The first actual city James had seen in this world, and they were staying as far away from it as possible.
He sat on his horse, a light brown stallion he'd come to call Trigger. That nobody would ever get the reference, including Shanna, amused him. Before him stretched empty road, dirt and stone, off almost to the horizon. Just before it touched the sky, a stone wall rose, crossing and blocking the path.
James raised the spyglass to his right eye. He could see the gate. The stone and wood buildings rising behind the protective wall. The banners, blue and green. The river, flowing through the town. Barely, he could see the movement of people on the wall. The Watu.
"Have they made any contact with us?" James turned to look at Commander Kosciuszko. The head of the Winged Hussars shook his head, the resemblance to his son Piotr striking. He motioned with his hand at the plain before them.
"They refused to admit our emissary. Understandable, I think. Even if we are just passing through, they wish no conflict with the Elves. Their pickets track ours, riders match our movements. So long as we do nothing to provoke them, I think they'll keep their distance."
"Good. In my world, a war on two fronts is never good."
The Commander laughed.
"For the Hussars, the 'front' is whichever direction we now point our horses."
James nodded, letting his gaze take in his immediate surroundings. One hundred of the winged warriors were arranged on either side of him, in perfect formation. Behind them, four hundred pikemen, arranged in four lines across the road. Another hundred archers stood at the ready behind them. Almost a hundred yards back up the road, the line of wagons and refugees turned off onto the grasslands, heading south. More troops lined the path, no longer off in the distant forest, but now visibly defending the last remnant of humanity.
He handed the spyglass back to Piotr's father.
"Thank you." James turned his horse, facing the soldiers. He felt every eye on him. "And thank you, Men. You do not know me. I am a stranger in a strange land. Yet, all I have seen tells me of your bravery. Your wives and children walk behind this line. They trust you with their lives. And so do I."
"All Hail the King!"
The sound erupted spontaneously, not led by some plant of the Captain. The voices of women joined in, the cries from the distant refugees strong. The soldiers turned, cheering their families, or more likely those of other soldiers, back. From the stream of civilians, a small boy broke free, running down the road. A mother started after him, stopping after a few paces as the distance grew, exhaustion clear even from where James sat. James saw one of the archers take a step out of the ranks, before stopping. James leaned his head towards the Commander.
"Would allowing him to go get him cause any problems?"
"No, Your Grace." The man smiled. James nodded, sitting up in his saddle as he looked at the archer.
"Archer, if that's your boy, go take him back to your wife. Give her a good kiss before you come back."
The solders erupted in laughter, those around the man shoving him out towards his son. Seeing him, the woman began running again. The three met in a swirl of hugs, the cheers from onlookers probably unheard.
"We have to," James said softly to the the Commander, "let the men see their families. If only for a few hours. Maybe once we're over the river, rotate units through some sort of leave."
"A good idea, Your Grace." The soldier paused. "If nothing else, some children will come of it."
****
For a structure meant to only have to function for a day or two, the wooden gateway was surprisingly formidable looking. Thick tree trunks rose up on either side of James, smaller logs crossing overhead, adding support. On either side, earthen walls extended outward, eastward to the river, and on the other side curving southwestward around the growing camp. A moat, a man's length wide and deep, showed the source of the dirt. Into it were pounded wooden stakes, made from branches left over from trees felled for the bridge.
The engineers had been busy. James had to give them that. They were also ingenious. Instead of an actual door for the gateway, large postholes had been dug out. The logs now forming the bridge over the moat were to be pulled back and up, falling into place to form a formidable defensive barrier. The holes were now covered with some planks, to keep idiots like the King from breaking a leg.
Inside the wall, rows of wagons stretched in every direction. As each new cart entered, it was directed off to where it was needed, the order for the next day's river crossing set now. The past few days had been one of constant messages, logistical minded soldiers and officials working out how best to arrange the nation for the weeks to come. James had taken no part in that, having no experience. What authority and power he was allowed to have he would not waste inserting himself where he could do no real good. That way lay disaster.
"Your Grace."
A man with a feathered yellow hat stood beside the road, a surprisingly modern looking clipboard in his hand. James moved his mount off to the side, as did his companions, allowing the others to keep moving. At the man's signal, a young boy ran up to the royal wagon, jumping up beside the driver.
"Your Grace, we have a spot readied for your encampment. If you and your party are not too tired from the road, Captain Putaski would like the honor of your company over by the river. Jablonski here will guide you."
"We are tired, but business first. Thank you, and carry on."
"Thank you, Your Grace."
Another boy came up, eyes wide with wonder as he looked up at James, and even wider when they fell on Shanna. James could only chuckle as his fellow otherworlder scowled at the boy, who suddenly remembered his job and proceeded to lead them away. Shanna brought her horse beside his.
"It's so nice sticking out. Everyone treats you so well."
"It's up to you to pop out enough kids to change the entire ethnic balance."
"Ha Ha."
"It's only a suggestion."
They rode through the camp. Everywhere, James saw reunions. Saw people coming together, hugging, crying. Husbands and wives, parents and children. A thousand stories. As they neared the water, the riders passed a soldier, uniform muddy, torn. He stood rock still, eyes red with tears, as two preteen girls clung to his sides bawling. James looked away.
Not every story was happy.
****
Captain Putaski stood at the water's edge, waiting. Beside him was a man James had not seen since that first night, the head of the engineers. What his name was, he couldn't say, but that face he knew. While exhaustion seemed to roll off the man, he stood tall, expression one of pride. Looking behind them, James understood why.
The wooden bridge stretched across the river, from shore to shore, floating on the slow moving waters. It did not go across straight, but at an angle, or at least so it looked to him. The middle seemed to bow a little bit, the current pushing the connected rafts down stream, fighting the connecting ropes. The middle of the bridge also seemed wider, extra rafts tied to either side. He wondered why, until he saw the archers, and the boat upstream prevented from traveling father by the barrier. James had not even considered that feature of this design.
"Your Grace." The Captain bowed his head slightly, James as always wondering which of them was in fact King. The engineer bowed farther.
"Your Grace. It is an honor to have you here."
"It's an honor to see the result of your labor." James swung his leg over, dismounting with an ease he still considered impressive. A boy appeared from nowhere, taking the reins, his two guards emerging from what he was calling "Guard-Space". So far as he could tell, they hid between the universes, awaiting his need. Shanna dismounted as well, no guards appearing for her benefit. She moved up beside James as he walked over to the bridge. Stopping, he gave a slight bow of his head to the Engineer.
"Between this and the fort, I'm incredibly impressed. Is it done? Ready for use?"
"It is, Your Grace. I guarantee it will transport twice our number, and last at least a week."
"If it's not burning behind us by tomorrow night, our plans have all been upset," Captain Putaski said. "Your Grace, we have a decision to make. The bridge is done, so we could start sending the wagons across. We already have troops over there, naturally. However, it's only two hours until sunset. Only half the wagons have yet arrived. If we truly want to take this time to reorganize..."
"We wait until first light." James understood. "We'd also be divided while we slept. Probably best to not make the crossing, than to have half trapped on one side."
"Yes, Your Grace. A few of the commanders are pushing for an immediate crossing, but with your support..."
His support. The man before him was not a general. Not a brigadier. He was the head of the Royal Guard. In command because... well, because. He had taken charge because someone had to, and still was because those who commanded troops were off doing that important duty. Any one of them could exert their right to take charge. Might feel it their duty to do so, to save the Kingdom and its people.
Which is where James fit in.
"Unless someone comes up with a very good argument, I'm for waiting until morning. They need this."
The Engineer seemed to let out a breath. James cocked his head at him.
"Yes?"
"Nothing, Your Grace. It's just that I agree with your decision. We can use the time to shore up a few things we noticed before you arrived. Secure the far bank a little more. Nothing serious."
"Fair enough," James said, not wanting to call the man out too much. "But, just for the future, I trust engineers. If you need more time, say so. Better to get it right now, than to have to repair a failure."
****
"That thing would have fallen apart, wouldn't it?"
Shanna's tone was not happy. James could only chuckle as they walked the horses through the camp.
"No, it probably would have held up. God forbid the wind kicked up, or something, though."
She snorted, very unladylike. James shook his head.
"What everyone's being asked to do, with failure resulting in friends and family dying..."
"I know, I know. I just never liked relying on others."
"How's the training coming?"
Her eyes flicked over. James kept his face passive.
"Good," she finally answered. "Really good. It's helping me pick up the language, too. At least the swear words."
"Those are the best ones. How's the first day in armor?"
"Not bad." She looked down, James following her gaze. The steel breastplate had been beaten out, two bumps proving her womanhood. That had thinned the armor, naturally, but for now it was the only option. Once they were settled, she could have a custom set made.
"You still don't want to go with the chain mail bikini? It does wonders for your mobility and tan."
"My tan is taken care of, thanks. You can dress your personal guard like that if you'd like."
"It is good to be the king."
He saw the royal banner up ahead. It had not been used before now. No sense in telling whatever enemy there was exactly where the new King was, or even that there was one. Now, though, the Captain had felt the people needed it. Needed the visual reminder of power, of leadership. Of normality. All around, James saw glances directed at the wagon, at the women and children around it. Wondering who, there, was the King.
Maybe he could promote Felek to take over a few times a week.
"Your Grace!"
Well, that was it. Cover blown. James handed his reins to another mysteriously appearing boy. Felek ran up, eyes wide.
"Your Grace! I just saw my cousins! They're going to be one wagon circle behind us!"
"That's good, Felek. We'll have to make sure you can spend some time with them as we travel." He glanced around. Ewa wasn't visible. Felek pointed to the tent.
"Ewa is setting up your things." Trust the boy to know his thoughts. "We now have a second Royal Wagon, with more things saved from the palace showing up."
"It's amazing," Ola said, walking up behind Felek, "what people remember they somehow accidentally brought along amidst their bare necessities when I mention your name. I fully expect to find the entire throne room packed away somewhere, wrapped in moth eaten rugs."
"Inhabited by the King of the Moths?" James asked.
"The Moth King!" Felek shouted. Shanna laughed.
"Mothra!"
"Who?"
"Mothra!," Shanna said. Pausing, she chose her Polish words carefully. "A giant moth, wings a hundred feet wide! Guardian to a small island people, twin princesses talk to it. It helps fight off evil monsters!"
"Does it have fangs?" Felek's eyes were wide with wonder.
"Yes. Yes it does."
****
The royal tent how had a royal bed.
With a royal mattress.
Laying on it, the royal girlfriend.
Also, the royal baby.
James let the flap fall, the noise from the camp lessening a bit. Ewa lay curled on her side, eyes closed. Her feet were bare, sandals discarded on a dark red rug now on the grass beside the bed. The babe lay beside her, forehead touching hers. Looking around, James saw a dressing screen, a second traveling wardrobe, opened to reveal women's clothing as well as male royal garb. A table with four chairs sat almost in the middle, only the central pole supporting the tent keeping the symmetry from being perfect. A book case, with folding doors open to reveal two dozen large volumes, brought an audible gasp from him. Ewa stirred at the sound. Her eyes opened.
"Mmmm..."
"That looks comfy," James said, unable to help the smile on his face. Ewa looked up tiredly.
"It is. It so is."
"Let me test it." She scooted back. James slipped his riding boots off, lowering himself onto the mattress facing her. Ewa slid the babe down so he lay beside her chest, mouth next to a covered nipple. James moved his forehead to touch hers, a hand coming up to stroke her cheek. Ewa literally purred. "You're right, Ewa. This is comfy."
"I never want to walk again."
James looked down at the baby. He looked so happy. Content.
"You know, Ewa, we probably should name your son."
Her eyes widened.
"My... son?"
"That's what he is now, Ewa. He's your son. He loves you."
As if he understood, the boy grabbed her dress, snuggling his face closer to her covered breasts. The love in Ewa's eyes told all.
"What should we name him?"
"What was your father's name?"
She looked up, startled.
"Marik."
"Then, I think we should call him Marik."
"Marik." Ewa pulled back, bringing the boy up until his nose touched her. James raised himself up on an elbow. "Marik. My little Marik..."
****
They were so few.
On the road, stretched out before and behind him, his people had seemed countless. An unending stream of humanity. Now, gathered before him, reality finally penetrated. James had been, personally, in larger crowds. The almost nineteen thousand civilians he now saw would, just, fill the hockey arena. Add in the nine thousand or so troops and you still didn't get half the crowd of a football game during even the Bills' worst season. And this was all. This was all of humanity. This was what had to survive, to reach some island haven. And they looked to him. Looked to James to lead them, inspire them. To keep them alive. Safe.
Who would ever aspire to lead?
A small stage had been erected in the center of the walled camp. The people gathered before it, families, soldiers. A sea of metal and cloth. The armor, in particular, reflected the torches, creating stars of yellow fire. James wondered if God looked down, if he saw them as equal to his own constellations. Humanity reflected up, as the heavens reflected down.
James let out a sigh, the brown robed priest droning on with his benediction. He was no poet. No philosopher. He had to stay grounded. Stay who he was. Not pretend to be more.
"God bless King James."
Right.
He rose at his cue, Brother Ofim bowing as he stepped back. The people before the stage knelt, heads bowed, a wave of subservience to him. All of humanity, his to command.
"Rise."
They rose. Almost thirty thousand pairs of eyes on him. Thirty thousand hopes, dreams, counting on him. What little he had prepared to say vanished. It had been empty platitudes. They deserved better. James opened his mouth, closed it, wet his lips, then began.
"For five days, I think- the days seem to blur- I have been with you people. Walked. Ridden. I did not know you, when the captain of the guard came into my room, told me I was your King. I... I have never dreamed of being a King. I wanted to read about history. Maybe teach. Be normal. Happy.
"But I am now your King, and the honor overwhelms me."
James gestured with his arm, encompassing them all.
"I have seen the people of Nowy Kiev overcome their darkest hour. The Elves thought to destroy us, but you... WE, are Poles. We are Poles, from Poland of old. My own family is four generations removed from our homeland. You are countless more, but that blood still runs strong. I have seen in these few days such strength, such love, that I am ashamed. Ashamed that no human could be worthy of leading such as you. Yet... I will try. I will do all that is in my power, and attempt much that is not, to bring you to a new home. Not an Eden, for only God can send us there, but a land we may call our home. A new Poland. For Poland always rises again, its strength not in the land, but in us. Poles are not those who live in Poland. Poland... Poland is, and always will be, the land where Poles are."
James raised his right arm, fist clenched.
"LONG LIVE POLAND!"