by Tony Roberts
Istan’s face changed even as Isbel watched. Something beyond frightening. He got up and scowled at his brother. The tears vanished. “I’m not going to forget this, you girl. You’re not a proper prince. I’m more of a proper prince. You’ll be sorry when I grow up.”
“You don’t frighten me, Istan. Now go away and start behaving like a proper prince, and not like a spoiled child. Mother is no longer going to wipe away your false tears. Are you, mother?” he looked up at a dumbfounded Isbel.
“Istan, go to your studies,” Isbel said softly.
The youngest prince huffed and stamped off, muttering to himself. Argan rubbed his knuckles. “That hurt,” he said to Isbel, grimacing.
“Argan – thank you. I didn’t know he was going to do that.”
“I know I shouldn’t say this but you’ve helped make him that way by letting yourself be fooled by his behaviour. He likes to get me into trouble and he does that by pretending he’s always the one picked on – but he starts it. Always.”
“Argan….” Isbel didn’t know what to say.
“Come, mother,” Argan held out his hand, and Isbel dumbly took it. “You’ve been sad for quite a few days now. I think you need a cuddle.”
Isbel allowed herself to be taken to Argan’s room, tears rolling down her face.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The candles flickered around the long room set deep within the stone walls of the Grand Palace of the Regal Holder of Somor. The Grand Palace was a vast complex set in the heart of the city of Somor, and here the elected Regal Holders resided along with their elite bodyguard, the Paprinian Guard. The Regal Holder was not a hereditary post, but one held by a member of the Eastern Temple hierarchy, those who preached the faith of Sonos, the one permitted god in the eastern lands. Theoretically the Regal Holder commanded the spiritual guidance of all those who lived in the lands of the east and used his influence to bend the wills of kings, dukes and other rulers of realms in the region to his wishes.
Such power carried with it the corruption these positions always did, and it was a widely acknowledged fact that the Regal Holders were about as corrupt as any in the world. Riches poured into the holy coffers and the Regal Holders paraded their wealth in vulgar displays of adornments. Rings, crowns, gold, gems, whatever caught the eye of the one in power.
The current incumbent was a florid-faced clean-shaven man who displayed the marks of rich living on his features all too well. Regoris, the seventh of that name to hold the office, laid his pudgy hands on the flat, polished surface of the grand table and regarded the assembled people to left and right of him. “Counsels, I bid you welcome to my humble abode, and I thank you for attending this committee meeting I have called.”
The various people present inclined their heads. They were a varied group, some dark, some fair, some tall, others short. They came from many lands.
“As you know, we have a question to solve. The question is this: what is to become of the Kastanian Empire, and the souls of the people that currently live within the boundaries of that land? I have called you all here to formulate a united policy against this heretical empire that just will not lie down and die.”
One of the delegates present, a swarthy, curly-haired individual, stirred and straightened in his seat. Immediately the Regal Holder pointed to him and indicated that he could speak.
“Nebino Delpinius, representing the Duke of Venn.” He stood and nodded to all the others. “Thank you, your eminence. Gentlemen, as you know, the Duke of Venn has prosecuted a war against Kastania in an effort to bring it to an end and carry the word of Sonos to those poor souls who are misguided by their evil leaders in their worship of false gods. As you also know, our efforts have been thwarted by the king of Mazag who has inexplicably sided with these infidels!”
The council rumbled with anger. Eyes switched to the Mazag delegate, a dark-haired man sat not quite opposite Delpinius. He sighed and rose to his feet, bowing ironically to the Venn diplomat. “Your eminence, gentlemen. Orlos Ganay, representative of the King of Mazag. What my esteemed colleague neglected to mention,” and Ganay glared at the hostile Delpinius, “as Venn always do, is that the invasion went through Bragal, which is in the Mazag sphere of influence. It is well known that Venn covets Bragal as theirs, and this is something that Mazag will not countenance. Is it not enough that Venn has already taken Kral, Cratia and Riliyan? Is it not enough that they have in addition conquered Epros, which, may I remind everyone here, is in Zilcia’s sphere of influence? It is clear, gentlemen, that Venn wants the whole of Kastania, and this is something that my liege will not permit.”
“And Mazag is happy for Kastania to remain inviolate?” Delpinius snapped. “As you did nothing, then the Duke decided that Sonos should be brought to these heretics at the point of a Venn sword, rather than a Mazag tongue!”
“And what of Zilcia?” Ganay shouted above the babble of voices that broke out. “Perhaps we should hear what Zilcia have to say?”
The shouting subsided and a tall, fair-haired man rose to his feet. Big, blue-eyed, he possessed huge hands. “Geros Carid, representing the King of Zilcia. We are not pleased with Venn’s conquest of Epros, as our plans to take it were in the final phases, and we have already made our views on this plain to everyone.”
“What is Venn’s view on this?” Regal Holder Regoris asked, fixing Delpinius with what he hoped was a kindly look. He desperately wanted to unite the kingdoms present in order to attack and destroy what he saw as the last bastion of heresy against the final triumph of Sonos, blessed be His name!
“Your eminence, Venn believes that to hesitate is fatal; Kastania is showing signs of revival, surprising though that may be to the council here. Our agents confirm a much more militaristic attitude amongst the garrisons and armies of that empire than has been until recently. It may well be that in time to come Kastania’s armies might begin to look outwards once again. And should that come,” the Venn delegate looked around the assembly, pausing for dramatic effect, “then all those of you who share borders with them may come to regret not crushing them when they are, as they are now, lying prostrate before you.
“Therefore my lord, the Duke Dominik, persuaded our Council to declare war with a view to seizing their lands. Shamefully Mazag stood against us on the battlefield, else our army would have taken Zofela and now Bragal would be converting to Sonos.”
“Mazag must answer to the charge of siding with a heretical state,” a man with a large nose and collar-length hair said, jabbing his finger into the table.
“Ah, Councillor Bulsuma of Genvia,” Regoris said, leaning back. “Does Genvia support a war against Kastania?”
“It does, your eminence,” Bulsuma nodded, “but a fair distribution of the lands of Kastania must be shared out to those who partake in the Holy War.”
“Mazag will not agree to any alliance as long as Venn covets Bragal,” Ganay growled, staring long and hard at Delpinius. “Venn has taken enough of Kastania already; time to sit back and let your neighbours have their fair share.”
“Agreed,” Carid of Zilcia nodded. “Epros must be handed over to us. We will agree to Venn’s capture of Cratia, and perhaps allow them to have Romos, although I understand their first attempt to take it ended in failure.”
“A temporary setback,” Delpinius said. “My liege is unlikely to agree to a surrender of any territory his armies have taken with bloodshed. Zipria can invade and take Pelponia; it is a large swathe of territory, after all. Bragal is Venn’s – although my liege may agree to a partitioning of it, split east and west between Venn and Mazag.”
“Is not Kral and Riliyan enough for you people?” Ganay snapped angrily. “You generously offer half of what is rightly Mazag’s? My king will laugh at your magnanimity, I am sure! You can of course try to contest Bragal militarily, but I doubt your much-vaunted armies could prevail; after all, you were whipped in front of the fallen walls of Zofela.”
“You have Valchia, that should be sufficient!” the V
enn delegate retorted.
“A malodorous toilet, full of slavers, thieves and brigands.”
“Then that should suit Mazag perfectly,” Delpinius observed.
“Gentlemen!” the regal Holder stood up, his hands raised in a placatory manner. The two angry delegates slowly sat down, eyes boring into one another hotly. “I implore you all, we must agree to partition Kastania fairly and equitably.”
“Of course, you are forgetting the west,” Carid observed. “News from there is patchy and unreliable. What are the Tybar doing? What of Epatam? Are their ships sailing the seas? Do they represent a threat to us? They are as much an enemy as Kastania is to us. We must not allow Tybar to take any more land, lest they become too powerful for us to roll back to the kennels they sprang from.”
“I myself am considering the practicalities of sending a Holy War to the Holiest of cities,” Regal Holder Regoris said. Instantly all heads swung in his direction. “Semeljar is under the rule of Epatam, an abomination, with their false god worshipped daily there. We must bring the Holy City back to Sonos; Sonos demands it, and as His faithful followers, we must carry out His wishes, else we will be damned for all eternity.”
“But – your eminence,” Carid spread his hands wide, “no land route exists without passing through Kastanian territory. I doubt they will allow passage, especially if Venn agrees to take part.”
Regoris inclined his head. “Exactly, which is why I am keen to form an alliance against Kastania; destroy her armies, take her cities, and our armies can then march through without any danger at all. Do you understand the reasons behind me calling this council now?”
“Any army moving to Semeljar will still have to brave the Tybar lands, and once you pass through the lands of Amria, those of Epatam. It will not be an easy feat.” Carid had a clear grasp of the situation, having served in the past as a mercenary in the pay of one of the Kastanian rebels during the years of civil strife.
“You see demons where none exist, Ziprian,” Bulsuma of Genvia sneered. “Is this why Zipria trembles on their side of the Ridatik Sea and fears to cross?”
“You remind me of an old expression,” Carid said, a scowl on his face.
“Which is what?”
“It is best to remain silent and be thought of a fool, rather than opening one’s mouth and removing all doubt.”
Men stood up and shouted, pointing their fingers, siding with one or the other. The Regal Holder stood and clapped for attention, cutting through the heated arguments. “I am ashamed to witness such squabbling! Can you not see this is what our enemies want? As long as we remain divided, then Kastania will remain, mocking us and our one true god. We must stop our arguments and solve all disagreements. I implore all of you to work together so that ultimately we can realise my dream of returning Semeljar to the only true religion.”
Ganay smiled smugly. “Please announce a Holy War, your eminence; Mazag will raise an army and march to Tybar and Epatamian lands, for we are friendly with Kastania and have no worries of being stopped. Just a few meetings with our respective ambassadors and I am sure the emperor of Kastania will grant us passage.”
The other delegates growled in displeasure, thumping the table. Regoris shook his head sadly. “A noble suggestion but in order to guarantee success first we need Kastanian soil to be ours, so that we may set off from much closer to hostile territory, and we also need many armies. I am reliably informed that the Western kingdoms and tribal lands contain many warriors and it will take more than just one gallant kingdom to bring my dream to fruition. In any case, I doubt very much that the emperor will permit entire armies of foreign states to march through his domain.”
Ganay scowled and sat back in his chair, rubbing his chin. “We could open negotiations to assess Kastania’s willingness to allow the free passage of Eastern armies across to Tybar lands.”
“Not with Venn still technically at war with Kastania,” Carid of Zilcia said. “Venn does have a strong navy, even if half of it is resting at the bottom of the Aester,” he added, eyeing the glowering Venn delegate. “What price Venn shipping our armies across directly to the coast near Semeljar?”
“Too many storms, pirates, no friendly ports. Zipria would have to be taken and that would mean going to war with Kastania for certain, and our supply lines would be vulnerable to counter-attacks from Romos or Pelponia,” Delpinius objected. “Both are being reinforced and would take a long time to reduce. We would need to strangle them from the land, and that means invading Bragal, Makenia and Pelponia. Why can’t you see the only way to go is to destroy Kastania?”
“You just want a free hand to enlarge your domain,” Ganay commented. “You’ve alienated both ourselves and Zilcia, yet you still expect us to agree to your jingoistic campaign to conquer yet more, like greedy porcines. You want everything and to the Pit of Fire with everyone else.”
“Mazag, hold your tongue,” Regoris commanded. “Be it known that I am not prepared to wait for you to settle your arguments. I am going to give you one year to come to an agreement and build up your forces to invade Kastania. Mazag, you are to invade Bragal and take Zofela. Venn, you are to launch two attacks; one from Epros into Makenia, the other a ship-borne invasion of Romos. Zilcia, you are to cross to Pelponia and subdue that region and Kornith.”
“What of Genvia?” Bulsuma asked, his fingers splayed. “Do we get nothing?”
“For your agreement to partake in all this you will be given Lodria and Bathenia.”
“And Frasia and the capital?” Carid asked, his eyes narrowed.
The Regal Holder smiled thinly. “That comes to Paprinia and me. All praise Sonos!”
____
The ride through northern Bragal was uneventful. Gone were the war bands and bandits that had plagued the region in the time of the insurrection and counter-insurrection. Signs of depredations were still around if one looked closely enough; a burned-out shell of a building here, bones of some creature or person there. Vosgaris rode comfortably, his eyes taking in the countryside and marvelling. A beautiful country, full of sweeping valleys, rolling hills, sharp peaks and chuckling streams.
Animals dotted the land, grazing, and avians flew overhead, mostly hunters, seeking prey or carrion. Clouds rolled in from the west, some heavy and dark which brought rain, others light and wispy which passed by, changing their shapes as they did.
The two guards made little comment nor made any sign they had seen what Vosgaris had. They were soldiers and would follow orders and guard the captain with their lives. That was their remit and that was what they would do. Vosgaris didn’t find them great conversationalists. What he did notice was an absence of trees, and they only grew in sheltered folds of land along hillsides or in small woods far away. He wondered at that. Perhaps the wood had been taken in time past for building, or fuel. Or perhaps trees just didn’t grow much here.
The ‘road’ was a dirt track, undulating, rutted and showing signs of much traffic, with hoof prints and wheel marks. A few man-sized footprints showed, too, and after one downpour a set of animal paw marks were seen crossing the road. They were fairly large and Vosgaris’ hand went to the hilt of his sword. Whatever had made those, he didn’t really want to meet.
The nights were still chilly, especially when it had rained, and the three huddled round the campfire. Vosgaris learned that the two men, Arkanin and Hendros, were veterans of the war in Zofela, and had fought with a mercenary company. Vosgaris was surprised; he thought only imperial troops had taken part in the fighting.
“Oh, no, sir,” Hendros shook his head. “Me and Arkanin here joined a company fighting in northern Bragal, not too far from here. Fought in lots of skirmishes, mostly against bandits.”
Vosgaris frowned; this was something he had been unaware of. “Wasn’t the emperor – then just a general – commanding all Kastanian forces in the Bragal War?”
“Nah,” Arkanin said. “They didn’t have enough troops, so the local nobility hired people like Hendros and me a
nd others who’d been disbanded from the army to protect their estates. Seemed the emperors at that time weren’t too bothered about them, especially if these nobles weren’t in thick with the Duras and Fokis.”
“You mean – the emperors at that time abandoned whole estates to the mercy of the rebels. Deliberately?”
The two men shrugged, then nodded. “You’re nobility, sir, so you know how the power politics work.” Hendros smiled to rob any offence from his words. “Alliances forms and breaks all the time, don’t they? Us ordinary folk don’t bother with them unless it means we gets hired to fight for one or the other. We was happy to serve with General Astiras Koros, as the emperor was then, but the imperial court cut his numbers so he couldn’t win. We was two who got cut. They disbanded the Turslenkan regiments.”
“Yes,” Vosgaris looked thoughtfully at the flames of their camp fire. “I remember being told that. Who hired you, then?”
“The Anglis family,” Arkanin said.
“But – their estates are far from the Bragal border.”
“Ah,” Hendros grinned. “Lord Anglis believed in a pro-active policy of protecting his estates,” he looked at Arkanin who chuckled. “So that’s what his excuse was anyway. So he sent us under one of his captains across the border to burn any Bragalese village we found. That way we struck first without suffering any ravages on our side of the border.”
Vosgaris shook his head in wonder. “So there were private armies all over northern Bragal plundering and pillaging?”
“Suppose that was the way of it, sir. Good times, they was. Nobody in Kastan City was bothered; they’d abandoned the province and only General Koros was fighting on, and in the end the Duras and Fokis got jealous and got their emperor to pull him out.”