[I am posting this here though it is not a Kiljar story. Same universe some two generations later.]
Hail the Queen
Serin stood tall, one foot upon the war chest she had been adding to for the past six months of skirmishes. At six foot tall, she overshadowed most of her men. She looked out over them, stern but terrifyingly beautiful. She commanded fifty men of Ovia. Not one resented that she was only sixteen, as she had been proving herself on the battlefield since the age of eleven, when she killed the first raiders that attempted to take her village with a blacksmith’s hammer. Since then, the hammer was her preferred weapon, giving her the nickname of Warhammer. Her men were looking at her now, her namesake propped up next to her, with awe and respect awaiting their share of her treasure.
“Brave thanes! You have fought well today,” she proclaimed. “Receive your rewards!”
Serin kicked open the chest and began doling out coins to each of her warriors. They had slain one hundred and six of the Korin raiders. Twenty-four of those had been her kills. And the treasures had piled up quickly.
A messenger rode up and dismounted. He dropped to a knee.
“Rise and relay your message,” Serin said sweetly.
“Bad news, m’ lady. Your mother has passed.” He pulled the crown from a saddlebag. “She was consumed by the fever.”
Serin lowered her head. She would not cry now, not in front of her troops. But later, tears would flow for her beloved mother.
The messenger stretched up and placed the crown on her head. He turned and faced the warriors.
“The queen is dead. Long live the queen.”
“Long live the queen,” they repeated reverentially, heads lowered.
“I will rule with benevolence and courage. We must return.”
It was a sombre fortnight back to the capital. Serin was given a proper coronation in front of the whole capital. She addressed her people promising to deal with the kingdom of Korin by any means at her disposal.
King Lothki II sat upon the marble throne. His advisors were discussing draughts in one part of his kingdom and flooding in another. He only half listened, lost in his thoughts on his expansion plan. He didn’t care about farms as much as he did lands.
His well-trained military had transformed the tiny kingdom of Korin into a large nation. The kingdoms of Vishu and Shiv had been destroyed completely and the Western border of Shambala had been pushed back. But the kingdom of Ovia to his west had been a thorn in his side since the expansion had begun.
A messenger hurriedly stepped through the doors and handed a letter to the advisors. They read it and turned to King Lothki speaking quietly.
“Your Highness, we have been informed that Queen Lariat is dead. Her daughter, Serin has been crowned successor.”
A smile crossed Lothki’s lips. A young girl was now in charge of all of Ovia. His expansion was nearly assured now.
“Summon all reserve forces from the east. Shambala is no threat. We move all none essential soldiers, excepting the boarder guards, to the West. We will began our empire’s westward expansion in earnest now.” He clenched a meaty fist. “Ovia will be destroyed and Korin will reach to the ocean.”
“As you command.”
Lothki sat back in his throne. With his deep brown eyes closed, he lost himself in war plans, battle strategies, and musings about which generals would lead his legions of soldiers to victory. He envisioned the siege weapons destroying the walls of Ovia’s capital city, Ariesha. He imagined the bloodshed and carnage that would ensue. He would rule a vast expanse of the continent. His heirs would rule the world. Glorious Korin cities would rise from the ashes of his Ovian foes.
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