and Luce backed away slightly, demure. The girls all looked on, mouths slightly open, hungry for answers. The stranger reached their hands up and gripped the edge of their hood and pulled it down, uncovering a head of white-blonde hair, long, and flat, pulled back into a ponytail. 
 
The girls looked at each other and then back quickly through their spy holes between the etched surface of the glass. The stranger continued taking off their cloak, swinging it around their body and revealing a satin lining, so extravagantly blue. Emila glanced at Lilli who met her eye for a moment, but then quickly turned her gaze back to the room. The stranger held the cloak out to Luce who took it gratefully, her eyes glimmering as she looked down at the garment and carried it out of the room. 
 
The stranger then turned their head to Reedy, revealing the profile of a man, middle-aged, the bones of his cheeks and jaws protruding sharply. He said something to the inn-keeper as he fanned himself, a soft smile on his face which made a pair of dimples known. Reedy nodded nearly twenty times in two seconds and started quickly for the window. 
 
The girls ducked down, pressing themselves against the wall, pulling their legs in beneath their cloaks. Reedy's blue shadow elongated across the little courtyard as he drew closer to the window, and they heard the pane of glass rattle against the metal frame as it slid up. They felt the room's warm air waft softly down onto their heads along with the stranger's unfamiliar voice.
 
"Thank you." he said. His voice was smooth and bright. It wasn’t high but it had a sort of lilt that carried words along like they were on water. "I'm not much used to wearing a cloak everywhere I go." 
 
"Y-Yes sir!" Reedy laughed thickly and a bit too enthusiastically, boots clunking along the floor as he returned to his guest. "And this old tavern holds heat like fire in a dragon’s belly. ‘Course I normally have the windows up, especially on a summer night, place packed lousy with nothing but rowdy folks, and-,” Reedy stopped, blushing. “W-Well I don’t mean to bore ya!”
 
“Nonsense.” The stranger said.
 
Reedy laughed again, flattered. “Right, well i-is there anything else I can do for ya, uh, Y-Your Majesty?"
 
Emila knew that Lillianne and Silvia’s ears were echoing, just as hers were, with Reedy’s words. Silvia was gripping onto Emila’s arm so tightly, her fingertips started going numb and Lillianne’s hands covered her mouth, her eyes like one petrified - Lilli's hunch had been the thing to lead them there, but she hadn’t wanted to follow it in the first place. Now it seems they had stumbled into something bigger than they bargained for.  Emila wrestled herself from Silvia and twisted around, daring to poke her head above the windowsill again. Risky as it was without the cover of the etched glass, she had to look. 
 
Majesty!?
 
Were they to believe that in that room, in a rowdy little tavern, in the middle of Babish, sat the King of Avandol? 
 
‘Perhaps Reedy misspoke…’ Emila thought, praying her presence was adequately obscured by the dark and the window curtains which billowed from the night air. 
 
“No, I’m quite comfortable now, thank you.” the stranger smiled, dimples reappearing. Emila watched him stroll casually past the innkeeper and across the room to a large bookcase. Beneath that secretly expensive cloak had apparently been an outfit just as extravagant. The stranger wore a black waistcoat garnished with golden buttons which hit the candlelight and sent yellow flashes bouncing around the room like pixies. His black pants and overcoat were simple enough, except that they were made of velvet. ‘No wonder he’d gotten hot.’ thought Emila. 
 





























There could be no denying now that this man was, if not a king, at least some form of nobility. If he was a king, the King of Avandol, this is the man she’d be spending much of her time with over the next month. If she hadn't been curious before, she definitely was now.
 
He craned his head up and down at the case whose bounds stretched floor to ceiling, wall to wall, taking in the sight of the books and scanning their bindings. “I’m impressed with such an extensive library for, what did you call it? a ‘dragon’s belly’.” 
 
Reedy was in danger of bursting a lung. “Right! Ha, dragon’s belly! Well to be honest, Luce and I don’t read much - no time for it myself. They’re just ‘room filler’ as she calls it.”
 
The little smile on the stranger’s face started to fade. “Room…filler?” 
 
“Well, when folks stay at the inn and forget their books here, we just put ‘em up on the shelf and as you can see, a looot of folks forget their books. The way I see it, they must not be all that good! But they sure make the room look nice.” Reedy chuckled loudly.
 
The stranger’s smile remained wan. “Right.”
 
Just then, a knock came and Emila swore she saw Reedy’s guest sigh, his shoulders drooping with relief as the innkeeper turned to answer the door. The watching princess expected it to be Luce, but instead the second stranger, the guard, entered the room, their cloak still adorned. They bowed and began to speak. “Your Majesty-,” the stranger said with a voice scratchy and male, and Emila supposed that she could no longer deny that this stranger was indeed a king. “ - His Majesty, King Babish has arrived.” 
 
And sure enough her father, square and bald, stepped around the guard and entered the room, a grin upon his face which he only reserved for keeping up appearances. 
 
"Papa's here?" Lillianne gasped.
 
He extended his hand to his fellow king and said "King Farenbir." 
 
"Please," Farenbir said, shaking Jonbareau's hand with warmth, "call me Victoriain."
 
"That's the King of Avandol!" Silvia exclaimed under her breath. "That's really him!"
 
Emila felt like her brain was pushing on her skull as she watched this bizarre scenario play out. Reedy must have definitely felt the same as he stood there, his mouth so straight it looked as if it'd been sewn shut. 
 
The princesses' father put one heavy hand on the innkeeper's shoulder. "Thank you, Reedy. That'll be all for now."
 
The innkeeper nodded and started out of the room before stopping dead in his tracks, turning on his heel, and bowing deeply to the two kings. Then, he left. King Farenbir's guard closed the door and taking a few steps back, receded into the shadows. 
 
The kings took a seat with soft groans of age and fatigue, yet there was something of a spark in each of their eyes. "I hope you've been able to find Babish comfortable enough?" Jonbareau asked.
 
"Oh, yes, quite."
 
"Though I'm sure you would have been much more comfortable staying at Castle Babish!" 
 
King Farenbir laughed. "Yes, yes, I know you must think me rude for not accepting your invitation-,"
 
"I mean, really, Farenbir! I know Babish is no Avandol, but we still have plenty of places better suited for a king than a tavern inn."
 
Farenbir laughed again. "The inn is a bit…rustic for my personal taste, but it's been more than adequate. After all, as I explained, safety over style.
 
Jonbareau laughed now, but not without a touch of incredulity. "Right. Castle Babish is the strongest fortress in all of King's Round, but of course, when it comes to safety, perhaps it isn't quite adequate."
 
"Oh, come now, Jonbareau! Let's not waste time talking about petty things. How long has it been since we last saw one another?" 
 
King Jonbareau inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring as he thought. “Not since my wife's coronation, I think. Little more than 20 years.”
 
"Ah yes! I was still a boy then, awestruck watching her up there, fierce and small, but with such a grand demeanor - "
 
" - like every Queen Babish before her." 
 
"And she was huge! I remember wondering how she could stand there so still through all that pomp and circumstance only days away from giving birth to your daughter, though none of us knew that then." 
 
"Yes, it seems our Emila had no regard for all the new tasks her mother and I had on our plates and got it in her head to show up a bit too early! Hard-headed girl. I guess not much has changed."
 
Silvia and Lillianne both stifled laughs.
 
"Hey…" Emila admonished both of them with a hand over their mouths. But as she looked into the window, she felt a tingle on the back of her neck and something like the sound of alarm bells ringing in her head. Then from out of the shadow of the room, out of the shadow of his hood, she noticed two eyes staring straight at her. 
 
"Shit!" She said, stumbling back from the window. 
 
"What-," Lillianne started to ask but Emila was already dragging them both along, out from underneath the sitting room window.
 
"The guard!" She explained. “He saw me, we have to go! Now!" 
 
But no sooner had they stood than they heard - 
 
"Silvia?!"
 
Emila halted, her body instinctively throwing her arms out in front of the others but when she realized who it was, her heart sank into her stomach. There was no mistaking that familiar cry. 
 
It was Felice Tasou.
 
"Silvia, what are you doing here?!" He yelled again.
 
"D-Dad?" Silvia squeaked, and as he stepped further into the light of the courtyard, face pink with anger, Emila knew there was nothing she could do to protect her friend from her father's rage, or herself from her own.