by John F. Carr
Phrames nodded his head.
“I want to compliment you on a well-executed and consummated campaign. Few military operations go off as smoothly. A bonus of a thousand crowns of gold will, in a small way, show Our appreciation.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty! It’s an unexpected reward, but pleasant. I need to prepare new quarters for Lady Eutare and I don’t want to do it at the Throne’s expense. But, by the Wargod’s Mace, I truly owe all and any success to my soldiers and their execution of our orders.”
“Soldiers only do well when they are properly led.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Now, I would like to share a letter I just received from Rylla.”
Phrames perked up. “Did you happen to hear from Lady Eutare, as well?”
Kalvan smiled and held up another packet. “I’ll give you her letter as soon as we’re finished talking. It’s still sealed.”
Phrames blushed. Cleon picked that moment to arrive with mugs of hot tea and a wet cloth. Phrames quickly wiped his face, and then blew his nose.
Kalvan took out his pipe fixings while Phrames composed himself.
When he had his pipe fired and drawing, Kalvan began to read from the second leaf: After arriving at the City Gates, we found entrance to Rathon City much easier than We had believed. After the concentrated guns of the Army of the Trygath dislodged the Gate, the Rathoni were quite eager to capitulate.
“I wonder what she threatened them with?” Phrames asked.
Kalvan shook his head in wonderment. “There’s more to this story than the runes scratched onto this parchment, that’s for certain. I suspect Rylla threatened the wholesale destruction of the Rathon City, or its population. Since Rylla’s proven her words by her actions in the past, I would guess they took whatever threat she threw at them quite seriously.”
“As would I, Your Majesty,” Phrames said, trying to hide a cringe.
Phrames, as had Kalvan, had been quite outspoken in his criticism of Rylla’s decapitation of the Phaxi rulers. Rylla had returned tit for tat, and the two were still barely speaking. Fortunately, Lady Eutare, Rylla’s lady-in-waiting and Phrames’ fiancée, was the bridge that kept them civil and in infrequent contact. Kalvan hated it that his wife and one of his best friends were at war in all but name, and hoped the passage of time would heal their differences.
“Next she writes:
After seeing the size and importance of Rathon City, I realized that our plan to install Prince Sarrask as ruler was premature. As we both know, Sarrask is a much more able military commander than monarch. Also, he is much more useful for future military actions. Instead, I swore in Our trusted Chancellor, Chartiphon, as the new King of Rathon, with all titles, privileges and lands appropriate to such station.
“Chartiphon!” Phrames cried out, his mouth falling open. “And why the Great Queens regard for Sarrask, our formerly sworn enemy?”
“We discussed this before the Queen left,” Kalvan replied. “Prince Sarrask has proved his loyalty and usefulness several times over. We had planned to reward him with a new title and princedom.”
Phrames nodded. “I still dislike the man, but no man can say that he has not fought hard for Your Majesties.”
“Yes, now let me continue reading the Queens letter:
I know this was not your and my intention; however, upon reflection, I realized that Chartiphon is more valuable to us as a ruler than as a military commander. He is admittedly too old and set in his ways to ever truly learn your new ways of warfare. However, he has long experience at statecraft and could well be an asset as King of Rathon. His loyalty to ourselves and Nos-Hostigos is beyond reproach. As Duke and Captain-General of the Royal Army, Chartiphon has been held in great esteem by our subjects. Already, the people of Rathon have taken to his stern but kindly countenance and I have encouraged him to take a wife of proven fertility so that he may provide his subjects with a suitable heir.”
Phrames laughed out loud. “Chartiphon marrying ... I wish I could have been there! Heirs ... That old stallion! Praise Dralm, Queen Rylla has truly concocted a miracle!”
“Truly,” Kalvan responded. “Rylla was always able to get that old goat to eat out of the palm of her hand. It’s too bad Primate Xentos wasn’t as malleable.”
“Yes, he could have provided us with the help we needed to halt the Grand Host and hold Hostigos,” Pharmes said bitterly.
“What do you think of Chartiphon as King of Rathon?” Kalvan asked.
“Actually, once over my surprise, I expect that Chartiphon might well prove to be an excellent choice.” Phrames shook his head in wonder. “It solves two problems: first, how to reward and remove a trusted commander, whose services are no longer needed as a Captain-General, from the line of command, and secondly, how to provide the Great Kingdom with a loyal vassal who will do his best to obey Your Majesty’s orders.”
“Exactly, that was my considered conclusion; once I mastered my own surprise. Rylla continues:
I have also decided that our best course is to leave a fifth of our subjects in Rathon City where they will be safe behind the great City Walls and provide the final cement that will wed this new kingdom to Nos-Hostigos. Many are older and weary from our journey and the increasingly colder nights. I have also left the last of the wounded, the widows and women with babes-in-arms. If it is Dralm’s will, many of the widows will find Rathoni husbands and further cement our alliance.
I have also promised King Chartiphon five thousand of our soldiers so he will have a loyal cadre from which to ensure the loyalty of his new subjects. Furthermore, I have taken it upon myself to leave him with thirteen wagons of firearms and ten of fireseed, which should provide his needs until such time as his own gunsmiths and fireseed mills establish themselves.
Do not worry, I have only promised him a bare minimum of artisans to teach his new subjects the arts of saltpeter gathering and fireseed making. However, I did have to provide him with enough artisans to create his own cannon foundry. I hope this meets with your approval, my husband.
Phrames grimaced. “I can see that her decision was necessary, but we need those men here, too, for the fireseed mills and the foundry.”
“Agreed, but spreading their knowledge will ensure that the fireseed arts live on even if we do not. While Rylla has provided me with some surprises, they appear to be of an acceptable nature--for a change!”
They both laughed.
“When will Queen Rylla’s party reach Nos-Hostigos?”
“Within a moon or two, depending on the rains. Or ...” Kalvan let the sentence hang.
Phrames nodded. “I believe it’s too late in the season for the Grand Host to catch-up to the Army of the Trygath. They too will face rain, mud and possibly early snows. Winter hits the Trygath along the lakes with greater ferocity than the Great Kingdoms. Won’t the Host need some place to rest when winter strikes?”
“Yes, that’s what I’ve been counting on. The snow storms and ice will make resupply from the Great Kingdoms or Tarr-Ceros difficult if not impossible. They’ll need some place to hole up for winter.” Kalvan went over to the deerskin map behind his desk. “If we assume they’re about two moon quarters behind Rylla’s Army of the Trygath, the Grand Host is probably just entering the Princedom of Cyros now. It will be late fall before they reach Rathon City, which limits their ability to lay siege to the city. In fact, with all the improvements Chartiphon’s making to the city walls, they probably won’t hang around for long. Their minds, if I know Grandmaster Soton, will be more concerned about the coming winter. There are not a lot of nearby cities large enough to support the Grand Host.”
Kalvan pointed his sword at the Princedom of Mybranos (Cincinnati), at the southwestern edge of Rathon, on the large deerskin map. “Mybranos Town is far too small to billet the Styphoni.” He moved his point to Morthron Town (Toledo). “Morthron might be big enough to hold the Styphoni, but it’s right next door to Tnagnor. If I were Soton, I’d be worried that we’d
link up with the Morthroni and hit his army at will. The closest defensible city, big enough to hold the Grand Host, would be the Nythros City States.”
“Of course!” Phrames cried, “and the Nythrosi transported us to Thagnor so in Soton’s eyes that will make them the Host’s enemies.”
“The friend of my enemy is no friend of mine,” Kalvan muttered.
“I believe you’re right, sire. Shouldn’t Your Majesty contact the Nythrosi ambassador with this information?”
“No,” Kalvan said. “First of all, we’re only guessing at where the Grand Host might winter. Secondly, the Nythrosi, being closer and having more agents on the ground, will have a much better idea of the Host’s threat than we do. Furthermore, it’s to our advantage to have the Grand Host appear as an aggressor, since everyone in the Upper Middle Kingdoms views us in that vein. Plus, it will help neutralize King Theovacar. If he allies with the Styphoni, who are proven aggressors, how can he convince his allies that we are any worse? On the other hand, if he sides with us he gains the enmity of Styphon’s House.”
Phrames nodded. “I see your strategy, but that does not make us very good friends to the Nythrosi who have ferried us here.”
Kalvan held up a finger. “First of all, the Nythrosi are neither friends, nor allies. They moved the Army of the Saltless Sea as they would any other cargo, and were well paid to do so. You and I both know that if I had not taken the Nythrosi ambassador on a tour of the Prince Ptosphes to show him her guns, the Nythrosi Navy might very well have attempted to hijack her for our gold and bonds. Had they done so, and been successful, they would have either killed us all, or failing that, abandoned us on some hostile shore.
“Never once has the ambassador brought up the possibility of an alliance, other than to further their own gains at Theovacar’s expense. We can trust no one there until they have unequivocally proven their loyalty.”
Phrames appeared crestfallen. “I see the ‘big picture’ now, Your Majesty.”
Kalvan paused to relight his pipe. “Which brings me to the second reason for your visit: I know you were ‘promised’ the Princedom of Thagnor; however, I’m going to have to rescind that promise.”
Phrames looked stricken, and bent over as if he were about to be sick.
Kalvan held up his hand. “Please, Phrames, let me explain. Upon further consideration of Middle Kingdoms politics, as well as Our own need for a home base, I have decided that Thagnor is the ideal place for the capital of our new Kingdom, Nos-Hostigos. I plan to have Highpriest Mytron enthrone me as King of Thagnor.”
The Prince nodded, but his eyes were stricken. “I trusted Your Majesty--”
“Stop!” Kalvan said, cutting his friend off before he said something that could not be unsaid.
“I know you’re tired of all the incessant warfare--almost four winters now. And, I know you were looking forward to retiring and ruling a peaceful and prosperous kingdom.”
“I am sick to death of all the killing and atrocities I’ve been a part of. I’ve seen enough killing for a hundred lifetimes ...”
“As I well understand,” Kalvan said nodding. “I feel the same way at times, but destiny refuses to release me from the death grip it has on the nape of my neck! I have my duty to my subjects and to Queen Rylla and my daughter. These I must place above all other things, including my friendships, my fortune, my life.”
Phrames nodded. “I understand, Your Majesty. I would not for all of Lytris’ good fortune share Your Majesty’s seat.”
“I don’t blame you. Thus, instead of the Thagnori throne, for your loyalty and good service to the Throne, I intend to crown you as Prince of Gytha.”
“But Gytha, Your Majesty, is an independent and free Princedom. Nor are we at war with Gytha.”
“Not at the moment, but I’m about to make them an offer they will not be able to refuse. The current ruler of Gytha is an oligarch and friend of Varrack’s. We cannot allow them to continue as Our closest neighbors without a change of alignment. This will not be voluntary. Already, our attempts at negotiation have been rebuffed. Furthermore, it is a rich Princedom and we can use its assets. We will start bombardment within the quarter moon.”
“Won’t this further exacerbate our poor relations with King Theovacar, Your Majesty?”
“Yes and no. Gytha is not, nor has it ever been, a vassal of Grefftscharr. Of course, taking more territory in Theovacar’s ‘Seas’ will anger him. But, this may be inevitable, if Theovacar is not interested in an alliance. Things will get even worse when the Grand Host arrives. Theovacar may even be driven into a partnership with Styphon’s House. However, we cannot drive our strategy on ‘what might happen’ and fears of Theovacar’s reactions. Conquering and holding Gytha will make any attack on Nos-Hostigos, our new kingdom, that much more difficult. I doubt the Grand Host would deliberate for an eighth of a candle over its conquest.”
“True words, Your Majesty,” Phrames said, as he put his armor back on. “The Styphoni have no qualms. I would very much enjoy the honor of being so close to Your Majesties, as well as ruling fairly over such a prosperous princedom. The salt of Gytha is known throughout the Five Kingdoms.”
“Then you shall be granted your wish, by Galzar’s Mace! You shall lead the attack. As soon as we’ve taken Gytha, I will announce your new title.”
TWENTY-TWO
Prince Phidestros looked around, studying the Great Hall of his Beshtan palace. It was newly built over the ruins of the old palace by Prince Phrames and looked solid, but the stone walls were bare. There were no hangings and only a few old paintings. Most of the tapestries and furniture had been removed by the fleeing Hostigi. However, Geblon had made sure that the Iron Company’s old banner, displaying a gold thunderbolt breaking a black iron chain on a green field, was hanging from the highest beam.
Former Prince Phrames had rebuilt most of the outbuildings as well, and expanded the audience chambers, putting in stained-glass panels of all the major gods, except Styphon. As long as Archpriest Roxthar didn’t Investigate the palace, Phidestros decided that was fine with him.
Not that he expected to invite the Archpriest over for any social visits, unless it was to hang him from a spit in the kitchen fireplace.
“Well, Prince, what do you think of our new home?” Captain-General Kyblannos asked.
“I find it far more welcoming than the Gull’s Nest.”
Kyblannos cackled, “By Galzar, that’s the gods’ truth. It was time to leave that bordello; Madam Menandra was beginning to hang over me like an old cloak. She was even talking about setting up shop here in Besh Town!”
Geblon smiled. “She had her sights set on more than your hide, you old dog. I don’t know how you do it!”
“It can be a curse, as my wife likes to remind me.”
They all laughed. Kyblannos’ wife was as nice a woman as there was in the Five Kingdoms until her jealousy boiled over.
Geblon nodded, as he passed out golden goblets of winter wine. “It was decent of Phrames to leave all his silver serving plates and golden-ware for our pleasure! I do believe he expected to return. Here’s a toast to the man who sent Phrames into exile, where he won’t be drinking out of anything as fine as these goblets. To the finest Prince and greatest Captain in all the Five Kingdoms! To Prince Phidestros!”
“Aye, aye!” Kyblannos answered.
Phidestros quickly downed his drink, trying to cover his embarrassment. “Luckiest and gods favored, maybe. Truly, Kalvan’s misfortune was my good luck. The battle was very close and it was only by Galzar’s own favor that we won.”
“Why the sudden modesty, Prince?” Kyblannos asked. “You’ve worked hard and come a long way, from the captain of a small mercenary company to Grand Captain-General of the Holy Host. By Galzar, we’ve all come a long way! Now the Iron Band’s celebrated in verse and song throughout the Five Kingdoms--except in Balph, where they give Soton credit for your victories! But that’s to be expected; after all, Soton’s an Archpriest, and when h
ave you known one of that breed who was content with the contents of just his own purse? Revel in your successes, Prince! You’re the only living man who’s defeated the ‘Daemon Kalvan’ and then run him out of town on a nag!”
Phidestros shook his head. “It’s all happened too fast. Maybe that’s the problem. Sometimes I feel like I’m playing a part in a playhouse, or in the midst of a dream. I haven’t had time to digest my new status and title. When I woke up this morning, I didn’t even know where I was; I expected to find myself back in a torn old tent on a backwoods trail.”
“You’ll get used to this life, Your Highness,” Kyblannos said. “Trust me, it won’t take long. My wife has already spent half my victory bonus trying to live up to my new position. Again, thank you for the dukedom.”
“Likewise,” Duke Geblon said, emptying his goblet as a salute.
“If you can’t reward your friends, what does any of this mean,” Phidestros said, opening his arms. “The gods--if they exist at all,” he paused to spit into a spittoon, “treat men the same as pigeons! Worse even. You’ve been there for me and I wouldn’t have come so far without my old comrades. Nor do I expect this respite to last very long.”
“What do you mean?”
“In the spring, we’re under Lysandros’ orders to evict King Demistophon’s troops from Thaphigos.”
“That won’t be much of an exercise.” Geblon added with a laugh that ended with him spurting blood-red wine all over his blue doublet. “We show up with ten thousand soldiers, he runs!”
“True, I don’t expect the Agrysi will put up much of a fight. But King Lysandros wants us to remain in northern Hos-Harphax until the end of summer.”
“Why?” Geblon asked.
Kyblannos nodded. “Lysandros didn’t say it out loud, but I believe he wants our army to stay in Thaphigos to make sure that Soton’s army doesn’t happen to wander across the border.”
“Is there any truth to his fears?”
Phidestros nodded. “Our Great King doesn’t trust Styphon’s House. Not that I blame him. I suspect he fears that if Soton wraps up his siege of Agrys City and rolls up the rest of Hos-Agrys before the end of the campaign season, he may be tempted to send his Army of Styphon’s Deliverance into Hos-Harphax. After all, what can Lysandros do from the Trygath to stop him?”