#princess lutaxa

[thefirstempress]

Warrior Princess in Exile

Link: https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D46566089/

As mentioned a while back, I'm planning a spin-off of sorts to The First Empress, starring Viarra's mom, the Warrior-Princess Lutaxa of the Andegamni tribe. Lutaxa's people are based on the ancient Celtic tribes, and in particular the Pre-Roman Gauls. My working title for the story is Warrior Princess in Exile, though I'm open to other names. I finished the first full scene earlier and thought I'd share it here. As always, feedback and comments are welcome!

“Though she was mother of one of the most powerful women in the world, Lutaxa of the Andegamni was never crowned queen of anywhere. Technically she was princess-consort of Kel Fimmaril when she gave birth to the future Empress Viarraluca and her brothers. Meanwhile, she was more of a warlord or war-chief to the Andegamni tribe than queen. As Iron-Age Gannic tribes rarely kept a calendar, we can’t know for sure when she was born, though sometime in late 55 or early 54 BE seems most probable. While Empress Viarra was famous for her gargantuan height, we know that Princess Lutaxa was slightly taller, and like her daughter was also famous for her bright copper hair. She was reputed to have a will like iron and an edge like obsidian. And although she wasn’t present for Viarra’s famous usurpation of the Hegemony of Andivel that began the great empress’s rise to power, we know from accounts by Viarra and her colleagues that Lutaxa was a mighty warrior-princess in her own right and bequeathed both her martial prowess and political savvy to her Titan of a daughter.” —from Empress Viarraluca: Life of a Titan, by Zahnia, the Chronicler

35 BE, Early Summer

Part of her wishing she didn’t have to wear this bronze helmet and scale-armor on the most humid day of the summer so far, Princess Lutaxa of the Andegamni tribe took a swig from her water-skin as she watched the approaching scout riders. She wiped sweat from her eyes, trying not to smear her blue and black war-paint more than it already was. The weather wasn’t even particularly warm, but the inescapable moisture in the air bordered on oppressive.

“What d’ye report?” she demanded as the scouts rejoined the rest of the four-hundred-warrior war-band.

“Is like ye grandfather predicted,” a tall, shirtless spear-warrior named Velitax reported from his horse. “The traitor Cenali and their allies send another war-band tae attack our fortifications from behind.”

“Up the old wagon road?” Chief Adgenix—Lutaxa’s second-cousin and Grandfather’s master-of-horse—asked as he trotted up beside her.

“Aye,” a brigandine-clad shield-maiden named Cavarixa confirmed, nudging her horse closer. “We think seven-hundred strong.”

“From clothes and the crimson war-paint, I recognized their guides from the Iatta tribe,” Velitax added.

“So much for the Iatta’s claims of neutrality,” Adgenix groused behind his long, droopy brown mustache.

“Or maybe they have traitors of their own,” Lutaxa offered. “Grandfather, Father, and the others can piece that together when the Cenali and their allies are defeated. For now, let’s deal wi’ these foes so we can get back tae Grandfather and the rest of the army!”

“Aye, Princess,” Adgenix nodded, grinning and thumping his fist against his bronze breastplate.

“I’ll take the shield-warriors and hunters and hit their vanguard’s flank, while ye take ye horse-warriors and hit their rear as hard as ye can,” Lutaxa ordered. “Let’s see if we cannae smash the rest of their war-band between us and drive them back intae the forest.”

“Aye!” Adgenix grinned again. The scouts rode off with him to rejoin the rest of his seventy-odd cavalry-warriors.

Hefting her shield and spear in her left hand and two javelins in her right with her broadsword dangling from her hip, Lutaxa gave a quick, sharp whistle to signal the rest of her warriors to move out. Her copper hair was twisted up into a topknot and tucked under her conical bronze helmet. The helmet included hinged cheek-flaps to protect her face and a short, angled brim to deflect arrows away from her head. Painted dark blue with wolf-like devices, her wooden shield was tall and oval-shaped, held behind a central bronze boss. Under her scale armor, Lutaxa wore a maroon-dyed, long-sleeved wool shirt with crimson, navy, and pine-colored checkered pants. Lastly, she wore soft-leather ankle-boots to partly muffle her steps.

The wealthier warriors and shield-maids in her band were armed and dressed similarly, some with leather brigandine or bronze plate instead of scales or with tall, hexagonal shields instead of oval. Most of these warriors were either nobles who could afford to buy armor and spend most of their time training or were veterans who’d used spoils from past victories to buy armor and better weapons.

Most of her warriors, however, were conscripted farmers and tradespeople who wore little if any armor and carried either tall oval shields or more often simple round-shields. These warriors usually carried a single spear and a few javelins with maybe a dagger, hatchet, or cudgel as a sidearm. Hunters and huntresses conscripted into Grandfather’s army served as ranged support and typically carried either a longbow or shield and sling with sidearms similar to the poorer warriors. Though the conscripts’ training ranged from rudimentary to nonexistent, the Gannic tribes were a naturally strong and hardy people made mightier by harsh northern winters.

All shades of brown, black, blonde, red, or copper could be found among Gannic hair colors. Northern Gan tended to wear their hair long and wild, twisting it into topknots before going into battle. Though younger men sometimes grew short beards and older men often grew long beards, the more common facial hair was beardless with long, drooping mustaches. And while it varied from tribe to tribe, many men and women also plucked or shaved their body hair during the spring and summer.

Most Gannic shield-warriors and shield-maidens wore war-paint and dyed wool garments plain or with striped, checkered, tartan, diamond, or herring-bone patterns—though fighters who went shirtless were not uncommon. Zealots of warlike gods such as Vindicatus or Atepu were known to fight with only their weapons and war-paint. As in, no clothes: just spears, swords, and shields, with scrotums or snatches bared to all.

While Lutaxa could appreciate the courage it took to charge into battle stark-naked as well as the harrowing effect that screaming, painted nudists could have on enemy morale, such zealots tended to fight bravely and die quickly.

Admittedly, her war-band was a far cry from the disciplined, semi-professional Venarri armies and mercenary Tollesian phalanxes she’d encountered during the two years she’d spent fighting as a mercenary for the Venarri kingdoms and city-states to the south. The Tollesian hoplite sell-spears had been particularly impressive, with their tall spears and bronze or linothorax armor, and Lutaxa remembered being relieved her warriors were fighting beside them instead of against them.

Uncle and Grandfather had used the pay and spoils their tribe acquired from those campaigns to fund this war against the treacherous Cenali. After two years of campaigning, Grandfather—the great War-Chief Camulatix—had forced their foes into a grand showdown at the fortified village of Carix. Expecting the Cenali to send a flanking force around the nearby mountain to attack the village from the west while the main Cenali horde attacked the eastern and southeastern fortifications, Grandfather had assigned Lutaxa’s war-band to locate and ambush this force.

Creeping amid the trees a quarter-mile south of Carix’s stone- and palisade walls, Lutaxa located the wagon-road that she knew the Cenali would be using. Crouching with her warriors amid the tall grass, brush, pines, and other foliage, she readied her javelins and war-horn for the enemy’s arrival. Minutes later, she could hear the tramping of horses’ hooves amid the muttering and footfalls of leather-booted or barefoot warriors.

Crouching nearby, a stark-naked shield-maid named Saglia made a low growling noise as the first invaders came into view. Daughters of Atepu—followers and priestesses of the divine patroness of women warriors, huntresses, and jilted brides—were known to be particularly fearsome, painting their bodies in garish designs and bleaching their hair with lime. Saglia muttered a war-chant to herself, wearing only her blue-and-crimson war-paint, her bleached hair twisted into a topknot that dangled above her right ear.

Armed, clad, and painted similarly to Lutaxa’s war-band, the Cenali vanguard consisted of a few dozen mounted warriors mixed with shield-warriors and hunters. The Gan tending to be a fairly tall people with a lengthy stride, these warriors maintained a steady, mile-eating pace in order to reach their destination quickly and still have enough stamina to fight.

Once the enemy war-band came parallel to her group, Lutaxa raised her war-horn to her lips and blasted out the attack signal. All at once, her band let out their savage battle-cry and loosed their javelins, arrows, and sling-stones into the enemy’s unshielded right flank. Throwing both javelins before charging in, Lutaxa grinned as the first javelin took a rider from his horse while the second tore into a spear-warrior’s leg. The melee warriors led the charge, screaming and shouting as they engaged the startled invaders.

Using the slope to her advantage, Lutaxa screeched a battle-cry her mother taught her and rushed down upon a cavalry-warrior who was trying to get his frightened horse under control. Not giving him the chance, she shoved her spear deep into his kidney. The warrior screamed and fell from his horse, bleeding heavily. The horse responded by freaking out and charging off into the pines.

Lutaxa turned just in time to deflect a spear-thrust with her tall shield. The unarmored spear-maid facing against her managed to block Lutaxa’s return attack but found herself forced to back off as another of Lutaxa’s warriors attacked her unshielded side. Unable to handle the press of the Andegamni warriors, the young spear-maid tripped backward over one of her fallen comrades.

The spear-maid had beautiful golden hair, Lutaxa decided, and could potentially be a valuable battle-captive. Instead of stabbing her to finish her off, Lutaxa flipped her spear around to smack the woman in the temple to knock her out.

As the shield-warriors assailed the vanguard, the hunters, slingers, and javelin-warriors still amid the trees turned their missiles toward the middle of the enemy column, not yet engaged. Lutaxa smirked as two enemy warriors dropped their weapons and ran into the pines on the other side of the wagon-road.

Using her height and the leverage it gave her, Lutaxa punched her shield downward against an enemy shield, staggering the shirtless warrior backward. As the warrior stumbled, she used the opening she’d created to stab her spear deep into his chest.

Around her, the enemy vanguard crumbled at her warriors’ assault, more and more survivors fleeing into the trees. Screaming out another battle-cry, Lutaxa stepped over her fallen enemy to engage a grizzled warrior in what looked like an older bronze breastplate looted from a Venarri foe. The enemy warrior snarled and threw a javelin from less than ten feet away before drawing his broadsword and charging. Lutaxa knocked the javelin aside with her shield before side-stepping his charge and stabbing out with her spear. The spear struck less than an inch too low to catch the warrior’s unprotected armpit, instead deflecting off his bronze cuirass.

As the warrior turned to face Lutaxa, however, the shield-maiden Saglia shrieked out a war-cry and threw her spear into the side of the bronze-clad warrior’s head. Though the spear wasn’t balanced for throwing and the older warrior’s helmet deflected the attack, it knocked him off balance enough that Lutaxa could shove her spear deep into the bastard’s neck.

Lutaxa decided to include seducing Saglia as part of her victory celebration. Meanwhile, Saglia drew her broadsword and raced forward to pounce shield-first on another enemy warrior, tackling him to the ground and stabbing him repeatedly as she frothed at the mouth.

As Lutaxa’s war-band continued to cut their way through the enemy warriors and hunters, a cry came from the back of the enemy mob that they were under attack from both sides.

“Horse-warriors!” an enemy shouted. “We’re attacked from behind!”

Tall enough to easily look over the heads of the struggling Cenali warriors, Lutaxa smirked at the sight of Adgenix’s cavalry scattering the enemy rear-guard. Beset from two sides, the Cenali and their allies stood less than a minute before their horde broke. Lutaxa stabbed through a javelin-hunter’s defenses, her steel spear cutting deep through his chest and pinning the bastard to the ground as he fell. Drawing her broadsword, Lutaxa looked about to see the enemy scattering.

“Chase the fockers tae the river!” Lutaxa screamed to her warriors, a victory cheer going up from their ranks.

In a victorious frenzy, her war-band charged headlong after their routing foes, cavalry taking the lead and trampling deep into the disintegrating enemy war-band. Lutaxa and her shield-warriors chased down and cut down or captured every fleeing Cenali they could catch while her hunters and javelin-warriors lobbed their projectiles at retreating backs.

A deep river flowed less than a quarter-mile to the south of the wagon-road. Venarri merchants she’d met had a name for the river, but Lutaxa couldn’t recall it. Swift and bloated from the spring melt-off, the river was over an eighth of a mile across and was unfordable this time of year. Nevertheless, many Cenali warriors threw down their arms as well as armor if they wore it, leaping into the swift waters to escape the Andegamni warriors’ retribution. Many others threw down their weapons and surrendered.

Lutaxa estimated perhaps two hundred enemies struggling in the swift current. A few hunters lobbed arrows or sling stones after the escaping swimmers. At least one enemy warrior screamed as an arrow stuck deep in his back. The poor bastard screamed and thrashed, bleeding heavily as the current carried him off.

“Save ye arrows!” Lutaxa ordered, sheathing her sword and breathing hard from the battle adrenaline. “Any fockers can make it across deserve tae escape. Ye,” she continued, turning to a surrendering enemy spear-maid in leather brigandine and a bronze-rimmed leather cap. “Who’s in charge of ye war-band?”

“Fock if I ken,” the red-haired, freckled warrior admitted as one of Lutaxa’s warriors took her sword and dagger and another bound the woman’s hands. “I watched ye slay Chief Vocorix with ye own spear. I dinnae ken who’s left in charge after him.” She titled her head. “Ye are Princess Lutaxa, aye?”

“Aye,” Lutaxa confirmed. So the grizzled warrior that Saglia helped her slay must have been their war-chief.

“Ye reputation precedes ye,” the spear-maid nodded. “I suppose Chief Vocorix dinnae expect ye Chief Camulatix tae send his mightiest grandchild tae fight us.”

“Flattery will get ye everywhere,” Lutaxa smirked, raising the woman’s chin with two fingers. The spear-maid was handsome and brawny, probably in her thirties and looked like an experienced fock. Maybe Saglia would like tae share a battle-captive tonight, she mused to herself.

“Secure the prisoners and round up our wounded and theirs!” she barked to her war-band. “Adgenix,” she added, addressing him and handing the captive spear-maid off to her warriors. “Have ye horse-warriors stay alert in case any Cenali who escaped try anything. Once we’ve secured the captives and wounded, ride ye horse-fockers back tae Grandfather’s horde, see if ye cannae help the battle there. We’ll catch up tae ye.”

“Aye,” Chief Adgenix smirked before turning his mount to gather his horse-warriors.

When she was around fourteen winters old, Lutaxa rode her first battles with Adgenix’s cavalry—back when she was still small enough and light enough to ride in combat. While still a proficient horsewoman, her size and weight tended to reduce her mounts’ speed and stamina significantly, especially when riding with full armor and kit. As such, she tended to prefer to lead the charge beside the shield-and-spear warriors.

“Make any looting quick, loves!” Lutaxa added, watching a young spear-warrior conscript trying on a bronze helmet from a dead Cenali warrior. “If needed, we can loot them more thoroughly when we come back tomorrow tae gather our dead.”

A few nearby warriors grumbled, but not loudly.

“Saglia!” Lutaxa announced upon spotting her new favorite Daughter of Atepu. “Thank ye for ye help fighting they war-chief, love!”

“Aye, ye are most welcome, ye highness!” Saglia laughed, stripping a bronze dagger with an antennae-style crossguard and pommel from a dead warrior. From another corpse she took a leather bag full of what sounded like knucklebones. She scrounged a leather cord to tie both, since being naked she didn’t even have a belt to tuck them into.

“As thanks, would ye care tae celebrate by sharing a battle-captive or two with me tonight?” Lutaxa asked, kneeling to help up an allied warrior with a leg-wound.

“That sounds fun!” Saglia agreed, moving to support the warrior’s other side. “I will warn ye,” she added, “I have focked three men tae death, so dinnae bring any captives ye want tae keep alive.”

“I cannae tell if ye are serious,” Lutaxa observed, looking over the wounded warrior’s head at her.

“Aye, she’s serious,” the injured spearman nodded, limping between them. “One of them was my poor, stupid cousin who heard she focked two men tae death and decided tae try her anyway. Dumb bastard died from a broken pelvis.”

“Aye, two men died from broken pelvises, the other from a ruptured bladder,” Saglia added. “Several others were injured for weeks.”

“I killed a man in bed, but he was an assassin sent by the Cenali,” Lutaxa admitted. “He disguised himself as a bed-slave tae get close tae me. I was a bit surprised when he drew a knife, but he was even more surprised when I swatted his knife away with one hand and broke his neck with the other before he could react,” she added, flexing her huge left hand. “Any of ye injured partners women?” she asked next.

“Nae sae much,” Saglia shook her head. “Focking a lass needs a different technique and motions, aye? Lads get hurt, but lasses just cannae walk straight for days.”

“I think ye and I will get on great,” Lutaxa laughed.

[heroineimages]

Viarra’s mom!

So to celebrate the completion of my first draft of First Empress, I decided to commission the lovely @jroahn​ for the very first portrait of Queen Viarra’s mom, Princess Lutaxa. Lutaxa is the story-world equivalent to an ancient Celtic warlord but who is absent for all of book I, fighting a losing war against a rival tribe, over a thousand miles to the north. While preparing her tribe’s defenses for their last stand, word reaches Lutaxa and her remaining family of Viarra’s conquest of Andivel and successes in stabilizing and strengthening the hegemony. Realizing she still has a home to go back to and perhaps a worthier cause to fight for, Lutaxa leads her remaining warriors south, hoping to reunite with her daughter.

Huge thanks once again for jroahn for the artwork---feel free to look into their commission info if you’re interested!

[thefirstempress]

Working on a possible spinoff origin-story for Queen Viarra's mom, Princess-Consort Lutaxa. Given that I based Lutaxa's people on the pre-Roman Celts, all these Gaul-sounding names I'm using keep giving me Urdezo and Goscinny vibes.

[thefirstempress]

Phew

Finished chapter 2 of my novella about Princess Lutaxa, Viarra's mom. I'll sleep on it and read back over tomorrow before posting excerpts and sending to my beta readers.

[heroineimages]

I told ye this already, but I could nae measure how proud I was o’ ye when I first heard ye usurped Andivel. And tha more ye tell me and the more ye show me, the more proud I get. I’m proud o’ ye, and if ye da’, grandda’, and brothers are nae just as proud, I’m gonna travel tae tha underworld and kick their testicles intae their throats.

Princess Lutaxa, mother of Queen Viarra

[heroineimages]

Where Queen Viarra gets her sass from

“Ah, fock, it’s ye,” the lead rider complained, trotting up.

“Aye, I generally try tae be me,” Princess Lutaxa answered evenly, stopping her horse. “Though, being almost anyone else would make it easier tae find boots and armor tha’ fit,” she sassed back.

[heroineimages]

Queen Viarra’s Mom

So for those of my readers who follow my novel’s progress, Queen Viarra’s mother, Princess Lutaxa, isn’t dead. My intent for her since pretty much when I started writing the story was for her to be absent for most of Viarra’s early career as queen. I’d planned to depict her as this legendary but absentee badass who won the heart of a Tollesian crown-prince and birthed the future empress of the Vestic Sea. Her back story was that her family are exiled Gannic royals and that seven years before the story begins, her father died and her brother and uncle led the rest of their family back north to retake their homelands. But I chose to leave Lutaxa’s fate ambiguous. Characters refer to her in past-tense, and I never specify whether she died or left with her family. Much later in the story, I wanted to have her pop back up and fight beside her daughter following her family’s failed attempt to reclaim their kingdom.

A few nights ago, I decided to reintroduce her much sooner.

While writing several flashbacks told from Elissa’s POV, I had the chance to experiment with Lutaxa’s character for the first time, and it bothered me that I’d given my badass protagonist a badass mom but don’t really get to explore their relationship. For the epilogue in Book I, I’m going to cut to Lutaxa’s defeated army, holed up in a fortified village, thousands of miles to the north. They’re beaten down without hope for more than an impressive last stand against a superior foe, when they get word of Viarra’s victories in the south. The news reminds Lutaxa that she has a home to return to and motivates her to withdraw the remnants of her army and flee back to warmer climates.

*************************************

“The thaw comes early this year,” Aunt Lutaxa observed as Reovalix stepped up beside her along the palisade.

“Aye,” Reovalix nodded, crossing his arms over his chainmail. Beyond the palisade and in the valley below, spots of dark brown were already appearing amid the coastal pines and white landscape. “Soon our enemies will start tae move again.”

“If they’re nae already,” his aunt agreed, her fur-lined hood thrown back. An enormous, brawny woman, she towered over everyone Reovalix had ever met and had a reputation for having a will like iron and an edge like obsidian. It pained him to see her looking so tired and defeated. “And soon they’ll find us here, if they dinnae kin already. Nae more word from the Cotis tribe?” she asked.

“Nae word,” he confirmed. “We’ve nae allies left—faithless cowards.”

“Nae,” Aunt Lutaxa disagreed, silver hair reflecting the midday sun as she shook her head. “Wise, nae faithless. They do wha’s smart tae protect they people. Our foes are too many, and allying wi’ us just gets people killed. We got overconfident from our early successes against the Cenali and their allies, and we failed tae deliver too many promises tae too many of our allies. We started with seven-thousand warriors and highest hopes, but now we’ve barely four-hundred warriors and this last hold-out,” she sighed, gesturing to their fortified mountain village. “We failed, and I wish I had a way tae apologize tae every ally we let down.”

“Ye never know, Aunt, we might yet win tha day when our foes come,” Reovalix offered, rapping his knuckles against her bronze breastplate.

His aunt snorted with a trace of a smirk. “Only if our foes take the biggest nosedive in competence I’ve ever witnessed,” she admitted, reaching over to stroke his fresh-shaved chin and tweak his long, coppery mustache. “But thank ye for saying sae, nephew. We may hae spent all winter fortifying, but in the end I think the best we can hope for is tae weaken they army enough tha’ other tribes might stand up tae them.” She shook her head sadly and stepped away from the palisade.

Over the winter, they’d set up in an abandoned mountain village, near a small slate quarry. The slate turned out to be focking useful, making effective, non-flammable roofs for their houses, as well as paving material for their streets and building material for reinforcing walls and palisades. As they ventured away from the walls, the sound of steel on steel echoed through the courtyard as his cousins, Talutix and Ressona pounded out new swords, spearheads, and chainmail from the last of the iron shipment they’d stolen last fall. At least they had that to their advantage.

“Though I cannae apologize to our allies, I’d like tae apologize to ye and ye sister and remaining cousins,” Aunt Lutaxa admitted, loosening her cloak from her shoulders. “This should nae hae been ye fight.”

“What d’ ye mean, Aunt?” Reovalix asked, glancing over at her. “It’s our family too. Ye fights are our fights.”

“But should nae hae been,” his aunt disagreed. “Ye were a babe when our family was exiled, and ye siblings and most o’ ye cousins hannae been born yet. When ye grandfather died and me uncle and ye father sought tae travel north and reclaim our homeland, our generation thought only o’ ourselves. We thought only o’ our own past disgraces and nae o’ the fact tha’ ye generation was nae a part o’ tha’ past. There was twenty-eight in ye generation and seven in mine when we sailed north from Valos seven summers ago. Now, I’m the only one left of me generation, and ye, ye sister, and nine cousins are all left o’ ye. Ye fought and died for a home ye never knew. And tha’s nae fair tae ye.

“And now ye’ve nowhere tae run tae,” she added, bowing her head in shame. “Nae allies left tae take us in. Ye are trapped in tha hole my generation dug for ye, wi’ no way out but death.”

“But, Aunt—”

“Nae ‘buts’!” she interrupted, reaching out to grasp his arm. “Ye should ha’ been free tae make ye own choices and live ye own life, and we took it from ye. I just want ye tae know how sorry I am. If there wae a way out, I’d happily guide all o’ ye out o’ here. I want ye tae ken tha’,” she added, his mail clicking against her breastplate as she embraced him.

“I ken, Aunt, thank ye,” Reovalix assured her, returning the hug. Tall as he was, he still had to stretch to rest his chin on her shoulder.

Three sharp notes from a hunting horn blared from further down the mountain. It was a signal from the forward sentries for a friendly rider. Stepping back from their hug, Reovalix followed Aunt Lutaxa to the gates.

“D’ ye ken who they’re signaling?” Aunt asked one of the gate guards.

“Aye. Cousin Venixa is riding fast back from her supply run, but I dinnae see any o’ the others,” a sentry explained, pointing down the hillside at the distant horse and rider trotting through the mud and melting snow.

“What could ha’ happened?” Aunt Lutaxa frowned.

“Venixa, love, wha’ happened,” their aunt greeted as Venixa rode through the gates and dismounted minutes later. “Where are the others?”

“They’re coming, Aunt, dinnae worry,” Venixa assured them, laughing with a smug twinkle in her smile. Beaten by the early spring wind, her face was redder than her hair. “There’s big news from the south—big, important news—and I rode ahead tae tell ye!”

“What kind o’ big news?” Reovalix asked, crossing his arms.

“Aye, did the Litulli change their minds and send warriors?” Aunt Lutaxa added.

“Nae, further south than tha’!” Venixa laughed, tossing her hood back. “News from the Vestic Sea, in fact,” she declared as other warriors and family members gathered. “While we were in Congenetia trading for supplies, there was a ship o’ Tollesian traders wi’ goods and news from the south. Apparently, the Hegemony o’ Andivel has been usurped! Last spring, an upstart queen overthrew the tetrarchs and dissolved the council tae make herself hegemon.”

“The tetrarchs, were they exiled or executed?” Aunt Lutaxa asked.

“Executed, I think,” Venixa answered.

“Shame,” their aunt frowned, shaking her head a bit. “The tetrarchy needed tae be replaced, but Tetrarch Wayer deserved better than tha’,” she admitted. “Who was this queen, though? And why is this such big, important news?”

“Queen Viarraluca is her name,” Venixa told them, her smirk getting bigger and smugger. Another cousin gasped, and eyes went wide on everyone who recognized the name. “Viarraluca of Kel Fimmaril.”

“Viarraluca of Kel Fimmaril…” Aunt Lutaxa repeated reverently, a tear forming at the corner of her left eye.

“Queen Viarraluca…”