It had taken less than a day for James to wish he wasn't King.
Much of that, for now, was the growing posse around him, the expanding "staff" designated to help. Seemingly at every rest of the column, Captain Putaski sent over yet another functionary he'd dug up from somewhere, some secretary or advisor from the palace to help King James deal with his duties. As there were no duties yet, all they did was add pressure to the teen. They were more adults he had to pretend he had authority over.
They were also all male. Couldn't he have an all female staff, or something?
There were more guards. A dozen unmounted soldiers, armed with pikes, marched before and after the Winged Hussars. The nearest war wagon, which he now knew was a Tabor, was emptied of civilians, archers taking their place inside the mobile fortification. All to protect him. All in reaction to the elves. To the discovery of Shanna.
Shanna was an interesting addition to all this. He wasn't sure if she helped prove the reality of the situation, or the opposite. Yes, of all the people his dream mind could have added to his story, she would not have been on the list. A point in favor of reality. On the other, her story made the entire world more magical. James wasn't sure he liked that.
At the moment, she was brooding as they rode. Understandable. James went in and out of that state himself. She looked out of place, dressed in dark blue sweatpants and light blue t-shirt with a large '99' on it. Her dark brown skin had made him realize how un-diverse the people around him were, in that regard. James had just never thought about it. Her largish breasts, under that large shirt, bounced nicely in a way he tried very hard not to visibly notice. The idea of an all female mounted guard again entered his thoughts.
Ola walked from what James was calling the Royal Wagon, moving quickly to catch up to the riders. The man designated as his secretary was definitely, in his mind, on the effeminate side. Not quite comically so, but close. Not that there was anything wrong with that.
"Your Grace." He managed to bow while walking, a nice trick. James nodded his head as the slender man matched his gait to that of the horses. "I've gone over the lists from all the wagons, and have some totals. Would Your Grace like them?"
"Yes." James resisted the urge to say that "his grace" would. He knew that joke would get annoying for all involved rather quickly, and so had to be saved, spread out over time. Ola bowed again.
"Your Grace. We have, at the moment, sixteen thousand, seven hundred and forty four non-soldiers traveling in this column."
"Damn!" That was more than James had expected.
"They were divided, last night, into eighty three wagon circles. There's a crossroads ahead where farmers have been slowly joining up with the column, so most likely there will be more tonight." He looked down at his notes. "Tabors make up less than a quarter of the wagons, although they do seem to be spread out somewhat evenly. Would you like to know the exact breakdown?"
"Make a master list, and have it ready for me when we make camp."
"Yes, Your Grace. Also, a runner just arrived. The first elements of the engineers have reached the Orlan, and are moving south to the crossing point. At this pace, the head of the column will reach there in another four days."
James looked around, eyes on the forest they now knew hid elven scouts.
"Four days..."
****
"I think," Ewa said, her voice soft, "your new friend likes Lieutenant Kosciuszko."
James chuckled, hand unashamedly holding hers as he walked beside her, other hand lightly grasping his mount's reins. Twelve hours on the road (or, ten, or eight, whatever the actual figure was) already seemed like forever, the teen beside him no longer a newly met stranger. He let his thumb caress her skin, enjoying the feel. Her eyes left Shanna, falling back on him. James found himself smiling even more.
"I will admit," he said, "I hadn't noticed."
Her eyes widened, then dropped, lips curling up in a smile. Her hand squeezed his.
"It does take a woman to notice these things."
Unable to help it, James turned, looking back at the woman in question. Shanna walked her black mare directly behind his, keeping pace easily. As he watched, she stumbled, foot catching on a hole in the road her horse easily avoided. Even as she recovered her footing, her eyes never left the blond Piotr walking on the other side of James' mount. The young man had removed his helmet, hanging it on his saddle. James was surprised neither he nor the others removed those wings as well. It couldn't be easy walking with them. Although, really, it probably wasn't much different than a backpack.
The girl obviously had a thing for Piotr. She, too, was getting looks from a number of the men. They were not as... well, James was going to have to have a talk with the Captain. Not just Shanna, but no woman in this caravan was going to be subjected to what in his world would be called rape. He suspected soldiers assumed they had certain rights over women not claimed, or at least not well protected. He hoped he was wrong.
"Shanna."
Her head snapped around to him. Anger and guilt warred on her face.
"What?"
"I'm still not seeing any strange plants like you saw. Can you point anything out?"
Her look said everything. She was walking on the inside of the double row of horses, with a wagon on her left. What could she possibly see from there, especially at her height? Still, she swung her gaze around.
"No," she said, tolerantly, "nothing. Maybe at camp there will be a patch of flowers or something. But I did see them."
"Oh, I believe you." James trusted he sounded like it. "I'd just like to get an idea what's out there myself. What's different about this world."
"Same here... oh! There!" She pointed, bare arm outstretched. "Over behind that patch of blue flowers!"
James looked. Yes. That was... different. An oak tree, or its double, rising in a vague cone shape like a pine tree. From the top... what looked like a large flower.
He did NOT want to see the bee that pollinated that.
"Ah. Yes. That is different. Freaky, even."
"What?" Ewa asked. Letting go of her hand, James pointed.
"That tree with the flower. All the other trees around it are like those on our world, but that one isn't."
Ewa looked at for a moment, then shrugged.
"It doesn't look that strange."
****
"Make camp! Make camp! Make camp!"
The rider tore past James, riding back down the road towards the rear of the column. From ahead and behind, half-hearted cheers rose. James felt like cheering as well. The insides of his thighs were sore. Alternating riding with walking every hour had helped, but his body was not used to this. He just knew tomorrow he'd be starting in pain.
"Finally," Shanna said. Her horse pulled up along side him as the Hussars left the road. "I like riding, but this is ridiculous."
"It's less work than walking, but just as painful." He regarded her. "How are you holding up?"
"Who knows. This is all still stupid. I'm kind of hoping a good meal and some real sleep help me wrap my mind around all this."
"Good luck with that." James saw Ewa and Felek jump out the back of the royal wagon as it began to turn off the road. Felek gave a wave. James returned it with a smile. "I'm just going with the flow for now."
"Well, yeah, you're King. I want to get home."
"You think I don't?" James looked at her. Her dark eyes regarded him.
"No. I don't think you do."
****
"Hear me, oh people of Poland, servants of God Almighty! I bring you glad tidings in this moment of despair! God has sent us a King, heir to King Mieszko, heir to the great throne of Nowy Kiev! He has come to us from afar, from the lands of our ancestors! Yes, from Poland itself, Mother Land to us all! He travels with us, among his people, easing our suffering! It is he who has ordered a doubling of tonight's rations! It is he who has collected the names of your loved ones, so you may find family and friends! Blessed be the day, soon, when we may all stand before him in our new home, bowing our heads to our rightful sovereign!
"Until that day, His Grace asks that you stay with the wagons you are currently with. A river crossing is coming, and families may unite then if God permits.
"God bless King James the First!"
****
James stood awkwardly in the last of the sunset as the people cheered. Not just here on either side of the road where the crier sat on his horse, but up and down the road where countless more copies of the proclamation were read. Around him, soldiers, women, and children began to chant, "King James the First!" He bowed his head to them, turning to acknowledge the entire camp, bringing another cheer.
God, what was he doing here?
As it died down, the people turning towards the cooking fires, James walked over to his "throne". The folding seat from the previous evening had been replaced by an even higher one, with a cushioned seat. It sat before the entrance to his royal tent, a nearby fire providing more than enough light and heat. As he sat, Felek quickly moved to place a folding table before him. Little Ruta was there a moment later, placing a tray on it. She curtsied, smiling, no longer the nervous wreck she had been that morning.
"And what about me?"
He looked over at Shanna, standing a few feet away. The woman frowned as James laughed.
"No idea. Duda!"
"Yes, Your Grace?" The guard standing to his right looked down, bowing in acknowledgment.
"I need another chair and table for my friend Shanna. She's to get the same food I get, or reasonably close."
"Yes, Your Grace." The guard motioned another man over, passing on the request. James looked back to Shanna.
"I'm just letting them decide protocol for now. Not pushing too much."
"I don't blame you."
He caught the unstated criticism. Well deserved, most likely. James nodded.
"I know, I know. I'm a powerless figurehead letting people serve my every whim as they flee certain death."
"I didn't say anything."
"And you're right to keep saying it." He looked down at his food. Sausage, again, this time freshly made it looked like, with large mushrooms, shredded carrots, and... pierogis. He smiled. Pierogis. Now he knew these were Poles. James cut one of the pan fried dough pockets open, looking at the cheese and potato filling. Just like Grandma used to make.
He dug in.
****
The lists of names were tacked to the wagons circling the camp. James stayed back as the two hundred or so people slowly moved from page to page, searching for friends and loved ones in the torchlight. He looked at Shanna beside him.
"That was my idea. The extra food they're just doing in my name, now that they have a better idea what our supplies look like, but if nothing else I've done this."
"It's a good one. You don't have to justify it to me."
Yet he felt he did. Alone in a strange world, there was no one to judge. No one to say they would not do things like that, knowing what he knows. Now he had such a person. An outsider as smart as him, probably, as knowledgeable. He sighed.
"What would you do, if you were me?"
Her gaze met his, then moved to take in the ring of wagons. She folded her arms over her chest.
"Probably this. Not much to do while they're running. Just help where you can." She frowned. "Do you know where they're running to, yet?"
"They said something about the sea, but apart from that you got me. I don't even know if they know yet."
"That's not good."
"I know."
Two figures left the crowd, coming towards him. Ewa, holding the babe, milk filled horn in his mouth, with Felek beside her. Her younger brother was holding her waist. James closed his eyes.
"Please let this be good news."
"Optimist."
"Someone has to be."
As the siblings came close, James tried to guess what they'd found. Emotions were hard to read at night, and tears could be tears of joy. As they came before him, he reached out to touch the babe's head. His eyes met Ewa's.
"Any luck?"
"Our uncle's family, up ahead. Our cousins. Two aunts behind us, but they never got along with Mother..." Her voice trailed off. Felek looked up, eyes wet.
"I didn't see Mom and Dad. I looked. Read every name. I didn't see them."
Shanna looked at James, obviously affected.
"No luck?"
"No."
Reaching out, Shanna put a dark hand on the boy's head. As if she had hit a switch, the boy left his sister's side, pressing himself against the comforting stranger, crying into her chest. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.
"Shh... it'll be OK. It'll be OK..."
Ewa took a step towards James. He opened his arms, finding them filled a moment later with the soft grieving girl, and the babe who did not yet know its loss.
****
"This, Your Grace, is a map of our world."
James leaned forward, Felek moving his torch to keep the map out of shadow. He loved maps. Always had. Real maps, fake maps. James had even liked creating his own, detailing every dirt path through the woods of his old neighborhood. This one was not that detailed, showing not roads, but rivers, cities. It also didn't seem that large, certainly not the entire world, although much larger in scope than most of his homemade ones. He saw Nowy Kiev, sitting as they had said on the junction of two rivers as they merged into one. Due east, another town was marked on another river, Daraja. This must be the one they were bypassing. Both rivers flowed south, towards a distant coast. Cities were marked near the mouths of both rivers. Between, forests, hills. Nothing that caught his eye as a possible destination for his people.
He frowned. Assuming they crossed the Orlan, there was nothing eastward, not on this map. The Captain had mentioned the sea, so he let his eyes mark the path southward. They would travel slowly southward, until...
There, off the southern coast, not too close to any port city, was a long, thin, island. Some of it was mountainous, but much of the interior was flat, potential farmland. It was nothing compared to what had surrounded their lost home, but...
James pointed, looking up at Captain Putaski.
"You're leading them here?"
The Captain gave his King a long look, eventually slowly nodding. He leaned over, pointing to a part of the map.
"If we break away from the river here, there is a good road which will take us most of the way. We will take the wagons cross country after that, avoiding inhabited lands. It will be slow, but we can do it."
"And how do we make the crossing?"
"We build ships." James looked up, eyebrow raised. Captain Putaski nodded. "Yes, I know. They assure me they can do it, though, build us ships good enough to just get us across in good weather. Once there, we'll worry about building better vessels for trade and transport."
"Hiring ships is out of the question?"
The Captain stood up, face stern.
"I would rather not have our survival depend on any but ourselves."
****
James looked around the tent, taking in the changes. An oil lamp hung from the central pole, giving off a more... familiar light than the torches used outside. He could understand conserving oil at this point, feeling guilty at this waste for his benefit. It was helpful, though. The cot set up for him was now larger, wider. His six foot frame would no longer just barely fit. An open chest with clothing sat against the far wall. A desk, legs removable, sat near the bed, a small pile of papers on it. Ola sat on a chair before it, writing quickly. He looked up as James let the tent flap drop.
"Your Grace. I am almost done. The various guild leaders sent congratulations to you, and will appear personally tomorrow evening. I have written out your reply. If you could read it and sign all ten copies, I will have them sent out tonight."
"It seems the work of the Kingdom does not start until the wagons circle."
"It is when messengers travel the easiest, and writing in a moving wagon is MOST annoying." Ola went back to his work. James walked over to his new wardrobe, examining the selection. Pants and tunics. Nothing too fancy. That was good. He wasn't a fancy person. If he could find someone who could reverse engineer his old bluejeans, maybe he could start a fashion revolution.
"Done, Your Grace." Ola stood, stretching. James walked over, glancing at the freshly inked pages. They were in English. Or so he saw them. He wondered what it was going to be like, listening to Shanna try to learn Polish, since he heard Polish words as English. Possibly like that scene in the second OZ book, where the Scarecrow and Pumpkinhead decide, despite the fact they're conversing easily with each other, that they must be speaking different languages because they're from different parts of Oz. It should be amusing.
Grabbing the pen, he quickly signed the letters. Ola took each page, blowing to dry the ink.
"Good. That should be it for tonight, Your Grace. I will try not to wake you unless it absolutely can not wait until morning."
James could not imagine a bookkeeping problem that could NOT be delayed until daylight. Straightening, he smiled to the bureaucrat.
"Good. Once we're all settled, I'll probably try to fill all the royal staff positions with people I personally trust. With luck, you'll be one of them."
The man's eyes widened, although whether at the implied threat or potential reward James couldn't say. Papers in hand, Ola bowed before exiting the tent.
James let his shoulders sag. God, he was tired.
Felek entered, a basin of water in his arms.
"Time to get you ready for bed, Your Grace."
That sounded like a good idea.
****
James lay in the darkness, alone among the multitude. He had expected Felek to sleep in his tent, to be ready in case the King needed a drink of water in the night or something. A small low cot was set up next to the chest for just such a thing. The boy had left, though, after extinguishing the lamp. James would have to get his own water. Or ask one of the guards just outside.
He felt like a little boy again, a slightly spoiled only child. James had been so happy to go off to college, to go live in the dorm even if it was just a twenty minute drive from home. To be on his own. Independent.
So much for that.
The thick tent flap parted, a figure entering. James half sat up, eyes still not used to the darkness. His light blanket slid away from his bare chest.
"Who is it?"
"Me, Your Grace."
Ewa.
Her shadowy form stood in the center of the tent. James heard the sound of fabric. Saw the outline of her figure become much more feminine. Slowly, he saw her come to stand before his cot, hands clutched together before her.
"I... I am here to keep you company, Your Grace, if it pleases you."
He wanted to ask if she was being forced. If it was her idea, or theirs. If she was doing this for the King, or for him.
But... in this new life, that could not matter. Who he was could not be separated from what he was. Even to those he was closest to, he would be King, before friend, or lover. He would not, could not hurt her by asking. Sliding his legs over on to the floor, he stood before her, nude.
"Everything about you pleases me."
She stepped into him, palms on his chest, body raised on the tips of her toes as her lips found his. His own hands slid down her back, mind lost in the moment. Cot forgotten, they sank into the grassy floor. Words forgotten, they told each other all a man and woman can say.
The world forgotten, they found peace.