Weight of the Crown

by A. C. Cobble

  “Now?” gasped Ben, his eyes darting around, peering into the darkness.

  Lady Coatney smirked. “No, not right now. She’ll strike when I walk into whatever trap she’s set for me.”

  Ben glanced at Towaal out of the corner of his eyes and saw the mage had barely moved since she first saw Lady Coatney. A look of disbelief, shock, and fear was etched on her face.

  Rhys coughed, and Coatney smiled at him. “Yes, Rhys?”

  “May I have my wineskin back?” he asked hoarsely.

  Coatney handed it to him and watched, a twinkle in her eyes, as Rhys released his knife and grasped the wineskin in both hands. He turned it up and began to gulp.

  “What are you doing here?” wondered Amelie, a tremor cracking her voice.

  “Avril is not my friend. She is not a friend of the Sanctuary, not a friend of Alcott, and not a friend of you, either,” declared Coatney. “We do not need to agree on everything, but I’d like us to agree on that. Tens of thousands, and I mean that number literally, tens of thousands of bodies could be laid at her feet. She will kill anyone to get what she wants. She is no friend of yours, and she will not help you in what you’re trying to accomplish.”

  “We do not think she is our friend,” murmured Lady Towaal.

  Ben and the others nodded slowly. It was the truth. Avril was not their friend, but neither was the Veil.

  “Good,” beamed Coatney. She stood and looked around the group. “You are a knife, slashing through the air. No one directs you but yourselves. When it comes time to meet flesh, think about who deserves your wrath. Cut with intention. You did good work against the demons. Do not ruin it by shattering the institutions and systems that Alcott has relied upon for centuries. Do not ruin it settling a personal vendetta. When it comes time to decide a course of action, think about whether stability or disruption suits your purposes. If you find yourselves standing between the Sanctuary and Avril, know that her way is chaos, and chaos brings death. Is that what you want for the world?”

  “I-I, ah…” Ben stammered, unable to come up with a response.

  The Veil continued, “You do not have to like me to understand that sometimes we might share a common cause. Being an ally to the Sanctuary in a particular moment is not the same as endorsing our every action. Rhys can tell you about that. I know I do not have your support for my plans, and I am not asking for it. All I’m asking is that you consider your choices. Towaal, Initiate, you saw what good the Sanctuary is capable of. Do not forget that.”

  “We won’t,” said Lady Towaal quietly.

  “That is wonderful to hear,” remarked the Veil before turning to walk into the night. As she vanished into the darkness, she called over her shoulder, “Enjoy yourselves in Whitehall.”

  For a long moment, the group was silent. Then, Rhys burst out into a long string of curses.

  “What was that about?” wondered Amelie, fear still caught in her throat but now joined by awe.

  “Why didn’t she attack us, and how did she know we are going to Whitehall?” squeaked Ben. “She had the drop on us… complete surprise. I didn’t know she was there until she was half a dozen paces behind me. With more mages or soldiers, she could have easily killed or captured us. Why didn’t she?”

  “Because,” answered Towaal grimly, “she means to use us.”

  “For what?” questioned Amelie.

  Towaal could only shake her head. “She seems to think we will join her cause against Lady Avril.”

  “Do you think she knows we saw Avril in Shamiil?” wondered Amelie.

  Towaal shrugged. “I do not know about that, but we were right. Avril is back in Alcott. She’s back, and the Veil believes their rivalry will finally come to a head.”

  “And we’re supposed to play a part,” muttered Ben.

  “So it seems.”

  “But, how?” wondered Amelie.

  After a pause, Rhys stated, “She means what we said. She thinks we’re a weapon. She expects us to damage Avril and further her cause, somehow. She didn’t attack us because we’re already doing what she wants us to do.”

  “But… what?” asked Ben.

  Rhys could only shrug.

  “Are you sure?” queried Prem. “Maybe what she said about not holding a grudge is true, too. She knows we no longer have the staff, so perhaps there is nothing she wants from us.”

  “I killed her son,” reminded Ben.

  Rhys nodded grimly. “Ben’s right. I’ve known that woman for ages. She has no problem acquiring and persecuting vendettas, and she has a big one against us. She aims to use us. It’s as simple as that. When the time is right, she’ll bury us. She came to us tonight because she thought the conversation would steer us toward interfering with Avril. I don’t know how she thinks we will do that, but I know we’re a long way from the City. She wouldn’t be here unless she thought it was important.”

  “I agree,” said Amelie, “but if we don’t know what she wants us to do… we could be helping her, or even foiling her plans, and have no idea.”

  “The Veil never says anything outright and straightforward,” said Towaal, “but what if she did? What if her intent tonight was to convince us that she really does represent stability for Alcott, and Lady Avril really does represent disruption and chaos? She’s making a plea for us to take sides. She’s trying to convince us that Lady Avril is evil, and we should oppose her.”

  “Is she wrong?” asked Ben.

  No one had a response to that. Restless and lost in their own thoughts and speculations, they set a watch and fell asleep. A sense of uneasiness pervaded their camp, but none of them thought the Veil would attack that night. If she wanted to harm them, she would have done so without warning. But if the Veil could find them, then so could Avril. So could anyone.

  In the morning, the unease hadn’t faded. They scurried around the campsite, making a cold breakfast and packing quickly. There was only one major road through Sineook Valley. They’d be easy to find. None of them wanted to stay still. Movement, action, they need to keep going forward.

  “I’ve been thinking,” said Amelie as they started walking. “I don’t think the Veil believes we’ll immediately turn on Avril and confront her. If the Veil cannot find the woman, then she knows we wouldn’t be able to find her either.”

  “What was her goal then?” wondered Prem.

  “Right when she left, Coatney mentioned Whitehall,” said Amelie. “It was the last thing she said. There’s a reason for that.”

  “She knows we’re going there and made a point of making sure we knew,” said Ben, speaking slowly. “Do you think Lady Avril is in Whitehall, and Coatney is trying to aim us at the woman like an arrow?”

  “Or a knife,” reminded Rhys. “She said it herself.”

  “Why would Lady Avril be in Whitehall?” questioned Prem.

  “We know the Sanctuary’s hand has been all over the conflict between the Alliance and the Coalition, right?” said Towaal. “That kind of maneuvering requires years, maybe decades of work. If Avril is in Whitehall, she could be working to disrupt the Veil’s plans with the Alliance and the Coalition.”

  “Do you think she’s trying to stop the war?” queried Amelie.

  Towaal shook her head. “I do not know.”

  “If Avril is trying to stop the war, it’s not out of the goodness in her heart,” mentioned Rhys. “If she’s doing it, it’s because she believes it will help her gain power over Coatney.”

  “I think we can assume both women have plans in Whitehall,” mused Amelie. “We don’t know what those plans are, but for some reason, Coatney thinks we may take her side and help thwart Avril.”

  “If we ruin one woman’s plans, we help the other,” grumbled Ben. “We can’t foil either one of them without assisting her opponent.”

  “What do we do with that?” wondered Amelie.

  Determinedly, Ben responded, “We do our best to end the war. Whether it helps Avril, or Coatney, or both of them, it’s the right thi
ng to do. We cannot respond to their manipulation. We can only do what we know is right.”

  Towaal grunted and gave a nod of respect to Ben. “A very sensible proposition, Lord Ashwood.”

  He snorted.

  Rhys attempted a deep bow while walking, and Ben kicked at him.

  The moment of levity brought a ray of sun into their moods, and moments later, their steps were lighter and their purpose clear.

  “Knowing what to do doesn’t mean we shouldn’t watch our backs,” advised Rhys. “Either one of those women will stick a knife in us the moment we are no longer useful.”

  “Agreed,” said Ben. “We should take the Veil’s visit last night as a warning. She’s out there, watching us. Avril is, too. In time, we’ll have to deal with them both.”

  “The more things change, the less they change,” offered Prem.

  “Exactly,” said Ben, a smile creeping onto his face. “We do what we were going to do before, but now we know we must be cautious at every turn. One misstep—”

  “What’s that?” asked Prem.

  Ahead of them, a large gathering of people were clustered in a field on the side of the road. At least one hundred of them were all turned, facing something in the middle of the cluster.

  “Cabbage farmers?” guessed Rhys. “I’d put half a dozen silver on it or a night of drinking at the next tavern we find.”

  No one took him up on his wager. The man had a point. They were passing cabbage fields.

  Ben didn’t think that was why so many people were gathered together, though. He’d be the first to admit he knew little of cabbage farming, but surely it didn’t take so many hands, or a meeting.

  “They don’t look hostile,” said Amelie. “Maybe we should see what they are doing?”

  “Why not?” answered Ben. “Let’s join the edge of the crowd and peek over their backs. They don’t have weapons, but be ready to run, just in case.”

  The crowd was shifting, and as they drew closer, they heard angry shouts. None of the people were looking back at Ben and his party, though. They were entirely focused on what was happening in front of them. They wore rough clothes, stained by dirt and the sun. Broad hats protected their heads, and several of them had loose burlap sacks on their backs. Annoyingly, it appeared Rhys was right. They were cabbage farmers. That didn’t explain why there were so many of them, though. When they got close enough to make out the words the men were saying, Ben began to pick up an angry theme.

  “I’m already givin’ ya everything I can spare!”

  “A bushel last week, two bushels this week! It ain’t right, and you can tell that bastard lord I said so!”

  “My youngest already conscripted. Can’t I get credit for ‘em? It ain’t fair, man, not givin’ credit for those who already agreed to serve! I can’t give up both sons. They’re my only help.”

  “What about death pay? Ya offerin’ death pay? Back when Whitehall last marched to war, ole Brinn was givin’ yellow gold to yar family if ya died. That’s tha way it oughta be, if ya ask me.”

  Ben met Amelie’s eyes. No one was answering the farmers’ questions, but Ben knew what he needed to know. Taxes, conscription, these men were paying the price for their lord’s war. He gestured to his friends, and they kept walking down the road.

  On the other side of the cabbage farmers, a bald-headed man was sitting at a camp table flanked by a pair of soldiers wearing Whitehall’s livery. The man had a quill in hand and a pair of wagons behind him. Cabbage, gold, or blood, the lords were going to get their due.

  “This is why we have to continue,” muttered Amelie.

  Ben nodded agreement. Even Rhys shook his head and kept looking over his shoulder.

  “These people, they’ll be forced to go to war?” asked Prem.

  “If they can’t pay, then yes,” answered the rogue. “It’s the way it always is. Armies need to eat. The quartermasters need coin for weapons and armor. The men have to be transported to the battle field. There’s all the logistics that go into moving a big group of people from one place to another. It costs gold, a lot of it, but more than all of that, they need bodies. Issen has tall, thick walls. Without mages, there are only a few ways in. If you’re not willing to sit for a long siege, you can try to bust down the gates with a battering ram. You can lob missiles at the gate and walls with catapults. Depending on the terrain, you might be able to dig under, but most common? Climbing ladders and ropes.”

  Ben winced. All too recently, he’d defended a wall against an army of goblins. Half of the creatures were cut down before they made it to the top.

  “That doesn’t sound very safe,” Prem said softly.

  “Most of these farm folk will die,” confirmed Rhys.

  “Can we—”

  “There’s one thing we can do,” declared Ben. “We can put a stop to this foolish war. Whitehall and Issen are half a continent apart. There’s no reason this battle has to take place. There is no reason these people need to die.”

  “There’s never been a good reason for any large-scale war amongst men,” responded Towaal. “They’ve still fought them, though. Fought them since the birth of our kind.”

  Ben grunted. “You’re right, but it doesn’t have to be that way.”

  “It doesn’t?” asked Towaal.

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “People have been fighting long before my time,” mentioned the mage, “and they don’t seem to be in a hurry to stop. For war to stop, something would have to change. Something drastic.”

  “Some people only respond to force,” added Rhys. “Let’s be honest. There’s nothing you can do about that, unless you somehow change our nature. No, the only way to deal with them, to stop them, is by applying even more force. Escalate until they give up, but we know where that can lead. Look at the Alliance and the Coalition. That’s what happened there. Small escalations of force until full-scale war breaks out. Look at Avril and the Veil. Do you think either of those women will bow down to anything other than overwhelming force?”

  Frowning, Ben kept walking down the dusty dirt road, autumn vegetables spreading uninterrupted for leagues around them.

  “You’re right, Rhys,” he finally admitted. “Some people do only respond to force, to the threat of violence, or the understanding that they are beat.”

  “This is a depressing conversation,” muttered Amelie. “If the world only responds to violence, what are we doing? Why are we bothering to stop this war if it only means another will happen later?”

  Ben answered, “Every fight, every battle, every war, there is a point where it could be stopped. You’re right, Amelie, we can’t put an end to all of it. We can never be everywhere. Even if we could be everywhere, we couldn’t stop every conflict. There are some we could stop, though. We know Saala, and we’ve met Jason, so maybe we can reason with them. In other fights, other battles, other wars, there is someone else who can stop those. It may be that person is just waiting for a sign, for inspiration. We can’t stop everything, but we can stop some things. We can save some lives and hope that others save other lives. There are good people out there, and we can show them how it’s done. Violence does not have to be the answer.”

  “That sounds like a plan,” said Prem.

  “That sounds like the words of a leader,” claimed Towaal.

  Ben snorted.

  “It makes sense, Ben,” responded Amelie. “We can’t do it all, but we can do something, and by our example, we can show the way.”

  “Of more immediate concern, what are you going to do about that?” asked Rhys, pointing ahead.

  Arrayed across the road were a dozen men, gripping farm implements and looking menacing. Bandits. Desperate men.

  Ben groaned and glanced at the rogue.

  “Don’t look at me!” complained Rhys.

  “We don’t want any trouble,” called Ben when they drew within shouting distance of the men. He glanced over his shoulder to see if Whitehall’s soldiers had started to return, but th
e road was empty. The soldiers were two or three leagues back, and they hadn’t seen a soul since they had passed them.

  “We don’t want trouble either,” answered a coarse voice. “We just want your silver. Throw your pouches and any jewelry on the ground. Then, be on your way. You can keep your weapons and food. Like I said, we don’t want trouble.”

  Rhys glanced around at the endless agricultural fields that spread out from either side of the road. “You don’t want our food? We have radishes.”

  “Don’t get smart with me!” shouted the bandit leader, shaking a wood axe.

  Ben and his friends stood thirty paces away from the men. The land was flat all around them. There was nowhere to hide, and he didn’t feel like running.

  “Look,” said Ben, a hand dropping to his longsword. “We’re armed, and we know how to use these weapons. You should stop this before it’s too late.”

  The leader of the bandits glanced up and down his line and then nodded toward Ben’s party. The scruffy group started taking slow steps forward.

  “You got a sword,” growled the leader to Ben, “and you might know how to fight, but you don’t have armor. You don’t work for no lord around here who could help you, and there’s only two men amongst you. I got twelve.”

  Amelie put her hands on her hips.

  “Should I—” started Prem, drawing her long knives.

  Ben held up a hand.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way,” he implored the bandit leader. “There is no need for violence. Think about what you’re doing. Whitehall’s soldiers are a bell behind us. They’ll hang you if they catch you.”

  “Nice try. Those soldiers are headed west,” said the grizzled leader of the bandits. “They won’t be back this way for days. Leave your coins and valuables on the road, or prepare to fight.”

  “Unbelievable,” muttered Ben to his friends.

  The gang of bandits closed half the distance and raised their weapons. Ben could see in their faces that there was no hesitation. They had killed before, and they were willing to do it again.