An Ending of Oaths - Chapter 5

Starhaven, Sidor

Edmund sat at his ornate desk, quill scratching furiously across parchment as he put every bit of anger and fury into the scathing letter the scribes would send to each of his barons, but targeted specifically at a hated few. Thurston and the rest of the border barons along Iron Keep all thought they were so clever. Their peasant heroes had gained an upper hand in their rebellion, only because his barons, men who’d sworn fealty to him as their duke, who’d made oaths to his house in their fathers and their fathers’ fathers, had turned their back on those oaths, supporting low-borns who wanted nothing more than to tear down their betters.

They pulled their stunt in the Noble’s Council, getting the war taxes revoked just when the kingdom was recovering from the rebellion and a maw season. They’d been behind the peasants even introducing the law, at least some of them. Thurston for sure. Maybe Garris and a few others. It was just too convenient otherwise, the way the introduced law was picked up without him even mentioning it and enough support to repeal the taxes was so easily put together. It had to be premeditated.

There was no other explanation for it.

He just couldn’t understand how they’d managed to get so many barons to agree. Historically, they were no better than Harrow, the evil little carrion eaters that lived around the Iron straits and southern Lynese that mimicked sounds to lure other creatures to their death. Thurston and the rest were no different. Pretending to be nobles but just peasants at heart.

And now this. They had decided, in an ‘effort to give full faith to the will of the people,’ to return both coin and grain to villages that had paid the war tax. Even to some that had paid almost six months previously. As if the coffers weren’t depleted enough already by this foolish war and their rebellion.

Edmund’s quill snapped, spattering ink across the parchment. He tossed it aside with a curse and reached for another, only to pause as his eyes fell upon the intricate timepiece against the far wall. It was as expensive as it was beautiful, although the cost this time was more for how intricately it had to be made and maintained, and not just the status of it. Its gilded gears clicked softly, moment after moment as it counted out the minutes and hours of each day. It had to be wound religiously, since if it ever stopped he would have to bring back in a master artisan to retool it to get the timing just right.

Looking at it brought him a little joy, if only for a few moments, because it also told him it was close to sundown. Rising from his desk and tossing the remains of the letter onto the floor to be cleaned up by a servant later, Edmund began to pace.

These meetings always made him anxious.

It was a risk, bringing foreigners into the palace, even when he ensured they did so through means no one else knew of and when he was sure to be alone. If he were caught, so many of his plans would come tumbling down.

And yet, he didn’t see what choice he had. He was beholden to that fat imbecile and still needed his money if he was going to make those same plans work. It was a two-sided blade, and there were days when he felt as if either side of the blade could cut him.

Today was one of those days.

He’d been expecting it, and yet when the three knocks came, it made him almost jump out of his skin. He moved to the wall, working the notched stones until the locking mechanism unlatched, and stepped back. There was a scraping sound of stone on stone as the man on the other side pushed it open. It didn’t swing open far, just enough to allow an adult to walk through easily, and could be closed quickly.

As with other times he’d been forced into one of these meetings, the man that came through was clothed in a thick hooded cloak, pulled low. He was also not someone Edmund had met before. Edmund wasn’t sure he liked having a new person see his face and know he was involved every time, but again, the leverage in this situation was not his.

“You’re late,” Edmund said.

This wasn’t true, of course, but Edmund liked to start these things off with himself in a more advantageous position.

“I’m right on time.”

“Fine. What did your master have for me that could not wait?”

“You know exactly what he wants with you. The same thing the three men told you he wanted. He wants to know when you intend to bring it to an end. This war has dragged on far too long, and he is starting to believe his money is not being spent in the right place.”

“And he knows my answer. I’ve done everything in my power to hinder Sidor’s war efforts. The army is no longer getting supplies to feed its troops or men to replace its losses. Short of declaring him the victory when his armies aren’t winning, I don’t know what he expects of me. I have told him there is only so much I can do, and eventually your armies have to actually show some kind of skill aside from dying on the end of a pike.”

Edmund could see he hit a nerve with the man, and the man’s nostrils flared in anger.

“It is not enough.”

“And I am telling you, it is all there is. I cannot push too hard, or questions no one wants voiced will start being asked. The only peace that will last is one people will believe. Appearances must be maintained.”

“Appearances mean nothing if Sidor keeps winning battles. If you are too cowardly to do what needs to be done, perhaps my masters’ support should go elsewhere.”

“Mind your tongue, or I will have it removed. You forget your place,” Edmund said.

“And you forget who holds your purse strings,” the emissary retorted. “My master grows weary of excuses. The war must end, and it must end soon. One more step on Lynesian soil is too much to give. You made promises. Guarantees that you controlled the king and, through him, Sidor. You have yet to prove that out. You cannot even keep your own country in check, letting peasants run around telling the lords what to do.”

“You speak of things you do not understand. Things are far more complex than your master seems to realize. The nobles in our kingdom are far different than his own and have always had more power than allowed in your kingdom. Until that is put back in check, I have to be careful of how I do things.

That is not what you promised my master. You promised the king was a boy, ignorant and foolish. You said you controlled him.”

“And I do, but control is not the same as absolute power. It requires... finesse. It’s a delicate balance.”

“Your delicate balance makes our partnership all but worthless. Perhaps it’s time we reconsidered the value of this partnership.”

“I think you should reconsider. The alternative to what is happening now is a fully supplied and supported Siddorian army. Look at what they have been able to do with no supplies and no additional men, and tell me if that is in your master’s best interest. Without my efforts, Lynese would have fallen long ago.”

The man didn’t reply right away, because what could he say? The Lynesians had shown themselves to be worse at fighting than anyone had ever considered. They were so bad, in fact, losing to an idiot child, that it even brought into question Gavric’s greatness. How the people had crowed at his victories at the beginning of the war, hailing him a genius. And yet if William could win just as stunning victories as his brother had, it clearly wasn’t as difficult as everyone made it out to be.

If it wasn’t for Edmund’s own needs, which benefited from an intact Lynese giving his people something to focus on and an excuse for pulling the resources he needed to rule the country properly, he would have been happy to see them fall.

But these were complex times.

“If your master’s armies cannot defeat our weakened army as it is, then perhaps a different tactic is called for.”

“Like what?” the man asked, eying Edmund suspiciously.

“A partial surrender. Your master should go into negotiations before his capital falls. I know it would be dramatic and it might lead to giving up things he doesn’t want, perhaps offer Rendallia in exchange for Sidor removing their armies. My nephew would go for that, without a doubt, considering the province’s importance to my family, and it would end the threat to your capital.”

The man took a step back as if he’d been shoved. “A surrender? You can’t be serious. The emperor would never consider…”

“The emperor,” Edmund cut in smoothly, “would be wise to consider it. The long-term benefits of such a strategy and it is not as permanent as it seems. Actually, it might be the perfect situation Sidor gains a significant territory, enough to satisfy my nephew and give something to throw the people, to justify the cost of the conflict. Lynese preserves the bulk of its empire and ends a costly war. Both sides can claim victory.”

“And lose a piece of our own country. One of the richest coastal lands in the empire and give Sidor a foothold on our lands.”

“That’s the thing of it. While it would be a major victory for Sidor on paper, in reality, maintaining lands across the Leviathan Straits, especially during maw seasons, would be costly and difficult. The nobles, who would crow about the acquisition, would sour on it quickly as they’re forced to pay for it. Public interest will wane. In a few years, when the cost of holding Rendallia becomes apparent, it will be a simple matter to negotiate its return to Lynese... under certain conditions, of course. But, it’s enough to get our nobles to accept the terms. It’s a perfect solution, actually.”

“It sounds less perfect from our point of view.”

“It’s temporary only. Even if it weren’t, it gives you time to rearm. Are you suggesting a strengthened and renewed Lynese could not take it back?”

“I’m suggesting it is a convenient way to set up a launching point for a new war, when you are more able to conduct it.”

“What do we need later that we don’t have now? Already our armies are within a week’s march of your capital with little standing in their way but snow. Ending the war before it is taken is better for you than ending it now, and allows you some leverage to get the best outcome you can. Once the war is over, ties could always be strengthened, arrangements made to bring our houses closer together and form personal bonds, to offer your emperor a balm for his nerves. Dynastic connections, after all, tend to give places for conversation instead of conflict. Especially with my brother and his love for war no longer king. Besides, your master has enough daughters that it would not weigh on him too greatly.”

Again, the man was silent, but Edmund could see him thinking. At least weighing the words. In truth, the idea had just come to him, but he was rather proud of it. If he could wed William to one of Baudric’s daughters, it would give him dynastic claim over Lynese as a member of the House of Montborne. True, her father, older brother, and a sister or two would have to go open the lineage, but the Lynese allowed for rule by either sex, and since he had only one boy, male priority did not matter.

William, on the other hand, was below Serwyn, himself, and Aldric, and he had time to find a new wife and have a true son, allowing him to displace William once and for all. But William was close enough that Baudric might see him as a viable connection to the Sidorian throne. Just enough bait to chum the waters. It wouldn’t be until it was almost too late that the fat man would realize he’d caught a nettle fish instead.

“I’m not sure my master would agree to your reasoning. Surrendering Rendallia, even temporarily, goes against everything he stands for.”

“Your emperor is many things, but a fool isn’t one of them. He’s clever enough to see the long-term benefits. This path leads to peace without the humiliation of total defeat. It preserves the bulk of his empire while giving him time to rebuild and strengthen.”

“He will not like this option.”

“And yet it is the only one he has. The only viable path to peace and future strength. Your emperor must see that.”

“I... will relay your proposals to His Imperial Majesty,” the man said after a long moment of thought.

Edmund suppressed a smile. It was too soon to crow. Convincing a messenger is not the same thing as convincing a ruler. These things take time and have to be given space to grow.

“See that you do. And make sure he understands the gravity of the situation. Spring is almost upon us, and my son will not hesitate to finish now that momentum is on his side. This may be his last chance to salvage something from this war.”

The man gave a single nod and disappeared back through the opened door. As the shadows swallowed him completely, Edmund pushed the wall back in place until the latches took once again, sealing the message once more.

Alone again, Edmund returned to his desk. He poured himself a generous glass of wine from a crystal decanter, the rich red liquid catching the fading light from the window. He sipped the wine slowly, savoring its complex flavor as he thought over his next moves. It was a dangerous game, and there were no guarantees this newest move would work.

And yet, for the first time in a while, he felt like he was gaining the upper hand on Baudric. He’d turned the Lynesian disasters and the demands that came with that into a strength that would give him something to show the loyal barons who still supported the crown.

He took another sip of wine, letting the warmth spread through him.

Yes. This could work.

***

Valemonde, Lynese

Isolde pulled her cloak tighter as she made her way to the northern edge of the city where the barracks for the army had been set up, close to the defensive fortifications protecting the city. It wasn’t that it was that cold. They were closing to the end of winter and the snows had already started to thin, so the temperatures were starting to creep up from the lows a month ago.

It was the atmosphere that chilled here. The entire city was in a near state of panic and had been since the loss of Talabot. Soldiers talk and it didn’t take long for the citizenry to find out how bad the war was going for them. When it had been way off in the north, in places like Rendallia, who many denizens of the capital thought deserved their fate for their attitudes toward the rest of their countrymen, it had seemed a far-off thing. That, of course, the great Lynesian army would be triumphant and push the invaders into the sea.

Worry had crept in when the Lysmir river had been cut off and the great port cities of the north had fallen, but it was a setback. There was still an army that could fight and protect them. Lynesian history told of how, from tribes from the Wodex mountains, at the northwestern tip of the continent, had come down the black crag and conquered the southwestern corner of Lynese, uniting the various tribes.

Surely that power still existed in a more unified Lynese?

And then Talabot had fallen. The last bastion of power north of Valemonde itself. Its scattered army, the largest outside of the capital, had fallen back across the northern plains and to the tip of the Avan woods. This wasn’t the Lynesian plains which, although rich in soil and farming land, was otherwise fairly poor, cut off from the trade lanes the other regions of the empire enjoyed.

The Tala province was the jewel of the empire, the home of the wealthy and elite, grown fat on trade across the merchant sea with trade from Werna and even Sidor before the war. Now its capital had fallen, half the province was in enemy hands, and the people could no longer lie to themselves.

They were losing this war. So the enemy would be on their doorsteps, and there seemed to be little the fabled Lynesian army could do to stop them.

Isolde wished her father would swallow his pride and just end the damn war and end their people’s suffering. She’d heard the reports that the Sidorians were short on supplies and of the unrest back in her homeland. Instead of using this to end the war through negotiation, he’d tried to use it to win militarily, spending more lives for nothing.

Even now he refused to see reason.

She couldn’t stay in that place any longer. Her siblings doted on her father and her idiot brother thought he was a genius, sycophants and yes men filled the halls, praising the man’s every scheme, and everyone lived as if the good times would never end. They basked in opulence while the people felt the brunt of the greatly reduced trade and loss of so much of last year’s harvest.

Each day she got up early and left, to visit the hospitals, the barracks, the poor houses, and orphanages. To be among her people.

Today she headed for the barracks. She found she liked soldiers. They were almost entirely made up of real people. The poor and working class, pressed into service while her father and his henchmen fattened themselves. She also liked how plain they were. Soldiers said what they meant and meant what they said. It was refreshing after the constant masquerades and lies at court.

“My lady, please. This isn’t the kind of...” Sir Merida, the commander of today’s detachment of guards, said.

He made this plea every time, regardless of the fact that she was always safe when visiting the men.

“This is exactly where I’m supposed to be. I don’t know why you persist in trying to talk me out of it.”

“Your father would prefer you visit more... reasonable locations if you wish to continue your charity.”

“This is not charity. These are my people. These men fight and die for Lynese. For my father. For me. Visiting them and listening to their worries is the very least I can do. What danger could I possibly face among them?”

“It’s not about danger, Princess. It’s about propriety. A royal shouldn’t mingle with common soldiers, especially without proper escort.”

There it was. She knew her father had expressed his displeasure in her visits, but Merida’s complaints were more for his own sake than hers. He just wanted to be able to say he had men with her, protecting her, in case something went wrong.

That wasn’t exactly fair. She knew he took his job seriously and mostly wanted to just protect her. She knew, however, that he reported to her father any conversations he or his men overheard, which is why she always refused to allow them to accompany her inside.

“Which is why I come to see them. These are my people, and I will not have you and your lot lumbering over them, trying to intimidate them while I hear their stories. They want to know someone from my house is listening, and I will not let them down. Now wait out here.”

She was firm. They went through this every single day, and every day she put her foot down. They knew that she could make their lives a living hell if she wanted. She’d done it enough as a child, trying to escape them in crowds and otherwise lose them so she could wander the city alone. They’d come to a truce where they’d allow her some latitude, and she wouldn’t ditch them at every opportunity.

Not that they ever ceased trying to stop her.

He opened his mouth to protest further, but Isolde raised a hand to silence him. “I’ll not hear another word on it. You’ll wait here until I return.”

“As you command, Your Imperial Highness.”

Isolde gave a self-satisfied nod, before pushing through the front door of the barracks, leaving her guardians behind.

Soldiers were moving about inside, much more active than she ever remembered seeing before on her earlier visits. So much so that it took almost a full moment before one of the men realized she was among them and rushed up to greet her.

“Your Imperial Highness,” a weathered sergeant she’d met on previous trips said as he reached her. “We didn’t expect such an honor today.”

“I know, but it’s been a week since I’ve visited the men, and I wanted to check on them. I know there’s been a lot of movement in and out of the city, and I wanted to see how you were all faring.”

“We’re as well as can be expected, my lady. Your visit means a lot to the boys.”

“Good. I’m very glad. If it’s okay, I’m going to check in on some of them.”

“Certainly, my lady. You’re always welcome here.”

She felt that. Actually, all of her noble thoughts of duty and honor aside, that might be why she liked coming here. She felt accepted in a way she never really did in the palace. There she was the black sheep and here she was … an honored mascot, maybe?

She moved among the soldiers, greeting them individually, asking after their families and hometowns. Some she recognized, but most she didn’t even if she’d met them before. She spent so much time visiting aide centers and hospitals and the like that names and faces usually ran together, unless she’d had repeat and extended interactions with one person.

“And you, soldier,” Isolde addressed a young man barely old enough to shave off to the side of a group she’d finished greeting. “How are you? Do you have everything you need?”

The youth stammered, “I... I’m well enough, Your Highness. And yes, the sergeants have taken good care of us.”

“Good. Good,” she said, patting him on the shoulder.

As she continued through the barracks, Isolde noticed soldiers weren’t just moving equipment around, cleaning and prepping like they normally did. They were doing serious packing, with most personal goods being put into the marching slings and the barracks being prepared for new men, perhaps. She went to go find the sergeant she knew.

“You seem to be preparing for something specific. Are you being sent to the front?”

“Yes. It’s why I’m so glad you decided to visit. The boys are nervous, for sure. We’re marching north within the hour to reinforce the units above Soriveau. It’s where the wounded are being held, I guess the Gernandam thinks they’re vulnerable to attack. Taking an army through the Avan forest seems a bit crazy to me, so I doubt the enemy would come for that city when the plains to the west are so open and where they’ve done most of their fighting, but no one asks my opinion.”

“Soriveau? Truly?”

“Yes, my lady. I wish it were as cushiony an assignment as it sounds. It’s not the front proper, but close enough to smell the blood, if you take my meaning.”

“Do you know how the injured there are faring? Are our men well-supplied?”

“I don’t know exactly. It’s... it’s not easy, Your Highness. The winter’s been harsh, and supplies are stretched thin. We’ve been on rations for some time. And we have it good here, which is why so many of the boys are anxious. At the front, things are even more lean.”

She knew that much, at least here in the capital. It was one of the things she was furious at her father about. His soldiers starved while he gorged himself. She’d hoped, at least at the front, that things were a little easier.

“At least we’re getting to go to a proper city, even if it’s just a small part. Better than freezing in the mud, that’s for certain,” one of the men that had started to gather around them said.”

“I know it sounds like a small city, but trust me, it’s far from that. Soriveau is practically my second home. I’ve spent countless summers there and I can tell you it’s much bigger than it sounds on paper.”

“Begging your pardon, your highness, but he meant we only get to see a small part of it,” the sergeant said. “Most of Soriveau’s still in the hands of the nobles and such. We’re kept to one section, or so I hear. Our officers don’t want to upset the wrong people, if you understand.”

“That’s preposterous,” she said, unable to keep the surprise and frustration from her voice. “The idea of keeping you lot penned up like animals is absurd.”

“It is just how things are done, Your Highness. We are meant to defend the city, not disturb the nobles.”

“No, this won’t do at all. Someone needs to stick up for you men, to make sure you are taken care of after all you do for our people,” she said, and then hit on an idea, her face lighting up. “I can accompany you to Soriveau. I know the people there, and they’ll listen to me, even the ones that don’t want to. The keep is like my own home, what I say goes there. I can ensure you all get proper quarters during your stay.”

The men exchanged glances, some giving her looks similar to those her disapproving minders would give her as a child. “Your Imperial Highness, that’s... that’s not possible. It’s far too dangerous. The war is intensifying now that the snow’s starting to thaw.”

“I am well aware of the dangers,” Isolde countered, her chin lifting defiantly. “But I want to see it for myself. Not the frontlines, of course, but you yourself said the city was in the rear. Where the wounded were treated. I want to support the soldiers who have endured this brutal winter.”

“Please, Your Highness, you don’t understand,” another soldier said. “It’s not just the fighting. Supplies are stretched thin. We’ve heard rumors of outbreaks of disease in some of the camps. It’s no place for someone of your station.”

“All the more reason I should go with you. Your officers and minders may ignore your pleas for help and support, but they cannot ignore me. I want to see for myself who is responsible for this mismanagement.”

“Your Highness, please understand. We can’t be responsible for your safety. If anything were to happen to you...”

“I won’t be a burden, I promise, and the responsibility for this decision rests solely with me. I will ensure none of you get in trouble.”

The men seemed unconvinced. They clearly wanted to help her out, but they were obviously worried.

“I understand your hesitation, truly I do. But you must know how much I support you all. This... this is something I must do.”

“I guess if it was approved…” the sergeant said.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t clear. My father is… rather adamant that I stay here. Actually, he’d prefer if I stayed in the palace and never went out. There are those among the nobility who think it wrong for people of my, umm, status, to ever spend time with commoners. I hate that and think this is exactly where my place is. But it means he would never approve of me leaving, especially for the front.”

“What are you asking us to do, Your Highness?”

“I’m asking you to sneak me out. To take me to the men. To see my people and let me fight for them. I might not be able to wield a sword or shoot a bow, but I can make sure you have everything you need. That you are fed and clothed and treated properly. Please. Please take me with you. I want to protect my people just as much as you do.”

The men exchanged glances again. She knew she was asking a lot. Even if she took the responsibility for everything, even if she said she forced them, she knew they could still be held to blame.

“Begging your pardon, Your Highness, but how would we even manage such a thing? You can’t exactly march alongside us.”

He was right, of course. But this wasn’t as much of a whim as it might have seemed. She’d daydreamed of this moment, thought of how she would do it. Always as an abstract, before now, but she’d still thought it through.

“What if... what if I were to travel in one of the supply wagons? Hidden among the provisions?”

“Your Imperial Highness, that’s...”

“Possible,” she said, interrupting him. “It could work. Please.”

She looked at the men, giving her most sorrowful, sad look. The one that even worked on her father sometimes.”

The other men started to cajole the sergeant, speak up for her. The trickle became a wave as they realized the majority thought it a good idea. The men loved her. She knew they would be behind her.

“I guess, but your guards…”

“I’ll get rid of them and be back before you march. I promise,” she said, throwing her arms around the sergeant and hugging the older man tight, to the hoots of the other men, before releasing him and stepping back. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I will not forget any of you. I swear it.”

Before they could say anything else, she swirled around and dashed out to the street to deal with her minders.

Her first time out on her own, with the soldiers. This was going to be an adventure.