I WAS WALKING AT A QUICK PACE through the military camp at the base of Chéran’s walls, catching intrigued glances from the soldiers as I went. My mood that morning was so-so, at best. Well, okay — that was putting it mildly.
The evening before, I had to bid farewell to the Count de Leval, who the Duke de Clairmont had ordered to move out with his legion (and most of the wagon train, too). He was to head east, following the First and Second Legions.
The Duke felt that 400 heavy infantry from the Third Legion, 2,000 rtonian archers, and 500 “Last Chances” should be enough to take control of Gondreville, a city in northern Bergonia that essentially controlled the route into my lands. And then, once that city was taken, to begin planning the reconquest of the Margraviate de Valier. I could either do that, or wait for the Vestonian legions to co back after smashing the Golden Lion’s army as it retreated, at which point they would definitely drive the “pathetic remnants of the “Scarlets”“ out of my lands.
Sigurd and Aelira were right behind every step of the way, as was my new squire, Leo von Grimm. I could see that the kid was having a hard ti on this “long walk,” but he was trying not to show it. Poor kid, I thought... He must feel like a freshly-tenderized steak right now. Heh, I thought... I say that like I haven’t felt that way many tis myself.
After Leo swore his oath of fealty to , I decided to train him the sa way that Mamoru Yamada had once trained . To say that the young stryker was impressed by the “Celestial Dragon” style would be an extre understatent. And he was the “Five Circles of Heaven” warm-up routine I showed him seed to impress him even more. The young man had been through the Sun Guild’s training program for mages, and given that he had considered himself a pretty experienced mage already, he was a little bit discouraged at first to find out how huge the gap between us was. He could barely hobble back to his tent after our training sessions.
By the way — Minna the Fla, the warrior who fought for the Duke of Carinthia during the Great Trial, had also been trained, and then enlisted, as a combat mage by the Sun Guild. I rember her being a powerful dius with a well-developed energy system. Although none of that could save her in the fight with that Shadow Bear...
I soon found myself in front of the central tent, where all the commanders were gathered, and kept moving forward without slowing my pace at all. Two legionnaires were guarding the entrance. One of them was about to open his mouth to demand the codeword, but he recognized almost imdiately, whereupon he closed his mouth and courteously opened the tent flap for .
I had never attended one of these councils of war before. With the general departure of the rest of the army the previous evening, however, I had beco the highest-ranking noble (albeit not the highest-ranking officer) in what remained of the army. Besides that, the army was heading for northern Bergonia, toward Shadow Pass, so I decided that it was ti to participate in the process.
There were already five commanders inside the tent, leaning over a table piled high with papers. The main figure was Viscount Pierre de Leval, the Count de Leval’s eldest son, who had assud de facto command of the hodge-podge assembly of commanders.
I was already acquainted with Pierre. As with his father, he and I had established a pretty cordial relationship. He was basically a carbon copy of his dad — just a younger version, really. And there was a particular similarity when it ca to their intellectual developnt. But Pierre, like his father, was unshakeable and limitlessly loyal to the Duke de Clairmont, which was probably why he was valued so highly within the command structure.
Broad-shouldered, black haired, noisy, and outspoken, Pierre’s main passions in life were hunting, won, and wine. And he also enjoyed a good fight.
I should note here that over the preceding month, my reputation among the soldiers (which was already pretty formidable back in Bresmont) had positively soared. By that, I an that those who had respected before had co to respect even more, while those who hated and feared were likewise more vociferous in their feelings.
I knew Pierre was definitely a mber of the forr category. After my duel with Neumark, the Viscount practically worshiped . He and I had already gone out on several hunts together, along with our vassals and friends. Sotis we would also have lunch or dinner together. My wine collection made an indelible impression on the young man.
Basically, Pierre de Leval was expecting to conduct this campaign with as much fun and carefree abandon as possible, and cover himself with glory and trophies at the sa ti. But there was one thing he hadn’t been expecting, and that was for dear old dad to saddle him with command of almost three thousand soldiers (not counting the considerable numbers of noncombatants traveling with the baggage train).
Which is why, when I walked into the tent, I saw a little spark of hope flash in Pierre’s absent-minded, slightly bewildered expression. And I’ll tell you sothing else, too: he was the one who had invited to the first council.
I was trying to look as confident as possible, although I had no experience whatsoever in commanding such a huge number of people.
To the Viscount’s right stood Samuel Kroner, captain of one of the legion cohorts. He was a big, golden-haired, forty-year-old man with a sharp, intelligent gaze. He was also an experienced warrior who was totally devoted to the Count de Leval. He had basically been left to watch over the Count’s son. I should note at this point that his cohort, which consisted of 400 heavy infantry, was the best in the entire Third Legion. It was mostly composed of veterans who had been through many battles under the Count de Leval’s command. These 400 were the professional core of our force.
Next to Kroner, with his arms folded across his chest, stood Baron Hilaire Reese. This short, skinny man with an expression like that of a forest predator was the commander of the largest single unit in our force at the ti. Baron Reese was in command of the rtonian archers.
I had first t him back in Bresmont. He and several other captains had paid a visit in my camp the day after my fight with Neumark. Our introduction was facilitated by Thavin Brinn. It turned out that Hilaire Reese and his captains belonged to one of the most powerful clans of Glenns on the Isle of rton.
At that first eting, where all my imdiate entourage were present along with all the first-borns in my outfit (including Lada), the rtonians recognized as an auring. That was the real reason they had declined to move on with the main army and stay with instead. I made a ntal note to ask Reese how he had managed to pull that off.
As I walked into the tent, the rtonian shot a quick, heavy glance and greeted with a barely-perceptible nod.
To the Viscount’s left was a big, bald man with a corrosive sneer on his face — a face that was bisected by a deep scar. This was Gaston Laforte, captain of the “Last Chances.” He and his cohort were the subject of all sorts of contradictory rumors. Despite the fact that his unit was filled with so of the most rciless cutthroats in the world, Gaston Laforte sohow managed to keep them all in line.
Finally, I saw that the fifth person present in the tent was Samira Clemand. This dius-rank stryker represented the interests of the Amber Guild. Her presence in our force wasn’t a surprise to . Having received the necessary privilege from the King, the Guild was obviously intent on getting their claws on the traffic of artifacts in my Margraviate. Well, I thought... We’ll see about that.
As my gaze t hers, Clemand retreated just a little bit from where she stood at the table. She and I had also had the chance to talk already. By the way — unlike her bosses, she wasn’t rude to at all, nor did she try to puff up her Guild’s importance at every opportunity. Quite the contrary, in fact — she went so far as to make it clear to , in the most courteous and diplomatic way possible, that she was rely doing her job. Naturally, none of the extra politeness fooled for a mont. Samira Clemand was a snake, just like the rest of them. One that would try to bite the second she saw in a tight spot.
“Finally!” Viscount de Leval exclaid as he turned to the rest of the group and began to address them: “Ladies and gentlen, I hope no one’s opposed if Margrave de Valier takes part in all our councils from here on? No? Excellent! Then let’s get to work. Kroner, you know this place better than any of us. You were here with my father, many years ago. What do you have to say?”
“There’s not much to say,” said the deep-voiced legionary captain with a frown. “We need to head forward along the old Imperial track while we still have supplies for the campaign. Every day we spend here is another day we might have to go hungry on the march. We’ll make it to Gondreville and restock there. And there are so villages and small settlents along the way too. Not as many as there are out east, but anything will do in a pinch.”
“Provided, of course, that any of them will have anything to do with us after our dashing Prince Heinrich’s little escapade,” snickered Gaston Laforte.
Everyone else nodded in silent agreent. During the month we’d been traveling through Bergonia, I had heard plenty of tales about how the King’s son liberated this land from the Atalian yoke. Heinrich and his cronies made big promises and advanced all sorts of noble justifications for what was basically point-blank robbery of the local population.
“As far as I’m aware, the Prince’s forces didn’t move very far into the north of the country,” said Captain Kroner.
“But the “Scarlets” were there for quite a while,” the commander of the “Last Chances” put in a further two cents. “I want to warn you all from the very start — my boys won’t do much fighting on an empty stomach. If you don’t feed a soldier, he’s going to find his own food, one way or another. But then you won’t have an army — it’ll just be a band of marauders.”
“Our stores are in order, at least for now,” said the legionary captain. “But Laforte is right: any hold-up could turn into a catastrophe. And there’s no wagon train from the capital coming this way any ti soon.”
“There’s ga here,” I said. “Not as much as we might like, but Baron Reese’s n are good hunters.”
“The local aristocracy will kick up a fuss,” Captain Kroner objected.
“They can supply us with provisions, then, unless they want to go fight for their land themselves,” the Viscount de Leval added with excessive angst. “Baron — you’ve got my permission to hunt.”
Reese nodded silently.
“What else?” The Viscount glanced around the table.
“I suggest we send a unit of scouts ahead of us,” I said.
“But we always do that,” Kroner objected, sounding surprised.
“I’m not talking about a vanguard unit that’s moving a few hours ahead of the main body,” I clarified. “I’m interested in finding out what’s going on outside Gondreville right now.”
“I agree,” said Viscount de Leval imdiately. “I want to know that as well.”
“I’ve got a couple guys who would suit the purpose well,” said Baron Reese once he saw my nod.
“Excellent.” The Viscount rubbed his hands together. He was obviously happy with how the council was going, especially given that it was the first council he’d ever held as commander-in-chief. “Please take care of it, Baron.”
Having said that, Pierre de Leval looked around at everyone and announced:
“I suppose, ladies and gentlen, that we’ve tarried here long enough. I’ll give you tomorrow to prepare and get packed, and then we move out.”
* * *
Herouxville
The Duke de Bauffremont’s palace
The Duke de Bauffremont stood on his balcony, watching from his second-story vantage point as the hustle and bustle in his inner courtyard continued unabated. The Duke had been in an irascible funk for several days by that point. It all had to do with the news of the Atalian retreat. It turned out that the Duke wasn’t quite prepared for such a turn of events. His opponent, the Duke de Gondy, however, seed almost to have been expecting it. The Ruler of the South had launched into furious activity as soon as the news broke. De Bauffremont felt that Robert de Gondy was slowly but surely prying the initiative from his hands. Damn him and his wealth! What could one do against a man who was practically swimming in gold?!
The Duke was distracted from his gloomy train of thought by the sound of quiet footsteps approaching him from behind. That was always how his footman walked. Clever little bastard... He could sense that his master was in a foul mood.
“What?!” The Duke snarled. “You’re distracting from important thoughts!”
“You have a visitor, Your Grace,” said the footman in a calm, even tone of voice. He knew very well that the Duke couldn’t stand it when a servant stamred or hesitated.
“I told you, I won’t see anyone today!” The Duke snarled back as he slapped a palm down viciously onto the railing in front of him.
“He was very insistent,” the footman continued, before adding: “His Lordship the Count de Gramont wishes to tell you sothing very important.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said the Duke with a malevolent sneer. “His tail gets nipped, and he cos running imdiately. No — tell him to leave.”
“Understood, Your Grace.” The footman bowed, and was about to turn to leave.
Before he could, however, the Duke continued (much more quietly this ti):
“Although maybe... This will be a laugh, actually... Call him here and bring so brandy.”
“Understood, Your Grace,” repeated the footman in an emotionless tone before turning and disappearing through the doorway.
A little while later, Heinrich de Gramont appeared on the threshold. With a courteous bow, he said:
“Greetings, Your Grace. Please excuse my unannounced visit.”
“My dear Count... And I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about .” The Duke de Bauffremont snickered as he gestured toward the drink his footman had prepared. “After all, as far as I’m aware, you’re now a frequent guest at the de Gondy manor.”
Heinrich de Gramont took a few frantic steps forward before rattling off a rapid, staccato reply:
“Your Grace, I fear there’s been a misunderstanding... I don’t know who told you that, but I swear to you on my honor as a noble: it isn’t true!”
Hearing such an oath from the man the whole capital already knew as Henri the Shrimp struck de Bauffremont as terribly funny, but he didn’t show it.
“Is that so?” The Duke’s eyebrows rose. “So the incident at the masquerade ball — that was rely a rumor, was it?”
For the next minute, the Duke watched with satisfaction as the Count’s skin broke out in bright red blotches, a sign of crippling embarrassnt.
“No,” Heinrich continued in a asured tone. “That wasn’t a rumor. We were there, but only because we would have considered it inappropriate to decline the invitation. And that was the only visit I’ve paid to the Duke de Gondy.”
“Hm.” De Bauffremont rubbed his index finger against his chin. “Well, I declined it. And nothing in particular ca of that. At the very least, I avoided becoming the main character of a swarm of satirical verses that are being sung to this day in every filthy tavern in the capital.”
The Count de Gramont’s face looked like a red-hot ball of iron. A little spray of water, and he’d start giving off steam. In his mind, the Duke congratulated himself for having decided to receive this fool. Nothing cald him down as much as humiliating idiots like this.
“Mind you,” he said, “this isn’t the ti for that discussion. I believe you wanted to tell sothing important?”
Quickly, albeit only with imnse difficulty, Heinrich de Gramont managed to get his annoyance under control; with a trembling voice, he said:
“Exactly so, Your Grace. I know about the difficulties you’re experiencing, and I can help you.”
“Unexpected,” said the Duke quite genuinely. “And with what, might I ask, do you imagine that I’m experiencing difficulties? I’m quite curious.”
“The entire capital is in an uproar over the news from Bergonia,” said Heinrich, who had firmly regained his composure by that point. In his mind, de Bauffremont could only offer a sarcastic round of applause. “Our armies under Marshal de Clairmont have moved onto the attack. The enemy is fleeing.”
“And what does this have to do with ?” De Bauffremont asked. His face was grave, and not a trace of sarcasm or lightness was left in his voice. “I’m genuinely happy for our soldiers. And I wish them a speedy victory.”
“Without a doubt, without a doubt,” nodded the Count. “But equally, I have no doubt that you, as the true defender of our Kingdom and a renowned warrior, would like to be there yourself, leading the charge, fighting shoulder to shoulder with His Highness Prince Philippe! You would certainly be victorious! After all, it’s common knowledge that your cavalry are the best in Vestonia. No one could possibly stand against their combined assault. Ah, and your triumphant return to the capital would be such a sight to see. The excitent with which the people would greet their victorious Prince, the future King of Vestonia, alongside his magnificent uncle.”
When the Count finally stopped, there was silence for a mont, broken only by the shouts of the Duke’s people as they worked in the palace’s inner courtyard. Heinrich was looking firmly into de Bauffremont’s eyes.
“The fact that I’m gathering my vassals to set off on campaign with Prince Philippe is no secret,” said the Duke coldly.
“Neither is the fact that you’ll never make it in ti,” snickered the Count. “Unlike the Duke de Gondy, who’s intending to set off with the Prince in just a few days. Just a few trifling details to take care of, and you’d be ready...”
“Like what?” The Duke’s face looked like a mask hewn from marble.
“You don’t have enough provisions for your force,” replied the Count. “And you know very well who’s to bla for that. He who controls the south of Vestonia controls delivery of provisions.”
De Bauffremont’s eyes narrowed. He cocked his head slightly to the side, and then, in a deadly serious tone, he replied:
“Do you an to say that it’s within your power to solve this problem? You’re in a position to compete against the Duke de Gondy?”
“Yes,” Count de Gramont nodded. “And I’m willing to do it for you.”
“And in exchange?” The Duke asked, his eyes even narrower than before. To tell the truth, he didn’t believe the Count, and was even beginning to doubt that he was ntally sound, but deep inside he wanted very badly to believe that what he was hearing was true.
“In the future, I’ll need your support in my struggle to regain the lands my brother lost,” said Heinrich.
“In exchange for provisioning my forces?” The Duke scoffed and shook his head. “Doesn’t that exchange seem a little one-sided to you?”
“Your Grace, we both know that this isn’t just about provisions,” objected Count de Gramont. “You were always one step ahead of Robert de Gondy. But this ti, he got the jump on you. If you lose ti and the initiative now, the Duke de Gondy will definitely take full advantage of it and do everything in his power to cent his lead over you. And you know that.”
The Duke de Bauffremont was staring at Heinrich de Gramont the whole ti, but suddenly he felt as though he didn’t recognize him. The always-cautious, ever-indecisive man was speaking directly, without any of his usual flowery hints and allusions. Could Henri the Shrimp really have decided to crawl out of his den and actually choose a side?
“Let’s say I believed you,” said the Duke. “How would you go about solving my problem?”
With an enigmatic chuckle, Count de Gramont began to speak, watching with satisfaction as the Duke’s expression changed:
“The Ruler of the South would never have had any of his much-vaunted success without the help of rchants from the golden hundred. They’re the pillars of his trade in grain and other provisions. If you and I co to an agreent, I can make several of these very wealthy, very enterprising people into your allies. And you understand, of course, that in such a case, supplying your forces with provisions would only be the beginning. I hope I’ve managed to convince you?”
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