by Jackson Lear
“His fate doesn’t concern me in the slightest. What news of my daughter?”
Caton nodded apologetically. “Forgive me, My Protector. I believe someone was trying to kidnap her. Where she is now, I don’t know.”
“Who tried to kidnap her?”
Caton looked my way. “His kind.”
“Employed by you,” I said. “Where is Krassis right now?”
“General, you should muzzle your dog before he bites off more than he can chew.”
Kasera said, “I’m interested in your answers to his questions.”
“As am I,” said Lavarta. “Did you know that I’ve met Krassis before?”
“Who’s that?”
I stared back at him, baffled that he would take such an easily disprovable line. “I know where he is. I know what he confessed to. I know who heard his confessions when he died. I also have one of the mercenaries from Arlo alive. He’s confessed a lot as well. And I have Lieutenant’s Kace and Orin in custody.”
Caton stared back at me, unsure if I was telling him the truth or simply fucking with him.
“Where was Krassis the night Artavian died?”
“How would I know?” asked Caton.
“You didn’t ask him to handle this problem with Artavian?”
“Of course not.”
“Then someone took a lot of liberties in your name.” I turned to Kasera. “Do you still have Artavian’s final letter to his parents?”
Kasera dug it out. Tossed it onto Caton’s desk. Caton scooped it up.
“What do the back-to-front letters spell?”
Caton flicked the letter into the air. “This is a fake.”
“Artavian’s parents have the original and they will say differently. And I wonder what Lieutenant Gustali would say if we hauled him in and asked if he ever received the letter you wrote to Sergeant Muro a few months back. You know, in response to the letter Sergeant Muro wrote to you just after the cohort learned about the vampires? The problem with that is – as far as I know – Sergeant Muro can’t actually read Telucian, let alone write it. So why would you write a letter to him in a language he couldn’t read? And why would Lieutenant Gustali be such an idiot that he left the letter addressed to Muro in his tent instead of destroying it?”
Caton simmered in silence.
“And while we’re at it, maybe we should ask him about passing on the plans to the new fort or telling someone the details of the cavalry’s schedule.”
Kasera looked to me. “He did what?”
“He passed army secrets onto someone outside of the cohort.”
Lavarta answered. “That’s what Artavian said. Plans, schedules, correspondence, orders.”
“That’s why Artavian was murdered,” I said. “He realized there was a plot to have Commander Lavarta killed in an ambush against the northerners. The way I see it, the lieutenant had been moaning about Commander Lavarta for so long that he started to believe his own bullshit stories, that the commander set him up to fail during mock battles, that the commander brushed the lieutenant’s ‘genius’ off as stupidity, and that the commander simply couldn’t handle the reality that Lieutenant Gustali would be a better leader than Commander Lavarta. Unfortunately, those around the lieutenant started to see through his bullshit. For anyone else that wouldn’t be much of a problem but we’re talking about one of the most powerful families in Syuss, and we’ve had a tumultuous couple of years, haven’t we? We’re onto our fourth emperor in no time at all and the empire is in something of a chaotic upheaval as result. The worst thing that could happen to the Gustalis right now is if the dear lieutenant was exposed as a disinterested, incompetent, whining brat with no instinct for strategy and who is onto his third fiancée because the first two families realized just what kind of an idiot he actually is. And from what I’ve heard, her family still has doubts about her marrying a Gustali. So, in order to keep the family happy, Caton coordinated with the Gustali assassin to set an ambush in the north, one that would kill Commander Lavarta and leave Lieutenant Gustali in command of the cohort, something that would give him what he’s always wanted: glory.”
Caton’s eyes crinkled into a glare. “You have a wild imagination, Mr Raike.”
“Thank you. The truth is, Caton had the governor’s assassin, Krassis, to head into Angleterra to stir up trouble. He wanted to provoke a fight among the cavalry and the northerners but the fight never really took place. Not in the way Caton wanted. So, Krassis had to resort to other measures. He kidnapped a farmhand from a nearby town, dragged him across the border, killed a handful of northern scouts and allowed himself to be seen in his military uniform, all so the cavalry and northern raiders would converge with the intention of killing each other. None of this was coincidental. Commander Lavarta received a set of unusual orders: that he was to investigate the border and the town in question. The timing of it all raised Artavian’s suspicions – that someone was abducted nearby and a day later the commander is asked to investigate, despite the orders coming from hundreds of miles away. Unfortunately for Caton, Krassis, and the future of the Gustali family, the northerners weren’t on a raid that year. They were simply trying to relocate. Worse still, the farmhand that Krassis kidnapped was set upon by a vampire. That vampire turned him into one of them and the farmhand found his way back home, confessed to being kidnapped by a man matching Krassis’ identity and, when the commander used Artavian’s language skills to talk to the locals, Artavian figured out what was supposed to have happened – that Lavarta was meant to die on a cavalry scouting mission while looking into the missing farmhand, that Lieutenant Gustali would’ve then assumed command of the cohort and gone to exact their revenge on the raiding party, and this would’ve propelled the lieutenant into a war hero; something he and his family desperately need, since his reputation isn’t worth shit and his skills on the battlefield are resoundly awful.”
I continued. “Unfortunately, when it became clear that their plan had failed, Krassis had to clean up the mess he and Caton had created. He met with Artavian’s parents under the guise of a commander in the army, learned the layout of their home, broke in, and stole a letter from Artavian that might’ve exposed the whole plan to his folks. If Artavian ever made it back to Torne he would’ve learned that he wasn’t paranoid at all and that the same man from the north had met with his parents. So, Krassis had to kill him before he returned home.”
Kasera and Lavarta remained locked onto Caton, who remained uniquely quiet.
“I’m curious,” I said, “why not just transfer Lieutenant Gustali out of Commander Lavarta’s cohort?”
Caton grimaced at me before shifting towards Lavarta and Kasera. “Because he needed actual combat experience before becoming a general, otherwise he would lose thousands of troops instead of hundreds.”
Kasera stepped in. “You were going to send an incompetent commander into a coerced fight against a thousand innocent people? How did think that was going to end?”
“He’s not incompetent. He’s just inexperienced.”
“Bring him here.”
“... My Protector?”
“Bring him here.”
Caton glanced over the pair of us quickly. Maybe he thought I was going to spare him some fresh awkwardness. “I don’t understand. I am not a part of military command.”
“I am,” said Kasera.
Caton faltered. “I believe the lieutenant is organizing a series of drills in the fields in anticipation of heading back north.”
“He won’t need them. Neither will his sergeant. Muro, isn’t it?”
“I should caution you, sir, that the governor oversees all assignments in and out of Syuss.”
“And his right-hand man sent his assassin to arrange for my daughter to be kidnapped and ransomed, and my son-in-law to be killed. How do you think that conversation will go when I ask the governor if he knew what was happening, or if this was all arranged by you?”
Caton squirmed again.
“Raike?�
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I glanced over. “Yes?”
Kasera extended his hand towards me.
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
He had a pretty good grip on me, like he was never going to let me go.
“I have a job for you. But first, welcome to the Kasera family.”
Fuuuuuuuuck.
“Thank you.” To this day I still have no idea why I said that. Perhaps some part of me hoped that we were saying these things to be theatrical in front of Caton.
In fact, every part of me hoped that we were saying these things to be theatrical in front of Caton.
Kasera returned to the squirming man. “You’re going to convince the governor to send his son to the Ashlon Fields. General Extus–”
Caton gulped. Stammered. Wiped his brow. “Sir, the Ashlon Fields ...”
“I will not be interrupted again,” said Kasera, as he moved his hand to the hilt of his sword. “Or shall we fully explore the deal you had with those men in regards to my daughter?”
Caton fell silent.
“General Extus has lost both a commander and lieutenant of the first century. Which position Lieutenant Gustali goes for is not my concern. General Extus requires a new officer immediately if he is to make any progress in reclaiming the fields from the dragons. Do this today and you will be granted a private hearing to answer for your crimes. Refuse or delay by any means and I will have no choice but to bid Raike a farewell from my service, where I will no longer be able to direct his attention to the matters surrounding the safety of my family. He will, of course, receive a severance payment as part of his farewell. Do you understand, Mr Pelus?”
Caton nodded shakily. “Yes, Mr Protector. It’s just the dragons. The lieutenant has had more training and experience in fighting land-based targets. And ones that don’t spit acid at a hundred yards.”
“Not my concern. I will be dining with the governor tonight. I’m sure he will be profusely apologetic about how his city has treated my daughter and the mess my son-in-law has been consumed with. You will be there as well. I suggest you be glowing and enthusiastic about the opportunities awaiting the young Gustali. Raike?”
Fuck. “Yes?”
“If you could, please stay with Caton here. Make sure he doesn’t eat or drink anything before dinner. I wouldn’t want him ruining his appetite with something … unfortunate.”
“No problem.”
“And if he happens to spend his time at his desk, please make sure he gives you a copy. Can you read and write?”
“A couple of words.”
Kasera turned and clapped me on my back. “We’ll get that sorted.” Without a single look at Caton, Kasera exited. Lavarta went with him. The cavalry followed.
We were alone, just Caton and me. He snarled the moment the door was closed. “Go fuck yourself.”
I darted across the room. Slammed my shin into his crotch. Spun. Short-punched him in his back. Threw my hand across his throat. Knocked him off his feet. Caught him. Dropped him easily to the ground. Spun the hilt of my blade into the air and drove it down onto his upper thigh, then again above both knees, connecting with the fleshy part.
He spluttered, cried out, gasped, heaved, and curled himself into a ball, not knowing which injury to tend to first.
He was a lot quieter after that. So was I.
That evening, Caton Pelus was the quintessential gentleman despite having to hobble here and there after ‘walking into a desk’. He drank his fill, lavished all due praise upon the Kaseras and Lavartas, and talked up a storm about General Extus.
Krassis was identified by Derro as the one in charge of Alysia’s kidnapping. Derro was executed at dawn.
Beriss was released from the dungeons. Thanks to Lieutenant Kace destroying as much evidence as he could regarding Beriss’ arrest in Verseii, Beriss was able to slip free once again. To this day I don’t know where he is, nor do I really care.
Lieutenat’s Kace and Orin were court-martialed. Both escaped a death sentence but were forced into a prison in Galinnia doing hard labor.
A month later, while Caton was personally inspecting the northern forts and arranging for provisions to be brought up to aid with the construction of a wall, we received word that Lieutenant Gustali had finally received authorization to transfer from the Fifth Army to the Seventh. As soon as Gustali was across the border I was given my first official order from General Kasera.
Caton went out for a walk one night to clear his mind. He was never seen again.
Chapter Fifty-Five
I made my way back to Verseii, found the tavern where I first met Beriss and the rich woman, then went inn to inn looking for any game of cards or bones in progress.
I found her. Eighth inn I checked, still in the same part of town. She was watching the front door, just like she had done the night we first met. Her eyes flicked up immediately, a learned habit to make sure she wasn’t about to be ambushed. Her whole attitude slumped in an instant.
Guilty.
I pushed my way inside, stopped at her table. “Good evening, my dear.”
She gave me a stiff nod. Resigned.
The rest of the table looked my way, puzzled. I wasn’t looking for a seat at the game nor did I seem to be her husband, who was busy snoring himself into oblivion.
“Gentlemen … especially you, sir. If you could all do a quick check of your money pouches and wallets, you would probably be doing yourselves a service.”
Heads looked down to their waists, hands padded themselves down. The woman scowled at me.
“Hey, what the ...” The fella to the woman’s right hand side snapped his head up and around, to the table, then to me as a flash of aggression came over him. “What the hell … my purse is gone!” He scanned the table again. Several confused and innocent looks came back at him until he rose from his stool and pointed his finger at my chest. “Give it back.”
“Certainly. Let me ask, did you all have drinks recently?”
My reluctance to follow the guy’s logic baffled him even further.
“And the barman positioned himself right there?”
Heads turned. Memories jogged.
I moved to the woman, whispering, “I can get you out of this for ten marks.”
“Done.” She rose, me with my hand around her arm. “Gentlemen, I’m sorry, my husband here has been drinking. Again.” She looked to the pot of coins in the middle of the table. A recent bet was made. Sizeable. Irrecoverable. “Feel free to buy yourselves a round of drinks.”
“What about my purse?” cried the man to our right.
I told him, “There were two youngsters in the alley, bragging about robbing some bloated, red-faced traveler. You might still have a chance.”
He looked to the game. Money was invested. He looked to me and the woman, the suspicion too high to dismiss. But there was also a chance I was telling him the truth.
I helped him out. “Pause the game right now. Go check. If they’re still there you might be able to threaten them with the city watch, but you’ll have to hurry.”
He nodded defiantly, the moment he had always been waiting for. “Right.” Balled his hands into fists and thundered towards the door.
“Let’s go,” I whispered. The woman nodded.
Outside, the red-faced gentleman searched left and right. “Which alley?”
I pointed right.
The cool breeze slapped him in the face, realigning whatever train of thought he had first settled upon. A glint in his eye shifted. Accusations were about to be verbalized. “Wait … turn out your pockets.”
I drew my new blade, angling it out to the side. Not towards him, but a definite threat that he should pay close attention to.
It worked. The color drained from his face, his instincts pulling him towards safety.
I asked, “You think you’re going to rob me?”
“No. What? No, you’re ...”
“Me what? That I’m going to go down without a fight?”
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“No, just … I’ve been robbed, yeah?”
“I know. I came to tell you that. Everyone at that table knows that.”
He eyed me carefully, afraid of saying the wrong thing now that I had what I guess he believed was a two-handed great sword in my grip. “You … you two are married?”
“Five years now,” said the woman. “And the fellas in there are probably dividing up the pot amongst themselves and heading out the back.”
The guy’s eyes widened in dismay. Robbed twice within an hour and now caught in a desperate three-way impasse: head back inside, try to find these youngsters in the alley who probably didn’t exist, or pick a fight with me.
I sheathed my blade, doing what I could to diffuse the situation. “Your best bet is inside.”
“It really is,” said the woman. “You still had three marks bet, which is now sitting all alone.”
That did it. A mental kick towards sanity. With a quick grunt he hurried inside. The door thumped against the frame, leaving the woman and me with a cold bite in the air. People strolled by, heading home after a warm drink.
I turned to the woman. “Do you remember me?”
“Of course. You followed the best player at the table out the door like you were going to kill him in the street and take his money.”
“You may be relieved to know that I simply knocked him out and handed him to the magistrate’s office. There was a bounty on his head.”
“Oh? Is there one on yours?”
“If there is I promise you I’m more trouble than it’s worth.” We walked away, me leading, since I figured that she wouldn’t want me to learn where she was staying.
“So, what now?” she asked.
“I got you out of a fight with a disgruntled target. The price was ten marks. You agreed to those terms.”
She dug into her purse, handed over the appropriate number of coins. “And now?”
I pocketed the money, walked off without saying a word, and headed back to Alysia.