Tanya's Third Life as a Barbarian Queen, Chapter L

I will have the chapter as links to download at the bottom of the post. As well as a link to the Google Document page.

Kontia

Tanya, Queen of the Tanaoi

A gravel and stonecutting quarry had been selected for the site of the funeral. It was not terribly far from Kontia itself and nestled somewhat awkwardly into a small valley with a single winding dirt road leading to it as opposed to the gridlike organisation the rest of Kontia and the local environs enjoyed. In just days charcoal burners and woodcutters had created hundreds of pyres in neat rows that dominated the land cut flat by the stone hungry city and bridge.

There was an odd weight in the air, with most of the pyres already carrying their burden, but even now more bodies were carried out from the city to this place. Here and there family or friends spent what time they could mourning what had been lost to a pointless continuation of hostilities on the part of Sadera.

The dead came by company and street. Lepus first, then slaves attached to Lepus units, then the civilians of Kontia, then the Saderan legionaries. The Legionary dead were carried by their own men and made up the bulk of the people attending the funeral, for reasons known only to the Wyvern Knights, two of them had bypassed the city entirely and had attacked the Prisoner Of War encampment.

Their attack had limited effect with the half buried, brickwork proving surprisingly resilient to magical flame but still hundreds of prisoners had perished. After my spell the pair of Wyvern Knights had abandoned their attack upon the POW camp and one of them had fled while the other attacked the city intending to take my life and was turned into a pincushion for their trouble. 

Rory arrived without fanfare. My bodyguards still did not know where to look when she was near. She kept her hands folded over the haft of the halberd she always inexplicably had with her when she needed it with the ornate weapon seeming to vanish when no one was looking. In the awkward preamble before the ceremony herself I watched as she walked among the rows of the dead, gravitating mostly to the children who had been left behind after the attack.

I turned away and focused on my own preparations. Only people directly connected with the dead had been permitted to attend the funeral here with the rest of the people of Kontia attending the various temples if they wished to mourn the dead. Still the crowd was not small, thousands of people required planning and organisation to handle on short notice and I busied myself with managing the crowd. Prince Diabo arrived with a dozen guards and soon after that the impromptu ceremony began.

I do not read every name. Instead the reading was divided by blocks, Lieutenants and Majors read their dead by file. Street elders read their dead by house. The Legionary prisoners brought forward a centurion with a voice that would have carried in a storm. He named his men with the countenance of experience, of rites the man has experienced many times before. He touched their legionary standard each time he finished a column and the man beside him echoed the name so those with bad hearing would catch it. When he reached a man without a name I watched his jaw tighten and release.

“We honour the Unknown Soldier.” I called out, my voice enhanced with a formula that was near second nature to me. The Centurion paused and looked at me for a moment before echoing my words and continuing on.

With the dead accounted for I took a torch and marched forwards with Rory at my side. “We honour the people who are no longer with us, regardless of their station in life, we are all equal in death.” I declared earning a nod from Rory as I lit each pyre in turn.

More smoke crawled up to the sky, a signal of pointless waste. Lives lost to incompetence. I was glad to return to Kontia even with the ceremonies hardly done for the day.

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‘A soldier will fight long and hard for a bit of coloured ribbon.’

Napoleon had been a truly revolutionary force in warfare, the sort of genius mind that I hoped to never meet personally. He took special care to impart into his soldiers a sense of loyalty and commitment to the war effort that bordered on fanatical. His wisdom had carried on for generations establishing the cultures and standards of modern armed forces in my first life.

Of course a ribbon alone would not sate my people. Colla, Enna and my father would meet with high profile Lepus and with people marked as Wyvern slayers. My father had been particularly happy that I had at last relented to the debasement of the men of my species but had been rather disappointed that he would be... attending to non-Tanaoi in the future.

With the winter months approaching the three of them would be busy, most of the Lepus would want their litters over and done with by springtime or early summer at the latest. I felt a hand absentmindedly press to my stomach and felt my ears droop and my cheeks burn.

I shifted in the heavy wyvernscale armour, the wind cooling my face with the winding Tanaoi markings painted onto my skin as I entered the forum in the middle of Kontia. A day or so of cleaning could not wash the soot from the stone. There was a faint dark tone over everything and settling into the corners, making the world look stark and grim. 

The air tasted of wet ash and scorched leather with that sour thread of vinegar that clings to improvised infirmaries. A river breeze moved through the arcades and carried dust out toward the temple quarter where smoke stains scratched the white walls. The crowd filled every tier, Lepus packed shoulder to shoulder, cadets up front and veterans behind them so the small ones could see.

“Lieutenant Tara of the Tanaoi” I called out and with a flurry of excitable cheers she came out of the front rank with her back held straight against a rib that did not agree with that posture. She had killed one Wyvern and tore a wing off another while cadets fed her charges and rams. First came the Kontia campaign ribbon that every soldier under my command would be getting. It was nondescript, a red and green strip. Next was the specific commendations prepared in rapid response to Wyvern Knights attack.  

I tied a red strip of cloth with a single Wyvern Scale pinned to it at her breast and made sure the thing sat square. Tara’s weapons crew came next, a group of cadets from a handful of different squads. I called out their names and pinned to them bright green bands with a thin copper plate hammered with the impression of a Wyvern scale at one end. “Cadet Motoko of the Tanaoi.” was the last name to be called for the first group of Wyvernslayers and I felt my eyes sting as I pinned the pair of coloured ribbons to her chest. The cadets in front cheered and stamped so hard the ground rumbled under my boots. 

Lieutenant Breha followed. She was a cavalry officer who had taken command of an artillery company during the attack. Without experience with the guns she had still managed three sections on the east wall and kept a staggered tempo that forced riders to choose between diving into loaded barrels or breaking off. She did it after losing women to molten stone and heat that peeled skin. I marked her before her peers to thunderous applause.

Sergeant Irel of the Corra had burns on her arms  in that glassy stage where the skin takes on a shine poking through fresh bandages. She took over when her Lieutenant died. I had confirmed before today that she could read a few words despite being a half breed so today she was getting a pair of ribbons and a promotion. 

I moved through the gunnery crews before reaching the other heroes of the day. Quartermistress Veki came up with a faint limp. She had dug her way out of a depot when the roof failed. Then turned around and dug out Armour Piercing Discarding Sabot crates by herself, got them across a lane under tiles coming down. A campaign medal and a hammered copper award were affixed to her chest and she hopped in place once before wincing and limping back to her seat. 

What had been constant work for days as slaves rushed to prepare the medals to my specifications dwindled by the hour as more Lepus were called up to receive commendations before their peers.

Next the cadet squads. The crowd cheered just as loudly for them when I spoke of how they had taken axes and ropes and torn whole buildings down to stop fire spreading. Dust choking their lungs all the while. Their eyes shone. They saluted stiffly, then ran back to their ranks puffing out their chests to excited muttering. They’d remember this longer than they remembered the pain.

One by one, I pulled names from the rolls. A powder-runner named Dree of the Pomi. Barely more than a Cadet. She had hauled charges from a storehouse even as the roof above it burned, dragging chest after chest into the street before the fire reached them. Without her, a company would have gone dry. Cadet Lysa, lost half her hair to flame, but kept passing shot until the end of the attack. So many Artillery teams had lost people and had relied upon my cadets to fill the gap. I felt a welling pride and a cold breeze against my cheeks.

Dozens of names, faces, each with their story. Some had felled wyverns outright. Some had dragged wounded clear. Some had kept fire from spreading, or kept powder from exploding, or simply did their duty in the face of fire and blood.

Groups were cycled out of the forum and replaced with fresh batches of women eager for their own colourful ribbons in a seemingly endless tide. The sun began to slip from the sky and my voice grew worn and painful by the time the last award was given. Finally I stood before the people and raised my hands to the sky, magic turning a whisper to a booming echo that carried well beyond the forum.

“You have done the impossible and shattered the delusion of Saderan invincibility! Every day you live free is a slight against their bloated and decadent Empire!” The cheers seemed to have only gotten louder as the night went on and I had seen a few goblins sneak into the forum to sell drinks and snacks. “As this ceremony comes to a close, remember that there is nothing we cannot accomplish through discipline and unity!” It felt like flat platitudes but with how drained I felt I could offer them little more. Regardless they cheered as I turned to walk off the stage.

“We are not done yet!” I turned as Rory’s voice echoed out across the forum and a flurry of excited whispers filled the expansive chamber. At her back were my husbands and Cato. I was starting to suspect she was up to something. “There is someone who has yet to receive their just reward.” She continued, each step slow and overly dramatic.

I glanced at Furea as he looked at me with his outclothes, his eyes betraying his wide smile as I was accosted by my closest advisors. I opened my mouth to speak only for nothing to come out as I saw what he was carrying on a silken pillow taken from my bed.

I cursed the lot of them internally as outwardly I forced a smile onto my face and offered a respectful bow to Rory. The crowd, working out what was going on, turned electric, filled with a desperate excited energy that had moments ago been largely spent.

Rory strode up the steps and marched up to me, her diminutive stature forcing me to lower myself onto one knee before my people and bow my head. The Apostle took the golden crown from my first husband, newly cast without my knowledge and seemingly designed for a Lepus’ brow. 

“I, Rory Mercury, Apostle of Emroy. Declare Tanya of the Tanaoi, Wyvern slayer, Bane of Princes, Vanquisher of the Ninth Legion, Mistress of Magic and the Merciful Conqueror of Kontia. High Queen of the Lepus!” I had assumed that I knew how loudly my people could cheer, I was wrong.

“Is there anyone who can claim they would lead the chosen people of Emroy better?!” Rory asked as I blinked in confusion, chosen people? There was a chorus of ‘no’ and with that Rory turned and placed the grown atop my head with a sly toothy grin.

“Rise, Tanya, High Queen of The Lepus.” 

I stood up and looked out at my subjects, the weight of the title was very real and I wondered just how long it would take for the cheering to stop and the challenges to start. For now I took Rory’s hand and lifted it up to the sky to the delight of the crowd.

Rory had the gall to giggle when I squeezed her hand in petty revenge.

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fifty whole chapters... incredible that I made it this far! Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy the chapter! :D

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Pl8-TeFJqo_mneegpghIKLpzc0xWDIgLLfVDmKd6OiI/edit?pli=1&tab=t.0