Weight of the Crown

by A. C. Cobble

  “I think you might regret that,” said Ben. He turned to glance over his shoulder and saw Rhys was already pushing his chair back, a predatory look in his eyes.

  As the sun was still lurking just under the cusp of hills around them, Ben and his friends trooped out of Murdoch’s Waystation. The air was chill from the elevation and the turning of the seasons.

  “Tough time to be conducting a war,” remarked Rhys, tugging on his cloak to pull it over his weapons and around his body.

  “I haven’t drank like that since you left, Ben,” moaned Serrot.

  “He’s a bad influence on everyone,” said Amelie. She sheepishly hid a yawn with a balled fist.

  “Life is hard on the road. We’ve got to be harder,” retorted Ben.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face and blinked as the first few bright rays of sun stabbed over the horizon. A few more bells of rest would have been nice, but they needed to make Issen before Saala. They had to press on.

  “Was everything you said last night true?” wondered Serrot.

  “I, ah, I don’t remember everything,” admitted Ben. “I know I didn’t lie about anything, though.”

  “Some of it seemed… far-fetched,” responded Serrot. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m still going with you. I know there will be an adventure, but a demon-king, the South Continent, all that stuff with the mages, the Veil herself?”

  “That’s all true,” confirmed Ben.

  Serrot leaned close and lowered his voice, “Are you really, you know, with her? Is she really the ruler of Issen?”

  “It’s none of your business on that first bit, but yes, she will be the leader of Issen, if we can get here there.”

  “What about her?” asked Serrot, glancing at Prem.

  The spry former guardian was walking a dozen paces ahead of them, peering curiously at the debris that had been left by the army.

  “No,” answered Ben. “She’s something different.”

  “Well,” said Serrot. “She’s our age, and she’s nice to look at. There’s worse company to be on a long journey with.”

  Ben coughed. “Did we not tell you… You know what, never mind.”

  They marched on quietly for another two bells, everyone recovering from a long night and an early morning.

  Serrot finally broke the silence, “This is the furthest I’ve ever been from Farview. First time I’ll spend more than a few nights away from home, actually.”

  “Me too,” said Prem, looking back over her shoulder. “I mean, it’s been more than a few nights already, but until they came along, I’d never left my forest.”

  “Your forest? Where did you live?” asked Serrot.

  “Southwest of the City,” explained Prem. “In the woods between there and Akew Woods.”

  “Akew Woods?” asked Serrot. “Never heard of it.”

  “She’s probably never heard of Farview,” remarked Rhys, stepping closer to walk beside Prem.

  Serrot chuckled and adjusted his ash bow, moving it to his other shoulder. “Fair enough. Rhys, right? Where are you from?”

  The rogue eyed the young archer. “I’m from all over, I suppose.”

  “An adventurer like Ben, huh? But where were you born?”

  Rhys frowned. “Another place I don’t think you would have heard of.”

  “There’s a lot to the world, isn’t there?” chirped Serrot.

  Ben grunted in acknowledgement. Not long before, he’d been in Serrot’s boots. He hadn’t heard of Akew Woods and thoughts of demon-kings, the Veil, assassins, rifts… none of it would have seemed real. He began to realize that while they’d told Serrot about the threats they had faced and the challenges they expected to find in Issen, his old friend didn’t understand it. To Serrot, those were just stories, and in stories, the good guys always won. The danger was merely a plot device, and you never worried the hero would die. Between going to Issen and putting themselves between the Alliance and the Coalition, there was a good chance it wasn’t going to be a storybook ending. There was a good chance they wouldn’t survive. They had to try, but they had to be realistic about it, too.

  “Rhys,” said Ben. “Have you ever been through a war? A real one, like what we’re hiking toward?”

  Rhys swept a hand back through his hair, trying to keep the unruly mop from his face. He tied it into a loose knot atop his head before muttering, “I’ve got to get this cut.”

  “Let me know when,” said Prem with a wink. She slipped a long knife from the sheath and spun it, looking pointedly at the rogue’s neck.

  Rhys snorted and then turned to Ben. “I have been in a few wars. Been around the outskirts of a few more. They’re not pleasant, as you can imagine. Why do you ask?”

  “If we do make it into the city, and we are able to convince this Lord Dronson and his peers that Amelie is, well, is Amelie, then what happens if we cannot talk Saala and Jason down?”

  Rhys pulled a skin from his belt and squirted a streamer of amber liquid into his mouth. “It’s hard to say, honestly. We’ll be sitting in the most defensible position within hundreds of leagues. The walls of Issen would be a huge advantage, even outnumbered. Without mages, I certainly wouldn’t want to brave an assault against the place. If they’re willing to sacrifice some men getting over the wall, though, they’ll have enough to do it.

  “Saala’s too smart for that,” continued Rhys, after walking another dozen paces. “That’s what worries me. He was marshaling his troops and preparing to move to Issen long before word came that Selene’s title was stripped, long before the Coalition lost control of the city. He has forty thousand more soldiers in Whitehall, but even with those men, it’d be a close fight. I can’t tell you what that bald bastard has planned, but I’d bet plenty of gold he has something sneaky in mind.”

  “And Lord Jason is just as smart,” added Ben.

  “He has mages on his council, too,” reminded Amelie. “The ones we didn’t kill, at least.”

  “Killed who?” asked Serrot.

  “It’s not important now,” said Ben, frowning. “Everything we know implies both armies are close to equally matched. Both commanders are intelligent, ruthless men, but they’re careful enough to wait until they have an advantage. I don’t think they’d waste their men’s lives frivolously.”

  “How do you know all of this?” wondered Serrot.

  “He’s crossed swords with both of them,” mentioned Rhys.

  “Really?” asked Serrot. “I thought you were exaggerating. We’d had a few drinks…”

  No one responded to him, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was too excited and nervous to worry about the details of the conversation. Ben knew the feeling from a year earlier.

  “The walls of Issen are tall and defensible,” said Amelie, “but there is plenty outside of those walls. It may have changed in the last year, but two-thirds of the population lived outside the keep. Much of the commerce takes place there. There is room in the castle to pull the population in for a short time, but the city has grown since the fortifications were originally built. Much of what makes Issen valuable could be destroyed while defenders sit on the battlements, helpless to stop it.”

  “Would Saala, or even Jason for that matter, plan to destroy the city?” pondered Ben. “It’s known as a key defense point, but it would also be a source of tax revenue and skilled tradesmen, wouldn’t it?”

  “Thinking like a lord,” said Amelie, grinning. “You’re right, of course. I don’t think either side would want to destroy the wealth they could gain after the battle. Maybe if they were forced to, but if not, why waste the resources?”

  “They both have plans,” stated Ben. “They both think they can gain an advantage somehow, and I’m sure they’re both furiously plotting to foil what they think the other side might do. The best commanders all across the continent will be weighing in, considering options, and thinking about moves and countermoves. I can’t imagine either one of them is planning for what we intend, though.”

  “
The element of surprise,” agreed Rhys.

  “What we need to figure out,” said Ben, “is how to make the best use of it.”

  “We keep it a surprise,” suggested Prem. “As soon as they know we’re in Issen and that we’ve put Amelie on the throne, they’ll be able to adjust. If they don’t know, then we limit their reaction time.”

  “Getting our forces in undetected will be difficult,” advised Rhys. “From what Adrick Morgan told you, there’s what, two thousand of them now?”

  “And growing every day,” confirmed the former guardian.

  “That many men—”

  “And women,” interjected Prem.

  Sighing, Rhys continued, “That many men – and women – will not be able to just walk in the front gate with no one noticing. The Alliance and Coalition do not have forces in town to wrest control from the locals, but you can bet they have spies.”

  “We need to get there first and make our moves before they are in position,” said Ben. “We need to convince the highborn to acknowledge Amelie’s legal right, all without the spies finding out what is happening. Then we need to sneak two thousand men – and women – through public areas and into a castle.”

  “It will be difficult,” murmured Amelie, “but I think it’s possible. There are only about two dozen highborn we need to convince, with Lord Dronson being the key member of the council.”

  “Like always, we start at the first step,” said Ben. “We need to get ourselves in undetected and then find Lord Dronson.”

  “That should be easy,” assured Rhys.

  Amelie stared at the rogue. “You think it will be easy to sneak into Issen’s castle, while men are on the ramparts, watching for two approaching armies?”

  Rhys grinned at her. “You worry about the highborn’ing. Leave the sneaking to me. Getting in will be easy. Staying hidden, well, we might need help on the inside for that.”

  Amelie snorted, but didn’t dispute the rogue’s statement. “Once we get in, I have friends who can hide us. Hiding Ben’s army is going to be a bigger challenge.”

  “Wait,” said Serrot. “It’s really Ben’s army?”

  Issen hugged a broad, slow-moving river that nestled in rolling, emerald green hills. Around the city and up and down the river, fields were bustling as workers moved to bring in the fall harvest. Ben realized ruefully they were rushing to gather what they could and put it into storage before the armies of the Alliance and Coalition descended upon the place like locusts. He thought they had better hurry.

  “It’s beautiful, like I remember it,” murmured Amelie.

  Ben had to agree. In the center of the city, pale stone walls rose half a dozen stories into the sky forming an imposing diamond. All around it, buildings, towers, and palaces sprawled out. The city didn’t have the rigid organization that the City did, but it wasn’t the messy sprawl they’d seen in other places. It wasn’t imposing like Whitehall or Irrefort, but it had presence. Based only on observation, Ben would have guessed that a settlement had been on the site for thousands of prosperous years. Ancient structures stood out from the jumble, but they were well-maintained. Palaces, universities, and public areas were well-spaced throughout the city. From a distance, there was little of the derelict tenements that dotted less wealthy cities.

  “Home,” breathed Amelie.

  “It’s been a long time,” said Ben. “Are you ready to go back?”

  “I think so,” she replied, a catch in her voice.

  Ben put his arm around her and drew her close.

  “It will be different,” she said. “Our relationship will change when we get there.”

  “Because you are highborn and I am common.”

  “No,” she replied, a bittersweet smile on her lips. “Once, that would have made a difference, but you have an army now. You’re just as powerful as any of the highborn families. Who can look down on that?”

  Ben laughed. “I guess that does make a difference.”

  “I meant it will be different because I will have responsibilities and commitments. When they’ve recognized that I am the rightful heir, there will be constant petitions, decisions to make, people to watch over, and to watch out for. It’s never-ending, Ben. My father was one of the most well-respected lords in all of Alcott, and even he was worn by the constant press of duty.”

  “We’ll help you,” offered Ben.

  Amelie shook her head. “It’s not like helping someone repaint their cottage or watch over a child. There are decisions that only the leader can make.”

  She fell silent, and Ben had nothing to add. He hadn’t spent as much time in the halls of lords as Amelie, but he’d seen enough. He knew she was right.

  “If you two are done cuddling,” called Rhys, “it’s almost dark. It’s time we started in.”

  The rogue was halfway down the hill from them. Serrot and Prem were at the base. Ostensibly, Ben and Amelie had gone up to scout. Ben knew she simply wanted to look over her home before they walked in. For the time being, the city looked peaceful, without scars of war. In the next few days, if they couldn’t stop it, that would change.

  10

  Behind the Walls

  They passed through the streets of Issen, unremarkable and unnoticed. The structures, the merchants, the hustle and bustle of commerce, it all felt familiar, like they were in any of Alcott’s major cities. Underneath the veneer of a healthy economy and a well-maintained city, though, was a current of fear. Issen was the natural meeting point between the Alliance and the Coalition, and the people knew it. They’d known it a year before when King Argren’s conclave ratified the Alliance agreement, and Issen signed it. They knew it when Lady Selene betrayed Lord Gregor and threw their lot in with the Coalition. They knew it when Lord Dronson stripped her of her titles, and they knew it now, when two opposing armies were bearing down just a few days away.

  Steps were quicker. Children were rounded up and brought inside well before full dark. The men wearing Issen’s pale blue tabards eyed the shadows in the alleys and doorways suspiciously. When darkness fell, the streets emptied quickly. Shopkeepers weren’t staying open late, and housewives weren’t running last minute errands. They were all hunkering down before the marching of boots and the clatter of armor could be heard on the horizon.

  Ben’s party earned a few hard glances from the watch, but it seemed a curfew hadn’t been declared yet, and they were not harassed.

  “They’ll do it the moment Saala or Jason come into view,” guessed Rhys. “They have to. Otherwise, the looting will start early.”

  “Looting?” asked Amelie.

  “When all of the men in the watch are standing on the wall, looking at an army coming closer, there’s no one to keep an eye on the stores. Particularly when the merchants start to flee with their families, there’s nothing stopping the more… enterprising citizens from breaking in and helping themselves to anything that was left. It happens every time.”

  “The armies are three, maybe four days away,” said Ben. “If these people were going to flee, why haven’t they done it already?”

  “They got comfortable,” said Rhys with a shrug. “They’ve known war would happen for at least a year. Like anything, they must have gotten used to that knowledge, that it would happen someday, but they knew that day wasn’t today. When foreign soldiers are within sight, that’s going to be different. They’ll get a reminder then of what is coming, and then those that are able will run.”

  “We need them to stay,” murmured Amelie, glancing at the few civilians who were still scurrying down the street after dark. “Without the people, there is no Issen.”

  “You could lock the gates and force them to remain inside,” advised Rhys. “It’s certainly been tried before. Even worked a few times, but be aware it can backfire. If someone thinks their family’s death is imminent, no gate and no guard is going to stop them. You could have riots in that situation. Your own citizens busting out of the gates and overrunning your soldiers.”

 
; “That’s… awful,” remarked Amelie.

  “That’s the horror of war,” replied Rhys.

  A boisterous group of young people passed by, calling out loudly to each other, their brash confidence not yet effected by the looming threats. Behind them, a pack of guards trailed along, looking for trouble, but with no curfew in place, they had no reason to stop the younglings and send them home.

  The guards eyed Ben and his friends with blank looks.

  “We should hurry,” suggested Amelie once the guards had passed out of earshot.

  “Where is it you’re taking us, Rhys?” asked Ben. “Some secret tunnel, a hidden passageway set in the wall, hopefully not the slop gates again...”

  “No,” said Rhys, “Nothing like that. We’re going in the front door.”

  “This is Amelie’s home,” argued Ben. “They’re certain to recognize her. You’ve stayed in the keep, they might recognize you, too. Saala’s and Jason’s spies could even have my description.”

  “They won’t recognize us,” assured Rhys, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “We’re going in disguise.”

  “What kind of disguise?” asked Amelie flatly.

  “A pimp, his guard, and his stable of whores.”

  “Rhys…” warned Amelie.

  “Shouldn’t it be two guards?” asked Ben, pointing between himself and Serrot.

  “Not all whores are women, Ben. Have an open mind,” chided the rogue. He put a finger on his chin and frowned, looking between Ben and Serrot. “Now which one of you…”

  “Maybe you should be the man-whore,” barked Prem, glaring at the rogue. “We can find you some nice, sheer linens that you could wear. Allow you to show off your… sword. Unless you’re ashamed of it.”

  “Prem,” replied Rhys. “This is merely a disguise. As our expert sneaker, it’s best if I’m able to modify my disguise as we go. Now, if we really wanted to earn some coin doing this, then of course I should be the one showing off the wares, so to speak.”