Squinting, Vermilies could also see a brown horse standing on shaky legs alongside the knight, who was holding the reins. Clenched between arm and armor was a helm with a golden crest. Vermilies sighed and stood up, leaving his tunic to dry.
I better have a talk with everyone before the natives start to panic.
Heading down the hill, Vermilies pulled up to the cluster of jabbering workmen, spreading his hands out in a calming gesture.
“Everyone, don’t worry! That is just a beast of burden like an ox.”
And apparently no longer a military secret.
The laborers looked at him in curiosity and a few began to relax. Vermilies stood with them as the ferry pulled up, recognizing the distinctive helm of Colonel Penha.
If there’s anything these people need to worry about, it’s the beast in armor, not the one with four legs. The horse looks terrified on that little raft.
The old woman he had spoken with earlier was now approaching. “Listen to this young man,” she advised the others confidently. Her wizened face peered up at Vermilies.
“Foreigner, could you speak with the man and his beast?”
“Certainly, Grandmother,” replied Vermilies, masking his reluctance. He could have happily gone the rest of his life without dealing with the Knights of Serraca. He was beginning to think he could have happily gone the rest of his life just on this island, so very similar to his own hundreds of leagues north.
We are distant cousins after all, speaking a similar tongue, and now pleasantly united under the same overlord.
Still, he approached the boat as it was being roped in to dock by the ferrymen from Tamani. The knight cautiously stepped onto the pier, as if skeptical the wooden structure would bear his weight, and then tugged on the horse’s reins. The horse’s ungainly arrival on the pier drew whispers and surprise from the nearby workers. Colonel Penha strode forward, finally deigning to look at Vermilies and the native audience with barely concealed disdain.
“Greetings, Colonel Penha. What brings you across from Tamani?”
The knight stared at him. “Have we met?”
You don’t remember? We ended a war together, you and I. I’ll be written out of the history books at this rate!
“Enbo Vermilies, sir. I translated the treaty that concluded the Battle of the Irragonda River.”
“Oh. Yes. You blend in so well with the others.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“It is no compliment. Where is your tunic? Gone native already? You look like a farmer.”
“Ah… it is out to dry.”
He snorted. “I should have you whipped.”
Vermilies hid his dismay, as he had for weeks. I should have stayed put. Not just today, I should have stayed put on the Jade Sea Islands. Stayed put and let our Syriot overlords busy about subjugating half the world. What an idiot I was, signing up for this expedition.
The colonel brushed past. “Perhaps I will do so later. Show me to the center of town. I’ll need a stable for my horse as well as personal lodgings.”
“Of course,” Vermilies jogged a few paces to keep up with the knight’s brisk stride. “I can take you there, but there isn’t much of a town here. Will you just be staying the night?”
“No.”
“I see…”
Vermilies stepped off the pier and walked onto the dirt path leading into town, the bystanders giving them plenty of space but still gawking at the new arrivals. You would almost think they hadn’t already been invaded.
“Just this way, my lord.” Vermilies started, glancing over his shoulder at Colonel Penha, who was casting suspicious looks at the nearby workers. The horse followed behind them and a few curious onlookers trailed along as well. They trudged onward for a few minutes, reaching the hill where Vermilies had been sitting, and he peeled off to grab his still-damp tunic and shrug it on.
“Fine spot for a church,” Colonel Penha grunted, looking around in approval.
“Sir?” Vermilies couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.
“Yes, a church. We will need one built soon if they are to become proper Syriot subjects.”
“Oh.”
“Well, these savages won’t ever be proper subjects, but their children might and their grandchildren will. We’ve won this territory and I mean to make this place a holy island. You know the terms of their surrender as well as anyone else.”
Vermilies craned his head back, a doubtful look on his face. “I hadn’t interpreted the armistice agreement in quite that manner.”
Colonel Penha spat. “Armistice. A meaningless distinction.”
“It wasn’t meaningless to the Emperor. He spent quite some time on that very issue.”
The knight fixed Vermilies with a hard stare. “There is only one Emperor.” He tugged at the horse’s reins and continued following the path.
Not knowing how to respond, Vermilies simply fell silent and continued trailing along behind the knight. Ah, back in the loving embrace of Syriot rule. Indeed, the Syriots had their Emperor as well, though tales of the man’s poor health were common enough even in their far-flung colonies. And rumors were that he had already passed away some time ago, the vagaries of imperial secretiveness and the long ocean journey the only reasons that the news hadn’t spread.
Still, best not to even think about it among the Knights of Serraca. It is said they can smell the heresy in a person’s thoughts. A year ago I would have laughed that off but I have seen magic burn a man alive.
“This island has a good stock of trees,” the colonel remarked as they wound their way through the forested center of the island. “We’ll be able to build a fort and a church in no time. How many laborers here do you think we can round up?”
Vermilies blinked, distracted from the conversation by the sudden fading of light. He looked up and saw a scattering of clouds above him.
“What is it?” Colonel Penha asked in some annoyance, then stopped and looked up. A few thick clouds blocked the sun and Vermilies felt a sudden chill in the air.
“The first rains will begin soon,” Vermilies said.
The knight grunted and continued walking down the path.
“We don’t have time to lose. I want men working before the monsoon begins.”
“Yes sir,” said Vermilies slowly, moving forward.
So much for getting time off.
“After all, the main part of the second fleet has already arrived in the Jade Sea Islands.”
Vermilies blinked. “The, uh, what sir?”
“I would think you’d know the word for fleet, boy. You know, big boats, lots of soldiers on board. It’s due in a few weeks and General Eben has tasked me with preparing their quarters.”
“Oh… I hadn’t realized.”
“You were not meant to. The princess will be aboard and General Eben requires only the best for her. So we need to begin construction immediately.”
“Oh…”
A second fleet?
They had crested the highest part of the island and Vermilies now stared into the distant ocean, a yawning chasm of blue that stretched all the way toward the distant Syriot Empire.
I wonder what the natives will think…
“This island is just the beginning,” Colonel Penha said, his voice thick with enthusiasm. “Now that General Eben’s scouting force has made landfall the real invasion can commence in earnest.”
Chapter Sixty-Three
Unity
General Samuso Kintari screamed again as his face was pressed expertly in the dirt, just as he had screamed for the previous two hours, ragged outbursts interspersed by the elephant’s occasional shifting. Imperial court elephants had a long history of exquisite torture techniques and Ivory Throne was one of the best. The ancient albino wrapped his trunk around one of the man’s legs, pulling it up as he forced the general’s body downward with a heavy foot. General Kintari’s death was to be a very long and painful one, just like the captured Lord Palani Shinzen before him.
They may think me young. They may think me misguided. But I will not have them think me weak.
Emperor Banisu kept his expression still as he looked over what remained of the Imperial Court. He had heard the grumblings already; that he had avoided battle until he could not run any further, that his only support came from mercenaries and young sycophants, and that the only reason the Three Clans had held together was through a delicate political alliance and the ‘boy’ would be their ruin.
Well, now Marshal Feruke Hangyul is dead, Lord Shinzen is dead, the regent Abbot Cibu is dead, and General Kintari is about to join them. There is no longer another option for them but me or the Syriots.
Clods of dirt flew in the air as Ivory Throne flung General Samuso Kintari up high to slam back into the ground.
I am, once again, the consensus candidate.
General Kintari lay unmoving in the dirt, surrounded by the remaining loyal nobles, forced to watch this display by courtly etiquette and veiled threats. Banisu felt sympathy welling up in him again.
A terrible emotion for an emperor. Did he deserve this death? Probably not. But what did it matter?
Abbot Cibu had taught him fairness was a luxury he couldn’t afford. The prone figure of General Kintari stirred once more and he let out a low, lingering moan. Die already, damn you! From somewhere in the crowd of nobles came a low weeping and Banisu scanned the audience. Their shock had faded long ago into stunned resignation.
They understand now. The next time we fight they will choose a quick death in battle over a slow death from a court elephant. If I drag this out any longer they will just think me cruel. He waited another minute as Ivory Throne dragged the fallen noble by the leg. But a little cruelty goes a long way.
Emperor Banisu leaned over now and gestured at the elephant’s mahout. The emperor smashed his right fist into his left hand. The mahout nodded, patting the elephant and saying a few words under the enormous ear flap. Emperor Banisu didn’t know whether Ivory Throne was simply well-trained or just had a flair for the dramatic, but the ancient albino made a show of it, treading around the moaning figure as if waiting for the right moment. The elephant had learned to torture back in Emperor Banisu’s grandfather’s reign, although his victims had mostly been pirates or religious heretics.
Never a lord. My grandfather would never have dared.
Emperor Banisu sat back, reflecting gloomily on the lost territories that used to be under Hangyul control. Stories had swept through the Imperial camp that most of the occupied towns were grudgingly cooperating with the enemy. The massive territory formerly ruled by Lord Shinzen was a mess of jungles and mountains and ravines and it was hard to tell who controlled it now.
Emperor Banisu looked at the section of nobles from Clan Kintari; some of whom would be related to the man currently dying in front of them. The Kintari soldiers had left the field of battle in disgrace, its soldiers only recently rounded up, and the emperor held no illusions that General Samuso Kintari’s relations would ever love him.
But they will obey.
The Righteous Army that had so surprised both sides also had no shortage of muttering malcontents, finding more unity in their faith than in the ‘child emperor.’ Even so, with the bloody end of the regency, Emperor Banisu felt more alive than ever before. The shackles of clan allegiances that had bound all emperors for almost a hundred years had been removed.
A final piercing wail rang out, and Emperor Banisu turned to look out across the makeshift arena. General Samuso Kintari had finally expired, and at a gesture, White Fury’s mahout directed the great beast towards the stables.
“I thought he would never shut up,” Lin Karatsu remarked with a grin, earning a disapproving look from Thane Eigar. The Northerner hadn’t seemed comfortable with the execution though he had endured the gruesome display with stoic silence. For all that, he had never voiced his disapproval and had earned his right to a new position as head of Emperor Banisu’s bodyguard. An Imperial Bodyguard had never existed before, the reigning families instead preferring to use their own troops to both control and protect their appointed puppets.
But if I want to use foreign mercenaries as my bodyguard unit there is no longer anyone to tell me no.
Emperor Banisu glanced at Lin Karatsu beside him. The only link to the life I used to live. Though Lin was sixteen he was comfortable in his full size armor and looked every bit the warrior. Still, you are too young to be given command. I just hope your bravery and loyalty runs in your family. There were a lot of new positions to fill now that the battle had ended and Emperor Banisu already had a few names in mind to lead the Imperial army.
The Imperial legions, ringed in a cordon behind the nobles, shifted as they began to be dispersed by unit to their quarters.
In the past they fought in local units with regiments formed by town or province or clan. Now they are mixed from all over my realm. They no longer fight for their lords. They fight for their Emperor.
Emperor Banisu stood and nodded to the assembled nobles and any Imperial soldiers staring up at the elevated viewing platform. The light faded around them as clouds concealed the sun.
The dry season is coming to a close and I will not waste this respite nature has provided us.
“Lords and ladies of the court, I wish to officially announce that this will be the location of the Monsoon Capital. For the next few months we will remain here and wait out the rainy season. I understand many of you have urgent business to conduct and need to be away before the rains commence. I will, however, welcome all of you into my shelter.”
Emperor Banisu glanced behind him where laborers were constructing a multitude of wooden structures. “Once it is built, of course,” he added to a scattering of polite laughs. “Feel free to conduct your affairs of business before the rains begin. But hurry back. Any noble family not present at my Monsoon Capital will be considered traitorous… and I have no mercy for cowards or traitors.”
Emperor Banisu let the moment drag out as several nobles glanced at the prone form of General Samuso Kintari. Two Imperial soldiers walked onto the churned up field with a stretcher and loaded the corpse.
“Dismissed,” Emperor Banisu said, and sat back down. He watched over the gathering as the ornate robes shifted and the nobility murmured to their neighbors. Emperor Banisu had an inkling of what they would be thinking but he doubted any would be stupid enough to actually speak their minds. He’s like his father. A crazed power-mad monster. Emperor Banisu picked at a spot of lint on his robe and tossed it aside. But they obeyed him. It was his madness that did him in and I am not mad.
Standing out in the gathering was a monk in a simple white robe, travel-worn but freshly cleaned, and Emperor Banisu stood up again as he watched the lean man scowling in the presence of the nobility.
“Monk Kattaren, please come forward.”
More than a few of the nobles looked up at the order, shifting around to see who the emperor meant. It took a minute for the man to make his way through the mass of nobles exiting the gathering but soon the monk approached the platform. He looked confused at Emperor Banisu’s request but bowed when he came near.
“Your Majesty.”
“I am creating a new Imperial army. Perhaps you have heard of this. An amalgam of all the different levies. All provinces, all clan leaders, all creeds and beliefs to be part of one new force.”
Emperor Banisu paused but the man just continued to look confused.
“I do not know why you wish to talk to me, Emperor. In truth I am not really even a monk. Is there a message you would like me to take to Monk Thegu? I was just about to depart.”
“Monk Thegu,” Emperor Banisu said with a regal sniff. “I have not heard of him. I will be naming a new abbot to replace Abbot Cibu and combining the Righteous Army into my own forces.” He paused. “Those who have not left, anyway.”
He was still irritated at the news that the bulk of the supposed ‘Righteous Army’ had gone back to the monastery with this Mon
k Thegu. Those who had joined his new army spoke of radical teachings, nuns and female initiates fighting alongside men, and attitudes that were not at all favorable to the Empire. I’ll need to put an end to that talk before it gets out of hand. He was uncomfortable with the idea of a 'Righteous Army’ that answered only to their faith, but he needed more soldiers if he was to win this war.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the monk said, still looking confused.
“Though many have left with this Monk Thegu, a good number still remain, loyal to their Emperor and their faith.” In that order. “I would name you commander of a new Righteous Army, formed at first from your brothers and some of the Kintari deserters. Would you fight for me?”
The monk looked mystified and thought for a moment. “My only desire is to retake the occupied territories,” he intoned slowly. He looked as though he was going to add more but fell silent.
“Then we will have need of your forces. I wish for you and your brothers to train the deserters in the martial arts. I understand you monks undertake a very grueling education.”
“Life is grueling, Your Majesty.”
The man bowed respectfully and then walked back into the crowd. Banisu frowned as the man left. Monks, what strange people. Banisu set aside the problem of the Righteous Army as he spotted the Prince of the Wastes in the crowd.
“Prince Sharnipur!”
A few heads looked up as the nobility continued filing out of the exits. The prince’s yellow turban turned and the bearded Eastern mercenary gazed up without expression.
“I would like a word, please.”
Prince Sharnipur approached and delivered a brief bow. “Your Majesty.”
“The Shinzen Clan has cost their lot in with the enemy.”
The prince shrugged. “Changing sides isn’t unheard of.”
Emperor Banisu gritted his teeth, waiting until most of the nobles had dispersed. He clenched his fist and stared at it.
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