Benjamin Ashwood Box Set 2

by A. C. Cobble

  “Time to go,” muttered Ben.

  He slipped over the side of the wagon, away from the approaching soldiers. His friends dropped down after him. Fighting the urge to crouch lower, Ben began walking casually toward the gate, acting like he was merely arriving on foot and passing the slower-moving merchants.

  “You! Are you Ben?” barked a voice.

  Ben’s heart sank, and he turned to see a soldier ducking underneath the neck of a horse and stepping out behind him.

  “I-I am,” stammered Ben, unable to think of a convincing lie on the spot.

  “Come with me,” instructed the soldier.

  “What is this about?” asked Ben.

  “The events that took place the night you left Snowmar Station, of course,” answered the soldier. The man eyed Ben strangely. “The soldiers you traveled with told quite the tale. They said Ben Ashwood, the leader of a small band of adventurers, could verify everything they said. Our commander will need to talk to you about it, and the merchants as well, but you’re the one who saw how it started. An open revolt in one of Whitehall’s most important outposts, surely you expected to be questioned about it?”

  Ben swallowed and nodded.

  “You thought you’d enter without having to talk to anyone, didn’t you?” guessed the soldier.

  Ben shrugged sheepishly.

  Shaking his head as he turned on one heel, the guard gestured for Ben to follow. When they fell in line, he added, “We’ll have to send three or four companies back up the mountain after those bastards in the 17th, if what was said is true. Troublemakers since they were recruited, if you ask me. That’s what you get for bringing in dock workers, sailors, and the like. They’re barely a step above pirates, every one of them. The generals didn’t want to take most of them, you know? They caved, though. Politics, like it always is. Some of those companies could have been sent by Lord Jason himself, and it wouldn’ta surprised me. The 17th was worse than most, constantly getting into scuffles and trouble here in the city. Rumor is, that’s why the commander sent ‘em up the mountain to Snowmar. Figured there wasn’t much trouble they could get into there. I guess he was wrong.”

  Ben and his friends didn’t respond. The soldier looked over his shoulder, “Is what those boys said true? Did the 17th go crazy?”

  “They did,” affirmed Ben, realizing that the quickest way to be done with it was to simply tell the truth.

  The soldier gave a satisfied nod and led them through the gates, taking them into Whitehall and presumably where his commander could question them.

  “Well,” said Rhys, his voice low so as not to be overheard by their escort, “at least we should be able to find out quickly if Saala is still here.”

  “Ben?” asked a startled voice.

  Ben looked up from studying his feet, which he’d been doing for the last three bells. He was sitting on a bench that wasn’t any softer than the walls in a bare, stone-encased hallway. They weren’t exactly detained in a prison, but it felt like it. Down the hall, he saw a young man wearing the stark-white tunic of Whitehall. Two knots of red graced his soldier, marking him as a captain. The man looked familiar, but Ben couldn’t place him until he strode closer and spoke again.

  “Benjamin Ashwood, what are you doing here?”

  Blinking in recognition, Ben responded, “Seth, is that you?”

  Smiling, the uniformed man walked up to Ben stuck out a hand, “It’s good to see you, Ben. What has it been, a year?”

  Ben stood and grasped the man’s hand, pressing it firmly. “A year, yes, that sounds about right.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Ben Ashwood,” called a voice from the other end of the hall.

  Both Ben and Seth turned to find another man, also with the two knots of a captain, marching toward them.

  “We witnessed a disruption up at Snowmar Station,” Ben told Seth.

  “You were there?” exclaimed Seth. “Rumors have been flying all over the barracks. Is it true? Did the 17th turn?”

  Ben nodded.

  The new captain arrived and eyed Seth. “I’ve got some questions for them as well, if you’re finished, captain.”

  Seth stared at the man a moment and then replied, “I think I’ll sit in while you ask your questions.”

  “This is a matter of the city’s defense,” protested the new man. “This has nothing to do with you. Isn’t your unit supposed to be leaving any day now?”

  “As soon as a vessel becomes available, we’ll sail,” confirmed Seth.

  “Then I suggest you see to your men and make sure all is in order,” responded the captain, iron lacing his voice. The man set his hands on his hips and he adopted a wide-legged stance. A bureaucrat’s battle pose, Ben supposed.

  “These people know General Brinn,” said Seth, placing his hands on his hips and turning to face the other man. “Brinn personally offered this man a place in the guard a year ago. I heard the offer myself. I’ll sit in on your interview, and when you’re finished, they will not be spending the night in your gaol. They’ll be coming with me.”

  “That’s not how we do things,” complained the captain.

  “I know how you do things,” snapped Seth. He gave Ben a quick look and then turned back to the man. “That is why I’ll sit with them during your interrogation.”

  Frowning, the captain glared at the younger man. “Look, sometimes witnesses are asked to stay here for a period of time to ensure we’ve gotten everything we can from them. In a case like this, where they’ve made an accusation that amounts to treason, well—”

  “We didn’t accuse anyone of anything!” protested Ben.

  The captain ignored him, keeping his eyes fixed on Seth.

  “I’ll sit in with them, and escort them to the Citadel once you are done. Unless you want to take it up with the general?” asked Seth, arching an eyebrow.

  The captain’s jaw clenched. “A young man like you, with so much potential, it’d be a shame if you wasted it on stupid feuds. The general has you under his wing, for now. That won’t always be the case.”

  “When it’s not, come see me,” replied Seth.

  Ben spared a glance at Rhys and saw the rogue mimic a surprised whistle. The conflict they’d witnessed at Snowmar wasn’t the only dissent amongst the ranks. The army was breaking apart from within, all on the verge of an outright war with the Coalition.

  Muttering under his breath and attempting to ignore Seth, the captain led them to a windowless room where he snapped questions at them one after another. Ben and his friends answered honestly about what they’d seen, if not about their reason for being at Snowmar. The man expressed doubt and disbelief at their tale, but when he aggressively began to press them, a cough from Seth pulled him up short. They were interrogated for two bells about a moment which had taken a fraction of that time.

  Finally, the captain exhausted himself and admitted, “It seems your statements match those of the merchant and the guards from Snowmar Company.”

  “No reason they wouldn’t,” said Ben, unable to keep the tired frustration from his voice.

  “You can go,” said the captain, “but do not leave Whitehall.”

  “Sure,” agreed Ben, standing and stretching, his body sore after spending the entire day sitting on the uncomfortable benches and chairs in Whitehall’s gaol.

  “Come with me,” said Seth.

  Ben followed his old friend out the door and breathed a deep sigh of relief when they exited the heavy stone confines of the gaol house. The bright sunlight and fresh sea air blowing in from across the Blood Bay perked him up considerably.

  “Are you here to see Saala?” asked Seth.

  Ben stumbled and almost pitched face first onto the cobblestones.

  “I-I… what do you mean?” asked Ben.

  “You were traveling with him when I saw you before, weren’t you?” inquired Seth, reaching a hand to steady Ben. “I assumed that’s why you were here.”

  “I—”


  “Yes,” interjected Amelie. “We would like to see him. Do you think you could help get us an audience?”

  Shaking his head, Seth answered, “No, he left five or six days ago for Fabrizo. We’re staging there, you heard?”

  “We did,” answered Ben. “We, ah, we need to speak to him. Six days ago, you said?”

  “About that,” answered Seth, steering the party through the crowded streets to a bend in the road. He took them up and headed toward the Citadel. “I’ll be honest, Ben. You might have some difficulty catching him. Every ship that drops anchor down in the harbor is commandeered for either supply or troop transport. We’ve got forty thousand men still to move across the Blood Bay, and any scrap of timber that floats is going to be needed to get it done. In fact, my company has been waiting two weeks to get transport. We were scheduled to depart before Saala was, but of course, the king left when he was ready.”

  “The king,” murmured Ben under his breath.

  “You knew, right?” asked Seth.

  “We knew,” answered Ben. “It, well, we didn’t hear the details of how it happened. We didn’t know Brinn was promoted as well, and I suppose you too, Seth. Congratulations.”

  Seth nodded acknowledgement and then offered, “I’ll take you to General Brinn. He knows more of the politics than I do, and I’m sure he’ll fill you in on everything that’s occurred. Saala is your friend, after all. You can ask the general for a ride to Fabrizo while you are speaking to him, but don’t get your hopes up. Highborn, captains, everyone’s swinging elbows trying to get a boat. Everyone wants to be there when the fighting starts.”

  “Of course,” said Ben. “Of course they do.”

  “Finally decided to take me up on my offer to join the guard, have you?” boomed the voice of General Brinn. It was a voice more suited to issuing commands on the practice grounds than the marble walls of the throne room.

  “Ah, n-not exactly,” stammered Ben.

  “Seth tells me you want to see King Saala,” continued Brinn. “You looking to pledge loyalty directly to him and get yourself a prime appointment? Let me tell you, you won’t be the only one. There are plenty of bootlickers and backstabbers in this place, all trying to ingratiate themselves with him. He doesn’t fall for it, mind you, but if you want to speak to him, you might have to wait in line. You’re better off with me, serving in my command. I’ll take care of you, son.”

  Ben scratched at the scar on his arm. “We’re not looking to join the army.”

  Brinn harrumphed and crossed his arms.

  “We do need to speak with Saala, though,” said Ben. “It’s important.”

  “Well, I like you, but there’s only so far I can bend the rules, even for a friend of Saala’s. The waiting list for a vessel to cross the Blood Bay is two weeks long, and that’s only if you’ve got an in with the military or can pay coin on a supply vessel. Every highborn man in this city is trying to catch a ride for themselves or their sons. When they can’t find space in the berths, they’re buying the entire ship! I’m supposed to cross in a week, and I’m worried even I will have to tussle some highborn for a private cabin. It’s insanity.”

  Ben frowned.

  “Look,” said Brinn. “How about this, I’ll find you some rooms in the Citadel and you can stay here while you wait on a ship. Best offer you’re going to get. Every inn that isn’t a flea-infested wreck is full to the rafters. All full of seekers, looking to find fortune in Issen.”

  Ben glanced at his companions, and they all shrugged. Saala wasn’t there, and there wasn’t much they could do until they found a ship willing to take them to him. Brinn was right, the Citadel was the most comfortable lodging they would find, and it was also the best place to find someone who could get them passage.

  “Okay,” agreed Ben. “We’ll stay here.”

  “Good,” said Brinn. “I’ll ask the seneschal to find you rooms. Dine with me tonight. I want to hear what you’ve been up to, and I’m sure you’re curious to hear more about your friend Saala.”

  “Saala and you,” claimed Ben.

  Brinn snorted and said, “Bootlicker.”

  Ben grinned.

  “Off with you,” muttered the general, waving for a man in the corner to lead them away.

  Ben and his friends dutifully followed the servant to the seneschal and then to their rooms. Ben found they were ensconced in a similar suite as the last time they’d stayed in Whitehall.

  “The accommodations aren’t as nice as they were before,” complained Amelie.

  “It looks just like I remember it,” said Ben before recalling that Amelie had stayed separately from him. “I guess you were famous back then, Lady Amelie.”

  “The Alliance is marching to war,” said Lady Towaal. “There will be highborn clinging to this place like barnacles on a ship, all waiting for their opportunity to pounce on some plunder. The city’s resources will be devoted to feeding the dogs of war, and there will be highborn and merchants from hundreds of leagues away trying to figure out how they can capitalize on the opportunities.”

  “I still think they could have found us some better rooms,” grumbled Amelie.

  “Ben is right,” said Towaal. “You were highborn then. You may still have the blood in your veins, but you don’t have a city to rule. Issen is in Coalition hands, remember? In other circumstances, or if we didn’t know Brinn, you might be headed back to the gaol.”

  Amelie frowned.

  Towaal leaned close. “Your mother is married to Lord Jason.”

  “Oh,” murmured Amelie, stunned.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t think of that,” chided the mage. “I thought we could slip through unnoticed, but once Captain Seth recognized us, there was nothing we could do. I was nervous up until the moment the general directed us to his seneschal.”

  “The rooms seem fine to me,” said Rhys, rummaging through a cabinet set against the wall. He turned, hefting two unopened bottles of wine.

  At dinner, General Brinn and Captain Seth met them in an ornate but intimate dining room. Both men had come far since Ben last saw them, and they carried with them a new weight of responsibility. Outside of the public eye, though, they relaxed and fell into comfortable conversation with Ben and his companions. Whether or not they could help with stopping the war, Ben was glad to see the friendly faces.

  “It’s nothing, really,” demurred the new captain when Ben complimented him on his rank. “The army has tripled in size since you passed through, and with all of those new recruits, we needed new leaders.” He lowered his voice, shooting a glance at Brinn, who was in close conversation with Towaal. “Brinn is one of the few senior leaders with actual combat experience. Both Argren and Saala knew they would need his council. As he rose, he took me with him. The city is restless these days, and it’s hard to know who to trust. Loyalty is worth more than gold in Whitehall right now. You saw what happened at Snowmar Station. Every night, we’re breaking up tavern brawls, putting our own soldiers into gaol until they can cool off. There are too many different groups from too many different places all stuffed together in this city. There’s not enough room, not enough ale, and certainly not enough women to go around. The place is a kettle poised to boil. If we weren’t marching to war, I’d be worried it’d break out within our own walls! The men are eager to get started, which I think is why Saala chose to sail. He has to get the army moving before it falls apart.”

  “Why?” wondered Ben. “Why is there so much tension?”

  Seth took a sip of his ale before responding. Ben and Amelie leaned close.

  “Recruits from all over the western half of Alcott is part of it. Different backgrounds, different lifestyles, but that’s the kind of thing we’ve always dealt with. Every greenhorn class we brought into the guard would have a few bad apples. Whitehall’s captains know how to deal with that, and after making a few examples, the new group falls into line. Now, there’s something else going on. Unknown influences are driving wedges between the different r
egiments.”

  “Spies from the Coalition?” wondered Amelie.

  “Worse,” admitted Seth. “Brinn believes it’s coming from within. Not everyone was pleased to see Saala ascend to the throne. In the few months since he was crowned, there have already been half a dozen assassination attempts. You know Saala, and you know he can handle himself, so none of them were successful, but already, the rumors are flying that he ran in fear across the Blood Bay. He didn’t, I know, but once the seeds of those rumors are planted, they grow like weeds. If it was just baseless rumors, we could handle that, but these rumors come with secrets that give them the air of truth. Secrets that shouldn’t be known outside of our closest council.”

  “Someone inside is fomenting dissent,” murmured Amelie, a speculative look on her face.

  “That’s what it seems like,” confirmed Seth. “If we could figure out who…”

  “Does it seem like there is any direction, any purpose to the rumors?” wondered Ben.

  “Disruption,” said Seth with a shrug. “That’s what it seems like. Like someone is trying to throw our army into disarray, to get it to turn on itself. Is that true? Your guess is as good as mine. They could be trying to stop the war, take the throne, or maybe they just want to sow confusion so they can latch onto a bigger share of the spoils.”

  Amelie sat back, absentmindedly twirling her wine glass in front of her. Ben could see the wheels of political machination turning behind her eyes. He looked back to Seth, but before he could speak, Seth did.

  “Sorry to bring such a dark cloud into the room. It’s all anyone can talk about here. Let’s talk about something happier. Tell me what you’ve been doing this last year. Did you ever start that brewery in the City like you spoke about?”

  Ben blinked, trying to decide how to explain everything that had happened.

  “You still like to spar, Seth?” asked Rhys, calling from across the room.

  “Ah,” murmured the former guardsman as he turned to the rogue. “Yes, I suppose I do. I don’t get much time for it these days. I swear, there aren’t enough bells of daylight to cover my administrative responsibilities. When I became a soldier, I pictured defending the walls of Whitehall, hunting down bandits, things like that. I never thought there’d be so much paperwork.”