The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  Mattila shrugged. “Not that puppy. I hear he’s smart and eager, but I’ve met and defeated far greater generals in my time. Lennart is too sure of himself, and needs to be taken down a notch. And for all his reputation, he didn’t subdue Sanova, did he?”

  “No, I suppose he didn’t. So you’ll just sit here until my mother begs for help?”

  “Perhaps. I haven’t yet decided. I’ll consolidate my hold on Brandana since I intend to keep it in any event. I’m tired of being sidelined to Moralta whenever there isn’t enough work to keep me busy. Your mother can hardly ignore me if I rule Brandana.”

  “She can’t, though she’ll fly into the most awful rage.” Elektra couldn’t suppress a giggle. “She’s already angry because you haven’t sent me back to Atlona.”

  “You’re free to go anytime,” Mattila said blandly.

  Elektra was sure this wasn’t true, but she pretended it was. Besides, she had no great wish to return to Atlona right now. Since her relationship with the general was more pleasant, it seemed wiser to stay here and learn what she could. She missed Mother Luca, and sometimes remembered Aksel Roussay with a twinge, but they would still be there whenever she returned.

  She smiled at Mattila. “I’m enjoying myself. Working with you is far more interesting than temple school.”

  “Yes, it’s time you learned more practical matters. I’ve told your mother I won’t risk sending you across Kronland again unless I can escort you personally. By now, she ought to understand the dangers.”

  “She doesn’t care about the risks,” Elektra burst out, surprised at the bitterness in her voice. “She doesn’t care what happens to me in the least.”

  “She’d better care. You’re her heir and shaping up to be a rather impressive one.”

  “It’s kind of you to say so, but I doubt she agrees.”

  Mattila made an impatient noise. “She doesn’t agree because she hasn’t seen you in several years. When you left Atlona you were only a child, and understood nothing of military campaigns. Now you’ve been in battle, and you’ve seen what it’s like to run an army of this size.” She paused and regarded Elektra critically. “In fact, it’s time you started your military service. You’re a little young, but more experienced than your mother was at your age. And you’re just as able.”

  “You think so?” Elektra had been terrified of actual military service, but it had always been inevitable. And now she could take care of herself, it didn’t seem as frightening.

  “I’m sure of it. How would you like to command your own infantry unit? You can start small, and work your way up. It will do you good to spend time with common soldiers.”

  Elektra didn’t see how, but decided she wouldn’t stay long in such a lowly position. She lifted her chin. “All right,” she said. “I’m ready.”

  Teodora

  For this important moment, Teodora called her entire council together. “I realize not all of you know of Brynhild Mattila’s misdeeds, but now I have proof, we can discuss them openly. Count?” She nodded at Solteszy, who cleared his throat and began reading from a long sheet of paper.

  He started with a list of smaller infractions, beginning with Mattila’s refusal to leave Norovaea when ordered. It was a galling reminder of the many instances in which she’d openly defied her ruler, but Teodora knew the idiots seated around this table would demand a legal case before backing her. They murmured unhappily when confronted with Mattila’s refusal to invade Terragand, but murmurs turned to shouts of outrage when she unveiled Mattila’s real treachery.

  “A Kronland ruler is ordained by both the Empire and the Faith,” an old duke blustered. “She cannot simply declare herself as one.”

  “No, she cannot.” Teodora had to stop herself from smiling too broadly. Keeping her council in the dark for so long had been wise. Rather than receiving the hints and trickles of information Teodora had endured for the past months, she’d deliver all of it today in one blow. They’d have no choice but to react. “Not only does she violate our dearest laws and traditions, she is threatening the safety of my darling daughter. I’ve ordered the Archduchess Elektra returned to Atlona, and she has refused to deliver her.” Another gasp from the group. “It’s time to put a stop to this rebellious behavior.”

  “Can we stop her?” A young Olvisyan count asked rather eagerly. Teodora looked him over, remembering that this was his first council meeting upon replacing his father who’d died recently. A small, dark-haired, wiry fellow, he seemed energetic enough. If he proved himself competent, Teodora might find a use for him.

  “We shall.” Teodora smiled at him until he glowed under her regard. “But we must proceed with care. Mattila is rich and powerful, with a large army at her disposal. Our first step will be to remove that army from her control. We must also ensure the safety of the archduchess. I’ve acted already in secret, since Mattila has agents everywhere.” She left it unsaid that for all she knew, a few sat on this council.

  “King Arryk was kind enough to send the first installment of reparations early. I will use those funds to entice Mattila’s officers away from her.” It wasn’t necessary to mention the uncivil tone of Arryk’s correspondence. As long as Teodora had his brother, he’d have to do what she wanted.

  “When will you do this? How?” someone asked.

  “I’m doing it already.” Teodora wanted to laugh at their dumbstruck faces. “Two weeks ago, Livilla Maxima set out with a large sum of money and an even larger force guarding it. She bears my orders to Mattila, relieving her of command and releasing the archduchess into her care.”

  “What if Mattila refuses?” the young count asked. He looked like he was spoiling for a fight.

  “I expect her to refuse.” Teodora kept her tone casual. “But her consent isn’t needed. She can call herself supreme general as long as she wants, but she will have no army to command. The clerics of the League of Aeternos have already been in contact with every officer under Mattila. When Livilla arrives with my order, they will submit to it publicly, in exchange for suitable compensation, which Livilla will have on hand.”

  “What will keep Mattila from simply taking the money from her?” The young count was being annoyingly curious, though Teodora reminded herself to be patient. His interest could be useful.

  “Mattila has a lot of enemies. She’s a brutal bully and most don’t enjoy working for her. We are offering hard coin and an opportunity to serve under Count Ensden, who is known for being far more reasonable. Upon a word from Livilla, the bulk of Mattila’s army will leave her and move into Terragand to join Ensden. It’s all arranged.”

  “Astonishing, Your Highness,” a dried-up old duchess said. “I suppose once she’s without an army, it will be easy to remove Mattila from Brandana.”

  “In time,” Teodora said. “First we must deal with the threat from Estenor. Lennart is ready to invade, and will likely do so as soon as the weather clears. I’m sure he had hoped to take advantage of Mattila’s inactivity, and is expecting a small, scattered force in Terragand. He’ll be in for a surprise when he finds out the hard way that Ensden has been strengthened by the bulk of Mattila’s forces. Once Lennart is defeated, we’ll take on Mattila and force her to leave Brandana.”

  Teodora sat back and enjoyed the noises of commendation coming from her council. Useless as they were—she’d had to arrange all of this without them after all—they’d provide an air of legitimacy to everything she did. Even the Kronland rulers would be impressed by this move. Any of them who hoped for Kendryk’s speedy reinstatement would be disappointed.

  She rose. “We’ll reconvene as soon as I receive word from Livilla that Mattila is removed from command, and the archduchess is safe. In the meantime, we prepare for war against Lennart. The sooner we send him back to his icy wasteland of a country, the better.”

  Anton

  After a few months with Mattila’s army, Anton realized he needed to accept that the count and Cid were gone. He had to make plans for life on his own.
What he couldn’t accept was Skandar belonging to someone else. He’d finally become brave enough to sneak around at night, and located the general’s horses. Sure enough, Skandar stayed in a stable near her headquarters. Anton wasn’t able to get close, because there were always people around him, but he swore he heard Skandar nicker. He must have sensed his real owner was nearby.

  Anton had to content himself with knowing that Skandar was being well cared for, since he didn’t know how to break him out. The whole area around General Mattila swarmed with other generals, even more officers, and all of their guards. And Anton looked so ragged, no one would even mistake him for a servant.

  He hated not having any money; not even enough to buy a decent doublet or cloak. Surprisingly, he didn’t freeze to death, since the wool of his only doublet was so thin. He couldn’t afford liquor, and made do with the weak ale served out with regular rations.

  Seeing Skandar and knowing he was all right made him understand how hard it would be to get his old life back. Maybe he wouldn’t get it back at all.

  “You shouldn’t be sad on such a beautiful day.” A clear voice rang out beside him.

  Anton skidded to a stop. He’d been wandering around camp, feeling sorry for himself. “It’s not a beautiful day,” he said, looking up at the lowering clouds, then at the girl who’d spoken.

  She grinned at him. “At least I got you to look up.”

  “True,” Anton said, looking at her with interest. He hadn’t paid much attention to girls lately, and they hadn’t given him much either. This one wasn’t his usual type, but she wasn’t bad. Short and round, light brown curls, a snub nose with a dusting of freckles across it, she looked like a maid in the Maxima’s palace. A broad smile revealed a gap between her top front teeth, and her hazel eyes were merry. He almost smiled back.

  “I’m Susanna,” she said, coming to a halt. Anton saw she’d been dragging some kind of cart. “Aren’t you with the Moraltan pike?”

  “I am,” Anton said, though he didn’t volunteer anything further. There was no point in making friends if he was going to leave again soon.

  But Susanna wasn’t going anywhere. “Weren’t you one of those taken prisoner after Count Orland’s defeat?”

  “Yes.” Anton clenched his teeth.

  She laughed, something she looked like she did often. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you don’t want to talk about that. How do you like serving in the pike?”

  “I hate it,” Anton burst out. They had stopped in the middle of camp, and she put down her little barrow, stretching her arms. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the barrow.

  “My goods.” She pulled a canvas back to show piles of everything from clothes and shoes, buttons and spools of thread, to bottles of liquor, and even a few cheeses. “I peddle these all over camp.”

  So she was just trying to sell him something. No wonder she was so friendly. Anton didn’t even bother looking further. “Sorry,” he said. “Don’t have any money.”

  “I offer credit,” she said, still smiling. “To friends.”

  “I’m not your friend.” Anton hoped he didn’t sound too rude.

  She sucked in her lower lip. It showed the gap in her top teeth to advantage, or disadvantage, depending on how you felt about gaps.

  “We can be friends, if you want.” She smiled at him in a way he hadn’t been smiled at in a long time. Anton decided he liked the gap.

  He didn’t know what she saw in him, looking like a dirty scarecrow. “Hey, Susanna,” he said. “You’re really nice. But it’s better for me if I don’t have friends. I’m leaving soon.”

  “Really? Where? On a secret mission for the general?” He saw from the spark in her eye she was teasing him.

  “Hardly.” He had to smile just a little. “But I have something important to do, and have to go as soon as I can.”

  Her eyes grew huge. “But you can’t! That’s desertion, and you’ll be killed when they catch you. You shouldn’t even joke about something like that. They caught a fellow a few weeks ago and you should have seen what they did to him.”

  Anton had seen. They flogged the man until he was a bloody mess, then hanged him until he strangled to death slowly. “I won’t get caught,” Anton said, though he wasn’t about to breathe a word about Skandar. He had decided he wouldn’t be taken alive.

  “You will,” she said frowning. “Please promise me right now you won’t try it. You must find another way to get an official discharge.”

  “I can’t.” Anton had already asked about that, and it involved buying out his five-year contract, which he had entered when the girl scribbled his name onto a piece of paper. He’d also have to come up with bribes for the sergeant, and the officers all the way up to Count Michalek to get them to consider it. Far easier to steal Skandar back.

  “Well then, you’ll have to make the best of it, won’t you? Listen, I understand this life isn’t much fun, especially when you’re used to better, which I can tell you are.”

  Anton didn’t know how she could tell, but it was probably part of her sales speech. He shook his head, but she went on.

  “I can help you. Let’s start by finding you some warm clothes. You can pay me back when you get money.”

  “That might be months. It’s already been months.”

  “Or, you could help me.”

  “How?” He couldn’t imagine that she needed help.

  “I can make a lot more money if I visit the tents with all the dice and card games, but it’s not safe for me to go alone. If you come with me, I can sell liquor to the soldiers and give them cash for whatever they’ll sell me.”

  “You can do that?” Anton had watched quite a few card games, but never took part because he had nothing to gamble.

  “Sure. But when it’s a lot of men they can get rowdy, and I have trouble keeping my money, not to mention my honor.” There was that smile again. “I need a bodyguard.”

  Anton thought about it, but he didn’t have to think long. “I’ll need a weapon,” he said.

  “That’s no problem.” Susanna turned and rummaged in her cart, soon producing a dagger with a jeweled hilt and finely etched blade.

  “That’s pretty,” Anton said. “But I’ll look ridiculous holding it.” It went without saying that such a weapon belonged on a fine leather belt around a velvet doublet, lace cascading nearby.

  “True,” she said. “But I can help you with that. Give me a few hours and I’ll get some nice clothes for you. Don’t worry about paying for them, or credit or anything. Consider it an advance on what I’ll pay you for helping me out.”

  “What are you paying me?” Anton realized he hadn’t asked about that part of it.

  “How about half of all the coin I take in at the gambling parties?”

  “That seems like a lot. Aren’t you doing all the work?” Anton didn’t want to take advantage of her kindness.

  “Mostly. But I’ll keep all the goods I get. Those can be worth quite a bit. We’ll keep the coin we take in separate from what I pay out. I’m good at keeping a ledger, if you want to check it.”

  “Er,” Anton said. He was about to add that he trusted her, then realized that would be foolish. He’d heard about these girls who peddled wares of all kinds in camp, and they were the opposite of trustworthy. Just because she looked and acted kind didn’t mean she was. “All right,” he said. “We’ll go over accounts after every party. My father was a merchant, so I know what’s what.” He tried to look stern.

  “Perfect.” Susanna offered a small, plump hand. “Welcome to the business.”

  Braeden

  Karil dropped the wooden sword. “Are you all right?”

  “Sure.” Braeden forced a smile and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Just out of practice. I ought to visit Kazmir.” Best not to humiliate himself any further in front of Karil’s friends.

  “We’re getting old,” Braeden murmured against Kazmir’s neck, once the two of them were alone. After he’d caught his breath, he c
alled for a groom, so at least he wouldn’t kill himself trying to saddle his own horse. Three months of inactivity had left him weaker than a baby.

  By the time Braeden rode out, Trystan had joined him. “I was hoping you’d come out,” he said. “It’s time we moved again. We’ve run into a lot of Ensden’s skirmishers lately, so he’s probably figured out where we are. Are you well enough to ride for a day or two?”

  “I believe so,” Braeden said, though he wasn’t sure at all. He’d barely survived the last move.

  “Good. As soon as you’re ready, I’d like it if you’d lead patrols. Everyone’s demoralized, but having a famous Sanova Hussar at their head would lift their spirits.”

  “Ex-Sanova Hussar,” Braeden said heavily. It had been a hard winter, and not just for Duke Trystan’s harried, outnumbered troops. Under Doctor Sarborg’s care, Braeden slid into despair. He’d replaced the first wave of overwhelming grief after Kersenstadt with anger, and considerable activity. But with nothing to do but lie in bed, he slid back into the numb lethargy that had plagued him in Allaux.

  Karil had done his best to be encouraging, but Braeden sensed him pulling away. Trystan had made him a lieutenant of musketeers, and Karil was busy with his unit, making friends with other young officers. From his bed, Braeden could hear their shouts as they practiced and played in the courtyard below.

  This was a force unlike any Braeden had ever been part of. Around a core of young Podoskan officers who’d followed Trystan from his home were the remnants of Seward Kurant’s army. After fighting Daciana Tomescu for a year, few of these veterans remained.

  The rest of the force was a hodge-podge of Terragand militia volunteers and imperial deserters. They numbered barely two thousand, had no money, no supplies, and little hope of victory. They survived by stealing, first from the local populace, and once all of that was gone, attacking Ensden’s supply trains. This was risky; the trains were heavily guarded and every attack—even successful ones—diminished their numbers still further.