You are astonished she could assume such vicious and cruel intent from you. You have stained your hands with blood in the battlefield near the Toothpick. That is true. You took the lives of your fellow man and commanded others to do the same. But a rapist? This, you are not. There are few things for which you concede that the God's possess a true bent toward justice, and one is mother Life's hatred for rapists.
"I would never force myself upon you. I wish only for a private venue to speak," you assure her.
"To talk?" Aiza is incredulous.
"To talk," you confirm.
"Talking will not give my throne back to me," the elfblood sniffs. She gently lifts the veil from her face and slips the cup underneath just long enough to take a sip and then quickly covers her face once more. You were not prepared for the sight. Even veiled, she is a stunning creature. But seeing her face? The sharp angles of her jaw, her soft and delicate cheeks, the elegant shape of her nose, and her pouty lips.
"Do you always drink like that?" you ask.
Aiza cautiously regards you still deciding whether she's truly willing to engage in your ridiculous 'just talking'. "Yes," she says simply.
"Really? Always?"
"Not when I am alone, but if I am with company, yes. I prefer to eat my meals alone for that reason."
"Why is that?" you ask. It is an odd habit. The elfblood have a love of face veils, but it is more of a fashion accessory than something to preserve their modesty according to your understanding.
"I feel no need to explain myself to you," Aiza scoffs, "A conqueror, an invader, and an enemy. Do not think that because you spared my uncle that I have forgotten our positions."
"Are you shy? I cannot imagine why. You are stunning. If a woman of your caliber feels ashamed to show her face, then no woman alive should be so bold," you state more as a matter of fact than giving a compliment. You aren't trying to flatter her. The words are your sincere thoughts spilling from your lips in a stream of consciousness. As a result, you deliver with a confidence and genuineness that can only come from speaking your heart and mind unguarded.
Aiza is caught off guard to say the least. "Sh-shut up! You know nothing! This is none of your business!" she stammers out and immediately clams back up looking even more guarded than before with her arms crossed and her purple orbs boring suspiciously into you.
"Forgive me. I was simply being honest," you apologize, not wishing to push too hard and offend her. You need to be sensitive here. "Let us discuss politics instead. I was being sincere when I voiced my intention to apprehend my father's killers. I have reason to believe you may have certain suspicions regarding that."
Aiza raises an eyebrow, "I do?"
You gesture with your eyes toward the lifelike painting of Aiza and her mother lovingly framed and hung near her bed so it is among the first things she sees upon waking up. "The circumstances of Queen Aisha's death were suspicious to put it mildly. She perished in a fire during a banquet. An accident with a brazier being knocked over and catching the curtains and the door alight in short order. The cynic in me would assume the next in line for the throne would be the prime suspect, but it would be a macabre individual indeed who sleeps next to a portrait of their murder victim... still refers to the bed as theirs months after they have passed. And thus, I must believe that you are a filial daughter who has been feverishly working on catching her mother's killer."
Your explanation is lengthy but Aiza's attention does not waver for a moment. She listens intently and the more you speak, the more her posture slackens and she begins leaning forward. Her arms slowly uncross. You can see the gears turning behind those beautiful orbs of hers. "You are saying... the ones who killed my mother... also targeted your father? Why?"
"That is the mystery I seek to solve though I have my theory," you reply.
"And what is that?" the elfblood presses.
You scoot back in your seat and recline against the backrest. This next part will also include a lengthy explanation. This one is more sensible. Your last one was an ad-hoc analysis thought of on the spot to connect together threads which have no real connection. You seriously doubt the ones who killed Aiza's mother, assuming she was assassinated at all, would have or could have conspired to kill your father. But you can weave together a narrative that makes it seem plausible.
"Let us be honest with ourselves, Aiza. Neither Alfida nor Saraqusta are especially threatening or powerful polities. Between the two of us, we split the choice land of the central plateau roughly in half. We are each surrounded on all sides by more powerful neighbors, with the exception of Montemayor, who set their eyes upon us like starving beasts on a delicious morsel. It is a wonder either of our domains have survived this long. We owe it solely to the deft politicking of our predecessors. Yet it could not last with either of us at the helm. I am not the Devil of the Central Plateau and you are not Queen Aisha."
You lay the groundwork of your explanation. Aiza does not voice any disagreement with your assessment but she does not piece together where you're going with this. She waits patiently, watching you intently.
"There are thus three future. One in which both Alfida and Saraqusta are swallowed by their larger neighbors, and two in which one swallows the other and grows strong enough to stand against the vultures that circle us. Consider the scenario where our armies lay waste to each other instead of a decisive victor emerging. Or consider a scenario in which a protracted siege is laid on your city. In either case, you would be forced to call in assistance from one of your larger and stronger neighbors. And would these neighbors leave afterward? What if a certain powerful faction within your queendom pushes you to invite them in and then lobbies to have them stay? What if they were conspiring the entire time with that foreign power? All they would need to do is foment the conditions to make it happen."
You lean forward and deliver the crux of your argument. "With the Devil dead, your army would meet mine on the open field. With Queen Aisha dead you would be diplomatically isolated and weakened. A perfect storm to see Saraqusta annexed and the perpetrators rewarded for delivering it gift wrapped to its new overlords."
Aiza's eyes go wide as she finally pieces together your argument. She sits there silently staring at you, the gears behind her eyes turning furiously. Her lips part slightly as if she wants to say something but her mouth can't find the words.
"I know I may sound paranoid, but—"
"No! You are right!" Aiza leaps from her chair, sending it skidding across the room. Her sudden exclamation is loud and jarring, a contrast to the silence and the slow deliberateness of the conversation. "Those wretched HARLOTS. After everything my mother did for them! This is how they repay her?!"
Her purple eyes are alight with rage. It is as if the flames that devoured her mother have found their way into her very soul and now burn anew.
You rise from your chair and match her energy, the two of you now standing across from one another. "They will not escape my vengeance," you vow, your voice as resolute as the earth and your expression as firm as a mountain. "They will not escape our vengeance."
Aiza's chest heaves and she takes several deep breaths. Her gaze drifts down and away, her mind consumed by thoughts. She shakes her head and turns away from you. You can see the tension in her body. She's trying desperately not to break down.
You reach out and place a hand upon her shoulder, drawing her attention back. You're surprised she doesn't jerk away. She lets you hold her, her body quivering. Her breathing becomes more rapid, her nostrils flare. She bites her lip, fighting to hold herself together.
"It's okay," you say in a soft and gentle voice, "We will make them pay."
Aiza's lower lip quivers. Her eyes grow moist and she blinks several times to prevent her tears from spilling. She sucks in a breath and lets it out as a sigh. "We will."
"My army controls the city. My men are loyal to me. They will apprehend those responsible and then I will see them brought to justice. I know not what power they held before, but it is lost to them now. All of their silver and their spears will not save them. The time to strike is now. Will you assist me?" you ask.
"What do you need from me?" Aiza asks with a pleading tilt. She's beginning to trust you despite herself. At least a little bit.
"Give me their names," you say, "I will not rest until every one of them is apprehended. Then I will question them." Or rather, you'll have Uncle Ansur question them. The man has an unrivaled cruelty to himself. You shudder to imagine what sort of cruelty he would inflict on others he found deserving.
The queen nods. She's eager.
"There are three families. I do not know which among them is the culprit or whether it is more than one or all of them. Nafisa, Roshanna, and Farhana," Aiza replies. She explains the history behind the three quarter-elf families. All three are large landowning families who have chaffed at the strict central oversight of her mother. Back in the days before the fitna when the Queendom of Al Qadim ruled most of the peninsula, their holdings were out of the way enough to afford them a significant degree of autonomy. But once Queen Aisha consolidated Saraqusta, she had to tighten the territories belt so to speak.
It helps lend credence to your plan. You repeatedly point out that if autonomy is what they seek then a further away queen is exactly what they want.
Throughout the rather long history lesson that is promptly about to become no longer relevant once you execute those families, you and Aiza sit down at the table once more and enjoy several more cups of the delicious apricot wine. She boasts that they come from her own lands. She owns several orchards that grow fantastic apricots and peaches.
There's a lovely perfectly shaped peach personally grown by Aiza that you'd love to taste...
You shake your head to clear away the intrusive thought.
"I think you should sentence them to death by burning... for burning my mom," Aiza says. Her silken veil has been stained slightly by the repeated lifting and then drinking from her goblet. She's messed it up a few times and gotten splashes on the fabric. Her cheeks are slightly reddened and her speech is more labored now. She's tipsy. The bottle is almost empty.
You are not much better off. You've been matching her cup for cup, the intoxicating effects of the sweet wine have loosened your tongue.
"Perhaps... they deserve a terrible fate for what they've done. My father punished treason by boiling people in oil. It's one of my first memories. He took me to see it. Made me watch. Said 'This is what happens to people who betray us'. I think... he was trying to comfort me? I'm not sure," you reply.
The memories come back unbidden. The screaming. The constant tortured screaming. It was so loud. You remember wishing he would shut up. It was hurting your ears. He didn't even really look human by the time they let him up to breathe. All of his hair had been burned or sloughed off. One of his eyes had been destroyed and his lips were so badly burned, the skin had receded and showed his gums. All of his skin was boiled orange and he was covered in giant blisters. He looked like a demon out of a nightmare.
"He was a vicious tyrant. I have heard many stories about him. They say he would throw men into cages filled with venomous snakes. They say that if you displeased him, he would cut off your nose. He was a cruel man," Aiza says, her expression sour.
"We didn't have a cage of venomous snakes... he would cut off noses though," you recall, "He was without mercy. Even to his sons." You pull back your long hair and show her a scar just below your ear where your father's ring caught your skin one time when he backhanded you with every ounce of strength he had. He remembered to take the ring off each time after that. "I am glad to be rid of him, and even more I am glad not to have begun my rule by imitating his cruelty. I am... not certain that I would have gone through with my threats against the prisoners and the city."
Aiza leans forward to inspect the scar. Her lips curl up into a wince and she emits a sharp hiss as her finger touches it. The gouge was deep and has left quite a mark. "Gods above. He did this to you? His own heir?"
"He did not believe in the sparing of the rod," you answer.
"I'm... surprised you would seek justice for such a man," Aiza admits, pulling back and sitting up straight once more.
You shake your head and sigh. "It is the way of things, is it not? My father was murdered. He was the king. Now I am the king. I have no choice but to pursue justice."
"But... you're the king?" Aiza intones, perplexed.
You raise an eyebrow at her surprisingly naive response. You would think a queen would understand. "I am the king, but that does not mean I can do whatever I wish. The crown is not just a symbol of power. It is a responsibility."
"I know that," Aiza petulantly huffs. "I'm not an idiot."
"I never said you were. I am told you're a mage of no small amount of skill. How could I mistake you for a fool?"
The elfblood's cheeks flush a rosy pink and her gaze falls downcast. "I'm not that good. You're the True Magus or whatever. The famous genius who passed the certification at only twenty eight."
You wave her flattery aside. "I was desperate to excel. It ensured I would not have to return home."
"That's terrible..." Aiza mutters. You never imagined you'd receive sympathy from the woman whose kingdom you just conquered.
"Anyway, I must pursue justice so my subjects do not think me weak and my foreign adversaries do not think me vulnerable. You are a queen. I am sure you, more than anyone else I could speak to, are familiar with these things."
"Yeah..." Aiza says although it's not clear how much through she's really put into it. It could be the wine. "Yeah. I suppose that's true."
"It is kind of tragic, is it not? This pursuit of strength we all must feverishly chase. All of us, you, myself, Castellon, Tulah, even the mighty Asturias. We seek strength, constantly suspicious of the other, to ensure our own stability. And yet, in our collective desperation to grow stronger, we only undermine our collective security. So many players in the game racing toward security, but no one ever gets a lead. Any who refuse to submit to the rules of this game are destroyed and consumed, used as fuel to strengthen the competitors. Peace... is but a dream of the ultimate victory, built atop a mountain of corpses. Will it be worth it? I know I would prefer to find out than to number the pile."
Aiza's mouth hangs agape for a moment, the words escaping her. Never had she considered things in such terms before. But now that she has heard it, it all becomes clear. A eureka moment. Finally, she closes her mouth and sighs. "I have never considered it like that before. There is some wisdom in your words."
"Thank you. And it is getting late. I will leave you to your rest, Aiza. I enjoyed our conversation tonight. My sole regret is that we could not meet under better circumstances. We shall meet again tomorrow," you say. You stand from the table and make your way to the door, taking care not to stumble on your way out. The alcohol is really getting to you.
"Good night, King Alonso..." Aiza murmurs as she rises from her chair. She looks as though she wants to say more but does not, simply letting her sentence trail off. With that, you depart and find a different room to crash in.