Sovran at War (Kingslayer Book 2)

by Honor Raconteur

  Sherrett stared at him, the silence stretching thin and taut, nearly to a breaking point. When he finally did speak, it was with resounding conviction. “If we accept people inside of our borders, General, I can make no guarantees that those people will return.”

  “Return to what?” Darius responded, splaying his hands. “I have to burn everything. Their crops, their stores, anything remotely edible. They’ll starve through the winter if they try to return home afterwards. Sir, when I asked this question, I knew full well that most of those people would never leave Serrati.”

  Finally, Darius saw a true flicker of emotion from the man, as Sherrett’s head drew back in surprise. “And still you ask this?”

  “My job is to save lives, as many lives as possible, not just win a war.” Darius felt like screaming. Why did he always have to defend himself on this point? “Sir, respectfully, I know that you’ve lost a good portion of your workforce because of the Sovran’s obstinacy in regards to Serrati. I cannot imagine that seeing a large gathering of able-bodied people coming into your country would be at all detrimental to you.”

  “The Sovran’s obstinacy,” Sherrett parroted, amused, or at least giving him that not-really-a-smile expression again. “Is that what you call it?”

  “Or greed, as you prefer,” Darius offered.

  “We generally refer to it as ‘stupidity,’” Sherrett drawled.

  Darius winced but couldn’t disagree. That was exactly what it had been.

  Sherrett’s attention strangely fell to Roshan, who had been very quiet and a little wide-eyed through all of this. “And who are you, young man?”

  Roshan snapped out a smart salute. “Roshan Sebresos, sir. I’m General Bresalier’s brother-in-law and apprentice.”

  Returning the salute, Sherrett’s eyes glanced at Darius, surprised and curious once again. “Are you. I hadn’t heard that General Bresalier was married.”

  “A little over a two years ago, sir, to my elder sister.” Roshan gave a shy smile. “We were all very happy he’d done so.”

  “I have no doubt.” Sherrett’s returning smile had a cynical cast to it, as well it should. He likely realized that Tresea pressured Darius into marrying in some form or fashion, so as to keep him in the country. He was not precisely wrong. “So you are learning the trade from him. I daresay I’m relieved to hear it. General Bresalier was the only officer that showed good sense on the battlefield.”

  Thereby implying…what, exactly? Darius felt like he’d just missed something.

  Turning back to him, Sherrett said plainly, “General, I am inclined to hear the particulars of what you’re planning. You are right, this is a good offer you bring to us, and at the very least I wish to hear of the barbarians’ movements. You say that you’re implementing scorched earth policy in order to drive them eastward?”

  “That is correct, sir.”

  “Hmm.” Sherrett turned his head and told the officer nearest him, “Hot tea and a meal, now.” With that order dispatched, Sherrett extended a hand, inviting them inside. “Perhaps while we’re speaking of accepting the refugees, we can also speak of your plans on winning this war. I would be interested to hear how Serrati would fare from your tactics.”

  After nearly two decades in political environments, Darius heard the undertone. If he could prove that he had taken Serrati’s needs into account while making his plans, then Sherrett was open to the idea of lending Darius a hand in turn. After all, the sooner the barbarians were dealt with, the better, as it meant less casualties all around. Darius gave him a sharp, satisfied smile. “By all means, General Sherrett, let’s discuss the matter in detail.”

  Darius had, in the course of his life, negotiated with Serrati precisely twice before. The first time, he had fortunately been nothing more than an aide to Behnam, and had learned the finer points of conduct by observation and a quick crash course from the other general. The second time he’d been on his own.

  The first rule of business in this culture? Eat and make small talk but never bring up business until the dishes were off the table. He sat across the table from Sherrett, the Serratian commanders on either side of him, Roshan hovering at the far end, facing a rather sour looking captain.

  In true Serratian fashion, Sherrett started off with, “Your family hails from Arape, I believe. They are in good health?”

  “They are, sir, thank you for inquiring,” Darius responded promptly. “In fact, I bumped into them on the highway and they are even now heading for my home in Niotan.”

  “That is good fortune,” Sherrett agreed politely.

  “I trust that your family is also in good health?” Darius returned with equal courtesy.

  “They are, thank you.” Sherrett relaxed a notch at these pleasantries, finding a rhythm in the conversation. “My congratulations on your marriage.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Darius had a vague feeling on what the other man angled for, and continued without prompting. “I’m sorry you likely won’t be able to meet my wife. Amalah is a very beautiful and intelligent woman. She blessed me with a daughter eighteen months ago.”

  Sherrett perked up considerably. “A daughter. You are truly a blessed man. What is her name?”

  “Parisa.” Darius didn’t exactly mean to sound doting when he said his daughter’s name, it just happened. It got indulgent smiles from every man at the table. Then again, this casual air promised easier negotiations, so he shouldn’t question the why of it too much.

  Sherrett once again turned to Roshan unexpectedly to say, “Your family must feel doubly blessed to have another daughter first.”

  Looking a little confused by this, but game regardless, Roshan ducked his head in quick agreement. “Parisa’s very charming, sir. A beautiful baby.”

  It suddenly occurred to Darius that he had not explained to anyone that the Serrati had a matriarchal society. The men were the protectors, but they rarely held any real positions of power. Mentally kicking himself for the oversight, he sought to make his statement part explanation for the Niotanian men and part response to Sherrett. “I believe Queen Tresea hoped that I would have a son first, another Bresalier to serve her people, but of course I personally am delighted to have a daughter. After all, a man’s strength is based upon the women in his life. My wife is the one that sees to our people, the trade and the house, protecting our family while I protect the country.”

  “As it should be,” Sherrett agreed promptly. “My wife and daughters are my strength. They see to the things I cannot and do it far better. A woman should be intelligent and strong in heart.”

  “Precisely so.” Darius risked a quick glance from the corner of his eye and breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that his entourage seemed to have picked up on the hint. “The food is excellent, sir.”

  “I’m glad it was to your tastes.” Sherrett waved for the empty plates to be taken up, which two servants quickly did, stacking them with brisk efficiency.

  “My wife gave me excellent counsel before I left,” Darius informed him as the servants retreated. “It was counsel that King Baros was wise enough to agree to.”

  That cemented Sherrett’s attention. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Do continue.”

  “She recognizes that the Sovran has overextended itself. It cannot continue the way it is. King Baros agrees with her assessment. He made a deal with me, and with Queen Tresea, in order to have my help during this war. My stipulation was this: any country that wishes to declare independence from the Sovran be allowed to do so, peacefully, with no retaliation or recompense demanded.” Darius held his breath to see how this would be taken.

  Sherrett stared at him hard, eyes penetrating, as if he tried to read every secret off the back of Darius’s skull. “Your wife and queen are wise women to see this. I’m surprised that Baros agreed, however, as no king likes to give up power.”

  “He doesn’t have any choice,” Darius observed neutrally. “He’s losing the ability to keep the countries in line. His father, fool that h
e was, conquered more than he could maintain.”

  A ripple went through the Serrati delegates, barely visible but easily sensed, and Darius had a feeling that he had just put his foot in his mouth although he had no idea how.

  Placing deliberate hands on the table, Sherrett leaned in over the surface and demanded in a low, growling tone, “Is that why you killed him, Kingslayer?”

  Darr take it. Darius mentally kicked himself. One of the unwritten rules of Serrati culture was that you never, ever went against your leaders unless they had broken some law or moral code. He had not wanted to get into that old story, but with his careless words he’d opened the door to the topic. Swearing a storm up in his head, Darius forced his expression into bland lines. “No. I killed him because he broke oath with me.”

  Everyone went very, very still. Not even his commanders knew the full story behind this. Roshan had likely heard something from Amalah, but she hadn’t ever disclosed the full story either, keeping Darius’s confidence. He abruptly had a riveted audience and didn’t know if he liked it. “In concise terms,” he started, faltered, and closed his eyes for a moment, gathering the patience to go over the story again. “Faros gave me his word that he would send for reinforcements to guard Ruralcalba before I left on campaign. He didn’t. Because he broke oath with me, I had to reconquer the city upon my return, and lost a third of the city to casualties as a result.”

  Sherrett hissed in an angry, astonished breath. “Is that why the barbarians invaded Ruralcalba? We’d wondered how they’d gotten past the city defenses.”

  “That’s because there barely were any defenses. The barbarians knew it, too, because I led a larger force than usual against them during the spring. They went down around the coast and attacked us while my back was turned.” Darius met Sherrett’s eyes unflinchingly. “He broke oath with me, leading to the slaughter of thousands of innocents. That’s why I killed him.”

  “An Arapeen oath means death if broken, I believe.” Sherrett grunted, relaxing his stance so he sat properly upright again.

  Darius felt sweat pour down his back but it looked like he had navigated around that verbal trap. “You are correct.”

  “And you say that King Baros has agreed to your terms? Even knowing the price if he breaks the oath?”

  Technically, Baros hadn’t sworn the Arapeen oath, so it wouldn’t lead to his death, per se…no, better not mention that. Sometimes assumptions were best left uncorrected. “He has.”

  Sherrett liked this answer. He liked it a lot. For the first time since Darius’s appearance, the man gave a genuine smile. “Baros has proven to be wiser than his father, then. He hearkens to the counsel of sagacious women and he respects the oath that he makes to you. Tell me, General Bresalier, you say that he has agreed to make peaceful resolutions with the countries who wish to leave. What if I state that Serrati also wishes to have peaceful negotiations with him, one in which a non-aggression treaty might be reached?”

  It wouldn’t do to jump up and down and cheer like a madman. Darius nearly vibrated under the force of sitting still. “Surely we can do better than just a non-aggression treaty, sir. Trade would be beneficial for all of us.”

  The tilt of Sherrett’s head suggested that he liked the idea. “I’m afraid I can’t speak for the Trade Minister. She and our Empress are the only ones to make those decisions.”

  But the possibility was there, otherwise Sherrett would have shut it down completely. “Of course. I only mention the possibility. If nothing else, however, I have the power to agree on Baros’s behalf that talks between the two rulers can be established.”

  “Do you, now.” A look passed around the Serrati delegation, one that said they hadn’t expected Darius to have that kind of authority. Sherrett at least didn’t seem that surprised, more thoughtful. “And when do you think those talks can take place?”

  Knowing very well what Sherrett really meant by that question, Darius answered, “I believe that within two months I will have driven the Roran barbarians back north.”

  Sherrett tapped a finger against the table, eyes shrewd. “You’re outmaneuvered, the barbarians are scattered over three countries, you’re likely outnumbered, and yet you can drive them back in two months.”

  A feral smile crossed Darius’s face. “Since when has any of that stopped me?”

  Letting out a bark of laughter, Sherrett turned to his fellow officers and said, “From any other man, I would say he was bragging. But this man, I believe it. General Bresalier, reveal to us your strategy. If we are to properly help, we need to know what you will do and the timing you’ll do it in.”

  Darius blinked, sure that his ears deceived him. Sherrett wanted to actively help? Not just boot the barbarians Darius’s way to get rid of them, but actually drive them eastward in a manner that would aid the Sovran? What had he said to impress the other man so? “That is very generous of you, sir.”

  “Not at all,” Sherrett denied with a twisted smile. “Two of the officers before you are my grandsons. I want them to learn from one of the finest military minds of this generation how to effectively combat the barbarians, should they come against us.”

  Ah. Darius felt he had just been effectively put in his place, although it had been done nicely, wrapped up in a compliment. “If you’ll fetch a map, sir? I’ll be happy to explain my strategy.”

  A map was promptly fetched and laid out on the table. Darius patiently explained his strategy, going through the timing and mechanics of it without qualm, then opened it to questions.

  Several Serrati officers gave their general an uneasy glance before hesitantly asking. Darius smiled every time, answered patiently, encouraging them. This open attitude worked wonders and soon they were discussing things openly. Roshan even got pulled into it at one point, explaining the strategy that they had used in Niotan against the barbarians, by sending them a wagon full of cats.

  That, of course, led into a discussion of what everyone knew of the barbarians' superstitions and culture, and how that could be applied to war, with people proposing new tactics. Darius caught a wide smile on Sherrett’s face several times as they talked, practically gloating that he had a foreign general teaching his officers the finer points of warfare from an enemy’s standpoint. Darius didn’t begrudge him for it. After all, in order to keep the discussion going, the Serrati officers had to speak just as much about their own experiences, which his apprentice lapped up.

  They both won from this open dialogue.

  Eventually, the air cooled to the point that it became slightly uncomfortable to sit outside on the wooden benches, even with braziers blazing nearby. Darius glanced up at the sky and realized they had lost a great deal of light, the sun sinking and taking most of its heat with it. “Regretfully, gentlemen, I think our time for this discussion has run out. We need to head back before we lose all light to do so.”

  “Perhaps we can continue it later, when my country’s delegates come to negotiate with King Baros,” Sherrett suggested.

  “That would be splendid,” Darius agreed, only a touch dryly. “For now, sir, I trust that we are in agreement on what your forces will do?”

  “I believe so.” Sherrett traced the route that Darius wanted the barbarians fleeing southward on. “Along here, yes?”

  “If possible.”

  “I think we can manage that just fine. General Bresalier, just make sure that when you force them to retreat, they don’t come back our direction. I will have my hands full dealing with your refugees after all. I’d rather not lose any innocents through random attacks.”

  “I whole heartedly understand, sir. Trust me, I will do everything in my power to prevent that.” Hesitating, Darius added frankly, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but the barbarians are in rough condition. It suggests to me that they’re starving in Roran. They will not be easily dissuaded right now.”

  “We’ve noticed,” Sherrett responded simply. “Do not worry, General. We’ve taken the appropriate precautions.”
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br />   Darius knew what the Serrati would consider ‘appropriate precautions.’ Any other nation would deem it overkill. For a moment, he almost felt sorry for the barbarians. “I am relieved to hear it, sir. Then, forgive my rudeness, but we must be getting back. If you wish to reach me, or send any message, do so with the heliograph towers. They know where I’ll be at any given point.”

  “We will do so.” Standing, Sherrett offered a hand, which Darius took in a firm clasp. “Good fortune, Kingslayer.”

  Darius returned the well-wishing with one of his own, meaning every word. “Water and light be with you, sir.”

  They pushed the horses a little harder on the way back, as Darius did not want to wander about in barbarian infested woods in the dark, so they had no chance to speak to each other over the sharp thud of hooves on packed dirt. Even if they lost track of the highway in the failing light, Darius would have been able to find it, as his nose caught the scents of different foods being cooked and things burning. Drafts of smoke plumed out against the darkening sky, showing the results of the soldiers’ work, and he saw many a wagon or cart filled to the brim with a family’s possessions, waiting off to the side.

  Those wagons gave him a conflicting mix of relief and sorrow. Relief, as he knew that he had negotiated a safe place for these people to retreat to. Sorrow that they had been forced to this, to abandon years, sometimes decades, of work. To lose almost everything in one go. How long had these people been here? Generations? Darius hadn’t a real home most of his adult life, constantly on the move between one battlefield to another, until he’d taken possession of his estate in Niotan. He took a certain amount of pride in it, certainly, as it had been very hard won and more than a little work went in to keeping it up to any kind of standard.

  He knew that if it came down to a choice between the safety of his family and hanging onto a place that would be overrun and burned to the ground, he’d choose his family without a moment’s hesitation. The people here surely felt the same. Still, the thought of leaving all of this behind had to hurt. Darius made a mental note to talk to the people here as much as possible tonight, to ease some of their fears, so that they knew they were going to a safer place after this.