She sparred with Lodi as the rest of the men made camp. She was getting better with his instruction. She could feel how much faster she was with the blade and her feet felt lighter already.
The movements and mental concentration kept her focused on the right things. It kept her mind from the doubts that lurked in the back of her head. She still knew they were there, but she could continue to ignore them with the help of these men and the activities of the trail.
Her father would tell her to put on a good face for the men. That’s exactly what he would do in her situation. He would lead the men to victory and never waver. He would show nothing but strength.
“How’s the practicing going?” Mon asked her that night when she returned to the main camp circle for dinner.
“Good so far. Lodi’s teaching me a lot.” Elisa sat down next to the old farmer and dug into her meal of a rabbit stew made by some of Desaix’s scouts.
“Good. Hope you won’t need it, though.” Mon winked at her and Elisa smiled in return. “We’re making good time. There’s a Kurakin army close, but Lar thinks they won’t find us if we move quickly.”
“And the Scythes?”
“Still behind us.” Mon shrugged. “But we can outrun them and then hide in the east.”
Elisa nodded and hoped that was true. She spooned some more of the stew into her mouth and felt it warm her body.
She briefly considered asking Mon more about his history with her father and the Erlonian army, but stopped herself. Lodi had warned her about the topic and she didn’t want to ruin what had been a good day by bringing up a dark part of the farmer-general’s past.
Elisa kept quiet and chose to focus on happy memories of Ascension Days past in Plancenoit back when her family was still together and her mother was still here and her father was the most powerful man on the Continent. She smiled to herself and ate more of the wonderful stew, her doubts from earlier almost completely forgotten.
Rapp
The crowded lift groaned as it fell towards the city. Rapp stood next to his mother and sister with Leberecht on the other side. Ambassador Trier and a diplomat from Brun stood in front of them with the rest of the delegation crammed in on either side.
“A fine day for a tour of our city,” Trier said to the other diplomat.
Rapp wanted to punch the ambassador right in his smile. He wished he could arrest the traitor right here and get his task over with.
But he had to be patient.
A general waits to make his move at the appropriate time. Never before. Never after.
Rapp used the words from the Ascended One’s Tome to calm himself. He had to see out Leberecht’s plan for the day. The Ascended One would stick to strategy and be patient were he in Rapp’s position.
And it was Ascension Day, after all. The war god would certainly guide Rapp to victory on his quest.
The summit delegation was taking a day-long break from their marathon debates on the future of the Continent to honor the holiday. Queen Caroline had organized a trip down to the main market of Citiva for anyone who wanted to join.
Rapp would catch Trier in an act of traitorous espionage and his quest for the Ascended One would be over. Rapp would win glorious praise from both the god and the Wahrian people without having fired a shot or ordered his army to march.
“Ambassador Leberecht, has there been any news from Duroc since yesterday?” Queen Caroline’s words brought Rapp out of his scheming thoughts and pulled his eyes from the back of Trier’s head.
“No letters or reports this morning, Your Highness,” Leberecht said. He leaned around Rapp to look at the queen with a hand rested on his protruding belly.
“Duroc and Father will cut Marshal Lauriston’s army off. They’ll be trapped in the hills,” Rapp said. “And Mikhail has assured me that Duroc’s men will find the emperor’s heir soon as well. The empire will be all but finished at that point.”
Leberecht nodded. “Duroc has the Scythes tracking the girl. There’s only so far she can go.”
“She’s gotten this far.” The queen had her eyes forward and her lips pursed. It was the familiar expression she always wore when Rapp or anyone else discussed military matters.
Rapp didn’t have an argument back for that statement. The summit had been waiting for weeks of news of Princess Elisa’s capture.
Not that it mattered. Rapp told his mind to focus. Everything in the western part of the Continent would be secondary if he could complete his task for the god.
The war was over. The Erlonian princess would be captured. Rapp had to only catch the traitor who sought to break the Coalition apart.
The prince looked across the lift to where Mikhail stood at the front left corner. Thirona was near him, surrounded by the usual group of Brunian delegates and a few other random male representatives from other countries. The Kurakin claimed General Duroc was doing everything he could to find the princess. But could that be a ruse?
Could the Kurakin be the traitors the Ascended One’s voice had warned him about?
The thought made the prince’s head spin. He stopped the idea before it could go further. It was too complicated of a thought and nothing good would come from dwelling on it.
Rapp needed to focus on Trier today. If Trier proved innocent, then Rapp could move on to other suspects. Today he would only think on the small ambassador with wisps of white hair in front of him.
The lift shuddered as it approached the city. The group of diplomats and royals stayed silent for the last few feet before it hit the ground. A line of guards waited to escort them into the market.
The doors of the lift pulled open and the group pressed out. Rapp finally felt like he could breathe properly again, not pressed between a bunch of people.
The smell of the city engulfed him. The dirt in the streets, the sweat of the people moving about, the commotion of the market beyond. It all rushed into his head at once and was almost too much to handle after so long up on the plateau.
Thirona and Mikhail were in the front of the group. Rapp walked behind his mother in the middle in the long procession. The guards pushed into the crowd where they needed to, but most of the citizens parted for the group. Rapp could see people standing on their toes to get a glimpse at the royals and the foreign sorceress and the other ambassadors.
The market was an organized group of tents in the center of the main square of the city directly adjacent to the plateau lift. The square sat at the end of the city’s major street through the northern part of the city.
The tents were arrayed in an outer ring on the edge of the square, with two more inner rings circling the grand Citiva Fountain in the middle.
The guards led them across the square to the tents and the diplomats dispersed. The foreigners who’d never been to Citiva, some never having been to Wahring at all, were eager to see the wares of the market.
Guards broke off with the various groups. Rapp stayed with his mother and sister while Leberecht walked over to join Mikhail with Thirona’s group. The large ambassador gave a short wink back to Rapp as he left.
This was it. They would finally see the traitor the Ascended One had warned about make a move. Rapp would catch the spy within the Coalitions summit.
Or so the prince hoped.
“What section should we walk through first, my dears?” the queen said.
Rapp left her without a response. Trier was already moving around the eastern edge of the square, looking at the outer rows of tents.
“Let’s go to the jewelers!” Rapp heard Julia say to the queen as he walked away.
Rapp kept his distance from Trier and acted like he was interested in the turnip stands in front of him. Two guards shadowed the prince and two more shadowed Trier and the other diplomat with him.
Nothing suspicious happened for the first hour spent in the market and Rapp almost gave up his shadowing. He became frustrated again as Trier made a slow pass around the market, pointing out certain things to his companion and stopping at
certain places to make a remark on the architecture or history of the buildings that lined the square.
It was all pointless banter from a man who thought himself important.
They came to the northern section of the square and Rapp’s eyes were drawn towards the wide opening for the main street running away from the square. He could march straight out of the city right now and head to the front with an escort from the city guard.
Decisiveness makes a general.
The proverbs of the war god’s Tome echoed in his ears. Rapp could leave the summit behind and ride west to help with the eastern front. It would be simple and easy, but even as his feet were drawn towards that freedom, a voice pounded in his head. The memory of the power behind the actual words of the Ascended One kept Rapp in the square.
His eyes found Trier just in time.
Rapp saw the Wahrian ambassador break away briefly from the other diplomat with him. There was a group of royal staff holding baskets outside a butcher’s tent. They were kitchen staff from the look of their uniforms, sent to stock up for the summit feast that evening.
A servant turned and smiled brightly at Trier. The ambassador said something and the woman’s smile brightened even more.
Rapp saw a flash of white in Trier’s hand. A paper. A note of some kind.
Rapp’s breath caught. The commotion of the market around him fell away and he watched Trier and saw him press the note into the servant’s hand.
A message. What would an Ambassador of Wahring be doing passing a note to a lowly servant girl from the kitchens?
Nothing good, Rapp decided. Nothing good at all.
He felt himself smiling. His shoulders shuddered as a weight came off them. He wanted to yell out in victory and howl up towards the sky.
The noise of the market came back and he felt the full importance of what he’d just witnessed. Trier was a spy. He was passing information to someone through the palace’s serving staff.
Ambassador Trier, a Wahrian citizen, was the traitor the Ascended One warned about.
Rapp couldn’t hold his smile inside. He shadowed Trier the rest of the way around the outer rim of the market, but nothing else suspicious happened. That didn’t matter.
Rapp couldn’t wait for his chance to tell Leberecht the good news. Tonight they would talk through a plan on how to expose Trier to the rest of the summit.
Rapp would be a hero. Not a war hero, but glory would descend from the heavens nonetheless.
The prince continued walking through the market for the rest of the morning with his smile wide on his face and enjoyed the sunlight and clear weather and the sights and the sounds and the smells of the citizens of his realm.
Chapter 14
If all seems to be going well while on campaign, then it is assured that forces somewhere, hidden from your view, are conspiring against you.
Maxims of War, Entry Five
Emperor Gerald Lannes
Pitt
Pitt’s army reached the Broadwater quicker than expected. Charles allowed the Brunian vanguard to range farther out than before and Pitt could move about with a little more freedom along the wide river. Pitt kept his cavalry out in front with the hope of finding the last of the Erlonian army somewhere out there.
They found nothing.
The Brunian vanguard camped along the banks of the river and Pitt stared out over the vast waterway every night for three nights as they waited for the Wahrians to catch up to their position.
The king’s main column had reached the Brunian camp and set up in an adjacent group of fields slightly upriver. Pitt stood on the banks of the river and listened to the sounds of the Wahrian camp. Their soldiers were loud and undisciplined next to Pitt’s Brunians.
Pitt let out a long sigh and turned from the water to find his horse. He rode towards the Wahrian camp and straight to the king’s tent. Charles had asked Pitt to dinner and Pitt tried to steel himself for another night of gluttony and unproductive talks on other subjects besides the war.
Within the royal tent, the king lounged with a glass of wine on his normal chair and hummed one of the royal tunes to himself.
“Your Majesty.” Pitt ducked his head in a quick bow at the tent’s entrance.
Charles brightened and sat up straight at Pitt’s words. “General Pitt, come and sit. Such a fine evening and I’ve such a nice Weyrother vintage for us to share. This is my last bottle. Are you hungry? I’m famished. I shall have food brought in.”
The king waved at a servant standing in a corner and the man ran from the tent. Pitt walked forward and took a seat across from the king. He kept his back upright in a rigid posture opposite the lounging royal in front of him.
“How’s your Wahrian army?” Pitt tried to hold his voice steady and keep the frustration out of his words. By now, exasperation was almost his normal tone.
“Tired, but resting now. Cold nights and windy days on the trail. And too much time in a carriage for my taste. What news from you Brunians? Any word from the western flank across the river?”
“Nothing yet, sir.” Pitt tried to wrap his head around a king complaining about riding in a plush carriage while his soldiers marched on dusty roads for miles and miles.
“We’ll hear from them soon.” Charles waved a hand in the air as if throwing the thought away from his body. “Oh, I almost forgot. Here, read this.”
The king held out a letter. Pitt had to stand and reach out to take it from him, as the royal wouldn’t lift his back from his chair. Pitt froze when he saw the seal on the envelope.
Black wax.
The symbol of Kura was clear even in the dark seal, an open winged hawk soaring above jagged cliffs of ice.
He looked at the king and ripped out the letter with shaking hands. “When did you receive this?”
“A few days ago, I think.” The king had returned to focusing on his wine and humming to himself.
“A few days?”
Pitt read the letter twice over. He couldn’t believe the words. His eyes pored over the sentences and pangs of frustration beat against his skull once again. The Kurakin army was nearby and General Duroc wanted to plan a joint campaign to find the last Erlonians before the end of fall.
“How did you respond?” Pitt had to work hard to keep from yelling. “What are we going to do? They could almost be to the rendezvous by now.”
“We’ll meet them at an inn, it’s a few miles south of here, I think.”
Pitt felt his grip trembling around the note. A Kurakin envoy had arrived and King Charles hadn’t even told his other allies. General Duroc wanted to meet and plan the end of the campaign together and Charles was still content to drink wine and march slowly.
“I’ll confirm tomorrow and we’ll meet them on the next day. Then the war will be all but over.” The king took another sip of wine and smacked his lips to savor the taste. Pitt thought it rather made him look like a clucking chicken.
He was finished with the Wahrian king. He needed to go back to his men and start planning for the meeting with the Kurakin Horde immediately. He needed to stop wasting time.
But as Pitt made to rise and take his leave, the king’s servants entered the tent with food and Charles insisted that Pitt stay and enjoy the rich meal with him. It was rude and unwise to decline an invitation to eat with royalty. Charles was most certainly the type of king to take offense to a spurned invitation.
Pitt was trapped once again.
He had to listen to the king talk about military strategy while the thoughts on the meeting with General Duroc and the Kurakin army raged in his head. Charles talked about the past victories of his famous ancestors with an air of mastery and intellect, as if he were the Ascended One himself. Pitt disagreed with the majority of his opinions and interpretations of historical facts, even without the grandiose posturing.
Charles was the victorious conqueror. The slowest marcher in the world. The least intelligent general of his age. And Pitt had to bow to his every word as he sloshed his wi
ne and sprayed crumbs all over the floor. All because he was royal.
The night stars were in full bloom when the meal finally ended and Pitt was allowed to leave to return to his men. He stepped out of the tent and stared up at the lights in the sky and wanted to scream.
The Wahrian soldiers were still loud outside in the camp. Undisciplined and unprofessional. No wonder the Erlonian Emperor had conquered their country so easily.
Pitt spit on the ground outside the tent door and shook his head. He went to find his horse and make his way back to his men to put a little space between him and these dreadful allies of his.
Elisa
The call for a break on the trail came back down the line. Elisa slid off her horse and handed the reins over when Lodi offered to take her mount for her.
No wind moved through the forest today and the sun was high over the trees. The still air almost felt like the warm early fall and made Elisa forget that winter was almost here.
She looked up the line of men watering horses and eating trail biscuits and talking quietly to each other. Mon was at the front again and had his head bowed in conversation with Lauriston.
Elisa stepped out of the immediate trail area and into the trees. The noises of the men fell away behind her and the chorus of the forest overtook her ears. It calmed her head down and dampened her feelings of fatigue.
Seeing Mon and Lauriston deep in discussion made her think on the questions around Mon’s past once again. They were always popping into her mind, especially when she was alone.
Elisa drew her sword and held it up in the low forest light. She walked a little further from the soldiers and found enough open space between the trees and undergrowth.
Practicing Lodi’s Lakmian fighting move was the perfect distraction. She could always fall back on her sword and the moves Lodi was teaching her if she found herself dwelling too long on thoughts about the Kurakin chasing her or the pressure of being the heir of a dying empire.
The Fall of Erlon Page 16