After he arrived in the capital, the army would be hundreds of miles away and unable to help should he have need of its power in securing the throne. The dragons would only be able to deliver a handful of men for his protection. Bringing the massive creatures into the city was not an option either. Fire would raze Mal’Zeel, just as surely as the enemy army sacking the great city. He could not have that.
He wished there was some other way to see it all done, but knew there was not. If he was to be made emperor, and accepted by the senate … without undue delay, he must go and put himself before the treacherous knives of the senators. Stiger rubbed his jaw, feeling not only budding stubble, but the frustration of his current predicament. For all intents and purposes, he would be nearly on his own. But that did not mean he would be defenseless. He was the High Father’s Champion and weapon. But still, despite all that he had been given by the great god, he needed to be cautious, for a dagger in the back could kill just as surely as a sword thrust to his front.
“There are people we can count upon to help guarantee your security,” Aetius said, guessing correctly on his concern. “They will begin mobilizing once they get word from our agents.”
Stiger looked up at that.
“How many?” he asked. “How many can I count on?”
Aetius and Treim shared a brief look before the general answered. “About two hundred, all retired veterans, who have since become clients of ours.”
“They have been positioned,” Aetius said carefully, “in the event either of us ever needed armed support. We pay for their lodging and food. In return, they are our muscle should we have need.”
Stiger considered that for a long moment. Coming from prestigious families, both men were not only military officers but also senators. They, like Stiger’s family, had enemies. How many other senators had made similar contingencies? Hidden in plain view, how many others had their own private armies? Did his father have similar muscle? Stiger suspected he had. In a way, he could almost imagine the capital being an armed camp. The more he thought on it, the more it made sense.
“And the senate has an army at their disposal.” Stiger’s thoughts had swung back to his father.
“Twelve legions,” Aetius said. “Four of which are veteran formations pulled from the eastern frontier. The rest are fresh conscripts and are likely still undergoing their initial training. The important thing to remember is that your father commands them all.”
“Three hundred or so years back,” Eli said to Treim and Aetius, “I spent some years in your capital as a representative for my people. I got to know the inner workings of the empire quite well, especially the senate. I cannot imagine it has changed much since then, beyond the people wielding power.”
Stiger looked over at his friend, wondering on not only where he was going, but also what else he might reveal. Eli was treading on the edge of dangerous ground.
“What is your point?” Aetius asked.
“Once they learn of Ben’s ascension,” Eli said, “the senate might choose to replace Marcus Stiger and put someone in command who will do as they desire. Or really might prove more malleable and compliant. There are always senators longing to distinguish themselves through battle, like you both have done. They seek prestige and the power that comes with it.”
“True,” Treim said, “but I do not think that likely. The senate needs a general who has proven he can fight and win. Marcus Stiger is it. During the entirety of the civil war, he did not lose a single battle where he was in command. They cannot afford to alienate him and will not relieve him.” Treim gestured toward Stiger. “Like him, Marcus inspires loyalty in those who serve under his command. Attempting to replace Marcus may prove risky for the senate, for the legions themselves may not accept his replacement.”
“That is true,” Aetius said. “The senate, if they chose to oppose your elevation to emperor, will be in a difficult position. Whether your father is to meet the Cyphan on a field of battle or at Mal’Zeel’s walls, the senate needs a soldier’s soldier to keep them safe. In a way, it makes denying the son’s claim that much more difficult.”
“Choosing someone else as emperor requires the church’s blessing,” Father Restus said. “I do not see the High Priest sanctioning such a thing, especially after my letter to him.”
“High Priest Melevan has always been a political animal,” Aetius said.
“True,” Restus said, “but I do not see him going against me. Melevan has more sense than that. At least, he should.”
“Let’s assume the worst … the senate chooses someone else. What then? What if my father does not support me?” Stiger asked. “You two know my father. His word is his bond. What if he chooses to back the senate? What then?”
Neither man said anything to that. Stiger could tell the thought had occurred to them both. It was something to be concerned with. The singing outside by the crowd filled the silence in the room that seemed to stretch uncomfortably.
“I will just have to cross that bridge when I come to it,” Stiger said finally. “Is that it?”
“Like you do with most everything else,” Eli said. “I am sure that will likely involve some excitement. Though this time, do me a favor, Ben—for my benefit—don’t try so hard.”
Stiger looked over at the elf and saw a mischievous gleam in his eye. He was feeling a headache coming on and was in no mood for games. Eli likely knew it as well. He was always one to poke the bear.
“Then again,” Eli said, “the senate might surprise us all and do the right thing.”
“That would be nice,” Restus said.
“Excuse me, sir,” Ruga said, stepping into the room. He marched up to Stiger and held out a dispatch. “This just came in for you, by rider, from the Thirteenth.”
“Thank you,” Stiger said. “See that the messenger has a place to get some rest.”
“Aye, sir.” Ruga saluted and left as Stiger opened the dispatch. It was from Salt and in the camp prefect’s own hand, no less. Stiger recognized the neat scrawl.
“Taha’Leeth still has not awoken,” Stiger told Eli, once again feeling dreadful that he was not by her side. It was almost a physical pain as he voiced the next words. “Her condition is unchanged.”
“I am sorry, Ben.” Eli placed a hand upon Stiger’s shoulder armor. “She is strong-willed. With some good fortune, she will get better and once again be standing by your side.”
“Who is this Taha’Leeth?” Treim asked, looking between them curiously.
“My wife,” Stiger said.
“Your wife?” Treim said. “I sent you south with Eli, just a few months back. You found a wife in so short a time?”
Stiger gave a nod. Since he had ridden south, it felt like an eternity had passed, and in a manner of speaking, one had.
“Not only do you come back with the lost legion, the Thirteenth … but allies and a wife to boot.” Treim seemed amused by this, then sobered. “She is from a good family? If she is not, it could complicate things with the senate and succession.”
“She is from the best of families,” Eli said. “It does not get more pure than the blood that flows through her veins.”
“What happened to her?” Aetius asked.
“She and I were the target of an assassination,” Stiger said. “The attempt occurred just prior to the battle we fought against the confederacy. She was seriously injured.”
The room was filled with a long moment of silence before the general broke it.
“I am sorry to hear that.” Treim paused a moment. “What family does she hail from?”
“She is not from any family you would know,” Stiger said.
“Eli just said she was from the best,” Treim said. “I don’t understand.”
“She is an elf.” Stiger was mindful of the advice Eli had given him weeks ago about not only some of his people, but Stiger’s own being unwilling to accept their union.
Treim’s eyes widened a tad and he straightened slightly before returning h
is wine mug to the table. Marriages between elves and humans just did not occur, ever. Aetius took a slow sip from his wine as he contemplated his new emperor. Stiger knew both men were thinking how this complication might hinder or help his claim on the curule chair. Politics again.
“A belated congratulations,” Restus said, sounding genuine, as Stiger looked to him. “I suspect the High Father’s hand is in this unique union between peoples.”
“The gods most assuredly have meddled,” Eli said.
“And, before you ask,” Father Restus said to Stiger, “I am beyond the age of healing. The High Father has prohibited me from even making the attempt.”
Stiger had been just about to ask. But now that the paladin had said what he had, the words seemed truthful and right to Stiger. He suddenly felt guilty for wanting to make the request. The price paladins paid for each healing was some of their own life in exchange. And Restus had little life left to give. Stiger could also sense, through his own connection to his god, the High Father had another path for the paladin to walk.
“As you are undoubtedly aware, we paladins of the High Father are few in number,” Restus continued. “However, there may be another in Mal’Zeel who might, just might, be able to render assistance.”
Stiger glanced downward a moment at the floor and ran a boot across the floorboards. He looked back up, knowing he could not get his hopes up.
“My wife follows the teachings of Tanithe,” Stiger said, “not our god.”
“Tanithe sits in the High Father’s alignment,” Restus said. “I do not believe it hurts to try. The worst that can happen is the High Father denies his blessing. Perhaps, if one of my order is available and he feels so called, he might return to aid your wife.”
“Very well,” Stiger said, still daring not to hope.
“I think it wise,” Aetius said cautiously, “to withhold information on your wife from not only the mob, but also the senate. At least, until the succession is resolved. Then we can find a way to share the good news in a manner that helps us.”
“Taha’Leeth,” Eli said, “is what you might consider High Born royalty.”
“We can work with that,” Aetius said, “but still, there is no need to complicate matters, not now. The focus is getting the emperor control of his empire.”
Stiger looked over at Aetius for a moment before returning his attention back to the dispatch. He continued reading. When he finished, he folded it back up and taped the parchment with a finger, then looked back up at Treim. “The vanguard of the army should start arriving by midday tomorrow. We will likely see the cavalry sometime in the morning. It will take two entire days for the whole of the army to come up.”
“That’s good news,” Treim said.
“Maybe after two or three days of rest, the march to the capital can begin. It was a long and hard march just to get north. The battle for the legion was a real bitch. The men need a break before pushing onward.” Stiger paused. “The question I have … is how soon until your men can be made ready for an extended movement?”
“All the way to the capital?” Treim asked.
Stiger gave a nod.
“Will you be leaving a garrison in Lorium?” Treim asked.
“No,” Stiger said. “Let’s face it. Lorium is expendable, especially since the city has been basically razed. Mal’Zeel is not, and that is where the confederacy is headed. You’ve told me you have around seven thousand trained men capable of bearing arms. Do I have that right?”
“Your understanding is correct,” Treim said. “Most are from the Third; the rest are remnants from several legions and a mix of auxiliary cohorts.”
“They will all need to be reformed,” Stiger said.
“Since the Third is mostly intact,” Treim said, “we could easily consolidate the remnants from the other legions. Rolling them into the Third would make her an overstrength legion, with more than ten cohorts, maybe fourteen at most. The auxiliaries could also be consolidated to form a new allied cohort.”
“I like that,” Stiger said. “Who is the general of the Third?”
“General Selvarin died in the fighting,” Aetius said.
“Did any other general survive?” Stiger asked.
“Tegea,” Treim said. “Though he was badly wounded. He will not be returning to service anytime soon.”
Stiger did not know the man. But he was well acquainted with the family. There was bad blood between theirs and his … had been for years, ever since the civil war when Marcus Stiger had defeated Tegea’s father in battle. It was likely a good thing the man was wounded, for Stiger would have likely been forced to replace him. That would only have hardened feelings further.
“Do you have any good candidates in mind?” Stiger asked, for Third Legion would need a commander, and Stiger had other plans for Treim.
“What about Ikely?” Eli suggested, before Treim could speak. “Or Salt?”
“No,” Stiger said. “Ikely has serious potential, but he still has much to learn about fighting a legion and will remain the Thirteenth’s senior tribune. Salt, though I am sure he will hate it, will take my place as legate. He has much more combat experience and can work toward furthering Ikely’s education.”
“Salt?” Treim said. “I take it he’s a tough old salt?”
“Camp Prefect Oney of the Thirteenth Legion,” Stiger said. “You will like him. And he’s one of the toughest men I know, experienced too.”
“I look forward to meeting him, especially if he is from the Lost Legion. I may have someone who could command the Third,” Treim said.
“Who?”
“Tribune Theego,” Treim said. “He was senior tribune to the Twenty-Ninth. He has a good head on his shoulders and is also experienced. I know for a fact he was being groomed for legion command.”
“More important,” Aetius said, “his family survived the purge after the civil war. He served under your father, and by appointing him command of the Third you are assuring the family’s wholehearted support.”
“I want to meet him,” Stiger said. “Can we do that tonight?”
“Yes,” Treim said. “I will arrange it.”
“Good.”
“Once the Third is reformed, I take it, your intention is to march them north,” Aetius said.
“I am certainly not going to leave them here in this ruin of a city,” Stiger said. “We’re going to need every available sword before this war with the Cyphan is over. The fighting is going to be hard and brutal.” He looked over to Treim. “Back to my original question. How soon can they march?”
“They’re half-starved and worn down by the siege,” Treim said. “With proper rations and rest, I believe they will be ready in three weeks, maybe four at the worst.”
That was longer than he’d hoped, but Treim was an expert in such matters. If the general said it would take three to four weeks, then it would. Besides, Stiger wanted the Third in good shape after its long march to the capital. They needed to be in fighting trim.
“With the capture of the enemy’s supply train,” Stiger said, “we have plenty of food, at least for a time. The dwarven nations are providing additional stores, which will be shipped north from Vrell. As long as the enemy does not cut our supply, we will have an indefinite source of food. That said, the confederacy landed a small army to the south. We have no idea what their intentions are yet, but our supply from Vrell could be put at risk.”
“If they march north, it could prove a problem then,” Treim said.
“Yes,” Stiger said, “but as of now, we have several weeks of food on hand. Plenty to get the army to Mal’Zeel.” Stiger paused and gathered his thoughts. “How many able-bodied men do you think are available in Lorium?”
“To be pressed into service?” Treim asked.
“Yes,” Stiger said.
“Right now, we’ve got about fifteen hundred civilians under arms,” Aetius said. “They are poorly equipped, and their training is even worse. About twenty percent are old men and
boys, not fit to march a good distance. They are more of a danger to themselves than the enemy at this point.”
“Besides the age issue, the only real problem is equipment,” Treim said. “We’re light on weapons and armor.”
“We can put the blacksmiths in the city to work,” Aetius said, “fashioning arms and equipment. But that will take some time to fully kit them all out.”
“We seized a good deal of loot in the battle before Vrell,” Eli said. “I would think we have enough to equip them to some degree.”
“You’re right,” Stiger said. “Ikely can get much of it here in six to eight weeks, maybe sooner if we push the transport.” Stiger turned back to Treim. “Cut the old and young loose. Of the rest, I want them formed into two light auxiliary cohorts. You will need to leave a training cadre behind to see to their training.”
“It will be done,” Treim said. “When they are ready, they can march north and join us.”
“You will need good men to command them,” Stiger said.
“I believe I can find some solid men,” Treim said.
Stiger was pleased with the response. He thought on all that needed doing before he could depart for Mal’Zeel. It was overwhelming, almost too much. At some point, he needed to begin putting together an administrative staff to help him manage things.
“I want you to meet all of my officers from the Thirteenth,” Stiger said, “particularly my key men, Salt, and Tribunes Ikely and Severus.”
“It will be my pleasure, Imperator,” Treim said.
“Then there is Braddock,” Stiger said. “Dealing with dwarves can be tricky.”
“I’ve never met a dwarf,” Treim said, seeming surprised. “You expect me to work directly with them?”
“Yes, I do,” Stiger said. “You will need to directly coordinate with our allies because in my absence you will be commanding my legion, the Third, and all of the auxiliaries. You will have responsibility for our army.”
“I am honored, Imperator,” Treim said with a slight bow of his head. Stiger understood Treim had anticipated this move. It was the logical step. “I will strive to live up to your expectations.”
The Tiger’s Imperium Page 4