Charlerion Of Pelancir : Princil's Magic : Ch.6 (Part 3) : Negotiations

Charlerion Of Pelancir : Princil’s Magic : Ch.6 (Part3) : Negotiations

Charlerion liked Cromilil. The city had been badly abused by the Animarian invasion, mainly by the Grumandorians and their Goblin allies. But the shape of the city appealed to him. Its proud opulent merchant buildings, many of them still standing, although fire damaged, were cultured and magnificent. He saw the emptied streets as a new colony for his own people of Pelancir. The people of Cromilil were dead, exiled or enslaved. Empty houses would be ideal habitations for colonists. Shalirionites would be servants and workers.

King Guthelm negotiated further about their plans for conquest.
“I want you to join me in an attack on the city of Vedalis. We need the blood of Pelancir to defeat the Shalirionites there,” said Guthelm in typically blunt fashion. “My armies are not sufficient without you.”
“We of Pelancir want to defeat Shalirion, but they have redoubled their defences and are more ready. Further conquests will cost many lives,” declared Charlerion. “I want all of Cromilil – for Pelancir! I want a guarantee that Grumandor will not do to Vedalis what you did to Cromilil.
“Another request I have also. Give me one of your concubines – the one called Remzain! I danced with her at your feast. Give her to me and I will join you against Vedalis.”
“Remzain? Which one is that?”
“You don’t remember her?” Charlerion evidently found it hard to believe the King of Grumandor had not noted her beauty. The King of Pelancir had thought of little else since he had found her at Guthelm’s feast.
“Is she of Cromilil?” asked Guthelm, conjuring his memories.
“She is very beautiful, a very presentable young lady,” explained Charlerion. “Her father was a merchant and a Councillor of the city. She was brought into your household on the day after conquest.”
“I remember – her father died with some honour after his trial! She is a beauty of course, are not all of my concubines. I do not yet know her well. Have her! She may be a part of the deal. She can be your concubine. Just give me your armies and we can fall on Vedalis!”

And so she was to be passed from one King to another as part of a war bargain to further destroy the lands of her own people.
Guthelm’s concubines were put to work occasionally, cleaning the grand Hostel. But there were slaves, Shalirionite women made captive by the Grumandorians, who were commanded by other Grumandorian women of the King’s Household in preparing food for the King’s Court. If they did not do as they were asked they could be passed to the guards for discipline, which could be beatings of severity, or in some cases to be raped by guards as a punishment. Remzain felt lucky not to be one of those. Instead she had little to do except conversation with the other concubines, which was often idle, but sometimes very enlightening. The lifestyle as a concubine of the barbarian King had been easy enough, as long as she was able to prostrate herself beneath the King when he wanted to use her. So far she had been used by him only once, and in the two weeks since she wondered whether she would ever have to do so again. Perhaps the King did not enjoy her! Perhaps, more than likely, the King had been so inebriated that night that he had simply forgotten her. Or maybe the King had acquired so many new concubines in this invasion that he had little need or time for any particular one of them.

The Lady of the King’s Bedchamber came to her as she languished comfortably in the company of the other concubines. Without concern for any privacy the Lady announced, “You are to pack up your clothes immediately. The King has given you to another. The guards are here to escort you now.”
“What do you say?” Remzain uttered, alarmed by the sudden instruction. The Lady repeated what she had said exactly.
“I have been given away?” she asked, incredulously. “And I have to go now?”
“Yes!”
“May I ask?” she asked the woman, who she had found brusque and overly dutiful, but who she had come to respect. “To whom have I been given?” She imagined she might be given as a favour to some Lord of Guthelm’s for war service, or willingness to do the King’s bidding. She expected the worst, but then what could be worse than the barbarian King himself? She felt shock that she was to be moved yet again, and so soon, to another, without gaining a full knowledge of the King or having any chance to understand him better or to cause any change in his awful behaviour, or that of his soldiers.
“You are to be given to the King’s ally King Charlerion of Pelancir.”
“King Charlerion?” Her heart skipped a couple of beats and she became instantly flushed. She could see what must have happened clearly now. She knew Charlerion had taken a fancy to her at the Feast. The handsome King had had eyes for no one else. Perhaps too he had been able to read her own interest, for what woman could fail to be enthralled by the handsome energy of the man. Wonderful physical specimen he was, a charmer, and everything a woman might aspire to. Where Guthelm was powerful and cruel, this monarch was beautiful and charming. She could see his superiority to Guthelm and his strong energy. Guthelm could rule only be fear and brutish force, but Charlerion could inspire and encourage. He would lead, but his people would want to follow.
Remzain could not believe her luck. Charlerion must have requested that Guthelm give her to him, perhaps as a part of some alliance deal. Guthelm knew her little. He had even fallen asleep while he used her, so little interest had she been able to inspire. She knew the causes of his drowsiness were the excessive beer or wine (alcohol) consumed and the long day which had taken its toll upon Guthelm. She had felt fortunate for these effects, but a part of her could not help but feel that she had failed to inspire the King, that he held little interest in her. But perhaps he was really more interested in other matters, such as how to wage war upon Shalirion and how to deal with the conquered. Women were perhaps not his most important passion at this time, as he had possessed all the women he could have desired for many of his years now.
She had not thought that Guthelm would toss her away so easily, or that King Charlerion would mean what he said when he danced with her at the feast. She was filled with new excitement. She had been learning to accept a closed and limited existence as the chattel of a brutish King, who knew or cared nothing for her, suspended in a dull life with other unfortunate women, with nothing of her own to do. Now she would be unexpectedly given to one who aroused a strong passion in her, who, despite being an enemy of her homeland, was one who she might have chosen to be her lover and husband, even if she were free to choose. Her captivity with Aribor, and then with Guthelm, had come to a very swift end. Although she surely remained a concubine she was to be owned by a man any woman would have given up her freedom to be with. She could feel the misery of the loss of her city and the death of her father falling away as she contemplated the man who was now to be her owner.
“Where is he?” she asked. “Where am I to be taken?”
“The guards will escort you. I believe the King of the Pelancirians currently resides on the south bank of this city in a building he is converting into his own palace.
“Pack your clothes quickly girl. Say your goodbyes swiftly for the guards are waiting. I wish you every luck you may have. We are all the possessions of our rulers, and you, more than most, have been uprooted, but perhaps you will do better at the court of the Pelancirian King than you would ever have done here. Good luck to you girl!” The Lady of the King’s Bedchamber revealed her kindliness, and perhaps her judgement was a fair one. Remzain was motivated to kiss her affectionately, but when she moved towards the woman she pulled away. Remzain knew not why, but perhaps the Lady was too careful to let any emotion show. The Lady nodded and left the room, leaving Remzain to pack the few clothes she now possessed, which the Grumandorians surely wished her to keep.
After packing the clothes swiftly she turned to say her goodbyes to the two roommates whom she had come to know quite well by now.

The guards led her through the burned and dirty streets of her city. Streets she had frequently walked through at will were now restricted to her. Although her captivity by Guthelm had been less horrible than it might have been she had not been free to go anywhere on her own. She knew not what controls King Charlerion and the Pelancirians might place upon her. She hoped, with good reason, that she would have more freedom with Charlerion and that she might have more influence over him as he had appeared to be very enamoured of her.
She half expected to see Cromililian bodies upon the streets and to smell the stench of death as she had last seen the city streets two weeks before, but even the cruel Grumandorians had by now tidied the bodies away and disposed of them. Work parties of Cromilil’s women passed in the street, carrying food, or cleaning the raucous hostels of the invaders. They were guarded by Grumandorian soldiers always. They looked unkempt and hardworked, still fearful of casual brutality, and by the look upon their faces, hating the barbarian occupiers. They were slaves now to the barbarians, their menfolk appeared to be all dead or gone. They themselves were subject to rape and beatings in addition to servitude. For women who had enjoyed complete freedom of everything from employment and leisure to free sexual choice and cultural richness, they had fallen further than they could ever have imagined.
Two guards walked in front of her and two behind. As a King’s concubine she was not cuffed or chained in any way, but these guards were very much primed to prevent her escape. Some of the Cromililian women looked at her. She wondered if any recognised her for who she was, but she did not recognise any of them in particular. They must have looked at her nice clothes and her attractive cared for appearance, and may have thought she was Grumandorian, or that she was some traitor who gave voluntary favours to the barbarian conquerors.
They came to the main bridge across the River Cromil. across the river lay the parts of the city occupied by the Pelancirians. She could see much of the Black Fleet which had come here to sack the city, just two weeks before, tied up at the quays which lined both sides of the river. The blackened masts and wood of these grim ships caused renewed alarm in her as she perceived the brute power of the invaders. How terrifying they must have been to her fellow citizens who saw them approach their city with warriors and sorcerors aboard, knowing that many of them must lose their lives.
The guards led her onto the bridge when she caught sight of the pointed spikes upon the rails. She saw that each spike carried a head, bloodied and blackening, the hair of each victim still blowing in the slight breeze. None would be easy to recognise. They seemed male, the men of her city, but they came past some which looked feminine, although how could she really tell for sure. Their hair was longer perhaps. She looked because there was little else she could look at. Whichever way she could turn she saw the heads. Fear returned to her then, although she knew she was safe. Perhaps one of them would be her father, and she knew not for sure whether any of her brothers or her sisters and mothers were yet safe. She prayed that she would not find her father’s head, or any of them, or anyone she had known.

There were Grumandorian guards on the bridge as they came towards the South Shore, proving there was little trust between the two main allies of Animar. There had been moments of disagreement and rivalry in these past weeks. She guessed that her transference might be part of the present agreement between the two leaders. At the end of the bridge they passed clearly into Pelancirian territory. There was a unit of Pelancirian soldiers waiting at the edge of the bridge. The Grumandorian guards delivering Remzain proceeded right up to them and their officer spoke to the Pelancirian officers.
“Here is the concubine Remzain. She is a gift of goodwill from King Guthelm to your King Charlerion,” said the guard.
“We are expecting her,” said the uniformed Pelancirian officer. “We will take her to our King’s Palace.” Remzain could see the Pelancirians looking at her. She wondered what they thought of her as they estimated her. Walking forward she joined the custody of the Pelancirians, and the Grumandorians stood back. As soon as she came amongst her new guards a cheer went up from the Pelancirians. She was shocked to receive such an accolade after the silence of her journey through the centre of the city. The cheer was followed by clapping. There were smiles on the faces of the Pelancirians. She presumed they had been instructed by their King to welcome her in this way. She was charmed and pleasantly surprised by the welcome. It seemed that amongst the Pelancirians she might be accorded more respect than she had received under Guthelm’s jurisdiction. Perhaps they appreciated her beauty? If so she was flattered.

The streets of the south shore were not busy, but there were signs of industry, and even of normality of a sort returning. There were Cromililians on the streets here, engaged in work tasks, rebuilding damaged buildings, carrying materials for the occupiers. She was heartened to see that there were Cromililian men amongst the women, and even some children were occasionally to be seen. In the Grumandorian part of the city she had seen none of the men of her city. Some guards had said there were prisoner work camps on the edge of the city, but she was convinced that many women as well as men had been killed in the anarchic chaos which had been the conquest.