The Cerberus Rebellion (A Griffins & Gunpowder Novel)

by Joshua Johnson

  The castle was a massive structure cut from the local granite and built on a low slope near the ocean. The oval-shaped outer walls stood one hundred feet high and forty feet thick with entrances at either end. The inner wall stood only eighty feet tall but it too was forty feet thick. Heavy cannons looked out onto the coast from massive round towers; the interior approaches were protected by smaller artillery poured in the Earldom’s local foundries.

  Lord Rayner Capel, the Earl of Cutler, was descended from a long line of weapons makers. Once, his family’s foundries were the most respected in Ansgar, but in the last two centuries they had been surpassed by the gunsmiths at Black Mountain. The wealth that had come from centuries of producing weapons for the Ansgari throne gave the Earl more leverage than one would otherwise expect.

  In addition to owning the only functional armories still in control of loyalist forces, Rayner held the contracts to a pair of foreign mercenary regiments. He had pledged one of the regiments as a part of his levies and had offered to bring another pair of regiments from across the Vast Sea. Eadric had refused, initially, but the ability to so cavalierly summon mercenary groups from other nations was an influence that Eadric could not ignore.

  He had inherited his father’s distrust of the earl’s power and had kept the noble at arm’s length for most of his reign. With the western half of Ansgar in rebellion, that was a stance that Eadric could no longer afford to maintain.

  The Earl commanded a levy of nearly five thousand soldiers without counting the mercenary regiment, which accounted for another fifteen hundred armed and trained men. Rayner also maintained armories that held tens of thousands of muskets and it was those guns that would arm the great majority of the soldiers that he would need if the western nobles did not submit to him.

  Eadric paced in front of the massive window in the keep’s grand tower, looking out over the camps of his growing army. More arrived each hour from Aetheston, while others filtered out through the nearby station, bound for the next camp at Hart Earldom.

  Lightning flashed from thick black clouds to the west; Eadric took a moment to enjoy the symbolism of the event.

  “Your Highness.” Kendall’s voice broke the silence. “Lord Richards has arrived from Aetheston and would like a word.”

  “Send him in,” Eadric ordered.

  He poured himself a glass of brandy and sat behind the desk that occupied one corner of the room, then dropped a pinch of dragonsalt in the glass from the tin that he hid in his inner jacket pocket.

  William Richards shuffled through the door. His blue eyes were dark and his mouth was twisted into a grimace. His black boots and the bottom of his thick black greatcoat were caked with mud.

  “Would you care for a drink?” Eadric asked as his advisor bowed.

  “No, Your Highness,” William said. The Baron Saxon remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back and eyes locked on the wall behind his king.

  “What’s wrong?” Eadric asked as he sat up. He recognized the stance as one that came with news the bearer would rather not carry.

  “News from Agilard just arrived, Your Highness,” William announced slowly. “It’s…not good.”

  “I can’t take much more bad news, William,” Eadric said. He rested his elbows on his knees, leaned forward and rubbed his first two fingers against his temples.

  “Your Highness, I understand the pressure that the rebellion by the western nobles has put you under—”

  “Just tell me, William,” Eadric ordered.

  “Reports have come from East End and Hamilton of heavy cavalry raids launched from Kerberosi territories,” William said. “We have had no communications from our fortresses or armories for nearly twenty days.”

  “Gods damn them.” Eadric closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

  His father would never have allowed this. He would have had control over his nobles and would have been able to prevent them from breaking away from him.

  Eadric needed to get the situation under control before it spiraled even further out of hand. He still had the goodwill of his allies, but if he kept losing nobles to rebellions even they may leave him. A rebellion could be defeated, an uprising quelled, but the loss of solid allies was not something that Eadric would be able to repair in his lifetime.

  These rebellions needed to be put down, and soon.

  “Our armies are already being gathered,” Eadric said. He found the smooth stone in his pocket and squeezed it between his thumb and forefinger. “I need to speak with my council on a plan.”

  “I took the liberty of calling a council,” William said. “And before I departed Aetheston I ordered all trains halted under further instruction. Sixteen thousand soldiers are still camped outside of the city and our eastern nobles will be holding their further levies until you tell them otherwise.”

  “Thank you,” Eadric said as he stood. He could always count on William to take the initiative when he saw what needed to be done.

  The council chamber at the heart of Cutler Castle was much smaller than the council chamber in Founder’s Castle, but Eadric’s council was small and the men were already seated when he arrived.

  Alden Hanley sat to the left of Eadric’s chair, wrapped in a thick blue cloak. He had taken a chill during their journey from Aetheston and had not been able to shake it. Eadric had wished that Altavius had been strong enough to join them. The elf was always able to find the right concoction to fix any ailment.

  Peter Wellstone sat to the right of the empty seat across from the Earl Hamilton, surrounded by stacks of ledgers, half a dozen ink wells and the remains of two carafes of coffee.

  Robert Calvin sat to across from Peter, to Alden’s left, a cane in one hand and the other wrapped around a mug of beer. A stack of maps sat in front of him in various stages of review.

  Earl Rayner Capel sat next to Lord Wellstone, sipping wine from a jeweled chalice. He waved at a steward for more as Eadric entered.

  The men started to rise to greet their sovereign, but Eadric waved them off.

  “Gentlemen, as if having our western nobles rebel against our governance wasn’t enough, the nobles of Kerberos have reportedly made their own grab at power,” Eadric said as he sat at the head of the table. One noble gasped—Eadric couldn’t tell which—and they all looked at him speechlessly.

  “What reports have we had, Your Majesty?” Robert Calvin asked after a long pause.

  “Reports of heavy cavalry raids have arrived from East End and Hamilton. We have had no communications from our armories and fortresses in Kerberos and their nobles have refused to appear before me to swear their loyalty.”

  “What territories have been hit by their raids?” Alden asked. His lands shared a border with the Pastore Barony and held several armories and well-placed fortresses.

  “Your lands have been affected,” Eadric informed his father-by-law. “The extent of the raids was not reported when William left Aetheston and we have had no further word.”

  “This is disconcerting,” Peter said.

  “That is an understatement,” Robert agreed. “What are your wishes?”

  “We need to show these nobles what it means to be in open rebellion against their king,” Eadric said. “What are the latest estimates on the assemblies west of here?”

  “Aside from the thirty thousand soldiers we have already moved to Hart and the thirty thousand that are still camped here, our nobles between here and the Hart River report that their full strength will be nearly six hundred thousand infantry. We will have two hundred and forty thousand soldiers on the border by the end of next month,” Peter said as he looked over the counts.

  “That will be enough to hold the western nobles,” William proclaimed.

  “I think we should devote our full western strength to the Hart River,” Eadric countered. “Our estimate of their full mobile strength is one million. They will need time to train that many soldiers and to bring those numbers to bear on the front. With our better tra
ining and weapons, four of our own corps should be sufficient to hold them across the river. That will leave us with four western and central corps to dedicate to bringing the Kerberosi back into the fold.”

  “Your Highness, our latest estimates show that the Kerberosi should be able to assemble six hundred thousand soldiers. They will be better armed than the western nobles and they will be desperate to hold our forces out of their lands,” William said. “We should leave a minimal guard on the western front and bring our full force against the Kerberosi.”

  Eadric frowned. The credit that his advisors gave to the forces that now opposed him was disheartening. Even if the soldiers and weapons were equal, Eadric’s generals were the best in the nation. They had the benefit of constant training and study at the nation’s war academy.

  A small part of him wondered if he were wrong to put so much trust in his generals and their training. Central Ansgar had always enjoyed a peace that the Western Territories and Kerberos had not. If they weren’t fighting each other over some minor territorial squabble, the western nobles were battling raiders from Franta and pirate marauders from the Golden Isles.

  Kerberos had seen its first one hundred consecutive years of peace after William the Defender had conquered their lands. Border wars with Beldane and Steimor had been regular events in the decades before the Kerberosi invasion; the Kerberosi culture had relied heavily on their military traditions before Ansgar had conquered their lands.

  “Do you really think that we will need nine hundred thousand soldiers to crush the Kerberosi?” Eadric asked.

  “Your Highness, the majority of their fortresses are new constructions, designed with modern warfare in mind. They take better advantage of natural defenses and have better sight lines for their artillery. If they were able to raid our armories, they will have access to Black Mountain cannons and rifled muskets,” William argued. “I think that eight corps may not be enough, but we cannot risk sending more troops for fear of stripping our home guards.”

  “The Kerberosi will also have the support of their people,” Rayner said. “Some Ansgari made their way into the Kerberosi lands over the last one hundred years, but not enough to make a difference. They will be supplied and concealed by their people while we try to dig them out of their holes.”

  Eadric had not considered the impact of the local populations on the war effort. An openly hostile population was more likely to turn to guerrilla warfare and sabotage than a population that was mixed. Not for the first time, he regretted his great-grandfather’s choice to allow the Kerberosi nobles autonomy within their own territories.

  King William’s chief advisors, Altavius Dohr among them, had urged their king to import citizens from western Ansgar into the Kerberosi territories to dilute the population. They had argued that such an act would avoid the exact situation that Eadric now found himself in: a rebellion by the Kerberosi nobles with a completely hostile population.

  King William had refused the advice. He had claimed that the terms of the Kerberosi surrender had provided them with autonomy over their regions, within the King’s Laws, and that forcing Ansgari citizens on the eastern nobles would be a violation of that right.

  “What are the estimates on our eastern forces?” Eadric asked.

  “In addition to whatever troops remain at Aetheston, we expect to have three corps ready by the end of next month and another three available a month after that,” Peter said.

  “We cannot afford to wait two months before we do anything about this,” Eadric said. “The western dukes obviously had this planned well ahead of time, but right now they are the only ones that are prepared for battle. The longer we wait, the more time the western nobles have to train their soldiers.”

  “If we split our forces we may not have the numbers to overcome either of the defenses and both of these rebellions will be successful,” William said. Eadric scowled and shook his head. “We should focus our efforts to one of these rebellions at a time and defeat them completely.”

  “There will be no further discussion on where we will focus our efforts,” Eadric said as he stood. “Our eastern armies will assemble at Hamilton. The troops currently encamped here will continue on to Hart. As the levies are assembled, they will make their way to the front.”

  “I would like to request that I be given the command of the western armies,” William said.

  “You are going to lead my eastern armies against Agilard,” Eadric said and William frowned. “Wynton has the command experience necessary to lead a defensive position and maintain our border, but I don’t have many capable generals in the east. I need you to lead there.”

  “As you command,” William said reluctantly.

  “When we crush these rebellions, I will not make the same mistake as King William. The Kerberosi nobles will be stripped of their titles and lands and expelled. Except Lord Jarmann.”

  “And what of your western nobles?” Peter asked.

  “I will handle them individually,” Eadric said, skirting the heart of the question.

  Where the Kerberosi nobles were outsiders, bound to the Ansgari throne by threat of force, the western nobles were of Ansgari blood. Many of their houses were as old as House Garrard and they had an established place in the hierarchy of Ansgari politics. If he desired, Eadric could have all of the Kerberosi nobles and their families executed. His western nobles had the protection of their titles and tradition.

  The nobles that remained loyal to Eadric’s rule would not lift a finger to protect the rights of a conquered people, but they would raise arguments against any severe treatment of their peers. After all, if it could be done to one noble, it could be done to another.

  “I will not allow these nobles to set their own terms,” Eadric told his council. “But that is a matter that is best handled once we have these rebellions under control. I intend to leave as soon as my train is ready. I want all of you to attend me on our journey to Hamilton.”

  Chapter 13 - Magnus

  Magnus stood at the edge of the battlement. It wasn’t even midday yet and the warmth had already driven him to shed his greatcoat. Traces of snow remained in the fields below but the temperature climbed higher every day and most of the Kerberosi court had worn their summer clothes. Even his guards had switched out of their wool uniforms in favor of lighter, cooler, cotton.

  To either side of Magnus and his entourage stood the south facing batteries of Fort Sigurd; the six twenty-five pound cannons of each battery were poised to unleash hell on their target.

  On the other side of the small valley stood Fort William. Ansgari guards paced the walls, cannons jutted defiantly out over the north wall, and the Ansgari flag still flew over the fort’s keep.

  A late night attack on the fortress had failed. The fort’s guards had been more alert than the Kerberosi had expected and the attack hadn’t hit them hard enough. Nearly a full regiment of Magnus’ own soldiers had been killed or captured and the fort’s garrison had locked their gates and prepared for battle.

  The next step had been an ultimatum: Magnus had offered the garrison safe passage back to Ansgari lands in exchange for a swift surrender. Not only had the fort’s commander refused the offer, he had arrested the messenger, in violation of military convention.

  Half of Magnus’ council advised him to wait for the garrison to consume their food supplies, then offer the ultimatum again; without preparation, they wouldn’t have the supplies to withstand a siege.

  The other half of Magnus’ advisors had suggested that the fort would still have at least six months’ worth of food, and that the cost and time in waiting them out would make an assault the more practical choice. Fort William stood within range of three different Kerberosi forts and would not be able to withstand the barrage of cannon fire that those three positions could unleash.

  So, the Third Kerberosi Corps had arrayed on the northern side of the valley. Two divisions were positioned on either side of Fort Sigurd and a fifth sat directly between the two oppos
ing positions. The infantry divisions were flanked by the twenty-second and twenty-third Cavalry regiments but without an opposing infantry force to harass, the mounted forces would serve as scouts and distractions rather than an actual attack force.

  Freigraf Janson Skau stepped up beside Magnus and cleared his throat. His long black hair, an unusual color for the nobility of Beldane, was tied back in a ponytail.

  “Your fortifications are sound,” the Beldanian noble announced. “I would expect no less from House Jarmann.”

  “My family has spent the last one hundred years rebuilding our fortresses. I would not have sent my request to your king if we were not ready for this,” Magnus said. “When can we expect your troops to arrive?”

  “When I left Nordstadt, two full regiments had been assembled and two more were nearly complete. Herzog Renwyk stated that we would send the first brigade immediately and the rest of the corps once they are fully prepared,” Janson said. Magnus cringed and the Freigraf smiled. “Don’t worry, Magnus, we only expect it to take a month to assemble the entire first corps and we’ll be moving them via rail.”

  “Eadric will already know that we have raided his lands. Even if he is as incompetent as we hope, his first two corps will be ready in two months’ time, at the outside. I have two corps of my own troops already gathered and moving toward the front, but your troops will provide a trained and experienced core to my armies,” Magnus said.

  “Until we are able to make an official declaration against Ansgar, our troops will not be able to actively oppose Eadric’s forces,” Janson reminded him. “We will be more than willing to provide training and tactical advice until that time, but Thorley was very clear about taking up arms.”

  “I understand the position that you are in, Janson.”

  The Freigrafs were the lowest rank in the noble courts of the northern nation, nobility that passed their title through generations but had little authority and less wealth. Unlike the barons of Ansgar, they were not permitted a seat on the council of their Herzog. If Freigrafs existed in the Ansgari nobility, they would have fallen below a baron but above a landed knight. Many joined the military and tried to better their family’s name through service and sacrifice.