by Jeramy Goble
Maccail, the lord most prone to tire rapidly of hesitance and intimation, spoke up.
“Of course, ma’am,” he obliged confidently. “Though I’m afraid we could only come up with one possibility.”
Jularra stopped chewing and rushed to swallow. “Well, one is better than none. Out with it.”
Robain took over.
“Well, given your previous stipulations, we were obviously limited in possibilities.”
The queen responded by sipping her wine.
“War was not an option,” Robain continued.
“And trade wasn’t realistic,” Drumean added.
To the relief of the rest of the lords, Maccail stepped back in.
“So, while we know the idea is mostly frowned upon, we believe the only feasible option remaining is to ask for a loan.”
“Hmm.” She considered the notion. “A loan of food?”
“Yes,” Maccail confirmed.
She had no immediate reply.
“If you’re concerned with how that will appear,” Maccail said pre-emptively, “we can manufacture any reason or motive, of course. There are certainly ways to paint this need in an extremely minor and temporary light. Perhaps we had a fire in our granaries?”
Every lord not already looking at Jularra turned slowly to judge her reaction. She contained the desire to make any particular faces, which was easy, considering she had already decided what she was going to do. She enjoyed another sip of wine and ran her tongue around her mouth, searching for any stray crumbs. She pondered for a few seconds, but soon rewarded their patience.
“I didn’t want to go that route, but you’re right,” she said. “It’s the only real option left.”
The shoulders of the men around the table relaxed a bit. Relief at reaching a consensus loosened each of the men’s faces.
“But that isn’t what we’re going to do.”
Nerves tensed back up. Some of the lords looked at each other.
“After giving you the criteria I left you with yesterday, I was confident in how I wanted to proceed, and felt the same way up until no more than an hour ago.”
The few of the nobles leaned in with uneasy intrigue.
“Might I ask what changed your mind, Your Majesty?” Ualar asked sheepishly.
Before he finished his question, she had already started looking around the table. She knew she had invited the follow-up question the moment she spoke, but didn’t feel like getting into details. Not with her current audience, anyway. She cast a wide mental net, hoping to catch something she could reply with sooner rather than later.
“Perspective.”
She felt good about the answer. It was succinct, enigmatic, sincere, but powerful. Most importantly, it was the truth. No one at the table offered any further challenges, and only responded with assorted nods.
“So, if I may,” continued Ualar. “What course of action are you proposing?”
Jularra set her glass down and swallowed. Her voice projected confidence and gravity.
“We should unite our forces and invade Torguria.”
The nobles weren't ready for this latest surprise. Gasps and grunts of astonishment circled the room.
“Forgive me, but why the reversal?” Maccail asked. He seemed agitated. “A reconsideration of trade or a loan is one thing, but an outright invasion is completely unexpected.”
Jularra nodded with understanding. She stood and marched briskly to the side of the room, where a map of the continent hung.
“As you all know, early on in my reign, I returned the Crystal Expanse to the Yubik people. It was a gesture of goodwill, which has only benefited us since.”
A grunt of disagreement popped out from somewhere in the room. Jularra spun to face the table.
“That region is worthless and consists mostly of glaciers,” Maccail hissed.
“It was becoming too expensive to monitor and defend, and was wrongfully taken from them by one of my ancestors. By giving it back to them as a gift, voluntarily, we created an ally. And though we are facing this food crisis right now, we have enjoyed a peaceful border with them ever since.”
As expected, someone bit back immediately. It was Maccail, again.
“I still maintain that we should never have given up that region. No nation should ever forfeit land willingly!”
Jularra stepped closer to the table.
“Then perhaps we will take it back, and your family can be responsible for its upkeep and defense.”
Maccail’s nose twitched with the desire to respond, but his mouth remained clamped shut with no adequate retort. Jularra stepped even closer to the table, tilted her head down to the still-seated Maccail, and conveyed her willingness to perpetuate the argument. But Maccail did not oblige.
She blinked and took a step back. “If I may continue?”
She looked around the table and then back to Korden. Confident in Jularra’s skills of debate and self-defense, Korden only took action if he believed Jularra was in immediate danger—at least when they were in the council chamber. Jularra took another visual pass of the table before returning to the map.
“As I was saying. The Crystal Expanse was returned to Yubik, and they have been benign neighbors ever since. But Torguria has been taking advantage of our abandoned defenses there for years, using it as an easy route into the towns outside of Kuspowik.”
She turned back to the table to gauge reactions as she finished her proposal.
“I think we should use the Torgurians' raids to our advantage. We can cite their raids on our ally as justification for an invasion, conquer Brinnock, and seize their resources. No trades. No loans.”
Some around the table rubbed chins or looked aimlessly to the ceiling, mulling over the queen’s suggestion. Jularra noticed Maccail scanning the table for the others’ reactions.
“My original objection, if you remember, was trading famine for war,” Jularra added. “But, as some of you suggested, I believe we have the numbers and the skill to give us a quick, decisive victory.”
Now that war was a very real possibility, the enthusiasm seemed to have drained from the nobles’ veins. All except for Maccail.
“While I wasn’t expecting you to come back to us today with this,” he started, “I suggested it yesterday, and agree that it is the best course of action.”
He let that simmer around the table for a few seconds before continuing.
“Like the queen, I am of the opinion that our people are uniquely qualified to wage war. Our men are stalwart and fierce. Our women are swift and relentless. And many within our borders have solid magical skills to bolster any of our actions." Maccail turned to look directly at the queen. "And on top of that, this cause is right.”
As he made his last comment, the few nobles that were still peering to the ceiling let their heads drop. Latham rubbed his lips in consideration. His eyes flicked back and forth as he closed in on his own opinion. He looked to Maccail.
“I took issue with you yesterday, and I still feel that war is always the last and most horrible option.”
He shifted in his seat to look at the queen.
“But I also feel we have no other choice.”
The table rumbled with encouraging thumps of flagons and fists. The room’s air lightened from the first burst of positive sound in days. The lords exchanged enthusiastic cheers and shouts.
While those at the table carried on with their earliest phase of battlefield motivation, Jularra glanced back to Korden. Neither smiled. Their silent exchange conveyed a shared confidence in her decision, as well as a confidence in their people and their chances. But the two old friends were under no illusions. Even a decisive victory would mean death for some, and torment for many others. Mothers and brothers. Fathers and sisters.
Jularra stepped up to the table solemnly after a glance up to Detsepera’s portrait. She waited for the noise to die down.
“We are all in agreement, then, that we will invade Torguria?”
She spoke deliberately
so that each word sank to the bottom of each lord’s mind, to be unconditionally confirmed.
Side conversations dwindled as the men looked to their queen. The situation was understood. Faces hardened; smiles stilled under war’s lens.
“So be it.” She tossed the words out with a somber stoicism. The room was quiet with the gravity of their decision. With the plan now set in motion, irony found its way into the room. Those who desired war initially now doubted their passionate urges. Those who had wished for peaceful alternatives felt themselves filling with violent determination. Regardless, they were united in their motives.
Jularra turned back to the map. She rubbed her hands together absentmindedly, cranking the wheel of considerations in her mind at breakneck speed. In the steps it took her to return to the map from the table, she had already had dozens of conversations with herself. Time-frames. Forces available. Disciplines. Magic. Conscription. Strategy. Approaches. Terrain. Resources. Rations. Travel. The logistics of destruction. She defined how she wanted the war to be waged, but now had to convince the lords to execute her vision, or at least make them feel like they had a hand in its development.
“In order to achieve our swift and decisive victory, we need to completely overwhelm Brinnock. To overwhelm them, we will need to commit the vast majority of our forces.”
“Vast majority?” Drumean reiterated.
Jularra turned to Drumean with a glare. He held up his hand and bowed his head, silently asking for her indulgence.
“I think we should be careful not to leave our own homes and cities defenseless,” he said. “Just a word of caution. I’m sure it’s understood, but I still felt it needed to be said.”
“It is understood,” Jularra sniped after being interrupted. She then stepped in front of her pride and smoothed her tone. “But I do thank you for the sentiment. Let’s talk numbers, shall we?” Jularra held up her hand and mimed writing to Korden. “Let’s be sure to note this please.”
She walked around the table, closer to Robain.
“Robain, how do your forces look? And—”
She interrupted herself and turned to an advisor standing nearby.
“Do we have an estimate of Torguria’s forces and capabilities—and of the status of Brinnock’s defenses?”
“Uhh, yes ma’am,” the advisor said. He was already shuffling through parchments before Jularra had finished her question. An assistant flipped through another pile and shoved a few sheets into the advisor’s face.
“Right, let’s see,” the advisor began. The tip of his tongue stuck out as he traced down itemized details on the parchment with his finger.
“Torguria. Last published census. Three million, five hundred-and-sixty thousand. Brinnock…”
The advisor traced past other totals towards individual cities. He looked up at the queen once he found the number. “Four hundred thousand.”
“How recent was that census?” the queen asked.
“Three years.”
“Military statistics?”
The advisor reached to his assistant for different sheets of parchment.
“Yes. We…” He searched for the desired details. “We show them as having a modest number of standing, professional armies, totaling an approximate twelve thousand, with half that inside the city walls. The other half of those armies are dispersed across the rest of the country, concentrated around Brinnock with numbers rapidly decreasing as distance from the city increases.”
Maccail anticipated the queen’s next question.
“And what information is there on militias, or conscripts?”
The advisor’s assistant pulled out another parchment from his stack and started to read.
“Uh, yes, my lord,” he began. “There are a fair number of villages with varying sizes of militias, but their voluntary forces are not known for presenting any real threat.”
Ualar wasn’t impressed with the comment. “That seems like a bold statement. To dismiss them so casually like that?”
“I agree,” the advisor said. “We just don’t have any additional data on their militias.”
Jularra listened intently to the exchange, calculating her own thoughts as the back and forth unfolded.
“Are there no estimates at all as to their militias?” she asked.
The advisor leaned over to the assistant’s parchment as they both reviewed it. They flipped through additional sheets until the advisor found something to add.
“I don’t see anything on militias specifically, but I do see here an estimate of potential conscripts.”
Jularra raised her eyebrows, waiting. The advisor dipped his head back to the parchment.
“Five hundred armored horse. One thousand archers. One thousand spears. And Three thousand infantry.”
Jularra watched the others for their reactions, holding her chin as the advisor read out the numbers.
“So, that’s…” Latham sought to confirm, “twelve thousand in and out of the city, plus five-and-a-half. Worst case, seventeen thousand, five hundred."
Drumean immediately responded. “That’s not including any unknown militias.”
“I don’t like unknowns.” Robain added what most of the others were thinking.
The queen walked to a window, still stroking her chin. She and the others continued to weigh the information.
“Now, I’m fairly sure that Brinnock has had much more spent on its defense than any other city in Torguria,” Korden began. “But what notes do you have on the city’s defense infrastructure? I’m sure we have all visited numerous times and have our own recollections, but I want to be sure.”
The assistant nodded and held the parchment up once more.
“The city’s outermost perimeter is defended by a single wall, ten feet thick, and is, at its closest point, just under a mile from the two concentric walls that surround the main keep.
“The primary fortification is just under a square mile in size, and shaped by two sets of concentric walls. Each set of walls are made up of eight sections that curve inward, meeting each other with substantial bastions at each corner. There are multiple structures, including a keep, inside the inner wall which sit atop a motte. There is a steep incline of fifty degrees between the inner and outer walls, and there have been reports over the years of that area containing various traps and ground-level obstacles, but we have no details on anything specific.”
The assistant lifted his head up, panting slightly.
The queen continued to look out the state chamber window as she asked a follow-up.
“What do we have on the topography of the area surrounding Brinnock?”
The advisor flipped through more of the parchments and set the pile down after grabbing a thick, folded map. He handed the assistant a corner and then motioned for him to move further away. They gently unfolded the map and held it against the wall. Jularra turned as the map fell out to its full size. The advisor leaned out while holding the map to identify its orientation.
“Uh,” he uttered to the assistant. “Spin it to the right once. There.”
“As you can see, here is the keep," he pointed, "the structures surrounding it, the motte, and the concentric walls. Outside the fortification are various commercial areas, markets, and the residential areas which compromise the bulk of the area inside the city’s walls."
“But the topography outside the city?” the queen interrupted.
“I’m sorry, yes, of course,” the advisor rushed to say. He continued while pointing at assorted locations on the map.
“The land is mostly flat and easily navigable by foot or carriage. There are only occasional groupings of trees, with moderate vegetation. Most of the unpopulated area is grassland used by livestock.”
Maccail leaned forward and brushed his lips with his interlocked fingers. “They would see us coming for miles,” he announced coldly.
“Surprise isn’t always possible, Maccail.”
“I’m aware, Latham. But if the main goal is a swif
t and decisive attack,” he said, gesturing at the map, “then marching up to an extremely durable fortification and allowing them to adapt to any approach is foolish.”
The advisor, who had been trying to interject to resume his details, finally poked his way back in to the conversation.
“I’m sorry, my lords, but that isn’t everything.”
Attention turned back to the advisor.
“Yes?” Maccail prompted.
“The area is mostly flat, but the city’s outer wall brushes right past the point of a neighboring plateau. It looms far above the height of the wall.”
The room’s occupants retreated into their minds for analysis and consideration.
Korden had the next question. “I’m not sure how relevant that could be. How high above the fence is the top of the plateau?”
The assistant consulted his parchments, but couldn’t immediately reply. Just before the queen was about to say something to keep the conversation moving, he found something to add.
“Oh, here. The difference ranges from one hundred feet at its lowest, to two-fifty feet at its highest.”
Almost everyone in the room scoffed and chuckled.
“Well, that doesn’t really present any options, then. Even at a hundred feet, the height is too great to work with,” Maccail asserted.
Jularra turned and strolled back to the gathered lords. The room settled as the men around the table motioned for refills, exchanging uncomfortable glances while the queen made her way back to the map.
“Let’s come back to Brinnock later,” Jularra said at last. “What can each of us bring to the fight?”
Korden snapped a nod and began rattling off numbers.
“In Burrek, we have four thousand Bedrock infantry, four thousand Bedrock pikemen, one thousand archers, two thousand Spire infantry and two thousand Spire spears. Our latest estimates have approximately two hundred and fifty Ridgerazers.”
Jularra raised her eyebrows at the final number—the estimated count of magic users. “That's good. But it should be higher.”
Jularra looked around to the others before turning back to Korden. “And what about the rest of the counties? Do you have those numbers?”
“I believe so,” he replied. He started picking through his own small stack of parchments, and then looked over the queen’s shoulder to address the table. “Please correct me if any of this information is out of date.”