“With all due respect, Councilors,” Darius interrupted. “Military strategy is my domain, not yours. The current situation may be far from ideal, but there’s no reason to panic just yet. According to our best informants, the Crell don’t have anywhere near enough soldiers to assault Amberwood, not without pulling significant resources away from the southern front. We have them bottled up in the Darrowmere, and for the moment there’s nothing they can do about it.”
“Our concern is that ‘the moment’ will not last as long as you hope, General,” Savilen replied. “The grim reality is that we’re losing this war, and unless we can turn the tide soon our new queen will have a serious problem on her hands. I’ve already heard whispers from the north-eastern provinces of Beleth and Malgron—if Amberwood falls, Lord Margrove and Lady Zoreal may try to cut a deal with the Imperium before it’s too late.”
“If they do, they forfeit their claims to govern their lands. The queen will not tolerate treason.”
“And what is she going to do about it?” Savilen asked. “Pull soldiers off the front lines to punish them? Order a gang of her Unbound accomplices to burn down any village who opposes her?”
Darius folded his arms across his chest. “Her Majesty will do whatever is necessary to maintain order. The Alliance cannot afford to fracture. Not now, not ever.”
“The Alliance is already fracturing, General. That’s what we’re trying to tell you.”
“Some of our colleagues have dispatched diplomatic envoys to nearby nations,” Jeracho put in gravely. “Not that they would ever admit it openly, of course. But I would not put it past some of them to beg the Yamatans for clemency if the Crell refuse their surrender.”
Darius sighed for probably the hundredth time since this meeting started half an hour ago. “If you trust me to handle the fighting, I will trust you to handle the politics. I plan on traveling to Amberwood personally to oversee the fort’s defenses, and as long as we keep the pressure on in the north and south, this stalemate will hold.”
Savilen cocked a grey eyebrow. “And then what? We cannot fight a defensive war forever, General. If we can’t find a way to deal with these Crell ‘Breakers,’ then I don’t see how we can win.”
“Queen Krystia has assured me that she will have several squads of Unbound channelers prepared to fight on the front lines within the next few weeks,” Darius said. “With their help, we should be able to take back Lanesk and perhaps even Brackengarde.”
The two councilors shared a meaningful glance, and they didn’t bother to hide their disgust. In the three months since Krystia had Ascended and claimed the Solarian throne, the Lord’s Council hadn’t exactly been what Darius would call “cooperative.” Initially they had done everything in their power to outright block her orders, and once that strategy had failed they’d fallen back on simple demagoguery instead. By now they had more or less accepted the fact that Krystia was their only hope of survival against the Crell, and the clever ones like Jeracho and Savilen had finally started trying to advise her rather than overthrow her.
Still, there were many lingering questions about the circumstances of her Ascension, not the least of which was why she had been in a position to defeat King Areekan’s assassins. To this day the palace buzzed with rumors about her rise to power, and many of the nobles believed she had explicitly murdered Areekan and Tevek in order to claim the throne for herself. The very notion was absurd, of course—Krystia could scarcely harm a nephix beetle, let alone kill a man in cold blood. She had resented Areekan, obviously, but she had also loved Tevek like a father. All of Solaria should have been grateful that she had been in a position to save Areekan’s divine spark and Ascend as the new and rightful queen.
Nevertheless, her policies had been considerably more…assertive than he would have expected under the circumstances. She had been downright hostile with the Lord’s Council right from the start; she didn’t seem to realize that even an Ascendant couldn’t maintain order in his or her country without the support of the political elite. And as if that weren’t enough, she had almost immediately freed and then recruited the Unbound from the Asylum. Their sudden and violent release remained an open wound that would probably never scab over.
Darius would be the first to admit that he wasn’t particularly fond of many of her new “friends.” Their de facto leader, a man named Sovan, was particularly problematic. He seemed more interested in whispering dark secrets into Krystia’s ear than actually fighting the Crell, and Darius didn’t trust him in the slightest.
But there was a difference between caution and outright squeamishness, and so far the councilors seemed unable to accept the fact that the Unbound were essentially the only thing standing between Celenest and a horde of Crell Breakers. Not that Darius could completely blame them—Solarians were taught almost from birth that the Unbound were dangerous heretics who needed to be locked away for their own protection. It would take time for that perspective to change.
Time they no longer had.
“I’m not here to paint you a false portrait of the war as it stands,” Darius said into the silence. “The situation is far from ideal, and we’re going to lose a lot of people before this is over. But things could actually be worse—much worse, considering how the war started. Thank Sol we didn’t lose Garos as well.”
“Speaking of the north,” Savilen said, “has Lord Alistan had any luck in his negotiations with the Asgardians?”
Darius shook his head. “I’m afraid not. High King Zharrs remains willing to talk, though, which is something. Another diplomatic envoy should arrive in Lyebel any day now. Alistan remains hopeful that face-to-face negotiations will prove worthwhile.”
“I don’t understand why an entire country full of savage warmongers would be so hesitant to join the war,” Jeracho muttered. “I would think they’d relish the opportunity.”
“They didn’t aid us much in the last war, either,” Darius pointed out. “Right now the problem is actually domestic politics. The High King’s situation is tenuous at best. Some of the other clan lords have been openly challenging his authority. He hasn’t led them to a single victory since his Ascension a few years back.”
Jeracho frowned. “So then why isn’t he jumping at the opportunity to help us battle the Crell?”
“Because we’re being led by an Unbound,” Savilen put in. “Many of the elder shamans believe that makes us no different than the Crell.”
“Which is absurd for a whole host of reasons,” Darius said, waving a dismissive hand. “Their perspective will change in a hurry once the High Sovereign orders his army north—and that’s exactly what’s going to happen when the Crell are finished with us.”
Savilen shrugged. “Perhaps. But now that both our nations have decided to harbor Unbound, you can see why they might be confused…”
“With luck,” Darius went on, trying his best to ignore the subtle jab, “Lord Alistan can convince the Asgardians that the Crell Breakers pose a threat to everyone in Torsia. Right now the elder shamans don’t believe such a channeling technique is actually possible.”
“I’m sure if we asked nicely, the Crell would arrange a demonstration,” Jeracho muttered. “Well, at least we still have Lyebel. Have the Crell made any attempts to retake the city?”
Darius shook his head. “No, I don’t believe they will anytime soon. They’ve withdrawn nearly all their forces in Galvia back to Ashenfel. If we can bolster our soldiers with local recruits—or if the Asgardians finally jump in—there’s a real chance we can liberate the country.”
“And be in a perfect position to threaten the Crell heartland,” Jeracho said, nodding. “They’d be forced to pull troops off the front lines elsewhere.”
“Yes, which is why I believe we should stick with our current defensive strategy. We’ll give the situation a bit more time to unfold.” Darius took a deep breath and clasped his hands behind his back. “In the meantime, please do whatever you can to assure the provincial lords that the sky is no
t falling. We will win this war.”
Savilen tossed a meaningful glance to her colleague and then nodded. “We’ll do what we can, General. Thank you for your report.”
“Of course. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to return to the war room.”
Offering them a final bow, Darius turned and slipped out the door. He maneuvered through the corridors at near record speed, and a few minutes later he was back in his office. The pile of reports on his desk seemed to have doubled over the past hour, and he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“I trust your meeting went as smoothly as always?”
Darius grunted and turned. Sweeping into the room behind him was his chief adjutant, Major Lennox. The man was one of very few soldiers to survive the Crell attack on Brackengarde; he had been General Belyise’s adjutant before she had been killed.
“It could have gone worse,” Darius said. “The rest of the Council could have attended…”
Lennox chuckled. He had spent a large portion of his career serving in Lord Alistan’s personal guard, and he understood politics better than almost anyone else in the Legion. It was one of many reasons Darius had chosen him to help rebuild his command staff after Garos.
“There are times I wonder if we’ll ever see Margrove or Zoreal again,” Lennox murmured.
“Because they’ll flee the country or because they’ll end up tarred and feathered by their own constituents?”
“I’d place roughly even odds on both,” Lennox replied dryly. “Still, at least we have the support of Alistan and Savilen. I may be a bit biased, but I believe they have always been the most cunning and influential councilors. Savilen in particular is as sharp as a Dawn-forged blade.”
“The loss of Lanesk rattled all of them, even her,” Darius said. “I think they can finally feel the Crell breathing down their necks.”
“Can’t we all,” Lennox murmured as he reached down to his belt and pulled out a scroll. “I did want to show you this, General. One of our scouts just informed us that another Crell unit was mysteriously eliminated, this time just a few miles south of Amberwood.”
Darius unrolled the parchment and skimmed over the report. “Four soldiers isn’t a unit.”
“No, but the rest abandoned their position and fled south. And given the rank insignia, one of the dead was very likely a Breaker.”
“So it would seem,” Darius whispered.
Lennox shuffled in place. “You’ll forgive me for saying so, sir, but I figured you’d be pleased. It would seem that your vaeyn friend is still out there.”
Out there and alone, Darius thought to himself. His wounds from Garos had prevented him from properly thanking Elade or Jason or any of the others for saving his life, and after Tevek’s funeral they had all gone their separate ways and effectively disappeared. Krystia had tried to convince Elade in particular to stay and join with the Legion, but the paladin had politely refused and then vanished into the countryside.
For a time, Darius had feared that Elade might turn herself in to the Last Dawn…but then he’d started hearing rumors about a mysterious warrior harassing the Crell behind the lines. The stories were always the same: a strange armored woman would materialize from out of the shadows, dispatch an entire Crell squad all by herself, and then vanish back into the darkness. Some of the soldiers insisted she was a demon; others believed she was a crazy Unbound witch the queen had released from the Asylum. But as the months passed, everyone gradually realized that whatever her true identity, she was almost single-handedly keeping the Crell Breakers in check.
Darius didn’t understand why Elade insisted on fighting this war alone, but more than anything he wanted to speak with her in person. She was clearly reeling from the death of Tevek and her banishment from the Dawn, and he wanted to assure her that she would always have a place in Solaria. But so far she had been little more than a ghost—a ghost on a mission to personally behead the enemy’s greatest weapon.
The problem was that sooner or later, she was going to get herself killed.
“We need to figure out how to get her a message,” Darius whispered. “If I could just speak with her for a few minutes, I’m sure I could convince her to come back to Celenest…”
“Some of our squad commanders have tried to contact her,” Lennox said. “None of them have succeeded, as far as I’m aware. I never thought the Knights of the Last Dawn were the subtle types, but she’s been able to flit across half the country without being pinned down.”
“Vaeyn can see almost perfectly in the dark, and they don’t require nearly as much sleep as humans. She has a number of advantages over our scouts.”
“Still, it’s damned impressive,” Lennox said. “Maybe Her Majesty should send a ship to Calhara and see if the vaeyn would be willing to spare us a few more of their warriors.”
Darius smiled tightly. The presence of a non-human, especially a so-called “dark elf,” would unnerve most of his soldiers—and that was before they learned that Elade was Unbound. But Lennox had never demonstrated the same prejudice, which was yet another reason Darius was glad to have him along.
“Let me know if you hear anything else,” Darius said, handing back the scroll. “I need to speak with the queen, but tomorrow morning you and I are setting off for Amberwood. We’ll personally whip the defenses into shape.”
“Yes, sir,” Lennox said with a half nod. “I’ll make sure everything is prepared by morning. Have a good night.”
He spun on a heel and left, and Darius took a moment to lean against his desk and gather his thoughts. After spending most of the last few weeks down in the Darrowmere, he had been looking forward to spending more time with Krystia. What he wasn’t looking forward to was dealing with her Unbound associates. They ran the gamut from socially awkward to downright intolerable…but such was the price of releasing people who had spent most of their lives in captivity. In the end, he hoped, they would earn their place in the Alliance by helping to fight against the Crell. But so far they had mostly just been a problem…a problem he was already tired of dealing with.
Still, he was a Legion General—he was the Legion General, actually—and if he could handle organizing the defenses of the largest nation in Torsia, he could handle a few social miscreants.
With a final exhausted sigh, Darius collected a few notes from his desk and then set off for the palace.
***
“Raise the barrier!” the drill commander barked out. “Hold the line!”
The channelers thrust upward with their palms, and a heartbeat later a shimmering, translucent dome of bluish Aetheric energy materialized in the air above them. At first, the barrier flickered erratically as if it might disperse at any second, but eventually the students managed to stabilize the matrix and hold firm. There were three of them in total, all Unbound who’d recently been freed from the Solarian Academy of Aether Studies, better known as the “Unbound Asylum.” They certainly weren’t the most powerful channelers Queen Krystia Tharule had ever seen, but she hoped that with time and training they could be molded into the weapons Solaria so desperately needed.
Across the courtyard, a pair of Krystia’s own Bound servants began their assault. They conjured a barrage of fireballs in an attempt to simulate an attack from Crell Imperators, and for the first few salvos the barrier held just fine. The flames splattered harmlessly away, and the soldiers within—represented by makeshift straw figures—were completely unscathed.
But it didn’t last. On the third volley, the shield began to flicker again, and by the fourth it collapsed completely. One of the fireballs detonated right at the center of the straw soldiers, and a plume of smoke rose up and engulfed the courtyard before the Bound could douse the flames.
“They’re getting better,” Krystia said with forced enthusiasm. “Two weeks ago they could only hold for a few seconds.”
“Yes, at this rate they’ll be ready just in time for the Crell to sack Celenest,” Darius grumbled from behind he
r.
Krystia turned and glared at him. He’d been in a sour mood ever since he’d returned from the Darrowmere a few days ago. Not that she could entirely blame him; meeting with the Lord’s Council always made her want to burn down the whole palace. But his lack of enthusiasm for the Unbound was really starting to annoy her.
“Most of them have never seen combat before,” she reminded him, “and it’s not like the Asylum wardens taught them anything about destructive channeling techniques. They’ve been isolated from the world their entire lives.”
“I’m sure General Iouna understands their situation perfectly,” Sovan said with one of his coldest, least authentic smiles. “He’s merely concerned about the inadequacies of his own soldiers. If they were capable of repelling the Crell on their own, then we could take as long as we wanted training our most gifted prodigies. Sadly, this has proven not to be the case.”
Darius’s jaw visibly clenched beneath his cheeks. “Perhaps you’d like to volunteer to hold off the Imperium yourself? I’m sure I can find a spot for you right at the front lines.”
“Stop,” Krystia whispered, her eyes closing. “We’ve been over this.”
“Yes, we have,” Darius said. “They’re not ready yet, and frankly I’m not convinced they ever will be. Learning how to maintain a barrier is one thing, but battlefield discipline is another.”
Sovan snorted. “We can alter the very fabric of the world with a wave of our hand, and you’re worried about whether or not we can march with one boot in front of the other?”
“The Legion has rules for a reason. No army can function without an effective chain of command, and your people don’t seem interested in listening to anyone outside their circle.”
“Then perhaps you should try saying something worthwhile,” Sovan countered. “And while you’re at it, you could stop pretending that they’re normal soldiers. Insisting that they follow the same arbitrary protocols as their inferiors is laughable.”
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