Enchanted -N. Lantsov

In This World Without a Voice or Say

"Da, moi tsarevich," The sergeant's face was shocked.

"'Sir' will do, sergeant. I'm an officer when I wear this uniform, not a prince."

"Yes, sir," The sergeant nodded. "Only bothers me when it rains."

"Then I imagine the Fjerdans pray daily for storms. You put quite a few of them out of their misery, if I recall." Nikolai chuckled.

"I seem to remember you doing the same, sir." The soldier grinned, seemingly elated that the second born prince had remembered him, an ordinary soldier.

Nikolai knew exactly what he was doing and it made Olysia huff a laugh out. He was too good at flipping the tables for whatever worked best for him. Olysia knew this would be all the soldiers would be able to talk about when this was all over.

"Brother," Nikolai turned his attention back to Vasily. "Let's get to the palace so we can dispense with our greetings. I have a case of Kerch whiskey that needs drinking, and I'd like to get your advice on a foal I spotted in Ketterdam. They tell me Dagrenner is his sire, but I have my doubts."

"Dagrenner? Did they have papers?" Vasily tried to disguise his interest, but it was as if he couldn't resist

"Come have a look."

Of course that's what got his attention and allowed him to be cordial with Nikolai. He was such an oaf.

How was Ravka to survive if this sorry excuse of a man was to be their leader? Olysia was convinced they would be invaded the day he was placed on the throne.

As they rode on, they found themselves in the middle of a city of tents and wagons marked with crudely drawn suns that sprung up around the walls surrounding Os Alta. There was a long line of people waiting at the gates, several of whom were arguing with the guards, trying to gain entry, although when they saw Alina, they forgot all about their quelms and began crying out for their new found savior. Alina entertained them by waving as she passed by.

Armed soldiers kept watch from the old battlements, reminding everyone of their precarious position of fighting a war on both borders and threats that festered for too long within. It served a deadly reminder to the people below to keep things orderly.

Unlike the weary travelers, the gates were wide open for the princes of Ravka and all the few thousand of their closest companions.

It seemed like everyone who lived in Os Alta were spilling onto the streets to watch the procession. They cheered but not nearly as booming as outside the walls.

Olysia saw her fellow Grisha point their noses in the air at the sight of the people. Or maybe it was the indescribable odor that burnt her nose. Either way, they were looking mighty haughty and Olysia rolled her eyes at them. Olysia wasn't much better because yes she thought she was above these crowds of non-Grisha who did absolutely nothing for the country but she was smart enough to keep that to herself.

Perhaps all of her time riding next to Alina and Nikolai, whose sole goal was to get the people on their side influenced her to be a little more discreet in her dislike but even before she kept things to herself. It was just smarter to be quiet because no one knows your allegiance and that means they leave you alone, which is all Olysia could ever want.

Eventually they crossed the wide canal and left the noise and tumult of the lower town behind. The bridge's gatehouse had been heavily fortified, but once they reached the upper town where all of the rich people resided, there was absolutely nothing that had changed like in the lower town.

The broad boulevards were spotless and serene, the stately homes carefully maintained. There was even a park where fashionably turned out men and women strolled the manicured paths or took the air in open carriages. Children played at babki, watched over by their nannies, and a boy in a straw hat rode by on a pony with ribbons in its braided mane, the reins held by a uniformed servant.