by Kal Spriggs
“I accept your oaths,” Katarina said. “Rise and be welcome.”
***
Lady Katarina Emberhill
“Well,” Katarina said, “that changes things.”
She looked around at the other members of the council she had called in to hear Gerlin's news. Most of them wore expressions of surprise. Lord Theodore seemed shocked. Eleanor had a doubting expression. Kara's expression was guarded.
“Are you certain we can trust him?” Katarina asked.
“No,” Gerlin said. “But I believe he is sincere.” He paused and she saw an uncertain expression flicker across his face. After a long moment he sighed, “The reason I think he is sincere is that he's my father.”
“What!?” Kara said in surprise.
“He's Hector's son,” Katarina said. “He told me that not long after he and Bulmor escorted me to safety in Marovingia.” While she had known, it was information she hadn't shared with anyone else, not even her armsman.
“My loyalty is to Katarina, but I did serve under Hector for several cycles,” Gerlin said. “I can tell that he would rather end this conflict, even if it means he has to step down. His main concern is the Armen and he knows that a full, dragged out war will make the Duchy more insecure.”
Katarina looked around at her council. “I fully intend to meet with him and see if we can come to an agreement.”
She had expected an outburst from several of them. The silence that settled over the tabletop felt far more ominous.
“Do you think it is even possible to stop a war at this point?” Eleanor asked. Of everyone besides Katarina in the room, she had lost the most to Hector and his mercenaries and even then it was a close thing. Lord Hector's Hound, Grel, had destroyed her home, killed many of the villagers, and she had believed for a time that her son had died with the others taken prisoner.
“It will certainly require some extreme concessions at this point and until we see absolute signs of his willingness to give those concessions, I intend to continue to follow my original plan and move to threaten the city of Longhaven,” Katarina said. “But I think that it would be possible to get him to step down, to turn over some of his most vicious mercenaries. Gerlin says that he has as much as agreed to that already.”
“Even if,” Lord Theodore said, “he turns over the likes of Covle Darkbit... and that's a big 'if', then what of Hector himself? He would not agree to a turn of events that leads to him facing trial. Do you really think that those who oppose him, those who hate him, will allow him to step down? He claimed the Barony of Longhaven with some credible validity, will you allow him to remain the Baron? For that matter, do you think you can trust him with that much power and that he won't have you killed if he disagrees with your rule?”
“These are questions we'll need to answer,” Katarina said. “That is why I've brought you, all of you, here to discuss it.” She looked around at them all, judging the seriousness of their expressions. “We have at this table two noblemen and three commoners, all of you with some of the most credible grudges against Hector. If I can get those of you here to work out negotiation points and limits, then I will feel confident that we can establish some kind of agreed peace.”
“If we can't?” Eleanor asked softly.
“Then we'll have to reject his offer,” Katarina said. She wished, not for the first time, that Bulmor was present. The gruff armsman might not have even said anything, but his presence would have comforted her. Instead, the irritable, almost hostile, presence of Ferrakan over her shoulder made her feel ill at ease.
“Well,” Kara said with a shrug, “I want Hector and Covle dead.” She grimaced, “All the same, I don't want to get a lot of good people killed doing that.”
Katarina cocked an eyebrow at her, “Let's work our way down from there and see what you'd be willing to accept, shall we?”
***
Chapter XVII
Commander Kerrel Flamehair
Near Kasovia, Duchy of Masov
Ninth of Inkar, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering
Kerrel let out an inward sigh of relief as she and her escort crested the hill and saw the tent with Lady Katarina's red and white banner. The Eagle of Masov stark against a red field. With how tense things had been over the past weeks, Kerrel had dreaded that all the work for this peace talk had been in vain.
Hector had been surprisingly willing to go along with it after his reunion with his son. If she hadn't known him better, she almost would have said he had come to regret his decisions. Yet the nobility that supported him and many of the merchants and wealthy tradesmen who had grown wealthier off the war with the Armen had opposed any concessions with Katarina... and especially with the noblemen who supported her. They did so out of distrust for the ambitious men like Earl Joris who would seek to rob them of their wealth and take it for themselves.
Just as they had agreed to initial terms of discussion, Katarina's army had made its surprise move, marching quickly to seize Kasovia. The city militia and Hectors people there had been too surprised to put up any kind of effective defense. Hector had taken the surprise attack remarkably well. In fact, he'd managed to make a joke about in in private later... but he still felt it was an aggressive move, probably introduced by Earl Joris.
Kerrel hoped it was rather a deeper sign of Lady Katarina looking at the strategic situation. If she had planned that move, it showed a better grasp of the overall situation than anyone had yet credited to her. She had put her army into position to threaten Hector's vital points and in the process, removed a valuable source of trade income.
The fact that the Luciel Order had confirmed that Katarina had ferried in her battalion from the Ryftguard after replacing them with Captain Wallace's men was another sign of either good planning or good advisers. Rather than weakening herself by extending her army along a perilous supply chain, she had actually managed to reinforce her army while supplying them by sea, shortening their supply chain dramatically.
As Kerrel and her escort approached, her eyes widened a bit at the three armored figures who awaited them. All three wore archaic armor plate along with the colors of House Emberhill, a slight variation of the red and white of Masov. The distinction was enough though for Kerrel to realize that these were armsmen... and that they wore armsman armor. Probably runic, she thought, which makes any one of them a match for a dozen normal soldiers.
“I am Commander Kerrel Flamehair, the envoy from Duke Hector, here to discuss peace with Lady Katarina,” Kerrel said.
A fourth armored figure stepped out from under the eaves of the tent. “I am Captain Ferrakan, Commander of Lady Katarina's House Guard. You and any other ambassadors may enter, your escort must stay outside.” He lifted his visor and his seamed and scarred visage impressed Kerrel. This was a man who had seen more than one battle. “I give you my word as an armsman that none of you will be harmed.
Kerrel heard Baran grunt in distrust behind her, but she didn't respond, she simply dismounted and then looked over at her second in command. “Have Trooper Isvan come up, he can act as my scribe.”
Baran scowled even more at that. She knew he didn't much like Jay, on principle if nothing else. “Isvan, get up here.”
Kerrel strode forward and she saw Ferrakan stare at her sheathed blade. She could tell that his instinct demanded he say something, yet his experience told him that this was not something to push. She just gave him an understanding smile. “I cannot surrender my blade,” Kerrel said, “I've sworn oaths of my own.”
Ferrakan sighed, but he gave her a nod. The old armsman looked at Jay as he came up. Kerrel could see the old man's eyes narrow as he stared at Jay. It was clear that his instincts warned him about the spy as well, but Jay gave no outward sign of anything being out of place. He surrendered his weapons without being asked, gave a sunny smile as he pulled out an inkpot and sheave of parchment from his pack and stood waiting.
Ferrakan spat on the ground in front of Jay. “You look familiar, trooper.”
; “I can't imagine why, sir,” Jay said. “This is my first campaign with the Flamebrands. Maybe you encountered one of my cousins? Lots of mercenaries in my family.”
“Huh,” Ferrakan snorted. “Maybe. Well, get in with you.”
Kerrel restrained another sigh of relief as she and Jay strode into the tent. It really wouldn't do for Jay to be detained.
Kerrel felt a little bit more surprise as she saw the small group that awaited her. Besides three more armsmen, Lady Katarina and Gerlin were the only occupants of the tent.
Lady Katarina seemed to sense her surprise. “I thought it might be more efficent if you and I could settle things in a less formal environment.”
Kerrel gave the other woman a nod. She felt some hope begin to blossom that they might work this out, after all. “Well, then, we should get started, shouldn't we?”
***
Commander Covle Darkbit
Leizno, Duchy of Masov
Eleventh of Inkar, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering
Covle scowled as he stalked back to his tent. The word had already circulated that Lady Katarina's army had halted after seizing Kasovia. As it was, he didn't know how the bitch had managed the move. Certainly his arrogant father must be pleased. It meant that Covle was in more and more of a tight situation, one which limited his bargaining power.
Not that he really wanted to change sides, though the thought of Katarina being forced by her own oath to marry him was amusing. No, he wanted to defeat his father, to utterly crush the man who had discarded his mother like a piece of garbage... and who had sent him off to be a glorified bodyguard as a consolation prize.
He ground his teeth hard enough that his jaw ached. That self-centered ass would be so proud of himself, now. No doubt Earl Joris felt amusement over how the tables had turned...
Covle strode into his tent, for once dispensing with his usual search for traps or assassins. He was too preoccupied with the knowledge of the latest message from his father. His eyes focused on the letter, the heavy parchment crumpled from where he had curled it in anger.
“Covle,” a hissing voice spoke from just behind him.
Covle spun, his hand dropping to his sword. He froze, though, as he recognized the tall, gaunt figure. His counterattack turned into a hasty bow, “My Lord... this is unexpected.”
“You've grown sloppy,” Xavien hissed derisively. “If I'd been a clumsy fool with a grudge I could have buried a knife in your kidneys.” The wizard cocked his head, “Have you ever felt the pain from such a strike? It's a misconception that it kills you quickly. The pain is overwhelming, many men can't manage to scream after such a wound.”
Covle lowered his head, even as he felt sweat break out on his forehead, “My apologies, my Lord, I will be certain to use more caution.”
“You had better, Darkbit,” Xavien rasped. “Else next time I will have to give you a lesson.”
Covle didn't know how to respond to that. He held his kneeling position, head bowed. He watched Xavien move on the periphery of his vision as the wizard moved around to the camp table.
“Hector and Katarina seek to make peace,” Xavien hissed.
“I hadn't heard that, my Lord,” Covle said. He felt his stomach sink as he realized the implications. Now he knew why Katarina's army had paused, why that slut Flamehair had vanished. His stomach sank still further as he thought about why Hector had not told him. It could only mean that Hector was willing to put Covle's life on the bargaining table.
“Do you have any idea how much effort I have put into preventing that?” Xavien snapped. “How many lives I have ended, how much effort I have taken to bend Hector's will, how many favors I used to get the Vendakar to provide the mercenaries and assassins to kill Duke Peter?”
Covle's face went pale, “I have done everything you have asked of me...”
Xavien leaned down over Covle's shoulder, his voice a bare whisper, “That is the only reason that you have not suffered an agonizing death.” Covle shivered and Xavien rested a cold hand against the side of his face. “You've been my most loyal servant, Covle... and for that I have spared you the worst of what I could do... until now.”
Covle barely had time to make sense of what Xavien had said before a wave of pure agony washed through him. He fell, twitching to the ground. He couldn't breath, couldn't even scream as his entire body twitched and shuddered.
After what seemed like an eternity the pain cut off, with such suddenness that Covle felt overwhelmed. All he could do was lay on the ground, stunned by the lack of pain.
“Get up,” Xavien hissed.
Covle jerked to his feet, drawn by terror like a puppet on strings. He stood, quivering with fear as Xavien stalked around him. “You have done everything I've asked, Covle, but you haven't once thought ahead as I've needed. I need a military commander, I can't be bothered to do all the thinking.”
Covle's mind raced. He could tell that Xavien wanted him to think, to plan, yet his thoughts ran in circles like panicked deer. “I...” Covle stuttered, “I could derail their peace talks!”
“Good,” Xavien said, “How?”
Covle's eyes swept the tent. His mind felt blank, his thoughts scattered. How had he come to this? His alliance with Xavien had spun out of control, another bit of leverage he had thought to use against his father...
Covle's eyes widened and his gaze fell on the crumpled parchment on his table. He felt his confidence sweep back in. “I will destroy any chance at peace,” Covle said. “I will make it so that this war will not stop, my Lord.” He felt a smile grow broad on his lips. He would show his father what he really thought of his offer.
Xavien stared at him for a long moment. “Very well. Don't fail me Covle. I'd be rather disappointed if you did.”
Covle met his master's eyes, “You won't be disappointed at all.”
***
Lady Katarina Emberhill
Near Kasovia, Duchy of Masov
Thirteenth of Inkar, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering
Katarina couldn't help a grin at Kerrel as the mercenary commander rode up. She could see several of the nobles brought to witness the agreement scowl at her, but she didn't care.
At Kerrel's side rode Lord Hector and a group of his senior officers and various noblemen who supported him rode behind. Katarina's grin faded as she recognized Covle Darkbit in the group. The traitor wore a superior expression, one which made Katarina feel more than a little uneasy.
Behind both groups were a small host of guards, armsmen, and a smaller train of supply horses. In all, Katarina felt no small amount of pride in that she and Kerrel had worked out a basic agreement in only two days. It was amazing what two people could do when they were sufficently motivated. The Armen are coming, she reminded herself, and we need to be ready. It was the one bit of information she hadn't shared, only because Grand Duke Christoffer Tarken had asked her specifically not to tell it to Hector or his people.
“Lord Hector,” Katarina said as the two groups neared one another. “Thank you for coming. I hope that today ushers in a new time for the entire Duchy.”
Hector gave her a sharp nod, but she could tell that he felt uncomfortable. She couldn't blame him, not with some of the agreements she and Kerrel had discussed. This was going to be unpopular with both sides... which probably was the sign of a good compromise.
“We should move to the tent,” Hector said gruffly. “There's much to--”
“My Lord,” Covle Darkbit interrupted, “before we continue, I have some vital information to share with you.”
Katarina's eyes narrowed and she glared at the renegade armsman. One thing that Kerrel had confirmed was that Covle had led Hector's assassins into Ember Castle. The blood of her murdered family rested squarely on the man... along with the blood of so many others.
Hector too scowled at his mercenary and quite a few of his other officers had glares of their own. Covle might be one of Hector's more successful mercenary commanders, but it wasn't like anyone actually liked him ver
y much.
Far from withering under those gazes, Covle actually looked rather smug. He can't think he can actually say anything that will change today's outcome? Katarina felt her skin crawl at is smug smile... and the way that he stared back at her with a hungry expression. She hadn't forgotten that Covle Darkbit had requested her as his prize for helping Hector to murder the rest of her family.
“My Lord,” Covle said, “I am afraid that I don't believe that the rebels have negotiated in good faith. Just last night, my men and I encountered an armed spy in our encampment.” He waved at two of his men, who uncovered one of the pack horses and beneath the tarp was a body, tied down. The quantity of bloodstains showed that this “spy” would not have the opportunity to speak for himself.
She scowled as Covle's pair of men cut the body down and dragged him forward. “You think just because you killed an innocent man that you can claim he was sent by my people?” Katarina demanded. “That's disgusting.”
Covle shook his head, “Oh, you only wish that it was some innocent, don't you my Lady?” He gave a wave at the noblemen behind her. “We all know that Earl Joris is one of Lady Katarina's main supporters.” Growls answered that from many of Hector's supporters. It clear that Earl Joris was just as unpopular with Hector's people as with most of Katarina's. “For that matter, she is engaged to his younger son, Lord Garrel.”
“Get to the point,” Katarina snapped. She didn't see how this had anything to do with a supposed spy.
“Well, I'll do just that,” Covle dismounted and moved over to where his men had dragged up the body. As they drew him closer, she could see signs that the young man had not died quickly. They had mutilated his hands and some of the wounds visible on his back looked like burn marks, as if they'd stuck burning brands to him. The corpse's head hung down, hair covering his face.