by N. C. Reed
“The Imperials came at us with everything in the inventory,” Davies said, moving to a rough copy of a map that had the known history of that battle on it. “They were right on us when they finally broke. We still don't know why they fled other than thinking they'd bitten a dragon by the ass,” he chuckled harshly.
At Freeman's frown, Davies explained the impact of the new weapons on the Imperials. By the time he'd finished the look on Freeman's face was warring between outright disbelief and joy.
“To think we actually have something like that to use against them,” he shook his head. “If we have all that, why hasn't he driven them out already? And why would the King summon him to Nasil when we have such a huge army on our own soil? For that matter, why replace Prince Therron with. . .with him?” he caught himself before saying anything disparaging about Parno McLeod.
“I see there's a great deal to catch you up on,” Davies sighed. “Hungry?”
“Very,” Freeman nodded.
“Then let's get a bite to eat and some coffee while I tell you what's happened.”
~*~
“My God.”
Freeman's meal sat before him, less than five bites taken. The look on his face had begun in horror and grown steadily worse as Davies informed him what had happened.
“The King dead?” he repeated. “By his daughter's hand? And Therron a traitor? What the hell is going on around here?”
“Apparently, Prince Therron believed the officers of the Army would back his claim to the throne over Crown Prince Memmnon,” Davies said neutrally.
“Then he's a fool,” Freeman snapped at once. “Like him? Yes. Follow him in revolt? Treason against the Crown? Not if Hell froze over,” the man shook his head, long hair waving behind him. “What could he possibly have been thinking?”
“Don't be so quick to assume that no one would follow him,” Davies warned. “At least one Provincial Governor was in on the plot, and I have my suspicions about a certain corps commander as well.”
“Graham?” Freeman guessed it at once. “Figures. He's an ass-kissing idiot. Probably how he got that command.”
“Could be,” Davies' shrug was non-committal. “Prince Parno put him in his place rather firmly, however,” Davies managed not to smirk as he explained the first meeting between the two men.
“I admit I seem to have severely underestimated that boy,” Freeman shook his head. It was clear there was no disrespect intended in the word 'boy', but a mere reference to age. “I'm glad the King lived long enough to see it.”
“Me too,” Davies admitted. “And that we got to see it at all. Had Therron still been in command, you would have much less further to travel, I'd say. We would never have held here this long.”
“Well, if Henry and I are both up now, maybe we 'll be strong enough to hold out and begin to push back,” Freeman said, turning once more to his cooling meal. “I hope the men the new Marshal sent for that murdering wench are successful.”
“So do we all.”
~*~
“I don't want to hear any more complaints,” Buford told his assembled officers. “We're on the road at sunup and we ride until dusk each day. We will eat in the saddle and we will walk the horses to rest them. We will catch this bunch of traitors and we will do it as soon as possible. Now does anyone have anything to say?”
Heads shook around the fire as the regimental commanders and their seconds decided not to try and point out potential problems. That's leave that to General Whipple.
“Then get back to your commands and get your orders issued,” Buford ordered tersely. “We ride with the light. Dismissed.” The men broke apart and returned to their own camps. Soon it was just Buford and Whipple.
“Think I was too hard?” Buford asked his silent friend.
“No, it has to be done,” Whipple shook his head. “Just remember these men are yours and mine, not Callens' and not Therron McLeod's. We don't have to threaten or bully them, Buford. They followed us behind enemy lines for three weeks or more and they 'll follow us here. It isn't necessary to ride them into submission when they are already obedient to orders.”
“So, you do think I was too hard,” Buford snorted.
“No,” Whipple's answer was slightly harsher this time. “I think you're on the edge of alienating a good command over something that you couldn't have stopped and that wasn't their fault. They know what's at stake and will follow without question. No need to relieve your own tension by passing it on to them. If it were too hard for them I would tell you. What I'm telling you is that it's unnecessary,” he stressed. “It doesn't accomplish anything.”
“Callens can't be making that good a time,” he went on after a moment of silence. “The witch loves her comfort and is a 'noble' in the truest sense of the word. I guarantee you that she's making his life miserable at being on the trail without her usual amenities. I doubt they're making as good a time as we are, even allowing for today to rest and refit.”
“From the reports I'd have to agree,” Buford agreed. “The things they're taking. . .” he shook his head in disbelief. “No soldier would take those things at sword point when he's on a mission like that. They're useless. And he has to know that. Why let her slow them down that way?”
“He has to hang on to her and deliver her to Therron,” Whipple shrugged. “Once he does, then he can wash his hands of her and she 'll be Therron's problem. But he's committed now so he has to follow through. You can bet he's had the same thoughts you have, there's just nothing he can do about it.”
“Likely,” Buford nodded. “He was raised and trained better than that I'm sure.”
“Well, make sure you don't make the same mistakes he's making, then,” Whipple rose from the log he'd been sitting on. “I'm for bed. I figure things will be rough tomorrow.”
“Undoubtedly,” Buford agreed. “But we have to catch them.”
“We will.”
~*~
The Black Sheep were accustomed to hardship. There were no complaints other than good natured grumbling as they stumbled out of barracks to prepare for the trip north. A hot meal, probably the last really good food they would see for a while, eaten even as company commanders briefed their troops.
Next was preparing horses, something the hard-bitten troopers would not leave to the wranglers of the Royal Stables, good though they may be. In half-an-hour, good time considering, the Black Sheep were mounted and ready to ride despite the lack of light. If moving in the dark gave any of them pause they neither showed it nor spoke of it.
“Are you sure you aren't making a mistake?” Karls asked a still brooding Parno quietly, ensuring no one else could hear.
“There's no mistake,” Parno said simply, mounting his charger. “I already made the mistake. Maybe this will correct it,” he added wryly. “Are we ready to ride?”
“Parno-”
“Are. We. Ready.” The way Parno bit the words out left no room for discussion, even for someone as close to him as Karls Willard.
“We are, Milord,” Karls replied formally. “All men mounted and ready.”
“Then lets ride,” came the terse order. Parno spurred his horse to moving and rode out of the parade ground without looking back. Karls looked at Cho Feng, who returned the glance impassively, and then nodded to Major Simmons, his second in command and the highest ranking former prisoner in the ranks aside from the ambiguous rank of Cho Feng as Parno's 'adviser'.
“Let's be under way, Major.”
“Aye, sir,” Simmons nodded and raised an arm. The signal was repeated down the line with no sound, and soon the arms began to fall again, moving this time from back to front. The signal that all were ready to move.
“Move out,” Simmons told the front ranks simply. The column began to move as the highly-disciplined troopers began to follow the column in front of them out of the palace grounds and onto the road.
While this was going on, Harrel Sprigs and Cho Feng had ridden to catch up to Parno, who was riding along as if h
e didn't have a care in the world, a sure sign that he was deep in thought or mad.
Or both.
“You are in an ill mood this morning,” Cho said calmly as he drew abreast of his Prince.
“Don't you start,” Parno sighed. “Did Karls put you up to this?”
“He did not. I have eyes, do I not? You do not hide your aggravation well, my Prince,” he pointed out.
“Suppose I don't,” Parno agreed with a nod. “Don't worry. I 'll ride it out between here and the front.”
“Are you certain you are not making a foolish mistake?” his most trusted adviser asked him softly.
“Positive,” was the firm yet simple reply. There was no more talk as the column caught up and they increased speed. It was a long way to the front.
~*~
Winnie had left instructions that she was to be awakened an hour before dawn. She had woken Stephanie and then the two had bathed and dressed quickly, intending to be downstairs before Parno and his retinue. Stephanie would have only a few minutes to speak before he would be gone, but she vowed to make the best of those minutes trying to repair the damage from the night before.
The two went down the back stairs and into the kitchen, where the staff was already moving about preparing for the day.
“Has the Prince ordered breakfast yet this morning?” Stephanie asked, smiling. The cook looked at her for a moment, clearly nonplussed.
“Well?” Winnie asked.
“Beg pardon, milady, but the Prince left word he'd be eating with his troops this morning as they set out,” the cook managed to croak.
“Of course,” Stephanie nodded. “Thank you. I 'll catch him there.” When the cook looked ever more nervous, Winnie frowned.
“You got something to say, say it,” she ordered, her newly found 'proper' speech left behind.
“Milady, again begging your pardon but. . .ma'am, the Prince and his men have been gone for an hour or more,” the man finally answered. “I'm sorry you weren't informed,” he offered hesitantly to a stunned Royal Doctor.
“No reason I should have been,” she said into the odd silence. “None at all.” She turned and departed, walking slowly and with no apparent direction. Winnie followed her, not exactly sure what to say.
“He said he was leaving at sunup,” Stephanie said numbly. “I know that's what he said.”
“Plans change in time of war,” Winnie offered, having nothing else to offer at the moment.
“He left without saying goodbye,” Stephanie murmured, sitting heavily in on one of the heavily cushioned bench seats that lined the palace halls.
“You did say he was still trying to talk to you when you walked out,” Winnie reminded her. “Maybe he assumed you wouldn't be interested in hearing from him,” she sat down next to her friend.
“He couldn't possibly think that, could he?” she asked, looking at the floor. “Surely I wasn't that bad.” She sounded as if she were trying to convince herself, not Winnie.
“I don't know,” the younger girl had to admit. “I wasn't there. Look, send a message to him,” she said. “You can tell him you're sorry and that you hate you missed him. That you miss him and wait eagerly for his return. Stuff like that.”
“No,” Stephanie stood suddenly, smoothing her dress even though there were no wrinkles. “No, I don't think that would be appropriate,” she shook her head. “If you don't mind dear I think I 'll return to the room and rest a bit more. I'm sure to have a busy day today.”
“Stephanie don't just let this lie,” Winnie warned. “Don't make one mistake worse by making another.”
“Mistake?” Stephanie looked at her. “I didn't make a mistake, Winnie. I made a royal mess. Literally. I worked and worked to convince him he could trust me, that I cared for him and supported him regardless of his reputation or how his family regarded him, enlisted Edema of all people and Dhalia even to assist me. All that I have done, all that I had managed to accomplish, destroyed with a temper tantrum of selfish desire.” With that she walked away, slowly and stiffly.
Winnie watched her go but there was nothing else she could do at the moment. She thought for a moment about riding after Parno herself but a glance at her 'escort' killed that desire before it could take flight. They would have an apoplexy, and despite what freedoms she enjoyed, simply leaving wasn't among them at the moment.
Funny how having a little power suddenly took away all that freedom.
~*~
Stephanie made her way to her rooms, flanked by two members of Parno's regiment who kept a respectful distance. They had worked out an arrangement with Major Case where the King's Own was responsible for guarding the residence, while the Prince's Own would guard Lady Stephanie. It kept the ridiculous sight of seeing more soldiers protecting one apartment than were guarding many of the gates into the palace proper and ensure that fresh men were always prepared to go wherever either woman wanted to go.
Within reason of course.
Stephanie had no care for any of this as she stumbled her way back to her room. Parno's rooms she corrected herself. Maybe she should move out of them now? She didn't know what to do anymore. For the first time in many weeks she was at a loss for what to do. She had made a terrible mess and she had no way to fix it. She didn't even know if it could be fixed for that matter.
She entered her room without a word to her guards, something she almost never did. They noted it and exchanged glances. None spoke but it was clear that their charge was unsettled by something.
Inside, unaware of their worry, Stephanie went to the bedroom she had been using, Parno's as it happened, and collapsed on the bed. Safely out of sight of everyone else, she finally began to cry. She continued until she drifted into a shallow, dreamless sleep that would provide her with little rest and no relief of any kind.
CHAPTER SIX
-
Hard riding saw Parno and his men arrive back in camp late afternoon of the third day. Approaching dusk actually, there was still enough light to see that the size of the encampment had swelled considerably.
“Freeman must have made it up,” Enri Willard said carefully. Parno's mood had not improved on the ride up and his staff was now wary of speaking unless it was needful.
“Looks like it,” was the Marshal's only reply. He had been terse like that for the entire journey, speaking only when he had to, or when explaining his plans, which wasn't often at the moment. It didn't look as if that would change now that they had arrived, either.
“They seem to be in camp,” Enri ventured another remark. “I would estimate that they haven't been here long and General Davies is allowing them a limited rest and refit before taking their place in line.”
“That's good, actually,” Parno shocked him with a reply that wasn't a few one syllable words. “It will save me some time.”
“Time?”
“I'm going to move 1st Corps off the line and replace them with Freeman's men. 1st Corps will go into extended retraining back this way somewhere,” he waved around him absently.
“What about 2nd Corps?” Enri asked.
“They 'll be heading to Cove Canton, where they will make camp, work up with their replacements to fill our their ranks, and then go through the same training regimen. When they return, they 'll be much better soldiers.”
“I see,” Enri nodded, thinking about how long that would take.
“It will take about six months,” Parno told him, almost as if he could read his Chief of Staff's mind. “Not nearly as long as it did the original regiment. They won't need basic training or horsemanship, and the training regimen is set now. In fact it might not take a full six months if we're lucky. The hardest part is the conditioning.”
“As you say, milord,” Enri nodded.
“Who's going to train 1st Corps if we're sending 2nd Corps to Cove?” Karls asked, silent up until now.
“You are,” was the simple reply.
“That's a good idea,” Karls nodded absently. “That way you ca-what!?” he c
ut himself off as Parno's words sank in.
“You and the Sheep will do it,” Parno told him again. “I don't expect you to do it personally, but there's no reason the regiment, some of them anyway, can't serve as instructors. A few of them already have while recovering from injuries, remember? And Cho will be around to give you pointers when you need them.”
“Parno, why would you send us to do that instead of keeping us with you?” Karls asked.
“I'm not going to be doing anything but planning,” Parno shrugged. “We're on the defensive for the foreseeable future, Karls. I'm not going anywhere that I 'll need you, and if I do I 'll pull some of you away, but training them is more important that anything else we can do for now. Other than holding the Nor at bay,” he amended after a second.
“How about when you travel back to Nasil?” Karls asked.
“I won't be going back, save for Memmnon actually summoning me,” Parno told him flatly. “There's no reason for me to be there while the army is in the field. This is where I belong, so this is where I will be.”
Behind him the two brothers exchanged a glance, but neither spoke. There wasn't much to be said to that, and in truth neither knew what to say anyway.
Or wanted to risk the wrath of the Lord Marshal if he took offense to it.
As they drew near the headquarters tent they could see General Davies waiting at the entrance to the enclosure, having received word through sentries that the Marshal was returning. Parno dismounted and handed his reins to a waiting trooper, nodding his thanks.
“Welcome back, Marshal,” Davies smiled slightly.
“General,” Parno nodded. “I take it all is well for the moment?”
“Yes sir, for the moment,” Davies agreed. “General Freeman and his Corps arrived three days ago and are in camp. I had planned to allow two more days of refit and then move then into line, bringing 1st Corps out to refit.”
“Excellent idea, and falls into line with my own plans,” Parno nodded approvingly. “We 'll move 1st Corps back about three miles and place them into camp where their new training will begin. Meanwhile, 2nd Corps will head for Cove Canton to begin the same training. The training my own regiment went through to be precise. They 'll have a better time integrating their replacements into their ranks there, I think. The instructors there are almost finished training the rest of my men who joined us after the Gap.” He looked at the map.