The First Stage

Fenrik’s world had turned upside down in a heartbeat; his hand had been forced. With devastated armies, his generals began to field adolescent children and any elderly person that could hold a rifle. Had he not signed the terms of surrender, his people would continue to be slaughtered.

They had let him keep his title, at least in name. What true king answers to a higher authority, and what true elf answers to the authority of barbarous humans?

The humans had taken away all his generals that led the troops of children to stand trial for “war crimes.” Fenrik wished they’d left it to him. Every last one of them would be executed for failing him so totally.

From his throne, he couldn’t see the remnants of the King’s Guard barracks; the only part of the palace complex that had been hit by drone strikes. He knew the damage outside the palace was worse. Every factory, shipping yard, rail yard, and the most key bridges into the capital lay in ruins. It wouldn’t, however, be like that for long. He didn’t notice the aide entering from the side door.

“Your Majesty, the human advisors,” she spat out the word, “are waiting in the conference room.”

He looked at the bowing woman. Second child of a lesser Duke and Duchess, in service as an aide in hopes to increase her family’s influence. “Thank you, Lisbet of Nordfen. Fret not, child, this is temporary.”

“Of course, sir. Does Your Majesty require anything further?”

“No, Lisbet. I should go deal with these barbarians.” She backed three steps before turning around and standing upright, then exited the same door she’d come in. The king stood from his throne and kept his gaze locked on the main door where guards waited for him. He knew that a glance out the window to his left would show the destroyed barracks while a glance at his guards would show him they were unarmed.

His nose wrinkled at the stink of the conference room. The odor of the foul, black beverage the humans drank filled the room and seeped into the carpet and drapes and furnishings.

“When you are finally defeated, I’ll have to burn this room back to the stone walls and floor and rebuild to get rid of your stink,” he said.

A dun-skinned human woman with black hair and nearly as dark eyes stepped forward. “A pleasure to meet you, too, King Fenrik. Fresh coffee is over there, along with pastries. I’m—”

He interrupted her. “Madame Secretary Alexandra Silva, the human Secretary of State from Westermarch. I know who you are. Do you not know how to address—”

“A king?” she interrupted back. “Of course I would, if our positions were different. In our role as advisors, it behooves us to become comfortable with each other. That isn’t going to happen if we’re busy tripping over ‘Your Majesty this’ and ‘Madame Secretary that’ and other nonsense.”

Fenrik’s eyes narrowed. If he’d had his sword, he would kill her where she stood for her insolence. She smiled at him, unfazed by the glare he threw at her.

Behind her stood General Howard Mackenzie, leader of the combined human forces that had finally defeated the elves. Shorter than both Alexandra and Fenrik, slight of build and with a sun-darkened mahogany complexion under close-cropped dark brown hair, his bright brown eyes were framed by large, square glasses that were incongruous with his dress uniform. He hid a wealth of tactical know-how behind his sun-lined face and renowned strength in his unassuming frame.

“King Fenrik, I’m General Mackenzie, but everyone here just calls me ‘Howie.’” He pulled a chair out for the king at the head of the conference table. “Please do have a seat, so we can get started.”

Stepping past the General, Fenrik saw a small woman already seated at the table. She looked like a pale human with pink cheeks and grey eyes under lank, blonde hair, out of which he saw the tips of half-pointed ears poking out.

“Pleased to meet you, King Fenrik. I’m Maddison Ostfern, assigned legal representative from the International Court. I would’ve stood, but…,” she motioned to the wheelchair in which she sat.

Fenrik sat, noting that his chair was no higher than the others. His personal chair had been removed from the room. All to the better, as it would’ve been ruined by the odor of the coffee. He muttered under his breath, “A half-breed … impure enough to be a cripple.”

Maddison smiled at him. “I’ll have you know that I’m a ‘half-breed’ because my father was smart enough to defect decades ago, and I’m crippled because one of your soldiers put a bullet in my spine while trying to assassinate my father twelve years ago.”

The general sat and leaned forward on the desk. “In here, you are not the king. You’re just Fenrik, and if you’re smart, you’ll do what needs to be done to help your people recover. A good first step would be to not insult the representative of the International Court. Apologize to the lady.”

Fenrik wasn’t sure whether it was fear of the general or just being out-of-sorts, but he said, “My apologies, Madame Representative.”

She nodded. “Accepted. Howie, why don’t you start us off with the security agreement.”

Fenrik sat in a state of fugue while the general talked about the security zone on the borders with Westermarch and Cantonia, the deployment of troops from Westermarch, Cantonia, and Umberland to bases within his own kingdom, something about dismantling their artillery and air defenses and handing over the airports to private interests.

The Secretary General spoke at length about an upcoming referendum, wherein the people of his kingdom could choose the form of government they preferred. Not that it mattered, he was king by right of birth and the gods. That didn’t worry him in the least. The elves of Oskela would never turn their back on their beloved royals. Even if Fenrik was made to step down, his daughter Ferin would take over as queen — she was old enough now.

He was pulled back into the moment by the silence around the table. All eyes were on him.

“Right,” Maddison said. “I think a break is called for.” She wheeled away from the table and carried her mug in her lap to the coffee pot.

The general stood and stretched before refilling his cup and Alexandra had somehow filled her cup, plus another, and set a pastry in front of Fenrik before he noticed. He watched as she mixed sugar and cream into both cups and sat down next to him.

“Oskela really does have the best pastries in the world,” she said, taking a bite of her own. “It was the thing that I remembered most from doing my student exchange thirty years ago.”

“Don’t get too used to it,” Fenrik said. “My brother’s on his way back with the northern army to retake the capital and drive you all out. He’ll select new generals that won’t let me down, and Oskela will make good on her promise to reclaim the stolen lands along our borders.” He chewed on the pastry without tasting it.

“Your brother’s—”

“Prince Edrik will be here any day now!” he thundered. He choked down the pastry with a throat gone dry.

Alexandra put a gentle hand on his. “I’m so sorry, Fenrik. I know how hard it is to lose someone. Edrik was killed three days ago, and the northern army is in shambles.”

He wanted to lash out at her for touching him but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He took a sip of the coffee in front of him without thinking. It was better than he expected, in fact, it was good, but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. “I need some wine. Why is there no wine?”

“Alexandra, if you like, I can go get some,” Maddison said.

Alexandra shook her head.

Fenrik pulled his hand away from hers. “My brother’s coming back any day, and your lies won’t fool me.”

“Listen here—” the general began before Alexandra cut him off.

“Howie, let him be. He’s just lost his brother and his country.”

Fenrik drank more of the coffee, trying to hide his like for the bittersweet drink. “My daughter should come home to greet her uncle on his triumphant return.”

Alexandra sighed. “The princess is already flying back from the tropics. She should be here this evening. Why don’t we call it here for the day, and pick up tomorrow afternoon, after you’ve had some family time?”

Fenrik finished his coffee before leaving the conference room without saying another word. Once the doors shut, he listened in to the conversation on the other side.

“Do you think he’s cracked?” the general asked.

“No, Howie, he’s in denial but he hasn’t gone nuts. Grief is weird like that,” Maddison said.

“Right. Denial first, then anger, bargaining, despair, and finally acceptance. I hope he’ll let us help him through that,” Alexandra said. “Although, his daughter may need some support to deal with her father through this.”

“What about the royal physicians?” Howie asked.

“Good idea. I’ll have them assign a couple therapists for the king and the princess,” Alexandra said, “and you make sure they’re protected and sequestered.”

“Yeah,” the general said, “wouldn’t do to have someone influence one of the royal therapists.”

“Worried about hardliners?” Maddison asked.

“No, more worried about the anti-royalist faction that might convince them to do something….” The general let his statement trail off.

Fenrik stormed back to his throne, his guards rushing to keep up. He kept his eyes fixed on the throne lest he look out the window and see … he shook his head and continued to his throne. First stage, he thought, nonsense! I’m not in denial, Edrik is on his way, right? He’ll be here soon, right? Yeah, he’ll be here soon.