Blood Moon| The Last Kingdom| Sihtric Kjartansson

FORTY-FIVE

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"The wise thing to do would be to ride to them and pay our respects," Isleif argued across the council table, his book of notes opened.

"No, the wise thing to do would be not to get killed," Tormund shot back sharply, "we step foot on their land, and they will slaughter us all."

"But a message of good faith could prevent further tension between the kingdoms," Olav sighed heavily, "it is a complicated situation."

"There is nothing complicated about survival," Aegir quipped, "it is safer for our great kingdom if the Queen remains here."

"Aegir," Torben groaned, "it is a funeral!"

The word had come in the early morning from Henrick's spies. Aethelflaed had succumbed to her illness. The great Lady of Mercia was dead.

That meant that where two days prior, we had warned fortresses to arm their men just in case of a battle. Now, we warned them to expect a battle. Tensions would grow and fast.

"It is a funeral, but the Queen is already injured from battle!" Aegir jumped up from his seat, "A battle that the Saxons and Mercians were supposed to aid us in, might I add!"

"Hear!" A few other council members spoke up.

"Why should we sacrifice our Queen's time and patience on them when they could not even send soliders to us?" Aegir continued heatedly, looking at the council members. "Has Northumbria not given Mercia enough time already?"

"If we do not extend kindness towards them, war will find us again," Olav snapped, his own anger flaring.

"Let it come!" Aegir bellowed, "Our Queen has a thousand men! A thousand Danes and two hundred ships! We will crush the Saxons where they stand!"

"Saga," I murmured, drawing the redhead's attention to me, "I have heard enough of this."

Saga nodded curtly, rising up from her council seat, "Silence! The Queen will speak!"

Aegir sat back down promptly, the murmurs at the table quieting gradually.

I took the moment of peace to rub my temple and remind myself what silence sounded like.

"What shall we do, My Queen?" Henrick gruffed, seizing his playing with Rúna to look at me, "There is much to prepare for either way."

"I know," I sighed, shuffling uncomfortably in my throne; armoured dresses did not sit well on healing wounds. "We will send warriors to the border, a hundred for now, mainly around Eforwic, which is poorly protected right now."

"A wise plan, My Queen," Valdemar mumbled quietly, his blind eyes trying to find me.

"But," I continued, "we will not hope that they will not attack us. We will be ready whether they come or not. Jarl Ingemar has been summoned, and she should be here any minute now."

"Ingemar is your best war commander," Olav muttered, "summoning her will look like we are preparing for an assault."

"Well, I have summoned her already," I told him pointedly before returning my focus to the rest of the council. "I do not want to cause panic yet, but Edward will not sit by idly now that Aethelflaed is dead. He will strive to steal away Mercia and—"