The Fall of Erlon

by Robert H Fleming

  “So long, Mon,” Lauriston said after a long time.

  Quatre nodded from beside Elisa. She wiped a tear from her cheek. The group turned away from the pyre and walked back to the tents.

  Lauriston walked with Elisa to her tent. “How are you feeling?” His voice sounded strained from overuse and fatigue.

  “Fine.”

  That was all Elisa could think to say.

  “Fine is okay. Battle is a hard thing, even for someone much older than you.” Lauriston’s face was hidden by shadows, so she couldn’t see the expression behind his words.

  “I’ll be fine, Lar.” They passed by a fire among the tents and Elisa knew the flames cast light on the tears staining her cheeks.

  “I know you will be. If you had only one part of Lannes in you, you’d be more than fine. And we both know you’ve got plenty of the emperor in your blood.”

  The comment made Elisa smile. It felt strange. Her mouth was out of practice with the expression. But it felt right in the moment.

  They reached her tent and she sat down on a log just outside the door flap. Lauriston knelt down as well.

  “There’s more to come.” Lauriston looked her in the eye. She could see his face in the low light now. There was a determined set to his mouth and his eyes were steady. “This war is far from over.”

  Elisa knew what Lauriston was asking her.

  Did she want to leave the army? Go to the safety of Vendome in the north behind the new front? Leave her friends? Her protectors?

  Elisa hadn’t thought about her next steps, but she wasn’t shocked by the answer she gave.

  “I know,” Elisa said in a confident tone. She knew Lauriston would understand the full answer.

  She wouldn’t leave the army. Not yet. Not with a fight still in front of them and Mon’s memory to honor. Not with Erlon still in danger.

  Lauriston’s eyes searched hers. He nodded.

  “Sleep soundly, Elisa.”

  “You too, Lar.”

  Lauriston stood and left her and Elisa spent a few moments looking up at the stars. The night grew cold around her and she pulled her jacket in close against the chill. She looked off to the northern horizon one last time.

  “Goodbye, Mon,” she said and turned in for a long night’s rest.

  Leberecht

  The roasting pigs smelled sweet to Leberecht as he approached the pits. He walked with long strides and head held high. The confidence of leading a victorious army made him feel both taller and stronger.

  Citiva lay across the field before the main army. The sun shone brightly on the houses and walls and gleamed off the windows of the palace spires atop the great plateau.

  “The wind is out of the north today,” one of the chefs said without looking up when Leberecht arrived at the cooking pit.

  Three large pigs hung on a spit over the fire. They were split open and spread wide for the heat to slowly lick at the meat that would make an incredible meal.

  Leberecht felt the wind pick up and he followed its direction with his eyes.

  “Right towards our foe.”

  He saw the northern gate of Citiva. The main entrance to the city. Beyond were the wealthiest homes in the realm. And further beyond was the stone of the plateau shooting upward from the city’s center.

  “They won’t be out of food yet, but we can at least let them know our soldiers are having a feast.”

  Leberecht smiled along with the chef. The man was smart and clearly had the same sense of justice as Leberecht.

  An idea struck Leberecht when looking at the chef’s smile.

  “Let’s dig more pits.”

  The chef looked at him with one eyebrow raised. “You want to cook more hogs?”

  “Potentially. But let’s dig the pits around each gate.” Leberecht pointed southeast around the curve of the city’s wall. “If the wind shifts, we’ll want our cooking to be upwind from our friends inside the walls.”

  The chef’s smile grew again and he nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll pass along the plan to the engineers.”

  “Thank you.”

  Leberecht left the pit. His stomach was beginning to growl from the smell and there was still a long time until dinner.

  He hoped the royals atop the plateau were having the same reaction. He hoped they were stuck eating a bland meal tonight because of siege rations.

  Leberecht’s cheeks had grown stronger and no longer cramped from his smiling. It was almost his permanent expression now. And he felt he had an entire winter siege’s worth of smiling still to go.

  There was so much joy to be had in the army.

  Winter was approaching. There was a long time to wait until they took the city walls, but this was still enjoyable.

  The camp was happy around him. The Continent was in a good place. General Duroc would take the western half of the Continent. The east belonged to Leberecht and this army. The Coalition had crumbled and the Wahrian royals would soon fall.

  Their king was defeated and in despair. The queen sat trapped and under siege in the capital.

  Everything was right on the Continent.

  His long and patient waiting was almost over. He’d sat through the summit and toyed with the royals and then struck when they were most vulnerable.

  Leberecht smiled and looked at the spires of the palace up on the plateau once again. He felt like laughing out loud. A farmer’s boy from Grose now held power over the mighty queen of Wahring.

  King Charles was dead. The prince, now king himself, was defeated. And next to fall would be the glorious palace plateau and then the people of this country would belong to Leberecht. He could shape the government and policies of the Continent to his will. He would finally have the power he’d long sought and the remaining monarchies of the Continent would fall to his power one by one.

  Leberecht turned back to look at the cooking area and the fire pit under the hogs. The wind picked up and carried the dark smoke towards the city. Wafting smells to the enemy over the northern gate.

  Leberecht looked up at the sky and smiled and thanked the Ascended One for glorious and sweet victory. He’d have all winter to savor the siege. Leberecht knew he would enjoy every minute.

  Pitt

  Pitt left his headquarters tent and walked to the outskirts of the Brunian camp. Screams and coughs still came from the medical areas on the edge of the clearing. Mist hung between the trees of the forest beyond.

  Pitt walked around a medical tent and followed a path into the woods. He needed to move his legs and clear his head.

  He reached the Erlonian camp in the adjacent field and found more tents in organized rows. Pitt followed a path straight to Lauriston’s command tent.

  “Pitt, come in,” the Erlonian marshal said when Pitt poked his head in the door flap.

  “Marshal Lauriston.” Pitt stepped inside. Lauriston sat behind his writing desk. “How’s the army?”

  “Fine. Resting now, but getting restless.” Lauriston set his pen down.

  “And how’s the princess?”

  “She’s holding up. She’ll be okay. How’s your side?”

  “Good, same as yours. Still waiting on word from our other generals throughout the north. I’m ready to move whenever, though.”

  “Good.”

  Pitt looked around the tent and his eyes stopped on a table by the door. It held various bottles of wine and liquor.

  “Don’t tell me you’re drinking now?” Pitt walked towards the booze.

  “No, no. That’s for the men.” Lauriston shook his head with a smile. He stood up and walked over to the table to join Pitt. “They found some of the Kurakin liquor after the battle. This was combined with the stash we had for Mon, but there wasn’t a good way to split it up. The compromise was for me to hold it and the generals drink it during meetings.”

  “Fair enough.” Pitt picked up one of the clear Kurakin bottles. He’d never had southern liquor before.

  “Made from potatoes, apparently.” Lauriston examined t
he contents of another bottle.

  Pitt took the stopper off his own and smelled the liquid. It singed his nostrils.

  “Supposed to be strong.” Lauriston gave him a warning look.

  Pitt shrugged and took a swig and regretted it immediately.

  Lauriston laughed as Pitt coughed and sputtered. The drink burned his throat the whole way down.

  “I’ve been told it’s pretty terrible.” Lauriston took the bottle from Pitt and replaced the stopper.

  “It is. You’re not missing anything.” Pitt coughed again and picked out some wine to wash the sting from his mouth.

  The two friends laughed and Lauriston motioned for Pitt to follow him over to the campaign map on the far side of the tent.

  “We’ll press Duroc’s flank.” Lauriston ran a finger along the path of the Branch River west to the Broadwater. “They’ll be pushing somewhere north on the western bank but will fall back when they get news of our victory here.”

  “And then we press our advantage.” Pitt nodded.

  “Hopefully. But I fear winter will stop any plans soon.”

  “True.” Pitt hadn’t thought about how late it already was in the campaign season.

  “There may not even be another battle this season.” Lauriston pulled his arm back from the map and paced a slow lap around the table. “Actually, that’s what I would predict. Duroc will fall back and choose to wait out winter and resupply his army. He’s been aggressive getting this far north. He’ll need to regroup.”

  Pitt looked at the center of Erlon and the position of their army currently. “I wish we could move faster.”

  “If we had more men, we would.” Lauriston completed his lap and stopped on the other side from Pitt. “But the winter will give us time to coordinate with the other parts of the army. If we can get the Erlonian prisoners free from Vendome, that adds men.”

  Pitt nodded along with the marshal’s points. It was a large campaign and was only going to get larger next spring. Their focus now should be coordinating with the Brunian armies spread across northern Erlon and what was left of the Wahrians.

  This new alliance would be tricky to coordinate, but Pitt trusted Lauriston to be able to handle it. They just had to make sure the Brunians cooperated properly.

  The marshal crossed his arms and continued. “For now, we press west and use our advantage gained here. We’ll see how Duroc reacts and fight from there.”

  “Agreed.” Pitt nodded.

  There was more conversation on the coming campaign, mainly mundane specifics on supply and order of march. They discussed some of the news from the western Brunian armies and how they’d fared against the Kurakin on the coast.

  Pitt poured himself another cup of the wine and was surprised to see Lauriston take one for himself this time. It was a small pour, but still more than what he’d seen the marshal drink before.

  “For Mon.” Lauriston held up his cup.

  “For Mon.” Pitt raised his cup too before taking a drink. The liquid was sweet and smooth and warmed Pitt’s chest. It made him think on the journey through the forest and the short time he’d known General Montholon.

  They finished their cups and talked of their memories from their long trek north and the recent battle. Mon was mentioned with smiles of fondness and the stories were all happy.

  Pitt would’ve stayed and talked through the entire night if both men didn’t need their rest for the coming march.

  “Thank you, Marshal,” Pitt said as he was leaving.

  “Thank you, General.” Lauriston set his empty cup on a table and saw Pitt to the door.

  “No, I mean it.” Pitt gave a slight bow towards Lauriston. “Thank you for everything.”

  Pitt saluted the marshal and Lauriston returned it and they shook hands.

  “I think we’ve got this alliance off to a good start,” Lauriston said.

  “I agree, Marshal. I agree.”

  Pitt left the tent and walked back through the Erlonian camp. There was hope in the army on both sides of the alliance now. They had a long way to go in this war, but they’d won a battle and turned back the Kurakin aggression. There was plenty of confidence to go around.

  Nelson

  The stairs creaked under Nelson’s boots as he walked up to the main deck. He wore his naval dress uniform, the royal red riding jacket with crisp white pants and brown boots. The salt air hit his face as he reached the ship’s deck and he inhaled the sweet air of his home.

  Brun.

  The island stood off the starboard and the sailors worked to anchor the ship and prepared for going ashore. The water was calm and a bright blue below the open sky and afternoon sun.

  Emperor Lannes stood facing the island as the crew moved around him. Nelson nodded to the men and smiled and thanked and encouraged them as he walked towards the emperor.

  Lannes had nearly broken his empire trying to conquer Nelson’s island. He’d fought Nelson’s father for a decade and come close to successfully invading the island numerous times. The Battle of Three Bridges had been the last and most deadly attempt.

  Nelson and Brun were lucky the Erlonians had failed. They were lucky to have Thirona and her sorcery on their side. The world would be in a different position right now if not for that great battle.

  “Great sight, isn’t it.” Nelson stepped up next to Lannes.

  The emperor didn’t turn but stayed staring off at the island’s shore. “It is. It’s a beautiful home.”

  Nelson nodded. “We’ll go ashore immediately.”

  The sailors were scrambling about below them as the ship’s main tender was lowered down towards the water.

  “I wish I were visiting under different circumstances,” Lannes said.

  Nelson looked at the emperor and found him smiling the kind of smile a man uses when lost in a deep memory. It surprised the king to see genuine sorrow and regret behind his eyes.

  “Me too, Lannes. Me too.” Nelson looked back out over the bay of Trafal and the green forests of his home rising up in hills behind the port on the horizon.

  The pair boarded the main tender and were rowed to shore. The crew worked and the sea was calm and quiet, but Lannes and Nelson didn’t talk anymore during the trip. Nelson’s mind had time to wander and he pondered the most recent news from the Continent.

  Wahring was in trouble. Their army had been defeated in multiple battles in the west near their border with Vith. Now Citiva was under siege from the Kurakin and Moradan armies.

  News from farther west was more promising. Duroc and the Kurakin were pushing up through the western states of Erlon now but had been slowed in the center at the Branch. News was slowly coming in of a defense of the crossings of the Branch that would keep the Kurakin out of the north at least through winter.

  There was no official word from Lauriston or the Erlonians yet, but Lannes was adamant in his belief that the marshal had helped with the defense of the north. Either way, Nelson now slept a little easier knowing the western portion of the war wasn’t going to collapse altogether.

  At least they would last until spring, it looked like.

  The tender was rowed into the port and a royal honor guard awaited them on the dock. Twelve muskets were fired in unison to announce the king’s arrival. The smoke blew across the water into their faces.

  “Why twelve muskets, again?” Lannes turned to look at Nelson behind him in the stern of the boat.

  “Twelve provinces of Brun.”

  Lannes’s eyes flashed with recognition and he nodded his head.

  The boat was tied to the dock and the rowers and other sailors stayed seated to allow Nelson to disembark first. The king stepped off onto the solid planks of the pier and turned as Lannes made to do the same.

  The former emperor stood and looked across the small space of water at the king. “You sure you want your greatest enemy back on the Continent?” Lannes smiled behind his words.

  Nelson’s thoughts froze for a second. Every doubt and question he’d bee
n dwelling on for months came back all at once. Was setting Lannes free the right move? Or was it just another step towards the destruction of his island and people?

  Nelson pushed the doubts away. He would stick to his plan. There was no going back now.

  Nelson matched Lannes’s smile and offered a hand to help the emperor over to the dock. “You’re not on the Continent. You’re on Brun, my island.”

  The former Emperor of Erlon took the king’s hand and stepped across onto the dock.

  “I guess that’s right.” Lannes took in the port around them.

  Another twelve muskets fired off to complete the arrival ceremony and the pair of leaders walked down the dock. Lannes stepped on Brunian soil for the first time. A guard led them to a red carriage adorned with patterns of gold around the frame.

  Nelson stepped in first and Lannes came behind. The carriage started moving immediately.

  Lannes sat facing Nelson. “Hopefully we’ll have more news from the fronts waiting for you at the palace,” he said.

  Nelson nodded.

  “How long of a ride?”

  “About an hour.” Nelson watched the port recede away and the neighboring town whisked by the carriage window.

  Lannes leaned forward and Nelson recognized the now familiar focus behind the emperor’s eyes. “Then we have time to start planning.”

  Nelson turned and raised his eyebrows at Lannes.

  The emperor grinned with only the right side of his mouth and an excitement glinted behind his eyes. “Let’s get to work planning the next campaigns for our armies. Let’s get to work on winning the Continent’s next great war.”

  Elisa

  Elisa walked alone in the woods on the outskirts of the Erlonian camp. She felt fine. She was rested and recovered from the battle.

  She still saw glimpses of Mon among the army, laughing and talking with his soldiers. The flashes only highlighted his absence more. They only made things infinitely worse inside of Elisa and kept her from moving on.