The Broken (The Lost Words: Volume 2)

by Igor Ljubuncic

  The emperor in exile rose, stretching. In the corner of the room, Timothy lounged, dozing. Now that James was married to Rheanna, his life and status had improved considerably. James needed his services far less often. And since his wife had a small retinue of maids, it meant Timothy got a lot of attention from young girls. It also meant he often slept through meetings and lessons, his head nodding, sometimes hitting the wall behind and waking him up.

  “Can arrows be smeared in poison?”

  Master Angus grimaced, but the wrinkling of his skin meant nothing. He often made weird faces when thinking, only to utter some surprising fact a moment later. “Yes. But you want some sticky substance, like resin or oil or soap, not powder. Maybe mixing a death cap with sugar and water, yes. But not in the rain.”

  James thumbed the label on another jar, wondering what death lurked inside.

  “But you don’t want poison on arrows,” the older man said. “What’s the point? If you hit someone with an arrow, they die from the arrow. You don’t need poison for that. Poisons should be used in a silent, unseen manner.”

  James remembered Councillor Lilian’s attempt on his life. He understood. He wasn’t sure how much this roomful of toxins and herbs would be of any personal use to him, but he wanted to know about the dangers and benefits. He wanted to know what his enemies might use against him, and how to counter their moves. The knowledge would be his guardian against assassinations. And he’d probably need a food taster, too. He looked at Timothy and recoiled almost immediately. He wouldn’t sacrifice the boy.

  With his grip on the council growing by the day, even as his army ranks swelled with fresh troops, he was not content with just sitting back. He needed to plan ahead. Come the spring, the roads would be passable once again, and he would need to make an example of his rule. He might even have to march against his own half sister. Or maybe come to her aid?

  James still hadn’t spoken to Rheanna about that. He meant to.

  He was a direct challenger to Amalia’s rule, so she would have every reason to want him disposed of. The Caytoreans and Parusites might challenge him, but they didn’t care about his honorifics; they were more worried about his military strength.

  He had written to his mother, asking her about Amalia. On impulse, he had also intended to invite her to join him at his provisional court at Pain Daye, but then sanity had won, and he’d left the invitation out. He wasn’t really sure if she would like the filth and corruption at the mansion. Maybe it was best if he severed all connections to his past life. Because his mother might get a crazy notion to bring Celeste with her, and then all chaos would break loose.

  He also wondered how Mali would react to his wife. Another battle for the future.

  At the moment, though, he had bigger concerns. He must have Caytor solidly unified behind him. He didn’t even want to contemplate the possibility of the High Council turning against him. Not completely, not with Rheanna wedded to him, but there could be just enough opposition to force him to act. And then, the passive threat of his presence in central Caytor would have to become a real, existential danger to the realm. He wasn’t really sure the soldiers and private guards following him would be happy to march against their own countrymen. The political rift was enough. He must make sure he was perceived as a dear friend of the nation and direct his strength to strike west.

  Ultimately, he needed Athesia in order to become its emperor. That probably meant clashing with the Parusites. Later, he would need to figure out how to balance the Eracians and have his father’s people accept him as their new leader and make sure that war didn’t become his legacy. But to get there, he did need war.

  Only, he was still undecided.

  “Thank you for the lesson, sir. It was valuable,” he told the master. “We will continue tomorrow.” Now, he had to meet with Master Neal and try to learn the difference between compound interest and national debt. Rheanna was handling everything all too well, but he felt he had to get on top of things, if only because he had started.

  He kicked Timothy in the foot. The boy gasped and catapulted to attention, groggy and dutiful at the same time. James led the way through the quiet corridors, nodding at sentries posted at corners. Timothy trailed after him.

  “You know, sir,” the boy said, breaking the crisp, cold silence. “They told me to spy on you, sir. They told me, but I never did. I always gave them useless information. Never did what they said.”

  James stopped and looked at the boy carefully. “I know,” he said, patting him on the shoulder. “I know. You’re a good lad.”

  All of his masters demanded that he meet them in their offices. It stood to logic. Immersed in the atmosphere of their professions, the study rooms offered a glimpse into a world he had only thought of as distant, boring topics half a year back. So, like a dutiful student half his age and height, he walked across polished marble to a far wing of the mansion.

  A messenger intercepted him, asking him to meet Master Hector at noon. Then, another clerk came and inquired about the confiscation of lands of certain councillors. James gave curt orders and dismissed the man. It was amazing how much work you could do in between work, if only you dispensed with protocol. There was no need for petition hours when you could handle the requests while walking to the petition session. Least of all did James want to become bogged down in bureaucracy and petty matters of state. He wasn’t here to arbiter to the well-being of the Caytorean small folk. And the big fish who demanded proper answers were talking to his irresistible wife.

  The third messenger did make him stop. “Lady Laura requests to meet you, Your Highness.”

  James frowned. “Lady Laura?”

  The man coughed politely. “Wife to Councillor Otis, my lord.” He refrained from saying widow.

  James sighed. He knew he could not avoid the woman forever. “All right. Where is she?”

  He found the woman and her daughter waiting for him in one of the drawing rooms, attended by a butler who also happened to be a trained warrior. She was wearing all black, her face austere and tight with anger. The daughter, however, was eying him boldly.

  “Greetings, Lady Laura,” he said, entering. The slap came unexpectedly.

  His head rang, but he felt utterly calm and under control. His takeover of her husband’s assets had not been a secret. His fate was a little more of a mystery, but no one had any doubts what happened to political rivals accused of treason.

  Well, he had promised to take care of the families.

  “How dare you? Where’s Otis?”

  James flicked his fingers. Timothy left the room, but the butler stayed. “Your husband is a traitor, my lady,” he said simply.

  “You left us nothing. You robbed us. How will…” She almost broke down. “Lord Bram has canceled his engagement to Daria. I had to sell my jewels to finance our servants for the winter. This is unbearable. Why are you doing this?”

  The emperor looked at the girl, presumably Daria, who was still ogling him impudently. If she had just been informed of her fiancé’s change of mind, she did not look particularly sad. Her eyes were blue and piercing and so very pretty.

  Just two months ago, he would be consoling her for her losses in a bed, as he had done so many times before. But no longer. He was a married man, and Rheanna was the only woman for him now. He winced at the involuntary memory of the prophetic lovemaking with Nigella coming alive in his mind and pushed it back into the dark corner of his mind. He would take care of the witch later. Tell her to leave, banish her. He had made his choice.

  “You will not be harmed. And you will keep what dignity you have. Now, you will have to adjust to some changes in your status. Given the fact your husband plotted to betray me, it’s a fair bargain overall.”

  “You speak of fairness. Wipe that smug smile away!” she lashed.

  Normally, the traitor’s widow should have been mortally grateful for retaining some small assets to see her and her daughter safely through life. She should be thankful that
he had spared her neck. Her uncontrolled rage probably meant she hadn’t known about her husband’s work.

  James had contemplated banishing every one of the implicated councillors and merchants and all their families. But he preferred his weakened, defeated foes around him as a reminder of their pride and vanity rather than have them nurture their revenge in a far corner of the world. Hatred was like mushrooms, he thought wittily; it grew best in dark, cold places. Not so in the sun.

  He could have killed them all, but that felt wrong. Murdering conniving bastards and traitors was one thing; killing the innocent just to stop himself from worrying, well, that was another. Deep down, something told him his father would never have approved that.

  Fear and uncertainty were part of the responsibility that weighed down his shoulders now. The presence of people like Lady Laura and her daughter would keep him sharp and alert and always mindful of the dangers that surrounded him.

  “My lady,” he said simply, no longer smirking, “you will do your best to be civil and courteous to me in public, no matter how much you hate me. But show proper respect, and I will make certain Daria is wed well. I have no grudge against you, but I will destroy you if you defy me. Is that clear?”

  The woman had that much control to nod. It was a tiny gesture of submission, but he needed no more.

  “Anything else I can do for you?” he said almost cheerfully.

  Wiping tears away, the widow stormed out of the room, dragging her daughter behind. The butler followed.

  James picked a small apple from a tray and bit into it. It was so bitter his tongue curled. He turned, just about to leave the room, when yet another messenger stormed in, panting.

  “What now?” James said wearily.

  “Lord Xavier demands your presence, Your Highness. It’s urgent.”

  He found the warlord, Master Hector, Rob, Sebastian, Captain Nolan, and half a dozen officers waiting for him in a room full of maps, one of them spread on a large table and held down by books at the corners. James arched a brow when he entered, wondering what this might be all about.

  “This is your chance to prove your worth, boy,” the old sergeant said, grinning.

  Xavier look annoyed by the outburst, but even the killer had his good manners around the former head of the academy. “Sir, we’ve got news from the south. Apparently, King Sergei has decided to wage open war against his former allies, and he’s driving hard into Caytor, almost twenty-five thousand men by most accounts. The pirates are fleeing. North.”

  James approached and looked at the map. It was brown and didn’t show patches of snow and ice like the outside world. Rivers were drawn, as well as large forests. Cities and castles and large estates were marked in black dots. Red ribbons marked the progress of the Parusite army, covering most of the south of the realm. The Oth Danesh were marked in gray.

  In such abstract colors, Caytor looked like a checkerboard of stolen land. Some of it was Athesian—his, in fact—some in the hands of the Parusites. The sovereign land that belonged to the council had shrunk significantly. But it was now his problem as much as theirs.

  As an Eracian, he owed them nothing. There wasn’t a shred of loyalty in his blood for the Caytorean people. But some of them were his people now, sharing his vision through greed or genuine love or some other ulterior motive. But more importantly, his wife was Caytorean. This was her land, her people.

  All of the lessons taught to him by his masters compressed into a single thought, becoming a political agenda. Everything fell into place. If he destroyed the pirates, he would make much of Caytor safe for travel and commerce. Such a selfless move would gain him much sympathy from the council. It would be a splendid opportunity to train his troops for battle before taking on the Parusites. And by defeating King Sergei’s armies, he would make his claim over Athesia a reality. This also meant marching in midwinter and committing his fragile alliance of private regiments, foolish followers, free riders, mercenaries, and odd killers to a long, unpredictable war.

  The one he had to fight.

  His mind raced. “What about the pirates? What’s their number?”

  Xavier scratched his head. “Probably eight thousand. Hard to tell, sir. They are scattered in small groups. Some have taken over villages. Others are hiding in forests. Others still are raiding even as they are running away from their masters.”

  James put his finger down on the waxed paper. “Our first mission will be to get rid of that scum. Once we make the roads free for travel again, we will move against the Parusites. You will send an ultimatum to the king. If he does not withdraw his forces before the Spring Festival, he will bear the full force of my armies, and I will not stop at the Athesian border.”

  “Money will not be a problem, James,” Sebastian said, sounding eager. The council had yearned for someone to finally gain courage and lash out at the invaders that had pillaged and raped their land for so long. For all those who supported James, this was clear proof of their wild gamble.

  “I want the names of all the landholders affected by the invasion. If we’re going to spill blood to help them, they’d better be enthused about it. I want them to offer as much aid as they can. Finances, troops, horses, anything. We will march in a week’s time. Xavier, you will mark the major places of assembly along our route. I expect regiments to wait for us there, armed and ready.”

  Rob lit a cigarette, and the room filled with fragrant smoke. “If you empty Pain Daye of troops, what do you plan to do with all your guests? Send them home?”

  James turned to regard his friend. “Keep them here. Under the watchful eye of my lady wife. You and Sebastian will definitely be of help there.”

  The guild master nodded.

  “Besides, I will leave some troops here, just in case.” Quite a few of them, he thought.

  Rob waved his hand in dismissal. “I will be coming with you. I wouldn’t want to miss the action.” Son of Adam, he mouthed quickly and smiled.

  James ignored the jibe. “Very well.” He liked the idea. Rob was not a fighter, but he had endured the training and hunts quite well. For that matter, so had Sebastian, but he could not imagine the other man driving a lance through someone’s chest. Rob, on the hand hand, looked made for the part.

  “War it is then,” Xavier concluded.

  The week passed in a flurry of preparations. The mansion was in a frenzy. The fields around it turned to brown pulp as more troops arrived to strengthen his standing garrison, an already fat and swollen beast. Hector and Xavier did their best to instill some discipline into the ranks. They feared the lack of uniformity as much as the lack of actual combat experience.

  The High Council of Trade seemed pleased by James’s decision. It sounded rather selfless, for an Athesian emperor to go about saving their own realm. But at the same time, it was only fitting, given they had raised him better than his own parents, they reasoned.

  Sure, there were questions and doubts. Most of them wondered what he would do once he defeated the pirates. They didn’t want an open war with Parus, which is why they had avoided declaring one for so long. But when James showed up, leading Caytorean troops, King Sergei might not bother to make the distinction between those who fought for an exile emperor and those who defended their realm.

  Snow and winds and freezing temperatures made everything slow, more ungainly. Scouts did their best, but sometimes news arrived days late. Even now, fragments of long-past events trickled by on horse and foot, arriving at the mansion mixed with reports about the enemy movement and strength.

  James stood outside the mansion and watched the horse van form. He had roughly twenty-three thousand men, formed from a hundred units. About half had ridden in mock battles and played elaborate war games, but few of them had seen real combat. Adam’s legacy had left Caytor and Eracia with expensive troops that were best at marching during parades.

  Another ten thousand would stay to protect Pain Daye. And a handful more would protect the road and choke points and supply garri
sons all over central and south Caytor.

  Now, it was his time to make history, just like his father had. Take an odd bunch of soldiers and miscreants and forge them into a lethal, unstoppable war machine. Rob had told him a great deal about his father that wasn’t written in books. He liked the personal account. It was less grand, grittier, far more violent.

  Rheanna stood at his side, a worried look on her face. She wasn’t wearing a trace of makeup now. “You will take care of yourself,” she said, almost like a warning.

  James tried to smile, but his mind was preoccupied with the endless stream of information, the count of horses and wagons and archers, the list of notable figures and officers, the experience level, the names of the units, the colors of the banners.

  She reached and slipped her fingers through his. Her hand was cold. “You will,” she insisted.

  James turned around to face her. “And you will take care of yourself.”

  Rheanna laughed softly. “Be careful,” she said, her voice strained. “Do not kiss any pretty woman you might meet in a village somewhere. And watch your back.” Her eyes flicked toward Warlord Xavier.

  Hardly listening, the emperor leaned in and kissed her, savoring her smell. He would miss her. “Make sure the Caytoreans don’t turn their backs on me while I’m gone. Do whatever you must.” He was leaving her with a sizable detachment of troops and killers. He hoped that would be enough.

  There wasn’t much else to say. He waved almost timidly and then marched bravely into the embrace of his officers, waiting for him with grim, determined looks. He imagined his father doing the same thing.

  When he approached them, the mien on his face was hard and empty of emotions.

  CHAPTER 56

  Monarch Leopold waved his hand. Chief Steward Kai nodded slightly and turned toward the entrance to the throne hall. Two guards pulled on the gilded rope handles of the double doors and pushed them open.