Europe / Kingdom of England / Greenwich Palace: January 28th, 1518.
It was an ugly morning for the world. The river was gray, the windows were cold, and england smelled like wet stone, old pride and men pretending bad news was merely just the weather.
(Henry Tudor's POV)
The doors opened too slowly.
That was the first insult.
Bad news always walked like it owned the floor.
Edmund wriothesley stepped into the council chamber with a face so pale it looked like god had forgotten to color him in.
Fear had found him before henry did.
Cardinal wolsey stood near the hearth in red, fat, calm and irritatingly watchful. Queen catherine sat beside the window with her hands folded over a prayer book she had not turned a page of in ten minutes.
Everyone waited.
Henry did not.
"Speak." Said henry calmly.
Edmund bowed so low his spine looked desperate and said tightly "Your majesty, I return from yorkania."
"I've noticed. You entered my chamber with the face of a man who survived women and weather." Said henry with very narrowed eyes.
No one laughed.
They wanted to.
They were too loyal or too afraid.
Edmund swallowed and said with sweat falling from his forehead "Qeen mother, morgan le fay de' queen received me."
"Poorly." Said wolsey calm and dryly in the background.
Edmund looked at him.
Wolsey smiled softly.
Henry leaned back in his chair and asked with narrowed eyes "And…"
Edmund's lips pressed together.
Ah.
There it was.
The part he wished another man had carried.
"She refused your proposal of friendly oversight regarding yorkanian trade routes and church disputes." Said edmund carefully.
Henry stared for a long moment and said with a repeat "Friendly oversight."
"Yes your majesty." Said edmund carefully with his head bowed.
"What did she call it." Asked henry with a very interested look in his eyes.
Edmund's eyes stayed lowered.
Henry's fingers tapped the armrest once.
*THAK*
"What. Did. She. Call. It." Asked henry slowly with a small smile.
Edmund closed his eyes briefly like a man walking into a knife and said "Her majesty said to tell your majesty that if england wishes to ride into yorkanian affairs, your majesty should first learn not to fall off a horse in front of europe."
The chamber went silent.
Catherine's eyes moved toward henry.
Wolsey did not move.
Henry's smile remained.
That made it worse.
"Continue." Said henry calmly.
Edmund bowed again and said "She also said england may send merchants, envoys, scholars or fools, but if england sends priests with degenerate issues behind closed doors, she will return them with less them and possibly less priest."
The chamber died.
Not went silent.
Died.
Even the fire seemed to remember it had other business.
Catherine slowly turned her face toward the window.
Wolsey stared into the flames like he had suddenly discovered religion in the wood.
Henry's hand tightened on the chair.
*CRK*
The carved lion beneath his palm cracked.
"Interesting." Said henry calmly.
Catherine's eyes moved toward him.
She knew that voice.
It was the voice before broken furniture.
"That was not the worst of it, your majesty." Said edmund carefully, a little to carefully.
Henry smiled and said with a chuckles "How generous of her."
Edmund reached into his cloak and pulled out sealed reports.
Black wax.
Gold thread.
Blood-dried corners.
"News followed me from the northern road. The papal army has been defeated." Said edmund tightly
Wolsey turned fully now.
Catherine's prayer book closed.
*THK*
"What papal army." Asked wolsey with creased eyebrows.
"The one rome pretended was not papal until it was too dead to deny." Said edmund with a quiet snicker.
Henry's eyes sharpened and said "Explain."
Edmund took a breath and unfolded the report with shaking fingers and said "Rome landed men through the northern coast. Jersey funded road attacks. Lancelot de' brooklyn opened secret routes through the old lands. Yorkanian grain villages were attacked, schools mapped, road wardens targeted and storehouses burned."
"Schools." Said catherine softly with surprised eyes.
Edmund nodded and said with a long sigh "Children chosen for crown schooling were listed by name."
Wolsey's face changed.
Not much.
Enough.
Even priests knew when other priests had become too ugly in public.
"And morgan." Asked henry while rubbing his bearded chin.
Edmund adjusted his throat and said calmly "She gathered evidence. Papal seals. Jersey coin. Brooklyn maps. Storehouse letters. Black stag rings. Names of officers. Then she set a final trap on the northern road."
Henry stood.
The chair legs scraped behind him.
*SKRKK*
Edmund looked up.
"Who won." Asked henry calmly with his hands folded behind his back.
His mouth opened.
Then closed.
The answer was already on his face.
"Yorkania." Said edmund with his head bowed.
The chamber felt smaller.
Henry was silent for a long moment and asked "How."
Edmund read quickly, as if speed would save him from the words and said "Bells. Smoke towers. Hidden ditches. Road wardens. Shield women under Isabella de' bronx. Galahad de' bronx broke the center. John snow and the shadows cut the rear. Commoners held the grain wagons. A boy named jonas miller signaled the field."
"A boy." Said henry flatly with a confused look on his face.
"Ten, perhaps." Said edmund while adjusting his throat.
Henry glanced at wolsey behind himself.
Wolsey said nothing.
Edmund cleared his dry throat again and said "The papal legate was captured. The jersey commander was captured. Lancelot de' brooklyn was captured."
Henry's eyes narrowed and asked "Dose lancelot live."
"Yes your majesty. She refused to kill him." Said edmund carefully with a serious look on his face.
"Was it mercy." Asked catherine quietly in the background.
Edmund shook his head before remembering he spoke before a queen and said "No your majesty. She said death was too quick."
The room became cold.
Wolsey's eyes flickered with unknown meaning.
Henry laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
Because pride hated when intelligence chose the another crown.
"What do they call this battle." Asked henry with a smile and eyes full of interest.
"The War of the bleeding roads." Said edmund calmly with a bow.
A good name.
Damn her.
A good bloody name.
"And morgan." Asked catherine with calm eyes.
Edmund hesitated for a moment.
Henry saw it and said with cold eyes "Say it."
Edmund swallowed and said with a shakey tone "The soldiers and commoners have begun calling her morgan the unmoved."
Henry's teeth pressed together.
The bnmoved.
A woman across the sea had refused Rome, exposed jersey, seized brooklyn's throat, insulted england, spoken with charles of habsburg, survived poison, fought in battle, and now peasants were naming her like history had opened its mouth.
"Too easily." Said henry calmly with a sigh.
Catherine looked at him.
"What was that, your majesty." Asked wolsey calmly while stepping forward slightly.
Henry scoffed and said whike grabbing a glass of wine "They name rulers too easily across the sea."
Wolsey's face remained soft.
"Or they name them after the thing men cannot make them do." Said catherine quietly while looking both henry and wolsey up and down .
Henry looked at her.
Her eyes did not lower.
Spanish women had a habit of surviving rooms and courts.
"Charles." Said henry while staring at her.
Edmund bowed his head and said quickly "His envoys remain interested. Reports say he met her before the final roads battle. Some claim he asked for marriage terms."
The air turned uglier.
Charles.
Of course.
The habsburg whelp had looked across the sea and seen a kingdom before england had decided whether it was worth claiming as curiosity.
"Did Morgan answer him." Asked henry while looking back at edmund and taking a sip from the wine glass.
Edmund shook his head and said with a sigh "Not yet, your majesty."
Not yet.
Good.
A door was only closed when a woman like morgan decided the wood no longer amused her.
Henry walked toward the window and looked out at the gray river.
Rome humiliated.
Jersey exposed.
Brooklyn seized.
Yorkania awake.
Charles interested.
And england insulted with a horse.
"Prepare new letters." Said henry with a smile.
Wolsey bowed slightly and asked "What tone, your majesty."
Henry glanced back at edmund for a moment.
He flinched.
"Respectful." Said jenry calmly while looking back out the window.
The chamber grew surprised.
Henry glanced back at the faces and said with a calm tone "Respectful, but not crawling. England does not crawl. Congratulate her victory. Condemn unlawful papal interference without condemning the church."
Wolsey nodded slowly.
"And the insult." Asked catherine from out of nowhere.
Henry smiled wider and said "Do not mention the horse. I have not fallen off a horse in my entire life, she jests."
Edmund looked relieved.
Henry turned to him and said with a cold smile "You will not mention the horse."
His relief died.
Henry stepped closer and said softly "You will write that his majesty, king henry viii of england is pleased queen mother morgan I still has the strength to look upward at riders, and hopes the next horse she speaks of carries an english envoy with better manners than the last."
Edmund bowed quickly and said as droplets of sweat hit the floor "Yes your majesty."
Henry looked back out the window at the river.
Morgan the unmoved.
No.
Names were not given.
They were challenged.
"Let us see if the unmoved can be made to turn her head." Said henry calmly with a smile.
Catherine whispered from the window, almost to herself "Careful, henry, words have power."
Henry looked at her.
She did not look away.
"Some women do not turn their head. They turn kingdoms." Said catherine softly with a calm tone.
The room went silent.
Henry looked back toward the gray river and said calmly "Silent woman, do your duty and bear my a son."
Catherine closed her eyes and did not speak.
The study was silent.
Across the sea, a woman had begun.
And england had finally heard her bells.
…
Europe / Habsburg Netherlands / Brussels Palace: January 31st, 1518.
It was an ugly afternoon for the world. The snow outside the windows fell slowly, the candles burned without joy, and every messenger in europe had begun running like truth had grown teeth.
(Charles's POV)
The report was placed before charles.
No dramatics.
No trembling.
No useless introduction.
Charles opened it.
Yorkania victorious.
Rome exposed.
Jersey marked.
Brooklyn seized.
Lancelot alive.
Morgan wounded.
Morgan ruling.
Morgan named.
The unmoved.
Charles read the title twice.
Not because he failed to understand it.
Because he understood it too well.
Across from him, mercurino gattinara waited with his hands folded.
"Well." Asked gattinara calmly with a serious look on his face.
Charles placed the report down and said calmly "She did not merely survive."
Gattinara's eyes sharpened Immediately.
"She improved under this Immense pressure and solidified herself." Said charles calmly as he stared down at the report before.
Gattinara breathed softly through his nose and said while stroking his greying beard "That is unfortunate for her enemies."
"Indeed." Said charles while rubbing his smooth chin.
"And for her suitors." Said gattinara calmly as he adjusted his throat.
Charles looked at him.
He looked back.
Wise men were irritating.
Why.
Because they charged no fee for truth to be said out loud.
"England has heard, your majesty." Said gattinara as he gathered his bearings back.
"Henry will be loud. It is something that is unavoidable." Said charles calmly with both of his eyes squinting.
"Rome will be louder under your great rule, your man." Said gattinara with a cold look in his eyes.
Charles glanced up at him slightly and stared for a moment and said "Rome is loud when embarrassed. It calls noise doctrine and I will not have my reign be described as a monumental struggle to maintain a universal christian empire against the forces of fragmentation."
Gattinara smiled slightly.
Charles noticed it but looked back down at the report.
There were details.
Road bells.
Smoke towers.
Village watchers.
Women with shields.
A child signaler.
A commoner line holding grain wagons.
Morgan had built a kingdom that moved without waiting for the crown's boot to physically stand above every neck.
That was rare.
Kings wanted obedience.
Morgan had made a direct response which was a vast improvement and different thing from most rulers.
More dangerous.
"The marriage terms." Said gattinara from out of nowhere with a serious tone.
Charles turned the page and said calmly with no reaction "It will remain as it is."
"Even now." Asked gattinara calmly with very narrowed eyes.
"Especially now." Said charles calmly as he read over the report.
Gattinara nodded and said with a closed eyed understanding look on his face "She negotiates from strength."
"Good." Said charles calmly while flipping the page of the report and crossing his left leg over the right.
Gattinara was silent for a moment and asked with squinted eyes "Your majesty, do you prefer difficult negotiations."
"I prefer rulers who know what they own." Said charles calm and Immediately as his eyes moved to the line about lancelot on the report.
Captured.
Still smiling, the report claimed.
Men like lancelot always smiled until someone priced their vanity.
Morgan had apparently done so as brooklyn is now under crown administration.
Private docks closed.
Trade routes seized.
Name stripped of authority.
A precise punishment.
She did not cut the man first.
She cut the system that made him matter.
Charles respected that.
*KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*
A servant entered and bowed while saying "Your highness. A second report from england."
Charles held out his hand.
The servant gave it.
Henry congratulates.
Henry complains without complaining.
Henry mentions horses.
Charles stared for one moment.
Then smiled.
Small.
Against his will.
Gattinara noticed and asked calmly "What did england do."
"Bleed their own pride through ink." Said charles calmly.
Gattinara chuckled.
Charles placed both letters side by side.
England watched.
Rome bled.
Jersey hid.
Yorkania stood.
Morgan had not answered his offer yet.
That did not offend him.
A woman who answered quickly after a war either feared the next one or had not counted the bodies.
Morgan would count.
Then she would decide.
That made her more valuable.
And more dangerous.
Charles rubbed his chin for a long moment and said while gesturing with his right hand lightly "Send her another letter."
Gattinara waited.
"Not marriage pressure. Not congratulations alone. Send acknowledgment." Said cherles calmly with calculating eyes.
"Words." Said gattinara calmly with his hand's folded behind his back..
Charles looked at the snow and said calmly "Queen mother morgan le fay de' wueen. Europe has learned what Yorkania already knew."
Gattinara's pen moved and he said calmly as he wrote "Continue."
Charles thought of her eyes in the courtyard.
Unmoved.
No.
Not unmoved.
Controlled.
There was a difference.
"Tell her I do not congratulate her for surviving men who mistook greed for strategy. I congratulate yorkania for surviving long enough to be ruled properly." Said charles calmly with his hands folded over his stomach.
Gattinara paused.
Then wrote.
"And the marriage." Asked hattinara calmly as he glanced at charles subtly on the corner of his eyes.
Charles looked back at the report.
A road covered in blood.
A woman standing over priests, traitors and kings' men.
A kingdom beginning.
"Tell her my offer remains exactly where I placed it. At her eye level." Said charles calmly.
Gattinara smiled and said calmly "That line may amuse her."
"Good. It should." Said charles while looking down at his own calloused hands.
"Or insult her" Thought charles as he looked back at the snow falling outside.
Quiet.
Cold.
Patient.
Morgan the unmoved.
Charles touched the title with one finger.
Europe had begun naming her.
That meant europe had begun fearing her.
Which was good.
Fear was crude.
Respect lasted longer.
I needed a woman like that for my future rule.
…
Europe / Papal States / Rome / Apostolic Palace: February 3rd, 1518.
It was an ugly evening for the world. Rome smelled of incense, old gold, expensive wine and panic dressed as holiness.
(Pope Leo X's POV)
The letter burned badly.
Not because the fire was weak.
Because shame took time to settle in.
Pope leo x watched the parchment curl.
Blacken.
Split.
Still, he could see the words.
Your invasion is no longer holy.
It is documented.
Documented.
That word sat in the room like a heretic who had brought witnesses.
Cardinal bibbiena stood to his right, silent for once.
A miracle.
Across the table lay copies of the claims.
Papal seals.
Captured soldiers.
Priest robes found in crates.
Storehouse letters.
Jersey payment notes.
Brooklyn maps.
Names.
Dates.
Routes.
Ugly things.
Worldly things.
Useful things.
Damning things.
"The reports are exaggerated." Said one cardinal with a snicker.
Leo looked at him.
He lowered his eyes.
"Are the captured men exaggerated." Asked leo softly.
"No, holiness." Said the cardinal with his head bowed.
"Are the seals exaggerated." Asked leo softly.
"No, holiness." Said the cardinal with his head bowed.
"Is the legate exaggerated." Asked leo softly.
The room went silent.
The legate lived.
That was the problem.
Dead men became martyrs.
Living men became liability.
The barbarian queen understood that.
Leo hated her for it.
"She keeps him alive. To display him." Said bibbiena with cold eyes.
"Unfortunately." Said leo with a sigh while leaning forward in his seat with creased eyebrows.
The cardinals looked at him.
Leo leaned back in his chair and said calmly "No. To educate."
No one spoke.
Outside, bells rang somewhere in rome.
Beautiful bells.
Civilized bells.
Not those ugly road bells the reports described.
Bells in villages.
Bells in mud.
Bells in the hands of children.
What kind of savage kingdom gave bells to commoners and taught them to answer soldiers.
A dangerous one.
"She must be condemned." Said another cardinal.
"She has been condemned. As a witch" Said leo coldly with bloodshot eyes.
Bibbiena was silent for a moment and said calmly "No witchcraft was observed."
The cardinal glared at him.
"No miracles. No spells. No devils. Roads, pits, carts, arrows, ledgers, women with shields and trained peasants." Said bibbiena with a serious look on his face.
"Do not make admiration sound like doctrine." Said leo coldly.
Bibbiena bowed his head and said calmly "Never, holiness."
Leo stood.
His robe whispered across the floor.
"Morgan le fay is not to be called queen in official letters. She is to be called the godless regent of Yorkania. The poison survivor. The usurping widow. The enemy of faith." Said leo with a cold tone and both of his arms raised upward toward the heavens.
The scribes began writing.
One cardinal nodded and asked with confusion "Her title, holiness."
Leo looked at him.
He hesitated.
"They call her the unmoved." Said another cardinal with a dry tone.
The room soured.
The unmoved.
Pagan pride dressed as legend.
"No." Said leo calmly.
The scribes froze.
"We do not repeat barbarian crowns." Said leo with a sigh and shake of his head.
"Yes, holiness." Said the scribe with a serious look on his face.
"And jersey." Asked bibbiena calmly with a unknown look in his eyes.
Leo looked to the burned letter.
Joseph burlington had paid through dirty hands and failed to keep them gloved.
"Jersey will deny." Said leo calmly as he rubbed his fat chin.
A very old cardinal stroked his beard and asked "And we."
"We will mourn the faithful killed by Yorkanian savagery."We will condemn unauthorized violence. We will call for investigation. We will pray loudly enough that kings forget to read quietly." Said leo calmly.
Bibbiena's face did not change and asked calmly "Will they forget, holiness."
Leo looked at the ashes.
Morgan had made the war legible.
That was the sin.
Not killing priests.
Kings killed priests.
Princes bought cardinals.
Dukes burned monasteries and repented with donations.
No.
Her true sin was not blood.
It was the organization that had caused it.
She had taken faith, dollar, hunger and treason and turned them into evidence.
"Some will." Said leo with bloodshot eyes.
"And what of charles." Asked bibbiena with a unknown look in his eyes.
Leo said nothing.
Charles would not forget.
Henry would pretend to forget until insult sharpened the memory.
France would laugh until it wondered whether yorkanian roads could become yorkanian ships.
Europe was a dining table.
Morgan had thrown a knife into it from across the sea.
Leo looked at the ashes one last time and said calmly with a flick of his sleeve "Send word to every loyal house in yorkania still breathing."
The cardinals looked up.
"Quiet word. Not armies. Not yet. If the godless woman survives war, then perhaps governance will expose where her neck bends." Said leo immediately with a cold look in his eyes.
Bibbiena bowed and asked with one eye closed "And if it does not bend the knee."
Leo smiled without joy and said with a cold tone "Then we shall learn where the unmoved can be buried without naming her."
No one corrected his use of the title.
Good.
Fear had manners in rome too.
…
North America / Jersey Commonwealth / Burlington Palace: February 5th, 1518.
It was an ugly night for the world. The sea outside the windows hit the rocks like debt, and joseph burlington had not slept because sleep was too honest to visit men who failed quietly.
(Joseph's POV)
The first man lost a finger.
*BINK*
*SPLAT*
He screamed.
The second man lost two.
*BINK* *BINK*
He screamed louder.
The third man fainted before the knife touched him.
Joseph sat at the end of the table and looked at the reports spread before him.
Not one report.
Many.
Too many.
Papal defeat.
Northern road broken.
Black stag commander captured.
Payment notes taken.
Names taken.
Rings taken.
Jersey marks found in crates.
Lancelot captured.
Lancelot.
Beautiful, perfumed, irritating lancelot.
Captured in ruined velvet like a street whore with expensive taste.
Joseph exhaled slowly.
The room stank of fear and blood.
Good.
A room should know what it hosted.
His steward, alaric, stood beside him with his hands behind his back.
"How many escaped." Asked joseph calmly with half his face covered with his left hand.
"Seventeen confirmed. Perhaps more through the eastern woods." Said alaric with a cold face.
"How many with papers." Asked joseph calmly
"None that we know of." Said alaric with a cold tone.
Joseph looked at him.
Alaric corrected himself quickly and said with a cold face "None that lived to reach us, your majesty."
Better.
Precision was hygiene.
Joseph's hidden hand failed beside rome.
Morgan's words had traveled faster than his survivors.
How rude.
"She said that publicly." Asked joseph with cold eyes.
"Yes your majesty." Said alaric Immediately.
"And where's the evidence." Asked Joseph calmly.
Alsric adjusted his throat slightly and said "Displayed on a shield."
Joseph stared at the table for a long moment.
Blood-stained shield.
Of course.
Women like morgan understood theater too well.
Men called it vanity when they failed at it.
"She made me visible." Said joseph calmly.
Alaric said nothing.
Good.
There was no safe answer.
Joseph's entire design had been distance.
Rome's faith.
Brooklyn's road.
Jersey's coin.
Hungry villages.
Blame pointed inward.
Morgan had taken the arrows and turned them around.
Now his coin had a face.
His stag had a cross between its horns.
His men were not ghosts.
They were exhibits.
Joseph picked up the black stag ring recovered from a dead officer who had at least possessed the decency to die before capture.
The ring felt heavier tonight.
"Grain stores." Said joseph with a sigh.
Alaric swallowed and said with a hardened face "Southern stores remain thirty percent down. Eastern shipments delayed. Two merchants demand advance payment."
Joseph smiled and said calmly "So the hunger we sent abroad has remembered our address."
Alaric lowered his head and said "Yes your majesty."
Joseph placed the ring down.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The table did not deserve his anger.
Men did.
"What do the commoners say." Asked joseph calmly.
Alaric hesitated.
Joseph's eyes lifted.
"They repeat yorkanian phrases." Said alaric quickly and carefully.
"What phrases." Asked joseph calmly.
Alaric adjusted his throat and said "Roads have teeth. Bells before bread. The Unmoved. Pawns can bite."
The last one entered the room and sat in joseph's chair before he could stop it.
Pawns could bite.
Morgan had said something like that.
Or her people had.
It did not matter.
Words were like rats.
Once inside grain, ownership became theory.
"Find who repeats that phrase in jersey and have their head and hang it ip on the castle wall as an example of slander against their king." Said joseph calmly.
Alaric bowed and said with cold eyes "It shall be done, your majesty."
Joseph looked to the map of yorkania.
Northern road.
Western grain route.
Olden lands.
Brooklyn.
Manhattan.
The kingdom looked different now.
Not larger.
Watched.
That was worse.
A watched road was harder to starve.
A watched village was harder to break.
A watched child became a witness.
Damn her.
"Prepare denial letters." Said joseph calmly with a face that looked as if it aged a few years.
Alaric was silent for a moment and asked "To rome."
"To everyone. Blame smugglers. Blame unauthorized merchants. Blame lancelot. Blame dead men. Blame the weather if ink runs low." Said joseph calmly.
Alaric was silent for a long moment, a litt too long and asked "And morgan."
Joseph looked at the candle flame.
It did not move.
Unmoved.
He hated the title.
Because it was useful.
"Do not insult her in writing. I have to respect my lose and accept it as a man." Said joseph calmly with a sigh.
Alaric blinked and raised his head slightly and said "Your majesty."
"Idiots insult people on paper because they cannot afford witnesses. Congratulate yorkania's survival. Mourn disorder. Deny knowledge. Offer trade talks." Said joseph calmly.
Alaric was silent for a moment and repeated "Trade talks."
"Yes." Said joseph calmly.
His confusion was ugly.
"She will refuse." Said alaric with a clenched jaw.
"Of course she will but it's worth a try." Said joseph calmly with cold eyes.
Alaric was silent for a moment and asked "Then wh..."
"Because refusal is also a road. And she has just taught me roads matter." Said joseph calm and immediately with a cold smile.
Alaric bowed.
The men at the other end of the table whimpered into their blood.
Joseph looked at them and said calmly with emotionless eyes "Stop crying. You lost fingers, not relevance."
They went quiet.
Morgan the ummoved.
Fine.
Let her stand.
Standing things cast shadows.
And shadows could be measured.
…
North America / Kingdom of Yorkania / Northern Grain Villages: February 8th, 1518.
It was an ugly day for the world. The snow had melted into mud, the graves were too fresh, and every bell rope in the village looked like a vein that had learned its own purpose.
(Lorelei's POV)
The dead were named before the victory was praised.
Morgan had ordered it.
So they obeyed.
Not because they were afraid.
They were afraid.
But not only because of that.
Names mattered.
Lorelei's brother's name was read after noon.
Thomas miller.
Not a noble name.
Not a rich one.
Not even an interesting one if you asked thomas, who had spent most of his life complaining that god gave him a face built for forgetting.
But when the scribe read it, the village went silent.
So perhaps thomas had been wrong.
Michael stood beside lorelei with his ribs wrapped, his pitchfork gone for once because she had threatened to bury it inside him if he held it during prayer.
He looked awful.
Pale.
Stubborn.
Alive.
Unfortunately.
Jonas stood near the road bell with his ledger clutched to his chest. The boy had stopped shaking as much.
That worried lorelei more.
Children should shake.
Shaking meant that this world had not yet convinced them that pain and blood was a normal thing.
An old woman placed bread beside a grave.
Another woman placed a broken arrow.
A road warden placed a black stag ring on the collection cloth and spat beside it.
Not on it.
Beside it.
Apparently everyone in yorkania had poor aim when angry.
The scribe continued.
"Mary thatcher."
A widow sobbed.
"Edwin rowe."
A boy wiped his face with both sleeves.
"Thomas miller."
Lorelei's hand tightened.
Michael's hand found hers.
Warm.
Rough.
Annoying.
Useful.
The scribe finished.
Then he stepped back.
For a moment, no one spoke.
The road bell moved slightly in the wind.
*Ding*
Small.
Not a warning.
Not a war.
Just alive.
"She came." Said a girl whisperingly near the storehouse whispered.
Her mother hushed her.
The girl continued anyway because children enjoyed death by mouth.
"She came." Said the girl with innocence.
An old man looked up and said calmly "Poison took half her face and yet she still faught."
"War took blood from her arm." Said another.
"Rome took nothing." Said the woman beside lorelei.
The words passed between them.
Slow.
Careful.
Like fire moved from wick to wick.
"She did not move." Said the old woman with the shovel.
Michael looked at her.
The old woman stared at the graves.
"Not when they cursed her. Not when they bled her. Not when priests screamed. She stood like winter owed her money." Said the old woman calmly
A laugh moved through the mourners.
Small.
Broken.
Needed.
"The unmoved." Said someone behind lorelei.
No one answered at first.
Then another voice said it.
"The unmoved."
Jonas looked down at his ledger.
His hand moved.
Michael saw it and asked Immediately "What are you writing."
Jonas froze.
"I…I was only…" Said jonas with a stutter but trailed off.
Lorelei walked over and looked.
In ugly careful letters, beneath the list of dead, the boy had written:
Morgan the unmoved.
His face went red.
"I can scratch it out." Said jonas quickly.
Michael looked at lorelei.
Lorelei looked at the graves.
"No." Said lorelei calmly.
Jonas blinked.
Michael smiled slightly.
"Your handwriting is awful." Said lorelei with a chuckle.
Jonas deflated.
"But leave it. It's fine " Said lorelei while placing her hand on his head.
The boy nodded.
The bell moved again.
*Ding*
A horse approached.
Then another.
Black and gold.
The village straightened so fast it looked guilty.
Morgan's carriage stopped at the road.
Soldiers approached the door.
The door opened.
She stepped down in black winter dress and gold trim, her white hair piled high like a crown that had murdered softness and stolen its chair.
Her face did not move.
Her eyes did.
They moved over the graves first.
Not the people.
The graves.
Morgan walked to the collection cloth and looked at the rings, papers, broken weapons and coins.
"Evide..." Said the scribe quickly.
"I have eyes." Said morgan calmly.
The scribe closed his mouth.
Smart man.
Morgan looked down at jonas.
His ledger snapped shut.
Too late.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Open it." Said morgan calmly.
Jonas looked ready to faint.
Michael stepped forward.
Lorelei stepped on his foot.
He stopped.
Good husband.
Slow learner though.
Jonas opened the ledger.
Morgan looked at it.
The wind moved.
No one breathed like they were proud of it.
Her eyes read the names.
All of them.
Then stopped at the bottom.
Morgan the unmoved.
The village waited.
Morgan looked at jonas's face and said calmly "You have misspelled nothing, you will attend crown schooling from now on."
Jonas blinked and bowed awkwardly and said "Y…yes your majesty."
"Disturbing. Progress should not occur unsupervised." Said Morgan calmly.
The old woman with the shovel snorted.
Morgan looked at the graves.
"The dead will be compensated. Families will receive grain, coin, tools and winter rights. No landlord will collect rent from a house with fresh war mourning for three months. I will not repeat myself." Said morgan calmly.
A woman covered her mouth.
Morgan's eyes moved across them and said calmly as she turned to leave back toward the carriage "If any landlord argues, bring me his name so I may educate him using mathematics and fear. I also don't like this street so clean it upon my next visit. I don't want to smell like shit and piss."
No one laughed.
Then michael did.
Then lorelei did.
Then half the village did because grief was a strange animal and sometimes it barked when told not to.
Morgan stopped and looked at michael and said calkl "You are standing."
Michael stiffened and said "Your majesty."
"I ordered rest." Said morgan calmly..
"I was attending the dead." Said michael with his heas held high.
Morgan stared at him for a moment and said "You did good."
Michael bowed.
Morgan turned toward the graves again and said with a wave of her right hand "Sorrows, sorrows. Prayers."
Her voice did not soften.
But the words landed.
That was the worst part about her.
She did not comfort like a mother.
She comforted like a wall.
And after weeks of burning roads, a wall felt holy enough.
The girl from earlier stepped forward before her mother could catch her.
"Are you really unmoved." Asked the girl with to much interest.
The village froze.
Her mother looked like she had just watched her bloodline volunteer for extinction.
Morgan looked down at the child.
For one long moment, nothing happened.
Then morgan crouched slightly.
Only slightly.
"Nothing living is unmoved. It only lives to die once." Said morgan calmly.
The girl blinked.
Morgan's eyes looked colder as she said "Walls crack. Roads bleed. Queens get tired. Children get afraid. The trick is to move after the enemy has wasted time believing you cannot."
The girl stared.
Morgan stood straight back up and said calmly "So no. I am not unmoved. I am competent."
The village was silent.
The old woman stared for a long moment and whispered "The unmoved."
Morgan looked at her.
The old woman lifted her chin like a shovel had made her noble.
Morgan's eyes smiled.
Then she turned and walked back toward the carriage.
The bell rang once in the wind.
*Ding*
This time, no one flinched.
…
North America / Kingdom of Yorkania / Manhattan Castle: February 10th, 1518.
It was an ugly night for the world. The castle was warm, the halls were bright, and the prisoners below it had discovered that stone did not care how noble a man had been yesterday.
(Percival's POV)
History had terrible handwriting.
Mostly because percival's hand would not stop shaking.
He sat inside the record chamber with three candles, six scribes, nineteen reports, two blood-stained shields, one sealed box of black stag rings and a headache that had begun calling itself heir.
The war had ended.
The paperwork had not.
That was how percival knew they had survived.
Dead kingdoms did not require ledgers.
The door opened.
Morgan entered.
Merlin followed her with bandages in one hand and murder in his eyes, which looked strange on a physician and appropriate on anyone who had spent more than ten minutes near her majesty.
"Sit." Said merlin with a stern tone.
"No." Said morgan calmly.
"Your arm opened again." Said merlin with a smile on his face.
Morgan was silent for a moment and looked back at him and said calmly "Is that so. I could give even less of a fuck."
Percival pretended to write.
He did not dare look amused.
Morgan looked at him.
Percival immediately looked useful.
"Report." Said morgan calmly.
Percival stood quickly and said calmly "The final dead are being counted. Current confirmed yorkanian dead across the war stand at nine hundred and twelve soldiers, three hundred and forty-one wardens and village defenders, and one hundred and nineteen civilians."
The room quieted.
Morgan's face did not move.
Her eyes did.
"Names." Asked morgan calmly.
"Being written before numbers in the public record, your majesty." Said percival calmly as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"Good. Captured enemy officers: the papal legate, the black stag commander,ancelot de' brooklyn, two jersey captains, thirteen priests, forty-six papal soldiers of useful rank, and seventy-nine road men with varied usefulness. Alive." Said morgan calmly as merlin attended to her arm.
Percival bowed and said "Yes your majesty."
"The evidence has been copied. One copy for internal court, one for foreign envoys, one for archives, one sealed beneath royal authority." Said Percival calmly as he rubbed his bearded chin
"Make sure you add one false copy." Said morgan calmly with squinted eyes.
Percival paused and said "False, your majesty."
She looked at him.
He felt his soul become smaller.
"Yes, percival. A false copy. Men who steal documents should be rewarded with lies that have various directions toward dreath." Said morgan calmly.
He bowed quickly.
"Of course your majesty. I was merely admiring the wisdom before understanding it." Said percival while adjusting his throat a little to hardly.
Morgan stared down at him for a long moment and said "Never say that again. You sounded like a whore that had to much sex one night and begged to come back for more. I felt my intelligence shrink."
"Yes your majesty." Said percival quickly.
Merlin pulled the bandage too tightly.
Morgan's eyes cut sideways.
Merlin smiled pleasantly and said "Medical accident."
"Do it again and my hand will accidentally have your head leave your shoulder." Said morgan with a pleasant tone.
The scribes looked at their papers like ink had become fascinating.
Percival cleared his throat and said "The people have begun using a name."
Morgan looked back at him and said "What name."
Merlin's hands slowed.
Percival swallowed and said "Morgan the unmoved."
The room became still.
Morgan stared at him for a long moment.
Percival suddenly wished rome had killed him in a ditch.
"It began among soldiers and road villages. It has reached Manhattan markets. Some say Morgan the Unmoved. Others say queen mother unmoved. The phrasing remains inconsistent but enthusiasm is…" Said percival quickly.
Morgans eyes narrowed and she said "Percival."
"Yes your majesty." Said percival quickly
"Do not make public affection sound like tax rot." Said morgan calmly.
"Yes your majesty." Said percival quickly
She turned toward the window.
Outside, manhattan glittered under winter lamps.
A kingdom pretending it had always been this awake.
Morgan said nothing.
Merlin finished the bandage.
"There. You may continue threatening europe without leaking on the floor." Said merlin with a fake smile.
"How generous." Said morgan with a wave of her hand that almost slapped his face.
"You are welcome." Said merlin while side stepping to masterfully.
"I did not thank you but you are welcome to leave my sight." Said morgan while while pointing at the door.
"I heard the intent." Said merlin with a smile.
"Leave." Said morgan calmly.
Merlin bowed like a court jester and started taking his leave.
Percival looked down before his mouth betrayed him.
Morgan walked to the main war ledger.
Percival had written the title himself.
The war of the bleeding roads.
Beneath it:
By order of Morgan I de' Queen, Queen Mother of Yorkania.
She looked at the empty line below.
"The epithet." Said percival softly.
Morgan stared at it for a moment and said "No there."
Percival bowed and said with a forehead full of sweat "Yes your majesty."
A long moment passed.
Percival looked up.
Morgan's eyes remained calmly on the ledger.
Percival blinked and adjusted his throat and sand "Your majesty, are you alright."
"Titles given by people do not belong in commands. They belong in testimony. Let history know who named me, not that I named myself." Said morgan calmly from out of nowhere.
Percival stared.
Then bowed deeper.
"Yes your majesty." Said percival calmly.
The scribes kept writing.
Outside, bells rang across manhattan.
Not church bells.
Road bells.
Alive bells.
Percival dipped his pen.
His hand had stopped shaking.
Finally.
In the testimony section, beneath the names of villagers, wardens, soldiers, widows and children, he wrote carefully:
They called her morgan the unmoved.
The ink dried black.
History accepted it.
…
North America / Kingdom of Yorkania / Manhattan Market: February 11th, 1518.
It was an ugly morning for the world. The bread was expensive, the air was cold, and gossip ran through the market faster than rats with inheritance.
(Commoner's POV)
Nobody agreed who said it first.
That was how everyone knew it mattered.
Old marta claimed she heard it from a soldier with one ear.
The fishmonger said a road warden brought it from the northern villages.
A baker swore a child wrote it in a ledger and the queen herself failed to deny it properly.
A drunk said he invented it.
Nobody believed him because the drunk also said he once punched a kraken and married a candle.
Still, the name moved.
Morgan the unmoved.
It went from stall to stall.
Over bread.
Over fish.
Over winter apples.
Over cheap soup.
Over expensive lies.
A woman buying onions whispered it to her daughter.
A cartman painted it beneath his wagon step.
A wounded soldier said it while drinking broth with one hand because the other remained somewhere on the northern road.
A schoolboy repeated it and was smacked by his mother for speaking too loudly near tax officers.
Then she repeated it quieter.
By noon, someone had carved it badly into the side of a public bench.
MORGAN THE UNMOVD.
A crown guard stared at it.
The boy who carved it trembled.
The guard looked at the missing E.
Then said calmly "Fix the spelling before the queen haunts it."
The boy ran.
The market laughed.
Not because the war was funny.
It was not.
Too many men had not come home.
Too many women wore black.
Too many children stared when bells rang.
But laughter had returned.
Small.
Ugly.
Alive.
And that was more than rome had intended.
At the edge of the market, a priest with travel dust on his boots watched the people whisper.
He looked angry.
Then afraid.
Then careful.
Good.
Careful priests lived longer in yorkania now.
A woman selling winter flowers lifted one white bloom and placed it beside a small painted board.
THE WAR OF THE BLEEDING ROADS.
Below it, in smaller letters:
THE DEAD ARE NAMED.
Below that:
THE UNMOVED STOOD.
A little girl read it slowly.
"The…un…moved…stood."
Her mother nodded.
"What does it mean." Asked the girl.
The mother looked toward manhattan castle rising beyond the market like stone had learned pride.
"It means when the bells rang, she did not run." Said the mother with a smile.
The girl frowned and asked "Did everyone else run."
The mother smiled tiredly.
"No. That is why she is queen." Said the woman.
The bell above the market tower moved in the wind.
*DONG*
Nobody flinched.
Not anymore.
The sound passed over bread, fish, flowers, soldiers, widows, children, guards and priests.
A road bell.
A war bell.
A warning bell.
A living bell.
And across yorkania, from manhattan to the northern villages, from burned storehouses to repaired roads, from fresh graves to crown schools with new locks on their doors, the name continued moving.
Morgan the unmoved.
Not because she felt nothing.
Because when the world tried to move her first, she moved it back harder.
Why.
Because she is morgan le fay.
…
THE END…