Oathbreaker: The Knight's Tale

by Colin McComb

  This was our most hated duty: courtier work, necessary to find out what they wanted from us. Would they be seeking to expand the frontier skirmishes, or were they content with the progress of our many tiny flares of fighting? Did they seek intensification or a withdrawal based on the success or failure of their business dealings? Would we be drawn into another Siullan conflict to fortify the coffers of the wealthy? My staff and I did not like to be caught unaware of such things, and the spy network I had built was not experienced enough to deal with the many wiles of the court. As I excused myself from the company of the Dowager Duchess of Garand, I found young Viscount DeBow at my elbow. He was a slim fellow, blond, short, favoring clothing of plain browns. He was also a member of the Vukovi, which, to my knowledge, required none of the military’s services at this time.

  “Your Excellency,” he said, “may I have a moment of your time?”

  “Of course, Viscount.” I bowed. “How may I serve you?” He engaged me immediately in a conversation of little import, gossip and the like. I thought at first that he was attempting to gain a favor for a relative in the military, or that he had suggestions as to the deployment of troops in some skirmish or another. I paid him rote responses and took little heed of his prattle until he said, “General Glasyin, do you love the Empire?”

  I gave him my full attention. A small smile danced behind his lips. I replied evenly, “I would give my life for it.” He bowed and excused himself. As he left, I replayed the conversation quickly through my mind. Was he a spy from some cabal? Had my enemies on the council convinced Fannon that I required a loyalty check? Had I said or done anything that might throw my love of and duty to the land into doubt, even after all these years? What about my service to the king? I have been in the Imperial court for decades now, and this callow youth had just warned me I was being watched. But under whose direction? I could go to no one if I wanted to see how this played out. If I wished to expose potential corruption, I could not speak to the king’s advisors, for that would reveal my loyalties immediately. I resolved to be more careful with my words in the future, that I might discover the truth. I said nothing to my men, which I bitterly regret now.

  I did not have long to wait. Within a few days, at another gathering in the court in which the courtiers discussed the wildfire uprisings and the small peasant revolts, the Baroness of Imlay, a vassal of House Deng, caught me alone as I filled my drink. I thought she might wish to talk about this “self-rule” that some of the western teachers and ecclesiasts were preaching, but instead she engaged me in a meaningless conversation on military history, focusing mainly on our victories and the glories our armies and diplomats had won. As she spoke, I began to get the uncomfortable sense that while these might be her words, the sentiment in her speech had been planted in order to draw me out. When she began to contrast the Empire of old with the Empire of the modern day and spoke of decay and rebirth, I knew for certain.

  “Baroness, do you suggest that our Empire has stagnated, that we are past the ability to reach for glory?”

  “No, General, but I do suggest that, just as a man weakens if he does not constantly exercise himself, so too could the body politic lose strength if it remains inert. As this body loses strength, its enemies must see its enervation as opportunity.”

  “So instead of saying we are past the point of no return,” I replied, “you suggest that we waste away through lack of ambition.”

  “I do,” she said, “and in the end, apathy leads to death. We must surely do something. Would you not agree that weakness left untreated leads to death?”

  “I cannot disagree.”

  “And therefore, as with the body, the Empire must again exercise itself if it is not to fall prey to debilitating illness?”

  “I concede the point.”

  “Then all that is required of us is to begin the process of motion. And where else does this process begin in the body but in the brain?”

  “And you suggest that we motivate the brain to begin the exercise anew?” I said. “Surely you understand that the king is not eager to embark on any new ventures, not with his new child consuming his attention, nor with the tax situation being what it is. Indeed, I see this time as one of great precariousness. It is our duty to tread carefully so as to prevent utter chaos.”

  “It is a time to walk carefully, or a time to act decisively. Glasyin, you have seen many of these moments in your life as a leader. You must know when it is time to act.”

  “I would first hear your proposal. Grand rhetoric is useful for stirring to action, but carefully planned deeds direct the unformed into a useful shape.”

  “What makes you think that I have a proposal?” she said.

  “It would be a pity,” I replied, “if this were simply idle talk. Indeed, if this were simply idle talk, it might be construed as treason.”

  She studied my face carefully. “Thank you for your words and your time, General. I hope to speak to you again soon.”

  “I hope to understand your position on the subject more deeply,” I said, and sketched a bow. When I straightened, she had moved into the crowd in the shadows under the high, vaulted ceiling.

  So. It was a plot, then, a plot aimed at the very heart of the Empire. And clearly they had the tacit support of at least two High Houses, or were making an effort to appear as if they did. By approaching me, they had as much as said that they thought my duty to the Empire was greater than my loyalty to the king—and they clearly thought that I was the sort of man who would agree to that.

  I resolved to give the matter some thought and to appear in the company of the courtiers until the conspirators made the next move. I told no one of my suspicions. I could not show my hand until I knew where I stood. In truth, I was greatly troubled. Was the Empire’s claim on me greater than my friendship with the king? I could not answer that question. It nagged at me.

  These questions were put to me the next night, as I passed quietly along the fringes of the Autumnal Ball, held under the balmy moonlight in the winter-tinted breeze. It was likely to be one of the last good nights of the summer before the fall storms hit. Torches flickered in the gardens, and a calmer yellow light flowed over the king and queen on their dais, pouring from the Archmagus’s glass globe. Revelry and merriment in the throng, plotting and whispers among the dark, assignations and threats, promises and betrayals—all the usual despicable entertainment of the court. I, of course, stuck to the shadows, fending off requests to dance with a slight smile and a gesture toward my leg: I had bandaged it earlier in the night to provide myself with an excuse to keep from dancing, and I was careful to favor it visibly.

  This caution, however, was not enough to protect me from the worst injury I have received in all my time in the Imperial armies. Worse still, this injury came from one of my most trusted friends.

  As I chatted amiably with Captain Hargrave, one of the king’s pages found me and bade me follow her. She led me to the king’s pavilion, and I entered. He sat alone, stretched out on a comfortable couch, his once-muscled frame now given way to fat. A glass of wine sat near to hand, and the remains of his dinner lay strewn on the small table in front of him. I bowed deeply; though we had been friends for decades, he was still my king.

  “Your Majesty.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t get up,” he said. “Please, have a seat, have a seat.”

  I took a small chair, facing him. He swallowed some wine and began to tear my heart to pieces.

  “We have had many years together, have we not, Glasyin? I remember best the times before the coronation. Fewer cares then, eh? Still all the interminable business of learning to be king and leading the country and so forth, but—bah. I dwell too much in the past these days, and it worries me. And that’s what I wanted to speak to you about.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t follow you.”

  “My faculties are slipping, General. My mind is not what it once was. Nor, I should add, is my body. I’ve lost much of my grace with my lack of acti
vity.” He belched. “Pardon me. I have worked long for the Empire, and I think I have done a passable job of keeping it together. We have built it well toward the future, you and I, and I think it time we began passing the work of maintaining it to a younger generation.”

  “Your Majesty, I—”

  He interrupted me with a curt wave of his hand. “You are no longer a young man either, Glasyin. You have served with distinction and honor these many years, and our armies are in the best shape they have ever been, I believe. This is due to your leadership and your innovations. However, it is time for you to step aside and allow new vision to guide our forces.”

  “Your Majesty—”

  “Your pension is assured, of course, and I have signed an order granting you and your heirs land in perpetuity in honor of the service you have performed for this Empire.”

  “Your Majesty!”

  He looked me in the eye, then, and I saw some of his old fire. “General, your time is through. You are an excellent leader of men, but you are not well loved in the court. I need a commander who is equally adept at the tactics of the court as the strategy of the battlefield. To that end, I have appointed Count-General Beremany as the new leader of our forces, effective immediately.”

  “Your Majesty, he is a capable leader and brilliant strategist, but I do not believe he has the necessary understanding of the common soldier to—”

  “What does the common soldier matter?”

  “A great deal, your Majesty,” I replied hotly, “if you hope to win battles!”

  “Then I’m sure Beremany will learn to understand them better.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be another butcher like Hawkins.”

  “Are you questioning my order, General?”

  “Of course not, your Majesty, but—”

  “Then I suggest you shut your mouth.”

  I did. An attendant came and whispered in the king’s ear.

  He closed his eyes. “I respect you a great deal, Glasyin, more than you imagine. I have relied on you for years to guide me true. I do not do this lightly. There are political matters at stake as well. None of our enemies can mount a credible threat to us at this point. If I thought otherwise, this would be a much harder decision. As it is, our greatest threats come from within the Empire. Do not imagine I have not felt the strain of keeping it together. The appointment of Beremany will appease a certain faction, and when the tension has eased, I will allow you to name his successor. Five to ten years should be enough.”

  I swallowed. “Your Majesty, may I address my troops?”

  “You may. Naturally, I expect you to present this in a positive light. I know you love this land, Glasyin.”

  “Thank you, your Majesty.”

  “I’ll let you make the announcement to the court tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.” I rose.

  “As you leave, please send Beremany in.”

  I bowed slightly, turned, and left the pavilion. Black-haired, black-hearted Jason Beremany stood outside, his handsome face wreathed with satisfaction. He bowed his head, and it was good that he did, for had I seen a smile on his face, I would have slit his throat from ear to ear.

  I found Hargrave and told him to call a general muster of his troops in the morning. He opened his mouth to ask why, saw my face, and left half-running. In my turn, I retreated to a marble bench in the back of the garden. I couldn’t leave the party now, but at the same time, I had no desire to be the object of everyone’s gossip. I was certain Beremany had spread news of his good fortune and my ill before he even entered the pavilion. That scheming little bastard.

  I sat in the dark, listening to the party, plotting, plotting. The revel was winding down when the Count of Ithan threw himself noisily to the marble bench beside me. I knew this pudgy man fairly well, and had even counted myself among the outer reaches of his circle of friends at one point. He was a vivacious, jovial man, but I knew a calculating, cunning mind lay beneath his kindness. Still and all, he was not a bad man. I liked him better than most in the court.

  “What a night, Glasyin, what a night!” he exclaimed, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I’ve been dancing all night with anyone who’d have me.”

  I forced a laugh. “But for my leg, I’d have joined you myself.”

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “A stupid accident,” I replied. “While I was cleaning my dress sword, I dropped it. My reflexes are slowing. It’s a good thing my mind remains as sharp as ever, because it appears that I can’t be trusted to carry my own blades.”

  He laughed with me, but I thought his laughter had a forced quality. Perhaps I was imagining it. He leaned back, stretching, and said, “Ah, but fighting in the wars personally is no longer your duty, is it?”

  “That task has fallen to more able citizens,” I replied curtly.

  “For the many battles you’ve fought, I suppose, it’s only just that you can now retire safely behind the lines.” He paused. “Of course, I have heard the news, and you have my condolences.”

  “My thanks.”

  “I know that the warriors of Ithan County felt safe with your steady hand guiding them in the wars. Many of the other counties’ men feel the same. You are a valuable resource to this land, Glasyin. In fact, I’d say that your leadership might be all that keeps the army in line right now. Who knows what might happen with Beremany in charge?”

  I turned my head to him again. He was gazing at me blandly, but I could practically hear his thoughts. I looked back at a few revelers staggering through the gardens. I turned my eyes out over the city stretched out beneath us, and said calmly, “I saw a puppet show in the city the other day.”

  He looked surprised, but said nothing. I continued, “I found it entertaining. All these marionettes, dancing on strings controlled by a woman hidden behind the façade. They danced and moved through their routines, through the play she’d written for them, and all the children were delighted with the show. They forgot that they were watching an artist at work and were transported by the story the puppets told. When it was over and the children left, the puppets lay on the stage, unmoving. I congratulated the puppeteer on a fine show.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I’m not certain what you mean.”

  “Puppets are entertainment,” I replied, “tools. When their strings are being manipulated, they put on a hell of a show. When they’re not, they’re boring, lifeless, dead. It’s the puppeteer who’s full of life. It’s the puppeteer who’s the one the crowd should get to know.”

  “I don’t follow you.”

  “I’m ready to see the guiding hand behind this show,” I said. “No disrespect intended, my dear count, but I have had enough of the marionettes.”

  He had the good sense to pretend ignorance and rose apologetically. “Ah, General,” he said, “perhaps we have both had enough to drink. I wish you a good night, and hope to see you when we’re a little less… well…” He bowed and smiled.

  I grinned mirthlessly at him and offered no other words as he left. A good exit, I thought, and one that would cover for him should I decide to reveal the plot. I never considered the possibility that he might not be involved. Of course he was.

  I reclined on the bench, closing my eyes for a few brief minutes in the predawn darkness, and I heard the click of boot heels coming down the marble walk toward me. I cracked my eyes as the walker stopped in front of me. Duke Athedon (a favored scion of House Cronen), dressed casually as usual, disdaining the finery of the court even on a formal occasion. Athedon. Beremany was in his House. A cousin, if I recalled correctly.

  “Do you mind if I sit here, General Glasyin? I’d like a word or two with you.” His voice was low and even, with an undercurrent of warmth.

  “Regarding puppets?” I said. “Plots in the darkness and so forth?”

  “Actually, yes.”

  “I congratulate you on your show, sir. All your puppets have performed nicely. I wasn’t aware that you had strings attached to the king as well,
though.”

  “I hope you will forgive me for that, Glasyin. I needed someone whose weaknesses I could control—a man whose nature I know well. I hope you will recognize this as a compliment to you. It’s a poor strategist who commits himself without knowing the strength of all forces. I do not have your measure, but I respect you tremendously. I simply couldn’t risk it.”

  “My thanks, Athedon, but the time for flattery has passed.”

  “The time for flattery should never have existed, General. So let me ask directly: Do you know what is coming?”

  “I believe,” I replied, “that you are planning a coup, probably before winter ends, or perhaps shortly thereafter. I have seen the positions in the palace changing. I have seen the king bow to political expediency in the name of national security. And knowing full well my loyalty to the Empire, you have removed me from the position from which I might oppose this coup.”

  His expression didn’t move, but a smile came to his eyes. “Glasyin, I am glad to know that I did not underestimate you. I know that you are shocked and surprised to find my… our… plans so far along. I believe you to be an honorable man, and a good man, and your opinion matters more than you know. May I tell you how all this came to happen?”

  I nodded, and wondered where his assassins were. He wouldn’t be telling me this unless he knew perfectly well that no others could hear his treachery.

  He said, “I am a student of history. I have read all the great historians of our age and the last, as well as the more obscure theoreticians and the writers of historical fiction. I have studied the ebb and flow of power from one country to the next over hundreds of years, and I have come to the inescapable conclusion that unless something dramatic happens with this land, we will lose ourselves in the mists of history. I am not talking about eventually, I am talking about the next generation. If we wait even another decade, it may be too late.