In the Shadow of Lions - Chapter 25

Starhaven, Sidor

Serwyn paced behind his desk, a scowl etched into his. While scowling was not unusual for Serwyn, this time it wasn’t in annoyance or petulance. This was a new version that Edmund hadn’t seen, at least at this level before. Serwyn was in a full rage.

The desk, normally completely empty, due to Serwyn’s disinterest in the more ‘boring’ parts of ruling, was covered in pages. Each was a report with details of assaults and incidents across the kingdom as peasant backlash to the higher taxes and new laws, thrown there by the king as build-up for his current tirade.

All he, Colm, and Bramwell could do was stand there and listen as the king listed off every wrong they had ever committed, and many that existed only in the king’s mind.

“…with complete impunity. I’m told they are defeated, and yet here are reports of them killing my men and hiding what they owe,” Serwyn said, waving a hand at the pages on his desk. “That doesn’t sound very defeated to me. When I knighted you, it was because of that victory. I can’t help but wonder if you killed any of the rebels at all.”

Before Colm could say anything, Serwyn whirled and thrust a finger at Bramwell. “And you! You call yourself Captain of the Guard? My own capital is out of control! My guards can’t even walk the streets without being jumped by... by...peasants.”

Picking up an inkwell, he hurled it across the room, missing Bramwell by inches before smashing against the wall, splattering ink across a tapestry.

“Your Grace,” Bramwell said. “I have men scouring the city as we speak, searching for the perpetrators. They will be found and brought to justice, I assure you.”

“You’ve shown me what you care about my justice!” Serwyn shouted, moving around the desk and closing the distance between the two of them in two long strides. “Protests still happen in the streets of my capital, and your guards stand on watching. If justice was being carried out, these … vermin would be terrified to show their faces, let alone attack your own guards. They should be hanging in the central square. Their heads should be staked along the pier as a warning to any other show might disrupt my city. Instead, you’re searching for peasants in a sea of peasants. You make a mockery of my justice! You make a mockery of me!”

Before Bramwell could respond, Serwyn lashed out, striking the captain across the face with a backhand blow. Bramwell’s head snapped to the side, a trickle of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth where one of the king’s rings had cut him. Bramwell’s lack of response threw Serwyn into an even greater rage. Grabbing the captain by the front of his tunic, the king slammed him against the wall and pressed his forearm against Bramwell’s throat, pinning him in place.

Bramwell didn’t fight back, and in fact looked to be allowing the king to manhandle him so. Serwyn might have been working with the weapons masters and he certainly was filling out with muscle as he grew, he still wasn’t particularly large. It seemed doubtful that the King could have thrown Bramwell around like he did if the guard captain didn’t allow it to happen. And yet, how could he stop it? Knocking the king down, even in self-defense, was a good way to get executed.

“I am the king!” Serwyn snarled, his face inches from Bramwell’s. “When I give an order, I expect it to be followed! I expect results, not excuses!”

Bramwell gasped for air, his hands grasping at Serwyn’s arm, but he made no move to remove it or defend himself. His eyes darted to Edmund, pleading silently for intervention.

Edmund looked to Colm, who seemed completely uninterested in what was happening, and back to Serwyn and Bramwell. Things were getting out of hand. Stepping forward, Edmund closed his nephew’s forearm and pulled the young king back, breaking his hold on Bramwell.

“Your Grace. This isn’t helping.”

Serwyn whirled on him and shouted, “Do not presume to tell me what is right, uncle. I am the king!”

Edmund held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I know you are, Serwyn. I know you want to be a good king, as good and wise as our ancestors have been. I know you’re angry. Rightfully so. But attacking your own men, the very ones who defend you and this kingdom, will not solve the problems we face.”

Serwyn’s chest heaved with barely contained rage, but thankfully he didn’t lash out or escalate things. A good sign, at least.

“The people are scared and angry. They don’t understand why their lives are getting harder. Lashing out in violence will only breed more resentment and resistance. We must be smart about this.”

Serwyn paced away, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Smart? Like passing these laws in the first place? I question if any of our choices have been smart.”

“I know this isn’t easy and I understand your frustration, Your Grace. Things are always difficult when you try to make change. But we must not let anger cloud our judgment. The rebels are a symptom, not the disease. We must root out the source of this unrest. That was one of the reasons we started this plan in the first place, to find these elements and start your rule off on the right path.”

While that was a bit of rewriting history, Edmund hoped Serwyn was too angry to question it.

For a moment, his nephew just glared at him before whirling on Bramwell, who’d pulled himself off the wall and was gingerly touching his throat.

“You heard the duke. Root out the source. I want you personally leading the effort to crush this rebellion. I want them found and dealt with, swiftly and brutally. Make an example of them. Leave no doubt in anyone’s mind what happens to those who defy their king.”

Bramwell bowed, wincing as the movement pulled at his injured throat. “As you command, Your Grace. I will not fail you again.”

“Your Grace, if I may,” Edmund said. “Captain Bramwell’s expertise lies in maintaining order within the city. Sending him against the rebels in the countryside may not be the most effective use of his skills.”

“And what would you suggest, Uncle? More of diplomacy and restraint? That’s worked so well thus far.”

“No, not restraints. I believe Colm … I’m sorry, Sir Colm, has shown he can get results. If, perhaps we gave him more resources …”

“Results? Like ‘destroying’ the rebels that somehow miraculously reappeared just a month later, attacking officials again. The kingdom can scarcely survive more results like that. No, I’ve made my decision. Clearly Captain Bramwell isn’t doing any good here, so maybe, since you and Colm have been incapable of stopping these attacks, he might do better in the field. And if he fails … well then it gives me a good enough reason to remove him from my service. Permanently.”

“I will not fail, Your Grace,” Bramwell said.

“See that you don’t.” Serwyn waved a dismissive hand. “Now get out of my sight. All of you.”

Bramwell bowed and hurried out of the room, probably happy to be given the chance to escape, followed by Colm, who watched the more stiff-necked man with amusement. Edmund didn’t immediately follow them out.

He wasn’t particularly worried about the captain himself, but rather the safety of the city, which was, indeed, unraveling. Most of the officers of the city guard had come with Bramwell and had a degree of loyalty to him. While that was useful when Bramwell was under their thumb, giving them a more indirect level of control, with the captain gone and possibly someone else chosen by Serwyn in his place, that control weakened.

Something Edmund was worried about.

“Your Grace, if I may,” Edmund said carefully. “While I understand your frustration, I fear this course of action may be unwise.”

“Unwise? What would you know of wisdom, Uncle? Your counsel has led us to this point. The people openly defy me, and you would have me show weakness?”

“Not weakness, Your Grace. Strategy. Sending Captain Bramwell away from the capital at this time could be seen as a sign of instability. The people need to see strength and order within Starhaven itself.”

“The people need to see the consequences of defiance. They need to fear their king.”

“Fear can be a powerful tool, yes. But it can also breed resentment and further rebellion if wielded too heavily. The capital is the seat of your power; we cannot afford to have it in chaos.”

“If there is any resentment, we will stamp it out. I already told you that I made my decision. Captain Bramwell will lead the efforts against the rebels in the countryside. He will crush this uprising or he will face the consequences of his failure. I am growing very tired of being second-guessed.”

“I would never second-guess you, Serwyn. I simply want to offer my fullest counsel, to ensure you have all the facts that you might need.”

“Consider me informed. Now leave me. Both of you.”

Edmund bowed again and backed out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. In the corridor, he paused, rubbing a hand over his face. Serwyn’s behavior was becoming increasingly problematic. The boy was so consumed with asserting his authority that he failed to see the larger picture. All of his father’s stubbornness wrapped in a child’s petulance.

Although it wasn’t a lost cause yet, if Edmund couldn’t rein him in, he would have to start considering other options to keep the kingdom together.

***

Lysmir Woods, Northern Lynese

“Baron Pembroke, do you have a moment?” William said, intercepting the Baron.

“For our glorious Lord Commander, of course,” Pembroke said, giving William a smile to let him know he was teasing him.

“I’ve spent the afternoon with the quartermasters, and I’m concerned about our supply situation. What we got from the stores the Lysians had built up is helping, but we’re essentially living off of that now. Winter is approaching and I’m not sure we will be able to continue taking what we need from the Lysinas. If, as is likely, they pull back to divert forces to the southeast to deal with Mawseason, we might find our army wither and die for want of food.”

“We still have the treasure we took. For a time, we can buy from Wernese merchants, who seem more than happy to sell to whoever they find.”

“Which is fine until the shipping lanes close. And we haven’t taken enough money to buy our way out of this.”

“You’re right, it’s a concern,” Pembroke said. “But if Aldric doesn’t come through, which is looking more likely, considering how much time has passed since he sailed, we’ll have to find other means to relieve the problem.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Well, we control all of the Rendallia province now and can take what the Lynesians would have normally taken as tax on the harvests. Things have calmed in our rear, so doing more than that or outright stripping the region could force us to divert men to control unrest. Most of the peasants who stayed don’t care who is in charge, as long as they’re allowed to live their lives. That, however, doesn’t completely solve the problem. This isn’t a food producing region in general, so that will have minimal impact.”

“What about Cestralion?” William said after a moment. “It’s the largest city north of Valemonde on this side of the Lysmir River. With their forces on this side of the Lynesian plains pulled back or destroyed, there can’t be that much holding it.”

“I had the same thought, since it also has control of the southern end of Lysmir lake and it sits at the edge of the Lysmir plains, which is a large food growing area. But we’re spread pretty thin. I’m not sure if we have the manpower for a prolonged siege or to take the city directly.”

“They don’t know that, though. We could handle a shorter siege, as long as we played it right. It’s a wealthy city. Taking it would both give us a foothold in the region and significantly more resources to resupply with, at least enough to carry us through to the winter. We could also shut down traffic from the north traveling down to Valemonde. It would cut off at least some of their supply lines, especially to the larger markets of Werna across the Merchant Sea. They’d have to take supplies and goods by land to ports like Talabot Well to the west.”

“True, but practically, that won’t do much more than inconvenience and cost the Lysians a little money. They still have the rivers that extend south out of Dawnstar Lake. From there, they can sail around the continent and up to Werna.”

“Sure, but every piece of gold they can’t spend on the war helps us, right?”

“You don’t have to sell me on the idea, William. Besides agreeing with you, you are in command of the army. If you say we take Cestralion, we take it. I’ll get the commanders together, and we can meet this afternoon to begin talking strategy.”

“Good,” William said, but then reached out and grabbed the Pembroke’s elbow, stopping the Baron as he tried to walk away. “Have you heard word from home?”

“Some, mostly from my wife,” Pembroke said, looking at William’s hand as the younger man took it away. “Why do you ask?”

“I’ve been making trips to visit the injured men and check on some of the rank and file since the battle, and a lot of them are concerned about news they’re hearing from families back home. It isn’t a major issue yet, but this could become a problem.”

Something in Pembroke’s posture changed. Not dramatically, but enough that William noticed it. The man became more stiff than normal, which for him was saying something.

“Baron Pembroke,” William added, taking a guess at what he was concerned about. “You can speak openly with me. I’m not my father or my cousin. I want to know the truth, even if it’s unpleasant.”

Pembroke studied him for a long moment before nodding. “The reports I’ve received from my wife are … concerning, to say the least. The situation in Sidor is dire and deteriorating rapidly. Increased taxes, restrictions on movement, shortages of food and other necessities. The people are growing desperate enough that there have been open attacks on the bailiffs trying to collect taxes and royal guards sent to deal with those attacks. Things are escalating.”

“That’s what I’ve been hearing, and it worries me.”

“Because you’re smart. If things continue as they are, we may face a full-scale rebellion.”

“I’ll send a wyvern to my Uncle. I’m not sure what he can do, but having the kingdom fall apart while the bulk of its fighting men are across the sea seems … counterproductive.”

“I’m not sure what choice we have. We’re so close to breaking the Lynesian forces. If we pull back now, it will embolden them, confirm to their emperor that we do not have the fortitude to make him pay the price for interfering with our people.

“I get that, and I am far from the first one to turn my back on what Gavric started, but if Sidor falls apart while we’re gone, what’s the point of winning the war? It will teach him much the same lesson. I feel like I’m being pulled in two directions. My duty is to my men, to this campaign. But my responsibility is also to the people of Sidor as a whole, or at least the people of Kingsheart, who I’m supposed to rule one day.”

“It’s not an easy decision,” Pembroke said, placing a hand on William’s shoulder. “But sometimes, your only options are between two terrible choices, and you have to go with the one that is least bad.”

“What would you do?”

“Just what you’re doing. Stay focused on the war, doing what you can for the men in your direct care, while prompting people back home to see what can be done there. We both know Aldric went back as much to find out what was going on at home as to deal with our supply situation. He’s the right person to talk to about this.”

“Okay,” William said, not able to hide the disappointment in his voice.

He’d been hoping for something a little more directly helpful.

“Don’t doubt yourself. You’ve proven to be a capable leader. Your men believe in you. As do I.”

***

Port Linnet, Barony of Daunton Isle, Duchy of Iron Keep, Sidor

Aldric pushed his way into the Buzzard’s Lament, a dingy tavern nestled on Port Linnet’s western wharf. The tavern was busy, packed with sailors, dockworkers, and men who looked like the sort better left alone than approached. A few patrons glanced at the newcomer, but most paid him no mind. In a place like this, anonymity was the norm.

Although it was cooler here, so much further north than his home, it was still warm enough that the heavy cloak he wore would have been out of place elsewhere, especially with the hood pulled up and so far forward as to obscure most of his face, had he been in a more reputable establishment. Here, he wasn’t the only one wearing something to help obscure their identity, including a man in a far corner, away from other tables, whose face was likely obscured.

Even with that, Aldric recognized the man he’d come to see and made his way to see him.

Sliding into the opposite seat, Aldric said, “Baron Sinclair. Thank you for coming.”

“I must admit, I was surprised by your message, your excellency. This is an unusual place for a meeting.”

“Which is why I chose it, although I believe this isn’t the first time you’ve met someone in an establishment along these docks.”

“Maybe not,” Sinclair said. “And what, pray tell, does an esteemed duke of the realm need that requires such a clandestine location?”

“I’ve heard that you’ve been facing difficulties dealing with some of the new laws coming out of Starhaven.”

“You should know. Your brother is behind them, is he not?”

“You know as well as anyone that Edmund and I have never seen eye to eye,” Aldric said. “I don’t support these laws any more than you do.”

“Fine. You’re an upstanding hero. That doesn’t explain what you want or why you’re here, so far from the River Mark.”

“I’ve heard that you’ve not only been defying the new laws, limiting what your bailiffs take from your people, even covering many of the fines they would otherwise pay when you couldn’t. I’ve also heard you’ve been doing the same for your neighbors.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do. I’m not here to scold you or get you to tell on yourself so I can run to my brother. In fact, I have been doing something very similar in my own duchy, and encouraging my barons to do the same. That, and more.”

“What do you mean, ‘and more?’“ Sinclair said. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I’m telling you this because our people are not the only ones hurting, Garris. What is happening in our lands is happening across the kingdom, except not all of the barons have the means or the will to counter the king’s orders for the good of their people. I’m here because if this continues, many of those baronies will fall and, when enough collapse, the kingdom will collapse with them, and take our own people with it, no matter what we do to protect them.”

“Do you think I don’t realize that? I’m aware of the danger my people are in, but there’s nothing I can do about it beyond what I’m doing. I’m just one man, one baron. I don’t have the power to change the laws or the king’s mind. Edmund has been looking to take power back for the crown since he was elevated to replace your uncle. If I push too far, he’ll use it as a reason to strip me of my lands and give them to some crony who won’t push back.”

“Maybe alone, there isn’t much we can do, but what if I told you that you’re not alone? That there are others, other barons, who feel the same way we do? Who want to do something to alleviate the pressure on their people?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“You’re not the only one my brother is targeting. True, he hates you the most, but he has a long list of lands he’d like to get his hands on, all run by men who think like we do, who care about our people. I’m suggesting that we work together. I have people, loyal people, who are willing to distribute aid, even into baronies where the barons are staying true not only to the new laws but to the intent behind them. People who are willing to risk themselves to help those in need.”

“Fools, you mean.”

“Perhaps. I know Edmund would agree with you that anyone who put their people first, above their own well being, is a fool.”

Aldric could see the remark strike home. Garris hated his brother every bit as much as his brother hated Garris, and the thought of being compared to him was one of the few things that could break the baron’s famously unreadable exterior.

“You strike low,” Sinclair said. “What you’re proposing, it’s dangerous. The king has made it clear that any attempt to intervene with his new policies will be counted as treason, and my duke has publicly supported the measures. I can’t defy my king or my duke.”

“You already are, Garris, by feeding your people. By covering their fines. You’re smart enough to know what this is really about.”

“That doesn’t change the danger in this. If anything, it makes it more perilous.”

“It doesn’t. Playing into his hands is where the danger is. He’s trying to cause so much unrest that you have no choice but to agree to whatever new restrictions he wants to put against the barons. Or worse, your titles are stripped because of inability to manage your realm. Either way, it’s the same result.”

Sinclair drummed his fingers on the table, staring across at Aldric, frowning. Aldric held silent. What he was asking was dangerous, but he knew Sinclair. The man wanted to do something about it. He was practically itching to step up to Edmund. He was just afraid.

“And what’s your solution? How do we stop this?”

“The only way around this is for the barons to stand together,” Aldric said. “Not publicly. Not in the open. But we ensure that his measures fail. That the people remain safe and have no reason for unrest or violence.”

“And what happens if the people do rise up?” Sinclair asked. “If they decide that even with the aid, they can’t abide by these new laws? If things break down, the barons will have no choice but to take a stand against the crown.”

“I don’t want it to come to that. But if it does, such things would be easier if a network of cooperating barons already existed.”

“You’re talking about treason.”

“No, I’m only talking about feeding our people, keeping them from starving over the winter. Nothing more.”

“And what of the unrest in Kingsheart?” Sinclair asked, his eyes narrowing. “They’ve been remarkably successful. And, from what I’ve heard, well equipped. I’ve wondered how those men have been in supply in the heart of Edmund’s duchy.”

“I couldn’t tell you. It’s a mystery, and a serious problem for Edmund and the king.”

“I see. And what happens if some of the supplies this network of barons sends ends up in the hands of these rebels?” Sinclair asked, staring hard at Aldric.

“I doubt it will, but once given to the people, it’s impossible to tell what they will do with what they have been given,” Aldric said, meeting his gaze unblinkingly. “The mob is a fickle and untamable beast, as my brother says.”

The two men stared at each other for a long moment, each trying to glean some kind of tell from the other without giving anything of their own away. They both understood that this was more than just distributing aid. This was the first step in something much larger, much more dangerous.

Sinclair blinked first. “If I decide to participate, with either goods or money, it would have to be handled carefully.”

“It would be. From here on out, everything will be handled by cutouts. No one is directly involved.”

“What’s the next step?”

“I’m headed to Shadowhold, to prepare forces for the winter defense, but a messenger will come with information on the next step.”

Again, Sinclair fell silent. Aldric could see the internal struggle, and said nothing. What he was asking, he couldn’t influence the man’s decisions. He needed him to come to it on his own, to ensure his commitment.

“Send your man. I’ll be waiting for him.”

“Good. Thank you, Garris. The Ancients will smile on you for this.”

“I hope so,” Sinclair said. “I really do.”