The Raike Box Set

by Jackson Lear

  Lavarta muttered an, “I know.”

  “What kind of smear campaign?” asked Alysia.

  “That he’s incompetent.”

  “What? Compared to that twerp of a lieutenant?”

  “That’s what smear campaigns do. They attack good people so the bad ones can rise to the top.”

  Alysia grumbled through to a sigh. “I think you should stay here. It’s not safe for you out there either.”

  Lavarta grimaced and took Alysia by the arm. “May I have a word?”

  She stood her ground. “Someone broke in tonight. Someone is trying to frame you and Raike, and the whole army seems to be full of lying, morally bankrupt assholes. The exception being you.” She turned to Zara. “Unless I have a completely different read on the situation?”

  Zara’s mouth puckered. “It depends. What did Artavian know about Lieutenant Gustali?”

  Once again, all eyes turned to Lavarta, his discomfort almost too much for him to handle. For a split second I caught a flash of indignant fury, that this was his home and we were all guests in it. But Alysia had two assassins and one of her father’s riders on her side. Lavarta had shit.

  Alysia took her husband’s hand off her arm and squeezed his fingers. “Your loyalty to the army isn’t worth dying for, not if you’re going to be stabbed in the back.”

  Lavarta held onto a wave of anguish, remaining silent.

  “And your wife might die because of these idiots,” I said.

  That did it. Through spit and fury Lavarta came around, resolutely pissed off with himself for revealing the details of someone under his command to complete strangers. “Make sure no one’s listening.”

  We checked the windows, doors, and staff. Gave the all-clear. Even so, Lavarta was slow to warm up to what he saw as the truth. “Under no circumstance …”

  “You can’t compel them into that, honey. This is what they do.”

  “If I ever find out …”

  “Auron? This is what they do.”

  “Fine. But if any of this is ever used to undermine the Gustali family and I find out about it …”

  “They’ll give us an equal share of the takings,” said Alysia. “This is Isparian life, honey.”

  Lavarta sent a final glare my way. “What’s your take on them?”

  “From what I can tell, just about every dynastic family has a similar background: someone earned a fortune illegally and paid off the authorities so they didn’t get into trouble. Their children entered either the military or senate and bought their way into high society. The scoundrel parents – while still alive – then bequeathed their estate to their children or grandkids in an effort to legitimize their fortune. I’ve also been unsurprised to learn that just about every story ends the same way: they spend half of their fortune on themselves to live a life of luxury and the rest is gambled away on ‘safe’ bets which fail more often than they succeed. I haven’t properly met Lieutenant Gustali but I’m sure that if I gave him a thousand marks tonight and told him to come back with two thousand in a year then the only way he could do that is by borrowing two thousand from his father and not understanding the point of the exercise.” I stared back at the scions of two dynastic families. “What happened in Anglaterra?”

  Alysia pushed a glass of port towards her husband. He pushed it back. “I’ve had enough.”

  “You’ve had one.”

  “Exactly.” At last, he came out with it: “We were up there for routine purposes, to make repairs to the fort and to keep an eye on the barbarians in case they raided the nearby towns during the harvest and up into winter. There’s a two month window of opportunity for them before the snow becomes too heavy. The state of the old fort was a disaster, so I had the cohort work on a new one just a few miles away. It was in a stronger location and protected a road heading south that those in the old fort couldn’t reach as quickly. During this time Artavian came to me. Frequently. He had been making deductions which seemed reasonable but were still quite a leap and not fully connected; that I was supposed to die up there, that an imperial assassin was stirring up trouble nearby, and that an attack on us was being engineered by our side to target our own people, and that the person tying this all together was Lieutenant Gustali.

  “All Artavian needed was my authorization to open a few letters. He was sure this would prove him right. I couldn’t give it, though. If any of the letters were opened then there’d be an investigation and Artavian would take the fall, no matter what was revealed within them. I mean, one crime doesn’t excuse another. Not in the army.”

  “You said some of his deductions were reasonable.”

  “Even if I didn’t believe him I could see how he got there. The cavalry and I made several patrols, sometimes to survey the ground around us to gauge the enemy’s potential strike points, sometimes it was simply to exercise the horses. Lieutenant Gustali made a number of trips to the new fort while I was gone, but very rarely while I was there. He would spend some time watching construction, request supplies and laborers to help. As the second in command of the cohort he was well within his right and, while I was gone, his presence was expected.”

  I said, “Yet Artavian found something concerning.”

  Lavarta nodded. “Minor things at first. The lieutenant asked for a copy of the plans, both of the new fort and old. Artavian was the principle architect of the new fort so he certainly had the plans, but he didn’t see why Gustali was so insistant on having a set. Gustali also asked for a copy of our findings around the area. He soon got a schedule of when the cavalry would be on patrol so that he could help to oversee construction of both forts. One day Artavian went to the old fort. He asked Steward Gabriella for the plans he had given to Gustali. The ones for the new fort down the road. She didn’t know what he was talking about. He didn’t press the issue and concluded that the lieutenant simply had a copy for his own purposes, but he didn’t forget about it.

  “Then the unusual commands started to come through. The governor’s office wanted the cavalry to inspect the northern border for any sign of a raid. It’s a given that we were already doing that, but command wanted us to check one particular mountain as civilians from the area had mentioned something. I sent a rider to Wistworth – a small town not far from us – to see what was happening. At the time it seemed like army command was being its typical self. You get orders from hundreds of miles away that don’t make any sense but you do your job and write back that everything has gone well. The problem is, the rider I sent out came back saying that one of the farmhands had gone missing just a few days before. We rode out, found no trace of him, but started to find tracks of the northerners passing through. We pursued them, were ambushed by all of twenty six old men and women, and captured them. After a very short round of questioning one of them told us why they attacked us. Two of their scouts had been killed by imperial soldiers just three days before. This was unlikely as the cavalry were the only ones that far north. We didn’t kill anyone. But they were insistant. If it wasn’t us then who? And how did they know imperial soldiers did this? Turns out: five of them saw an imperial soldier hurrying away on foot.”

  “Only one?” I asked.

  “Only one. A short, slim man, dressed like an officer.”

  I glanced towards Zara and found an adequate grumble appear across her face. I said, “Two scouts were killed three days before your skirmish against the northerners?”

  “Yes.”

  “When did the farmhand disappear?”

  “Two days before the skirmish, at night.”

  “Did any of the farmers see or hear anything?”

  “Not during the disappearance, no. They found marks on the young man’s window. The hinges were broken by a thin ax. Not useful for chopping wood, but light enough to carry into battle.”

  “A northern weapon?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have any idea who the short, slim man was?”

  Along came an emphatic: “No.” It was the kind that
seemed more like a command to not go after the person he was thinking of, instead of answering my question.

  “What kind of distance are we talking about between Wistworth and the skirmish site?”

  “Thirty miles.”

  “The northerners were willing to come that close to imperially-protected land?”

  “They were trying to bypass the mountain. The vampires supposedly live on the other side of it. The northerners believed that if they stuck to the southern side then the sun would help them out.”

  “After you came back and told the officers about the vampires, Artavian came to you, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.” He cast his weary eyes over Zara. “Raike knows about Sergeant Muro’s letter?”

  Zara nodded.

  “What was inside it?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Lavarta. “I believe that was the turning point for Artavian. Muro had never sent a letter in his life. Lieutenant Gustali had written many. The script on the front was different enough, clearly written by someone else, but the style of how it was folded and sealed was similar enough to the lieutenant’s. Plus, Artavian recognized the name the letter was addressed to.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Caton Pelus.”

  “Did Caton and Muro know each other?”

  “It’s possible. The lieutenant and Muro are friendly enough. At the very least, Muro and Caton would’ve known of each other.”

  “Did Artavian read what was inside?”

  “No. He was very clear about that.”

  “So why did he even mention it?”

  “Because Artavian started to investigate things for himself. After the lieutenant’s next visit, Artavian asked him directly for the return of the plans of the new fort. The lieutenant gave him some story. At first he didn’t know what Artavian was talking about, then when he was reminded about them he brushed it off, but Artavian kept pressing him until, at last, the lieutenant promised that he would send them over. He never did. Artavian sent a request with one of the messengers. It went unanswered. He sent another with a little more authority backing him up. The messenger wasn’t supposed to leave the lieutenant’s tent without it. The lieutenant instead went on patrol, though he didn’t go far and he was back well before sunset. From then on, Muro made the journey to the new fort on the lieutenant’s behalf.”

  Lavarta continued. “Artavian came back to me with some concerns. He didn’t want to raise any accusations because it’s career suicide doing that to a superior officer. He simply laid out the information and hoped that I would see the links. He had taken the notes on the missing farmhand and our intended actions afterwards. He took the notes about the northern scouts being killed. Something bothered him about the timing of it and the short distance. He wondered if someone from the empire had found the northern scouts, killed them, allowed himself to be seen in his uniform, traveled the thirty miles to Wistworth, abducted the farmhand, and did it all so that both sides blamed the other.”

  “Understandable,” I said.

  “He also mentioned the copy of the plans and hoped that I could get them back from the lieutenant.”

  “Did you?”

  “I called the officers in for a meeting while one of my sergeants looked around Gustali’s tent. There were no plans of the new fort there, only the old.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “I never found out. The sergeant found one more thing, something that I didn’t ask him to look for but it was something I was curious about for myself. He found a letter addressed to Muro in Gustali’s things.”

  “A recent delivery?”

  “Made that day while the officers met at the new fort.”

  “Does Muro share a tent with Gustali?”

  “No.”

  “Muro was at the old fort when the letters arrived?”

  “Yes. He approached my sergeant and asked what he was doing there. I had given him some paperwork to deliver. As far as I know, Artavian believed that Lieutenant Gustali was selling, trading, or simply giving information to someone else. This included the plans to the new fort but not the old. They also included timetables of our cavalry patrols. We had been instructed to scout around the mountain now home to vampires. And the timing of the two northern scouts dying and the farmhand disappearing was particularly odd since we had only just been given an order to search the area for any possible skirmish with the northerners.”

  I drew in a deep breath, wondering if anyone else was going to say it before I did. “Someone was provoking a fight.”

  The commander gave me a pained shrug. “Admittedly, those methods have been put to use in the past. It might have been dumb luck that the northern tribe weren’t fighters on a raid but families fleeing the area. Any other year and we would’ve bumped into them, hundreds of them against the fifty of us.”

  “And they were already pissed that you had killed two of their scouts.”

  “Exactly. And we would’ve been looking for answers for the missing farmhand.”

  “Out of curiosity, what would’ve happened to the cohort if the cavalry had been wiped out?”

  Alysia sunk low. Lavarta remained steady. “Lieutenant Gustali would be in charge. In all likelihood, he would’ve been breveted to commander by the governor within a month.”

  “Breveted?”

  “A field promotion. Technically he would’ve been a lieutenant-commander until such time as the breveted position would no longer be required.”

  “Is there any chance he would’ve united the cohort to hunt down the northerners and make them pay for what they did to the cavalry?”

  “Without question. An act like that? You don’t back away from it.”

  “Would the cohort have won?”

  “Assuming there was no colossal mishap, they would’ve won. There would’ve been loses, certainly, but the northern raids are done by loose fighters. Violent and fast. Every man for himself. The cohort would’ve driven them off, maybe even pursued them into the mountain range. That was, until we learned of the vampires out there. The lieutenant seemed more pissed off at their presence than any of us.”

  “Assuming the vampires were never there and Gustali slaughtered the northerners, would they have come back to Torne as heroes?”

  “Potentially.”

  “Does Gustali strike you as that sort of person? Someone who loves pride and glory over all else?”

  Lavarta gave me another weary nod. “All he talks about is the future of being a general, how all great emperors were once generals instead of senators, how his family’s legacy goes back generations, and how it will continue for more to come.”

  “So what was holding him back?”

  “I’ve read some of his reports. He’s not great at writing. I’ve asked about his time growing up and got the impression that school was never his strong suit. He also has two older brothers in the army. Both were commanders by his age. I don’t know why he isn’t. He’s not terrible, he’s just not that great. And he’s onto his third fiancée.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  Lavarta hesitated for a moment too long. Alysia came to his rescue. “It looks like he’s cursed. His new one apparently did not come cheap.”

  “Her family would be marrying into one of the most powerful families in the empire.”

  “Famous, yes, but maybe not as powerful as you think. The governor … well, you’ve met him.”

  “More of a showman than a man with authority?”

  “Yeah. He comes from the senate and was appointed a general by Aracella. Even when I was growing up in Ispar the Gustali’s were the butt of many jokes.”

  “Would the lieutenant make a good commander?”

  “No.”

  “Would he be cruel?”

  “No. At best he would be adequate. He just wouldn’t be good.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “We stage mock battles all the time. When he loses he says the other side were cheating, or that th
e sun was in his eyes, or he’ll blame his troops.”

  “How often does he lose?”

  “If he’s up against Lieutenant’s Lowe or Hrada, never.”

  “Are they his friends?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “What about when he’s up against the others?”

  “He loses three quarters of the time. He just has no instinct for anticipating the enemy’s movement correctly. He tries to wipe them out completely but this thins his ranks and opens him to a side attack. To him, it’s a failure if you give your enemy a chance to escape. But what he doesn’t realize is that if someone can’t flee they have no choice but to fight to their last breath.”

  “How did he take it when he heard there were vampires just beyond the border?”

  “He looked like one already had him by the throat.” Lavarta fell silent. Grimaced. Looked towards Alysia.

  She gave him a gentle nod and turned to Zara. “What do you think?”

  Zara spied me carefully. “If Raike’s going to be involved he might as well be involved on our side rather than just his. At least then we’ll have a shot at managing whatever crisis he creates.”

  “What about the bounty hunters who are after him?” asked Lavarta.

  “If they get him, they get him.”

  Alysia smiled at me. “Normally I’d offer to show you around but I think you’ve already had the tour.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lavarta held his silence for a moment before finally looking me dead in the eye. “Have you ever handled something like this before?”

  “I have, except I was on the other side, causing someone like you all the problems.”

  I imagine Restula groaned to himself the moment he realized he was truly fucked. That was the same sound I heard from Lavarta right then and there. “They’re now targeting my wife.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I blame you for that.”

  “I blame them. Are you a good commander?”

  He took a deep breath, giving himself time to think. “Yes. I’m not a god on the battlefield and I know I can do better, but even if I’m not a great commander I am at least a good one.”