While the Court had gathered, she had sat calmly and written a message, then magically duplicated it a hundred times. It was simple, stark and to the point, and ready to be sent out via a hundred fast messengers as soon as she got the Council to bend to her will.
And now, faced with utter disaster, the Council as one man turned to her. No matter what they thought of her, she had established her authority in their minds as well as by the King's final proclamation. She knew what they were thinking. That it was true that she might be an Evil Sorceress, and was at least a scheming ice-vixen who had somehow finagled the King into wedding her, and might have every intention of murdering the Princess. But she was, no doubt, also the cleverest person in this room, and they knew it, and they also knew she would do nothing about the Princess until she knew that the Kingdom itself was secure. After all, she wanted this Kingdom and its wealth. If she had been in league with any of these enemies, she would not now be standing before them with the Princess at her side — she would be standing before them with one of the five enemy leaders by her side, and an army surrounding the Palace. No, she wanted this kingdom for herself. For now, she needed the Princess, in order to keep someone beside her who had the popular support of the people and most of the Court, so Rosamund was safe for the duration.
As for the Councillors themselves — they were men who were used to advising on trade agreements, on internal disputes, not matters of war. Thurman, his father before him and his father beforehim had saved them from that, working with Lily, or taking the entire burden of the threat of war upon hisown shoulders and those of his generals so that the Councillors could concentrate on internal matters. The balance had held until now, but this — this was enough to break it, as impulse backed by The Tradition overwhelmed and prevented any second thoughts. Anyone with military experience was with the army now. Those here were faced with something they could not cope with.
She cleared her throat, and looked decisive. The room was utterly silent, as every pair of ears was turned to hear what she might say.
"The Kingdom of Eltaria is now in the gravest danger it has ever been in its history," she said, with icy calm. "There is no point in pretending otherwise. We must act, and we must act swiftly, and yet, as you know, faced with the certainty that most, if not all, of Eltaria's enemies will descend on us at once as soon as word of Thurman's death reaches them, it is a fact that we do not have enough men and arms to oppose them directly. But I have another plan. I have prepared a message to be sent to every ally we have, every ally we might have, and yes, even to the rulers of those countries who are now our enemies. Here it is." She held up the first copy of the message and read it aloud.
"Salutations, from Sable, Queen Regent of Eltaria, and Rosamund, Princess Royal of Eltaria. Our husband and father, King Thurman, has been taken from us, to join his beloved Celeste in the Fair Fields of the afterworld. We stand alone against the world, and we are but women, unaccustomed to rule. Therefore, send us your sons, that we may choose husbands from them, and once again place Eltaria under the firm, guiding hand of a King. Two candidates are here already. Let there be a hundred, and let there be tests and trials, that all may see the choice was fair."
She folded the paper. "Signed, et cetera. This is our only hope of keeping the wolves from the door. From this, they will not know that the two 'candidates' are from distant lands that have never heard of Eltaria." She nodded at Siegfried and Leopold, who looked torn between wishing to express the proper sentiment of sadness at the death of King Thurman, and the happiness at the fact that they had actually been named, in public, as candidates for the Princess's, or even the Queen's, hand. "This is not something they would have considered, for Thurman has, for years, refused all offers for Rosamund's hand. Thrown off balance by this, they will pause to think rather than attack. This will only benefit us. They cannot yet have information about our guests. They will think only that one of the others has stolen a march on them by attempting to take the easier route of marriage to the riches that lie beneath our soil. And while they are pausing, the sons of the others, second, third and youngest, will be descending on us, for this is a very rich portion for a prince who is likely to otherwise have nothing. By the time our enemies gather their wits, it will be too late to attack. The Palace will be full of princes of every sort. Attacking while this throng of Royal Sons is here means that they will be at war with the kingdom of every prince endangered." She allowed herself a thin smile. "We will have protected ourselves behind a screen of exceedingly valuable hostages, hostages who put themselves into our hands of their own free will. Eventually, we are sure, they too will add sons or nephews to the throng."
She watched the faces. There was some doubt — not a great deal, but some — but as the Councillors murmured amongst themselves, she saw doubt swiftly turn to agreement.
"This will be expensive, of course," she pointed out. "A hundred Princes to entertain — this will not be without cost and effort. But it will be a fraction of the cost of a war, and will not result in the decimation of Eltaria and poverty for decades to come. And, all things being considered, might ultimately result in a fine King and ruler for this land."
She watched them consider that for a little. These old men were not easy contemplating a land without a King. To their mind, strength was only found in the male. Well, fine. So long as that manipulated them into doing what she wanted...she would use any weapon that came to her hand.
"Do we have the unanimous agreement of the Council?" she asked, in tones that implied that she was going to do this, even if they didn't agree.
But she knew her men of Eltaria too well. The younger men might have been willing to fight, but these old, staid, lazy men, full of themselves and their fortunes, who had been defended from the outside for far too long, looked into the face of disaster and knew they would not survive it. The nods that answered her question were shaded with emotions ranging from craven eagerness, to weary assent, but every man there was happy to let her try this scheme.
And after all, if it failed, she would be the one they could point to as the cause of failure.
She made a mental note to infuse some danger into Eltaria from now on, at least for the ruling class. These folk had been safe and soft for too long, and she had been so busy protecting the royals and the peasantry that she had forgotten the wealthy and noble. But that would be for the future. They had to survive the present, first.
"Very good," she said. "We wish you all now to return to your places. Assume the garments of mourning. Pray for the souls of the King and Queen. Prepare to receive our beloved King Thurman's body here for the state burial of a hero, for a hero he truly was, protecting all of you from this grave danger for all of his life, so that it remained invisible to you. You may go."
They went, with no show of reluctance; they simply filed out. Some, she was sure, who were unconvinced of her ability to save the country, were already planning how to make their wealth as portable as possible in order to flee within hours or days. Let them go; they would not be anyone that this land needed. Some would be trying to figure out how to buy their way into the good graces of whatever conqueror came. Those were fools; a conqueror would merely take, then crush, for what need did he have to share? That, too, was fine; there were mirrors in every house, and Jimson would soon determine who they were.
First things first. Lily summoned the messengers, twenty of them.
Each one was given explicit instructions and sent out on the King's — now her — swiftest horses. Five would go to the near neighbors, fifteen to allies. That left eighty more copies...which would go out by yet faster means.
Birds. Thurman's grandfather had established a network of communication with trading ambassadors well out beyond the neighboring lands, with emergency messages being sent by pigeon. If anything was an emergency, this was. She had reduced these copies to the size that pigeons could carry, called in the Bird Master, and sent them to be spread as far and wide as possible. Not just Princes would come. Obviously. But the worst adventurers could be sorted out and sent away.
She was relieved that Siegfried and Leopold had not lingered; she didn't want to deal with them just yet. Instead, she took Rosa with her back to her chambers, and again dismissed all of her attendants, but left a heavy guard on the door. Not that she couldn't defend herself but...better safe than sorry.
She felt weary, impossibly weary. And her work had only begun. This was, in every sense, the worst crisis she had faced in her entire three hundred years as Eltaria's Godmother, with no discernible ending in sight.
Damn, you Tradition, she thought, a little bitterly. Why don't you move so that a Godmother can always win?