“As such We have followed your career and your actions with interest,” the Prince said, “We have long had in mind that there would be a role for you, even before we knew what it would be.”
“Fair to say I still don’t know,” Engvyr said. “I am uncertain what the duties and obligations of a ‘Lord Warden’ are, or why you would choose me to fill them. Surely there are older, more experienced dwarves who are better suited to the role? Ones more versed in the operation of the Kingdom? Would it not be wiser to accord this honor to one of them?”
Prince Istvaar smiled. “There are some who, by education and temper, might seem more appropriate picks, but think you, Engvyr, such dwarves are already occupied with their own duties, and each sit in the middle of a web of relations and obligations. Each represents a faction at court, with their own alliances, agendas and ambitions. Should we appoint any such it would be at the expense of their current duties, and would seem to favor their faction above others. It might be taken as approval where none was meant. We avoid that by stepping outside of the intrigues of the Court. You represent no faction and your appointment forwards no one’s ambition.”
“And creates common cause among them by giving them all a single target to resent?”
The prince laughed. “You are quick, I’ll grant you that. One of the many qualities We have long admired. Yes, your appointment has the advantage of being unlikely to deepen existing rifts in the Court, and perhaps it would bring some together who might previously have been apart. You are sufficiently far removed from Ironhame that such concerns are unlikely to create real problems for you. But there were other, more important considerations that went into the decision as well.”
He regarded the other dwarf levelly, and his gaze caused Engvyr to shift uneasily. He would not admit even to himself that his discomfort stemmed from the anticipation of praise.
“From your boyhood on,” the Prince said, “you have never hesitated to do what you felt to be right. From intervening on behalf of a goblin being bullied in the Upper Ward of Ironhame to disregarding your orders so that you could rescue a party of innocents. Moreover, your concept of what constituted the ‘right’ thing has usually been spot-on. As the Lord Warden you will speak with the King’s voice. How rare do you suppose it is for him to find someone to whom he can grant that responsibility and be confident that the privilege will neither be abused nor lead to embarrassment of the Crown?”
Engvyr blushed but did not answer, and after a moment the Prince continued.
“Another consideration is that this office is without precedent; never in all our history have we taken lands by conquest, particularly lands so remote from the Capitol that they needed a local authority who could speak for the Crown. The first Lord Warden will set the precedents for the office, and who better to do that than one who follows his heart to do what is right—not to mention someone untangled by affairs and intrigues of the Court?”
“But Your Highness,” Engvyr protested at last, “I am fair young for so much responsibility, and moreover I haven’t the experience to run such an office. I have no knowledge of the workings of government—beyond what little I picked up in the Army and Mountain Guard. I don't see how I could accomplish all that would need doing.”
The Prince laughed. “I assure you, Engvyr, that bureaucrats and administrators are one thing that is not in short supply in Ironhame. You will have adequate guidance through the labyrinths of government. And foremost among your advisors will be your wife; she was an important element of the equation when calculating your fate. With her as able partner, we've no doubt that you will do credit to the office we have bestowed.”
Engvyr stirred at this, startled. “My wife? You've met?”
The Prince smiled. “We stopped along the way to make her acquaintance and consult. A most impressive woman; I must complement you on the match.”
Engvyr snorted, but couldn't help grinning slightly. “As if I ever had a choice! I was doomed from the moment we met.”
The Prince laughed again. “So I have heard. Indeed, the Lord and Lady have favored you in this.”
Engvyr's ruminations were interrupted by that most same impressive woman recalling him to the crisis at hand. “Be that as it may," she said, "we have other pressing concerns. Not least among them is this; sorry, I meant to show you earlier.”
He looked up to find her holding a thick folio. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow and she said, “I know you haven’t gotten to it yet, but it needs answering, and soon.”
“What is it?” he asked, seating himself on a stool near the fire.
Deandra perched herself on the hearth. “A request and a proposition. One of the Southern Lords has a thought or two about expanding his influence into the new territories. He’s proposing to move some of his people into that baasgarta garrison we took last fall and establish it as a center of trade and manufacturing. Mostly for supplying materials to the Army, at this point, but also to provide ‘authority over the local braell population’ so that they may be ‘integrated into society as useful and productive subjects of the King.’”
She extended the folder to him and Engvyr looked at her searchingly as he accepted the document. Reading disapproval in her face and posture he began to thumb through it. “You don’t like it. Why?”
She frowned. “On the surface it all seems reasonable, but the more I dig into the details of his proposals the more I mislike it. Under one reading it all seems logical and sensible. On deeper inspection though, his ideas of ‘authority over the local braell population’ could be seen as little better than slavery. One might almost suspect that he doesn’t intend to integrate them so much as to fix their place at the bottom of society, as being of a lower order than free-born dwarves of the south.”
“What do we know of the character of this, uh—” He consulted the document for the name "--Lord Cowart of Gennelhovn?”
“I asked some of the Ironhame folk about him. None know him personally, but they were able to say he spends a great deal of time at Court and little on his own lands. I wasn’t able to get any details, but it seems he is not in good favor with the Guilds, either.”
“Hmmm. It sounds like allowing him a foothold in the new territories is borrowing trouble. I take it you are inclined to turn down his proposals?”
“Very much so,” Deandre said. “I have nothing specific to base it on, but I have a sense that he would serve us and our charges ill.”
“Good enough,” Engvyr said, “I’ll write a nice, polite letter declining his kind offer of assistance and have it on its way by morning”
Engvyr thought for a moment. “The Prince made it plain that my character was a big part of the decision to make me Lord Warden of the North. That’s as may be. I’m no diplomat; I’m a simple soldier used to speaking my mind, and as such I’m not much inclined to subtle maneuvers and intrigues. They don’t suit me, so best I not try to dance to that tune. I reckon it’s time for a little plain-speaking, and I’m of a mind to go see this council and lay it out for them. I’ll write a letter to inform the King of our actions, but we’re burning daylight and I don’t think we can afford to dally while awaiting his say-so.”
Deandra nodded. “I agree. You were appointed because of who you are. They’d be foolish not to expect you to act as your character dictates. If they are surprised by your actions or policies, then it’s their own fault. There is another point to consider: what of Kevrenn? He’s as much as told us he cannot return to Taerneal.”
Engvyr shrugged. “He’s a Sword-Master. If we can’t find a use for him around here it will speak poorly of our wit. For starters we’ll make it plain he’s welcome to stay or go as he likes. He doesn’t seem the sort to lie about; I reckon he’ll find something useful to fill his time all by himself and save us the trouble.”
Deandre agreed “I guess I’d better send for Sergeant Hemnir. You’ll not be going into that city without a few of the Householders tagging along.”
Engvyr looked at his
wife and said, “Oh, I think you can count on it, love. Fact is I figure to take more than just a few of the Householders. I expect that while I am in the city I can call on your former in-laws and see about Brall and Gerta. I’m sure that my other business will help with speaking to the city officials about the matter.”
“I can’t imagine they will be much inclined to return them,” Deandra said. “Given their opinion of my lineage, and not to put too fine a point on it, my husband is a dwarf.”
“True,” Engvyr agreed. “On the other hand he is an exceptionally influential and, let’s not deny it, powerful dwarf. One that could make things very difficult for them.”
Deandra frowned. “I’m not sure that strong-arming them is the best tactic.”
“Nor is it the first that I’ll try,” said Engvyr, placing a hand over hers. “But even though I scarce know them they are my children too. I do not, cannot possibly, feel as strongly about this as you do, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.”
Deandra smiled and turned her hand to squeeze his. “I know, love. We’ll just have to take what chance offers and hope for the best.”
Engvyr shook his head and said, “We’ll make our own chances if need be. But that can all wait for morning; it occurs to me we might have more immediate matters to attend to”
Deandra’s eyes crinkled in amusement as she disengaged her hand from his and crossed to the bed with a noticeable sway in her walk. “Fact of the matter, husband,” she purred. “There’s a thing or two I meant to bring up myself…”
“Well, no time like the present, I always say,” he said as he joined her. As it turns out it was a rather lengthy and enthusiastic discussion…
Chapter Seventeen
“Nothing gets your point across quite like having an army at your back. “
From the memoirs of Engvyr Gunnarson
It wasn’t that simple, of course. Sergeant Hemnir could only spare a half-dozen of the Householders, which was wholly inadequate for the purpose. Fortunately the first cavalry company was nearly finished training, and they were all veterans of the infantry or rangers. Organizing supplies and a logistics train for them took time, however; being a training company, they did not have their own assigned. Wagons and drovers were scarce with all the dwarves and goods moving north, but Deandre ultimately solved the problem by hiring Hannes Gutman’s trading company to carry the unit’s supplies.
A quick word with the Northern Guard’s captain got Taarven and Ageyra assigned to the expedition, and while they helped Deandre with preparations, Engvyr studied reports of the war in the north and of the progress in replacing units savaged in battle the previous autumn.
The remains of two Infantry regiments that were gutted during the siege of Skappensgrippe had been sent south to Ironhame, where they were integrated into a single, new regiment supplemented by the year’s crop of trainees. Renamed the 12th Combined Arms Foot, they were comprised of four battalions of mixed combat troops and a Battalion of Engineers. With springtime upon them, they were now returning to the north. After carefully studying reports from the war, Engvyr judged that a small delay in their journey would not overly damage their efforts there.
“That’s a dramatic exercise of your authority,” Deandra said. “Should we consult the king?”
Engvyr frowned. “The nearest signal tower is Ghost Creek Station. That’s six days to get a response, at least. Three days to the station, the time required for a reply, and three days back. Every day we delay means a ship can sail with scores of braell aboard. I’ll certainly report our actions to Ironhame, but we cannot afford to wait for a response.”
Engvyr rode out with the bulk of the Householders early on the morning they were due to arrive in the Makepeace Valley. They bore the banner of the Lord Warden, it’s crisp, new fabric snapping and popping in the breeze. Unlike the men’s uniforms it was rendered in bright colors so that it might be recognized at a distance: a white field crested with a rampant mountain ram in red, topped with a pair of crossed rifles over a gold circlet. They had developed it with the aid of a Royal Herald sent for the purpose. The white field for snow, of course. The ram for the mountains, proud and independent but fierce when accosted. The circlet indicated his royal authority, and the crossed rifles for martial command.
They met the battalion’s leadership at Makepeace Steading. They'd stopped there to arrange supplies for the rest of the regiment, which was following a week behind. The soldiers looked at them curiously as they rode past the camp and into the stead. While the rest of the men saw to their mounts, Engvyr and Sergeant Hemnir entered the great hall. As he had expected, the battalion commander was meeting with Ynghildr.
“Jarl Ynghildr,” Engvyr said, acknowledging her with a bow before turning to the commander. “Colonel Gertred, I presume?”
The Colonel nodded, plainly not knowing who he was. Ynghildr enlightened her. “M’Lady Colonel, allow me to introduce His Excellency Engvyr Gunnarson, Lord Warden of the North.”
The Colonel’s eyes widened in surprise, and she quickly bowed. “I beg your pardon, Your Excellency! I did not recognize you.”
Engvyr smiled, waving away her concern. “Not to worry, Colonel. I’m new to the position; no reason why you would have known me. Anyway we have more pressing concerns than the niceties of military courtesy. I’m afraid your soldiers will be taking a detour on their way north.”
The Colonel raised an eyebrow at this and Ynghildr gestured toward the hearth, where a crackling fire promised respite from the chill. “Perhaps we should sit; I have an idea that this might take a while. I’ll have refreshments brought.”
Engvyr gestured to the overstuffed chairs before the hearth. “She’s right, Colonel. Let’s take a load off and I’ll bring you up to date.”
As predicted, it did take quite a while. Afterwards the colonel shook her head and said, “I’ll not question your authority, M’Lord, and I certainly see the need, but I feel that I must lodge a protest on behalf of our forces already engaged in the north. This will have an effect on their efforts and slow the campaign.”
“Understood, Colonel,” Engvyr said. “If I saw a better option I would take it, but the situation is urgent. Your Quartermasters will remain here and continue to make arrangements for the regiment, but your combat effectives will accompany me to Taerneal. I will leave orders for the regiment to resupply with all haste and follow without delay. I hope to have resolved the situation before they arrive. And rest assured, I will forward an account of these orders, with your protest duly noted, to Ironhame.”
She nodded. “Very well, M’Lord. If we work into the night, we can be ready to march at first light.”
“That will not be necessary; as urgent as this is I would rather your troops were well-rested and prepared. If you can be ready to depart at dawn the day after tomorrow that will be good enough.”
Ynghilda said, “Colonel Gertred, please let me know if I or any of my folk can help in any way. I’ll let my people know they are to give you their full cooperation.”
The colonel rose and bowed to them both. “Thank you, Jarl Makepeace. M’Lord, M’Lady, by your leave I’d best be about it.”
They watched as she straightened, did an about-face, and left
Ynghilda leaned back in her chair. “Doesn’t seem too upset, despite her protest.”
“Doesn’t seem the type to drag her heels even if she was,” said Engvyr. “Now that that’s taken care of, I suppose that there is plenty for us to do our own selves. Not the least of which is writing that report to the King, if I might beg the loan of your office.”
She slapped the arms of her chair and rose. “By all means! I know how much you must be looking forward to that. Why, just the other day I was saying to Taarven, ‘That Engvyr! There’s nothing he likes better than a great, big mound of paperwork!’”
He favored her with a grimace. “I’m glad to see you’ve been keeping up on your sarcasm, Jarl. You’ll really should stick with it; it gives people the idea
that you are witty.”
They exchanged a knowing glance and parted to accomplish their respective tasks.
* * *
The appointed day dawned clear and cold; it was yet early in the season. It would warm as the day went on, of course. Good marching weather, Engvyr thought as he looked over the assembled companies. The units had woken at first light, had a hearty meal, and were ready in good order as the sun crested the mountains in the east.
They set out, the cavalry moving by squads, two abreast; the Taerneal Road was narrow, and as it often wound along the flanks of the mountains, two ponies side by side was all it could accommodate in places. They would be followed by the battalion that had come with the commander, which, at the foot-soldiers' pace, would be three days in reaching Taerneal.
Engvyr rode at the head of the column with a half-dozen of the Householders as they made their way west down the valley. Usually dwarven units were all of a type, but the war with the baasgarta had demonstrated that greater flexibility was needed. It was determined that, being drawn from different types of units, it would be most efficient to have the soldiers retain their specialties rather than taking the time to retrain them all to the same function. As such, they were named the 1st Battalion of the 12th Foot, and they were the first combined arms regiments. The unit was a "long" battalion, composed of two companies of Heavy Infantry carrying mixed pikes and Slug guns, a company of Rifles, a company of Skirmishers, and a company of Dragoons. The hope was that this combination of skills would be better suited to fighting in the close and often difficult terrain of the north.
The remaining battalions of the regiment would follow after in a few days’ time. Ideally, we’ll have this mess sorted by the time they arrive, he thought. They can use these units in the North once this is resolved. The engineers would be of particular value as there were roads to improve, garrisons to build and who knew what else as they pressed further north. I just hope we won’t be calling on them to build siege engines before that…
Lord of the North (Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman - Book 2) Page 14