headquarters building. Three men sat around a modest
circular table. The bare tabletop was inlaid with the design of a plumapple
flower, and the single central pedestal leg was of aged and golden oak. The two
older men wore the blue-and-cream uniforms of the Southern Guard.
The
third man, younger and stockier, wore a maroon tunic cut conservatively,
trimmed in black. His dark hair was smoothed back from his pale white face, and
his brown eyes looked from one officer to the other. “I had heard that there
has been… some unrest in Hyalt. When I heard that, I requested a few moments
with you.”
The
blond marshal raised his eyebrows. “You seemed to know of the… unrest in Hyalt
nearly as soon as we did, Lord Waleryn.”
“I
have my sources, Marshal.”
“And
what would you have of us?” asked the darker marshal, his right eye twitching
twice. “Congratulations on those sources?”
“Congratulations
on mere competence, Marshal Frynkel? That would be vain, would it not?” Waleryn
smiled ruefully. “No… you can believe it or not, but I am concerned about
Lanachrona. That is why I asked to see you both.”
Neither
marshal bothered to conceal a look of disbelief.
Waleryn
laughed. “You see? Now… if you most worthy officers have that view of my
concerns, how then would my brother the Lord-Protector feel about what I am
about to say? Assuming that he would even grant me an audience?”
“Under
the circumstances, perhaps we should hear your words first,” suggested Alyniat.
“If you would care to enlighten us?” The fingers of his left hand tapped slowly
on the wood of the conference table.
“My
brother is far more noble than I am. All know that. At times, he might even be
too noble.” Waleryn shook his head. “I am not going to suggest anything
ignoble. I do know that your forces are hard-pressed, and that the Northern
Guard can offer little help to the Southern Guard. Nor will increased recruiting
or conscription provide sufficient lancers and foot, not in time to deal with
the unrest in Hyalt. Nor are there any mercenaries trustworthy enough to hire,
even were there coins enough to pay them. Is this not true?”
“Generally,”
admitted Alyniat, “but should you repeat that, under the circumstances, we will
deny such.”
“I
am not playing with words, worthy Marshals. I do not intend to use words to
wound or to cause my brother or Lanachrona trouble. It has occurred to me that
there is a way to deal with the unrest in Hyalt that will not weaken our forces
defending Southgate and the southwest or those charged with defending Harmony.”
“Oh?”
Frynkel’s single word expressed great doubt. The tic in his right eye twitched
again.
Alyniat
did not bother to speak, but his finger tapping slowed.
“My
brother would not think of such, and you will see why when I explain. You may
recall a certain overcaptain of the Northern Guard… the one who defeated ten
thousand nomad barbarians with but five companies, taking over command when all
above him perished?”
“Overcaptain
Alucius? The Lord-Protector released him from duty in gratitude. He cannot be
called back.”
“What
you say is absolutely correct, Marshal. But… what if he were requested to return to duty? As a favor to the
Lord-Protector. Perhaps promoted to majer.”
“Why
would he do that?”
Waleryn
smiled. “Because… if the Southern Guard must deal with Hyalt, the defenses of
Lanachrona against the Regent of the Matrial will be weakened. Already, the
Northern Guard is hard-pressed. There are not enough young men left in the Iron
Valleys for more companies to be raised, not without weakening the merchants
and crafters and breaking the promises the Lord-Protector has made. Now… I am
not suggesting that the Lord-Protector break those promises. That would be most
unwise, for many reasons. But surely, someone could suggest to the herder
overcaptain that the Lord-Protector faces an impossible situation…”
Alyniat
looked to
Elisa Lorello, Sarah Girrell