Arcane Mercenaries: Insurrection, page 29
"And how exactly do you plan on assisting, my lady?" Reginald remained undeterred by the growing attention on his standoff with the prince's guest.
Grant recalled that the man had three unmarried daughters and that Dominick's victory at Freyham had drawn him into the rebel camp. The man was a terrible opportunist.
"I am accompanied by two thousand seasoned veterans of the Mage Wars. Foot soldiers, cavalry, musketeers, and artillery batteries. They will arrive by ship and immediately rally to our forces." She cast a glance at the other attendees around the tent. "I've noticed a significant lack of artillery here. Rest assured. I’m bringing some of Alenann's finest gunners."
After witnessing Baron Beaumont’s stunned reaction to Sina’s declaration, Grant overlooked Sina’s slight embellishment of her relationship with the Arcane Mercenaries.
"In addition, I bring sufficient resources to finance the next stage of the island campaign. Given our current accommodations in forest tents, I imagine finances are strained," Sina continued. "Might I ask what you, Lord Beaumont, are contributing to the prince's campaign?"
Baron Reginald Beaumont, clearing his throat, bowed once more to the prince. He conceded his defeat with an air of grace, but Grant speculated whether Dominick had just unwittingly created a new adversary within his inner circle.
There was nothing to be done about that at this point. Sina had to assert her position, and her bold declaration resonated throughout the tent. While her relationship with the prince might be a subject of speculation, her dedication to their cause was indisputable. She had just earned a measure of respect from some of them. Grant couldn’t wait to hear the church sermons after this event.
"I told you so," Ez uttered under her breath.
"Seems we've all made our introductions," Grant announced, striding towards the easels arranged opposite the tent entrance. "We welcome the reinforcement of new troops and fresh resources to the prince's cause. Princess Sina, we are glad to have you."
With Grant's words of approval, Sina beamed, subtly inching closer to Dominick. The prince didn't look her way, but a broad smile spread across his face under the spotlight. By the time night fell, tales of this event would be the talk of the camp.
"We're largely in the dark about the Duke's position or new strength. As we continue to hold up in the recesses of Coworth Forest, it's reasonable to assume that the duke is amassing power. We're uncertain if the queen has summoned a secondary army to guard Llynmond. We must assume she has.”
Grant paused, giving space for any objections. The team had been at odds over their assumptions for the previous day, but Grant insisted on planning against two armies.
"The natural course of action would be to fall back towards Freyham and await the arrival of reinforcements from Princess Sina’s promised troops. However, this is a battle we are doomed to lose. If we rally another five thousand soldiers, the queen will inevitably summon another ten thousand."
A wave of uncertainty swept through the room. People turned to their neighbors, querying the potential number of soldiers that could be mobilized on either side. The specifics of the numbers were irrelevant. They had to accept that the queen would always be able to summon greater numbers than their rebellion.
"We could also advance towards Llynmond." He removed the top map to unveil a sketch of the city and its fortifications. An aide presented a chart on a secondary display, outlining the terrain surrounding the capital. The whispers and murmurs died down. They were all ears for this. "However, this would position us between Duke Ardwick’s forces and Queen Fraunces’ defenses. We could outmarch the duke’s infantry along these roads, but our forces would be overpowered."
"General Gwydian, all you've been doing is highlighting the problems. What exactly is the plan?" Baron Beaumont interjected. The man was striving to regain his stature among his peers, and Grant recognized that he would be the most challenging to win over. There was no dignity in hiding in the forest, and the prince spending too much time with Lady Sina would not sit well with the baron.
"We'll surround the queen. We'll strangle the duke's lands and sever his funding. Our forces will proceed along these three axes.” Grant unveiled his final map with broad strokes already marked. Blue arrows pointed toward key cities and fertile agricultural lands.
"Which city do we target?" asked one of the lords.
"All of them," Grant replied with a grin. "We'll surge through these towns, prompting a confrontation with the duke. He'll have no choice but to respond to our onslaught or forfeit everything he cherishes. We'll mass our forces when he gathers his strength and strike when he is most vulnerable. The duke is bound to slip up, and we'll be there to take advantage."
"Your plan lacks depth in its details," Reginald observed. "We need more comprehensive data to determine our strategy."
"The strategy is already set," Prince Dominick interjected. "I endorsed General Gwydian's plan this morning, and the details will be disseminated in due course. There's no need to get too comfortable in Coworth Forest. We're initiating the first phase of our campaign."
It was now time to see what information leaked to the duke. Grant hoped they caught the spies soon because he would have to release the real plan before they set out on their march.
53
SOURCE
Grant refused to answer more details until he was ready to issue orders. The security of their operation depended on the discretion of his staff, and he waved off countless questions about routes and order of march. If he was honest, he didn’t know which units would be on which roads until Ez finished her work.
“Lady Catrin would like to speak with you,” an aide whispered into Grant’s ear as the crowd melted away after his briefing.
Grant nodded his understanding and made excuses to leave the tent. Ez watched him depart before diving back into the paperwork while Jafran slipped through the pockets of nobles to catch up with his friend.
“Do we really have two thousand soldiers again?” Grant asked as they walked between the tents.
Winter's grip had finally lessened its hold on Ismore, and daylight hours were extending. Navigating by the glow of campfires was no longer necessary, and the milder weather meant the need for heavy winter attire was past. The landscape was soggy and muddy, but they could bear these inconveniences.
“Do you doubt the princess?” Jafran said with a chuckle.
“She can embellish the facts, especially when she’s trying to impress a future regent.”
“When we got Esmerelda’s orders to march to Ismore, the officers gathered forces on the way. Countless mercenaries and fit young adults wanted to join us. I think we could have gotten to five thousand soldiers—”
“We’ve never had that many,” Grant said. He found it hard to believe that conditions in Alenann had deteriorated to the point that people willingly aligned with a group condemned by the church.
“Aleksas couldn’t book enough passage for five thousand,” Jafran said. “I would have taken them all.”
Grant stopped in his tracks, forcing Jafran to stop before they entered Catrin’s tent. “Things are bad in Alenann?”
Jafran nodded. “The empress hunts those loyal to Sina with a passion, and the church uses it as an excuse to exile any who dealt with us. It is not good for Alenann.”
Grant’s heart fell with the news of his adopted home. Emperor Alexander would be disappointed his plans to put his son Christoph and his granddaughter Sina on the throne for centuries fell far short of his expectations.
“Where’s Rienne?” Grant asked. He was surprised when Sina and Jafran showed up without her in tow. The woman never missed an important meeting and wedged her way into ones she wasn’t invited to. If he could trust anyone to root out the spies in the nobility, Rienne could do it.
Jafran raised an eyebrow. “You waited until we were away from Esmerelda to ask that question.”
Grant laughed. He did. There was no love between those two, and Grant didn’t need to poke the fully recovered Ez with another reminder of the bard.
“Sina sent her to Nanteene,” Jafran said. The command sergeant could be cryptic and terse, but Grant believed the man didn’t know why Sina sent her to Nanteene. He hoped it had nothing to do with him.
“The Tul?” Grant asked, changing the subject.
“Organized,” Jafran said, unsure how Grant would take the news. “Rumor has it the Emperor of the Tul will join the army.”
“I’m glad we’re on an island, my friend,” Grant said.
They pulled open the flap to Catrin’s tent, and Grant winced with the incense burning in each corner. A blue haze filled the room and made Grant choke as they advanced. How could she breathe and recover in this?
“My help informs me that Lady Sina joined our effort,” Catrin said.
The Mage of the Mists sat upright but surrounded by pillows. If she moved, her wound still made her wince from the effort, but she was ready to be out of her confinement within her tent.
“She did,” Grant said.
“Did you call for her?”
“No, Ez sent word that we would need the mercenaries to join Dominick’s cause—”
“The church will use all of this against us. The StarTouched invading Ismore to aid the prince.”
Grant knew he should do a better job keeping his anger in check, but the recovering mage didn’t spare words with him either. If she was up for this fight, then so be it.
“I’ll let you sit and hide in the forest again. You can drag out this campaign for another decade or so. Maybe the queen will tire of the effort and hand over the throne,” Grant said.
Catrin analyzed Grant, and he still couldn’t read her features. He wished she would just be mad at him and have it out.
“We can’t go back,” Catrin said. “I know that.”
That was as close to “you’re right, Grant” as he would ever get from the woman. He accepted the compliment with grace and said nothing.
“We’ll have two thousand soldiers from the Arcane Mercenaries soon, and that means firepower. We can threaten new areas and force the queen to negotiate with us. Not the other way around.”
“She can’t show that weakness, Grant. Her reign is built on intimidation, treachery, and promises of new power. If she negotiates, she’ll lose all of that. Don’t underestimate her will to fight.”
“We have to defeat the duke first,” Grant said. “Ardwick is a thorn in our side and the queen’s strongest supporter. We win that military victory, and I’ll hand the political win to Dominick. That will make the queen sweat.”
“Can you beat him?” Catrin asked. Her inflection didn't suggest an objection to his strategy but conveyed a sense of curiosity.
“If I can find him, yes. We’ll draw him out. Dominick is the prize, and we have to threaten something Ardwick cares about.”
“I’m not endorsing the prince as bait,” Catrin said with a scowl forming on her forehead.
“He’s been the target since you started this insurgency. As it grew into a civil war, he’s been the prize. The queen didn’t take him seriously enough until now.”
Catrin groaned as she pushed herself up into a more comfortable sitting position. Her help did their best with the cots in the field conditions, and Grant could almost feel the searing agony coursing through her muscles with her every movement. She found a new position and waited for the pain to subside.
“Sina’s presence and your mercenaries will make things more challenging.” She held up her hand to stop Grant’s protest. “But I accept it’s necessary. Without her help, I fear we will fail.”
“Is that a prophecy, prediction, or a guess?” Grant asked.
Catrin looked at him but didn’t answer.
“I’m also concerned about StarFall. That’s your real quest, Grant,” Catrin said. Pain laced her words, and Grant didn’t know if it was from her physical wounds or her frustration with Grant’s lack of progress.
“One war at a time,” Grant said, trying his best at some humor.
“The weapons the church is making and the new order. Where do you think they come from?” Catrin asked.
Ice pumped in Grant’s veins. Tytus Gornick used StarTouched blood for his experiments. Catrin watched as his mind struggled with the calculations.
“They are nearing the source, Grant. They might even be using it to wipe us out. The war in Ismore is critical for the future of the StarTouched, but so is your quest for StarFall.”
Grant wanted to lash out at her. He’d been to Megenland and relived his terrible first moments after StarFall. His family was gone, and his brother hated him. StarFall was a curse to everyone who encountered it.
Now the church was weaponizing it.
“What do I do? I can’t leave Dominick when he just made me his general. The army needs me,” Grant said.
Catrin’s features softened as she considered his plight. He was right. He could wander off to another corner of the world chasing down a few random ideas from a mage in Ismore, but Dominick needed him now.
He needed the Mage of the Mists as well.
“Do you know Sina’s power?” Catrin asked, the traces of pain gone.
“She’s never revealed anything, and I always find it awkward to ask,” Grant said.
“She can make anyone’s ability stronger. She augments StarTouched abilities, and I think she can help me heal. Can you get her to help me?”
Grant rocked back on his heels, and Jafran sucked in his breath. How did Catrin know about someone else’s powers? Grant had been with Sina for months as her consort, and he didn’t know what she could do.
He had to figure out who Catrin was. After he helped Dominick win his war.
But if Sina could help the Mage of the Mists, he had to try.
54
MERCENARIES
“Did you know about Sina’s ability?” Grant asked when they were out of earshot of the command compound. The friends walked along trails through the forests, worn wider from constant use by the growing army. Animals may never return to their old haunts as the army cut down trees for supplies and firewood.
“I didn’t suspect that at all,” Jafran said.
“Is that how Catrin summoned mist for days at Krosno?” Grant asked as he stepped over a fallen log soggy from the frequent rains and bursting with mushrooms from every seam.
“I hadn’t considered that,” Jafran said. “She’s been secretive about her skills, and we always assumed it was a minor power based on the remnants of StarFall.”
The emperor launched a secretive hunt for the remaining fragments of StarFall to create imperial StarTouched and preserve his family line for centuries to come. Crown Prince Christoph lost his life at the hands of a Tul assassin, but Heiress Sina hid her ability for years.
“Is it a minor power to augment everyone else’s powers?” Grant asked. He lowered his voice as they made out the first traces of smoke from a nearby campfire. Sentries waited in the trees but said nothing when they recognized the general and his new command sergeant.
Grant went straight to the mess tent. This grove was big enough for nearly a hundred soldiers, and the food preparation for a service this big took time. Lines would form soon, and the kitchen staff would be at their peak effort.
“Greetings,” Grant said as he slipped into the back entrance.
“Meal’s not for another hour. You’ll wait your turn.” The cook wore a grime-streaked apron and pivoted to confront the duo. He was used to asserting control over his mess tent and looked surprised when Grant and Jafran didn’t leave.
“What’s on the menu?” Jafran asked, looking over the shoulder of soldiers working away at thick iron pots.
“I said you can wait,” the chef pushed on Jafran’s immovable frame to get them out of his kitchen.
Grant inspected the stack of firewood, the jars and jugs of spices organized into trunks, and barrels of food stocks. It was better than most got in the field, and the man was right to keep people out of his workspace.
“I’m reporting you to Sir Cynfor, and I’ll see he docks your pay for a day.”
“The charges?” Grant asked. The man was serious about his work. Every army needed more cooks like this.
“Wasting my time for a starter. Disrespecting a non-commissioned officer for another. How about theft? Get a hanging for that one. What’s your name, soldier?”
“Grant Gwydian,” Grant said. The man’s face didn’t flash with recognition as he fumbled for paper and a pencil. He rummaged through his belongings.
“General Gwydian,” Jafran said, helping the man out as he paused his search.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the chef said. “Tent, at-ten-shun.”
“Enough of that,” Grant said. “We came by to check on the meals and make sure the chefs have the tools and food we need for the army. We march soon, and hot meals will be in short supply.”
“We’d be honored if you tasted our fare,” the chef said. He was a different man now, eager to please the senior officer. Maybe he knew Grant could deliver ample supplies to this field kitchen.
Grant couldn’t turn him down.
Word spread through the camp that Grant and Jafran were in the field checking on supplies and field kitchens. They weren’t interested in shiny armor or oiled swords; the leaders cared about their meals.
Grant cared deeply about the status of their weapons of war and their equipment. Without the proper weaponry, no amount of marching would matter when it came to blows. But countless other leaders worried about those details, and Grant wanted to get a feel for his forces before they marched out of the Coworth.
“We should probably head back and start our meal,” Jafran said. He possessed an uncanny knack for navigating them out of awkward situations, allowing the soldiers to enjoy their meal in peace. Grant gave the units a hearty thanks and disappeared into the woods.
