by Kal Spriggs
The carriage came to a halt and a moment later, Brussels pulled open the doors. Christoffer led the way out and nodded to the Marines who guarded the doors of the Admiralty house. Unlike the Citadel, the Admiralty House wasn't old or sprawling. It was new construction, crafted of brick and mortar, and in the newer part of town, not far from the military docks. The corridors were broad and tall, with large, open windows to let in the light.
Christoffer felt as if a weight had come off his shoulders as he stepped briskly inside. He saw Brussels and Jenkins move to stand in the waiting area without a word and he gave Nikolas a final nod, “Take care of those two lummoxes, as well, if you would.”
Nikolas nodded and Christoffer went forward to the counter. “Admiral Christoffer Tarken, I should be expected.”
“Of course, my lord,” the clerk said. “I'll have an escort lead you to Admiral Gerhard's offices.”
A moment later, a young boy, clearly proud of the uniform he wore, hurried up, “Follow me, sir.” His high pitched voice might have sounded silly, but Christoffer had served with Midshipmen no older than him, so he gave the boy a nod and followed.
The back area of the Admiralty House was a maze of desks and wood-partitioned offices. He had heard someone joke, at one point, that the Boir Navy was only one good fire away from ridding itself of needless bureaucracy. Seeing men and women scurry around with stacks of reports and paperwork, Christoffer wasn't entirely certain the joke wasn't at least somewhat accurate.
The boy led him to the back offices and finally to a wooden door at the end of the hall. He knocked sharply, “Lord Admiral Tarken, sir.”
“Enter,” a gruff voice said from inside. The boy opened the door and Christoffer stepped past him with a nod. “Thank you, Midshipman Patris, you're dismissed.”
The boy shut the door without a sound and Christoffer walked forward and gave a crisp salute, “Admiral...”
“Oh, enough of that Christoffer,” Admiral Albert Gerhard said with a wave. His longtime friend's thinning white hair and wrinkled, age-spotted skin was a painful reminder that he lacked the Starborn heritage that made Christoffer still physically fit after forty cycles of military life. “Take a seat.”
His friend pushed paperwork out of the way and dug through a stack until he finally just pulled the entire stack over. “It's weeks of reading going through all your reports,” Admiral Gerhard said. “They're finely enough written that I can tell you found some poor sod to do it for you while you focused on the important things... lucky bastard.”
Christoffer gave a slight smile, “Wishing you could be out there on the ocean, my friend?”
“More than you can know,” Admiral Gerhard shook his head, “More than you can know,” his voice was anxious as he repeated the words and his gaze was distant. “My grandson Conley sailed with the Northern Fleet and my great-grandson is a midshipman aboard the Southern Fleet. Damned bad business this.” He shook his head again.
“I'm sorry,” Christoffer said.
“You've done a fine job, Christoffer, don't you beat yourself up over this,” Gerhard said sharply. His dark eyes bored into Christoffer. “I know you. I know how you think. This wasn't your fault. No one saw this coming... and I've got your damned 'concerns' that you posted to Grand Duke Becket from before you left. You didn't think the punitive expedition up north was a good idea in the first place. I didn't either.”
Christoffer shrugged, “It was still my duty.”
“You did your best with it, far better than anyone else could have managed.” He grimaced, “Even me, I'll admit.” His friend pulled a folder out of his drawer, “For that matter, do you know whose signatures are all over the strategy sessions where it was put forward and approved?”
Christoffer frowned, “Baron Richtoffen, the Minister of Defense?”
“Him, yes,” Admiral Gerhard nodded as he passed over the folder, “But also our good friend Lord Admiral Hennings.”
Christoffer felt something acid burn in his stomach as he saw the signature. It wasn't ironclad proof. There were four other officers signatures on the document, but it was clear evidence that the Admiral had in-depth knowledge of the planned expedition. He looked up at his friend in surprise, “Has anyone investigated this in light of his other actions?”
“Indeed,” Admiral Gerhard said. “I've done so personally. Right after the planning completed, Lord Admiral Hennings arranged for his youngest son, the idiot you dealt with already, to be assigned to the Northern Fleet... but he also had his son and heir as well as himself assigned to the Southern Fleet. I've spoken with Lord Schilt, who took over as the acting Minister of Defense, and his people have confirmed that he also sold many of his shares in shipping throughout the northern lanes, several warehouses in Port Riss, and even arranged for a shipment of his personal goods from a manor house south of Boirton to Freeport.” Freeport was where the majority of the Southern Fleet was based, positioned to intercept Vendakar raids as well as protect merchant shipping in the Basin and the Hammer Gulf as well as within easy sailing distance of Gruenlund and the ports there that serviced the island's mines and farms.
While there was nothing precisely wrong with him taking any of those actions individually, in combination they were suspicious. “Young Lieutenant Hennings wasn't the brightest of my officers...”
“A noble sacrifice for him, then,” Admiral Gerhard said, his voice dripping with cynicism. “He lost one of his own sons in the disaster, a clear sign he couldn't have known about it.”
Christoffer felt a chill at the implications. “You saw my other reports in regards to the messages we found from the Armen?”
“Yes, the southern wizard they spoke of, both in messages and in some of the Armen prisoners from your shore-side battle with them near Southwatch,” his friend nodded. “We've investigated here, but while there's mention of a few Iron Wizards in Freeport, they aren't the type that would impress our northern friends.”
“Well, whoever he was, he might be dead,” Christoffer said as he thought back to what Lady Katarina had told him of the wizard they'd faced. Her description of the hooded man was vague enough to be frustrating. More frustrating was the wizard who had traveled with her, for he had been unhelpful in filling in details about the enemy wizard and Christoffer found it hard to remember the man's name and description. “As I said in my most recent reports, Katarina Emberhill faced him at Southwatch and the spirit there attacked him. At the least, it forced him to withdraw. I wish we had a name, but all the damned Armen who might have known it are dead and the others just called him the 'dark man.'”
Admiral Gerhard nodded. “Well, regardless of who this fellow might be, Admiral Hennings is definitely consolidating his power in Freeport. “Ever since the siege dropped we've had constant merchant traffic. They're telling us about how he has laid on heavy duties on merchant traffic and how he's doing his best to isolate a lot of his sailors and Marines. We've managed to have something of an intelligence network set up with some merchant ships passing the information. Hennings is telling our people down there that the Council killed the Duke and staged a coup... and that they sent the Northern Fleet to die against the Armen. Anyone who speaks up against that is arrested for sedition... along with any potential hostages, it looks like.”
Christoffer winced at that. His friend wasn't alone in having family in service with the Southern Fleet, he knew. Captain Elias's older son was down there as well, as were a number of other officers, sailors, and Marines from all over Boir. If Hennings was trying to turn that force against Boir, it would be opposed by those brave enough to speak out. That will go hard on those who do, however, he thought darkly.
He frowned though, at a sudden, unpleasant thought. “If we've got merchantmen passing information to people there, then he probably has the same thing going on here,” Christoffer cautioned.
“Oh, I know,” Admiral Gerhard nodded. “And we've already caught a few of them, one of them tried to slip into the Admiralty with some kind of wizar
d's device, we think it was designed to destroy the building.” Christoffer winced at that... but it made too much sense. Destroying the Admiralty House would decapitate what was left of the Boir Ducal Navy... and also kill the handful of officers who outranked him. “We've also had a handful of accidental deaths that I find suspicious. We've linked the murder of Baron Richtoffen to the same type of poison we think was used to kill Admiral Fenteren, which put Hennings in charge of the Southern Fleet.”
Christoffer nodded at that. Fenteren had been a good man, a skilled officer, and a close friend and his death was a bad enough blow. That it came from something as cowardly as poison was all to the worse. Although Christoffer and Baron Paul Richtoffen had seldom been more than polite to one another, he could admit that he had respected the nobleman's ability, particularly as the Minister of Defense. The timing of both their deaths and particularly the manner of their deaths implicated Hennings as the culprit. When tied into the attack on the Citadel by Armen raiders which had killed Grand Duke Becket and his entire family, along with Christoffer's daughter and dozens of other well-born families and their guards... “If we even suspect that he's tied to the attack that devastated the Northern Fleet then it also ties him to the attack on the Citadel. We must inform the Council of this.”
“I have, trust me,” Admiral Gerhard said. “Baron Rothlim is well apprised along with Lord Schilt. Baroness Verlische has been conducting a separate investigation... but Lord Schilt has told me that she can confirm most of what I've already learned. From what I understand, young Altus Richtoffen has done an investigation into his father's death and he's tracked it back to Hennings, too.” He ran a hand through his white hair and his gaze went distant again. “This is treason of the worst sort, the kind that hasn't been seen since that bastard Dalton.”
Christoffer nodded, his own expression tense. The implications were dark, indeed. “I assume that I'll be needed here ashore. Who will take command of the Northern Fleet?”
Admiral Gerhard seemed to sag into himself a bit more, almost as if the weight had become too much. “Did you not hear when I said we've had some suspicious deaths?”
“You mentioned it...”
“Admiral Stegner's home caught fire just after you sailed to join the Northern Fleet, he and his entire family perished. Admiral Hans Richtoffen, Baron Richtoffen's brother, suffered a bad fall at his manor house in the same week, and I'm told he'll be lucky if he ever walks again.” Christoffer winced at that, two such incidents in a week certainly proved suspicious. His friend continued, “After Baron Richtoffen died, Admiral Alfhanz Pattersen was stabbed to death by his mistress who apparently then killed herself.”
Christoffer's eyes went narrow, “That only leaves...”
“Myself, you, and Admiral Ales,” his friend said with a grave nod. “I'll tell you that I have a Marine escort with me everywhere,” Admiral Gerhard said, “there's a squad of them within fifteen paces, even now.” He didn't need to say why Admiral Ales wasn't fit for duty aboard ship. He was a good man, smart, capable, and loyal, but he hadn't served aboard a military ship in ten cycles and his love of good food and drink had given him a hefty girth. Also, he had long been a man who had more love for the products of Iron Wizards than command. Michael Ales has been the primary lead for procuring new weapons and equipment from the wizard guild and his experience and knowledge in that role was irreplaceable.
Christoffer felt a shock go through him then. “You're saying that I'm effectively one spot away from commander of the entire Navy?” he demanded.
“Worse than that, I'm afraid,” his friend replied, “it can be much worse than that, my friend, trust me.” Christoffer didn't trust the twinkle of mischief in the old Admiral's eyes. “But for now, you are our only shipboard Admiral. I've approved your own statements about Captain Elias Wachter and several of his officers for promotion. The promotion of Captain Elias will have to wait, I'm afraid, for the appointment of a new Duke, but the others I can take care of myself. We've a few captains here on shore that we can promote to command and I've approved your endorsement specifically for Lieutenant Karl Gunnar as well as Lieutenant Johann Jonas to both be promoted to the rank of Captain. Between that, we can command all five of our naval vessels as well as Wizard Captain Gunther's windship and the second one under construction.”
“So the Oberon has finished construction?” Christoffer asked. As the Ubelfurst's sister ship and the second of its class, the Oberon would be a significant bonus to their combat power. Both ships were considerably larger than the older class of ironclads, such as the Mircea. They also fitted the most recent versions of heavy casters as well as a set of Wizard's Shot, the most powerful weapon yet crafted by Boir's Iron Wizards.
“Yes, and we're starting construction of three more, though our budget is in shambles,” Admiral Gerhard grumbled. “Having our merchant ships able to put to sea has helped, but we'll have to stop construction if the economy doesn't recover. If I have to listen to Jeroen Kurth complain any more about trade balances I might just see if I could get that bastard Hennings to put me out of my misery.”
Christoffer just shook his head at that. He had little doubt that his old friend wished his health didn't keep him ashore, but cycles of work in the Admiralty House had made him an expert in both the strategic and political maneuvers necessary to run the Navy. He had little doubt that Albert Gerhard enjoyed his arguments with the Minister of Trade. At this point, if nothing else, it gave him someone to shout at to work off his frustration.
“Well,” Christoffer said. “Since it looks like I'll be leading any fights in the immediate future, how about you tell me what needs to be done?”
***
Siara Pall
Siara waited patiently for Admiral Tarken to finish with his meetings. She attracted no little amount of attention from others in the waiting room, more for her obvious Armen heritage than her civilian dress, she was certain. Nikolas managed to turn most away with a few words. The couple exceptions were turned away by Jenkins, particularly after one took exception to her 'breathing my air' and tried to do something about it.
Her professional opinion was that that particular young man would be able to walk just fine after a few days of rest. That she could have dealt with him apparently didn't bother Coxswain Jenkins, he had simply given her a nod of the head afterward and mentioned that he didn't want to trouble her. It was probably best, she thought, that as an Armen I don't assault any of their warriors here at their headquarters.
It was interesting to see how they went about their business. She had passed some of her time writing a letter to her father, certain that she would find some enterprising merchant willing to take it north at some point. She had noted in the letter that the organization of the southerners impressed her above all else. Everything here seemed to have a system and everyone present moved with a sense of purpose, certain of how they fit into their military as a whole.
Her father would appreciate that, she knew. He had seen enough war parties that broke down into squabbling and even bloodshed over simple matters of precedence and pride. She had heard him complain many times that his warriors lacked the discipline to fight together as the Darkstar and the Southerners did.
Of course, such organization did not come without a price. She had spent many hours with Admiral Tarken writing up reports and she saw now why that was. They had replaced the squabbling of warrior tribesmen with a paper and parchment monster that required constant feeding. She wondered, absently, if it was a thing native only to Boir or if it was common to all the Southerners.
It was past dark when the Admiral finally came out of the back offices. He nodded to them, “We're done here.” He paused, “Nikolas, have you arranged for quarters for me?”
“Yes, my Lord,” the steward nodded. The wizened little man glanced down at a note, “West wing of the Citadel. I'll have them bring the carriage up.”
“Thank you, Nikolas,” Admiral Tarken said. He looked over at Siara and she saw that his
gaunt face looked weary and tired, “Do you need us to drop you somewhere or...”
His steward spoke up, “She's quarters with us, my Lord, since I figured you would want your scribe handy for anything that comes up. I've also obtained her a pass for here as well as the Citadel. Captain Elias vouched for her for both.”
“Ah,” the Admiral said. “Well, that is acceptable.” Siara waited as Jenkins led the way outside and then she followed Nikolas and the Admiral to the carriage as it rolled up. She still felt foolish riding in the contraption, but she understood its purpose. It was less so that the Admiral didn't have to walk and more to screen him from crowds and possible threats. It was also a status symbol, she realized, for to own and keep horses in a city such as this would be difficult. Not as difficult as keeping them in my lands, Siara thought, where the winter lasts ten months, but probably difficult enough.
As she seated herself, she decided to ask the question that had bothered her since their arrival, “Admiral, have they rewarded you, yet, for your victories?”
“What?” he asked.
He looked confused, so she clarified, “You have won several victories against the Sepak Armen and also learned much about this Southerner wizard who worked with them. Have they spoken of promoting you further or of some other way to honor you for your victories?”
He shook his head, “No. I'm not sure you fully understand the circumstances. I was in charge of the entire Northern Fleet, it was my duty to lead them. I failed in that and though they have said they wouldn't punish me for it, I'll not be surprised if I'm out of a job after this crisis passes.”
“That would be foolish of them in the extreme,” Siara said and shook her head. “You were not with the Northern Fleet when they were attacked. How can you be responsible for a disaster over which you had no control? Also, did you not hear the people at the docks when we arrived? You are a hero to them. If nothing else, honoring you in some way would be a further boost to morale, I would think.”