Peril of the Crown, page 26
“I understand the strategy, but which legion will do the pinning and which the overwhelming?”
“Doubtless, the Duke of Erlingen has assembled his army and is on the march. We must see how he reacts to our advance before we make that decision. Fear not, though. We shall defeat him.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.”
Nordin smiled. “Ah, I see now. You’re not concerned over victory so much as who receives the glory.”
“The thought had crossed my mind.”
“Don’t worry. There’ll be plenty of it to go around once the real campaign kicks off.”
“Are we not already deep into it?”
“This was nothing but a warm-up, a tactical manoeuvre designed to draw out our real enemy.”
“The Army of Erlingen?”
“Precisely. The plan is to defeat them and then march on the so-called Northern Alliance.”
“And then?”
“Then nothing. With those two armies defeated, none will be left to oppose us.”
“What of Hadenfeld?”
“I’m impressed,” said Nordin. “You know your history, but you’re a little behind on recent events. Hadenfeld endured not one but two civil wars of late, leaving their army much weaker than before.”
“They could still pose a threat.”
“I think you overestimate their strength. Let me assure you, the empire’s greatest minds have determined they are no threat to us. Here’s a little nugget of wisdom: when offered information that benefits your cause, do not question it.”
“Understood, my lord.”
“Good. Let’s get the legion moving, shall we? I want to sample the delights of Neiburg.”
* * *
In the wake of the army’s defeat, the population of Neiburg fled east, seeking refuge from the Halvarian invaders. They took everything they could carry, but after a few miles, the burden of their possessions weighed them down. The constant fear of enemy warriors appearing convinced them to abandon all but the most essential belongings. Refuse littered the road, the sum of people’s lifetimes trampled in the mad haste to escape.
It was a depressing sight, but Rilan Paldrin pushed on, determined to locate whatever remained of the warriors of Angvil. A woman resting on the side of the road beckoned to him. He moved closer, eager to offer assistance as she lay against a tree trunk.
“Water,” she croaked out, her voice hoarse and dry.
He pulled forth his waterskin and dribbled some into her mouth. Only after she was done did he notice her leg had been crushed, likely by the wheel of a wagon. He could do nothing to ease the woman’s pain. Panic rose within his chest, and he fought to control it. This shouldn’t be happening. The Army of Angvil should have vanquished the invaders and sent them running back to the border. Their loss was a disaster of epic proportions.
A fire built within him, fuelled by anger and resentment. The duchess had chosen the coward’s way out. Now, he and the other commoners were left to bear the full force of the empire’s wrath! No longer content to serve a noble, he would seek retribution by fighting against the world's injustices. He saw himself as a great hero, standing atop a hill while an adoring crowd watched.
He was brought crashing back to his senses by the injured woman’s sigh as her head tilted to one side. Tears filled Rilan’s eyes as he realized she had passed on to the Afterlife.
* * *
Marlena watched as the remnants of the Army of Angvil stumbled past. Over a thousand men had stood at Beggar’s Reach, but fewer than three hundred survived. Added to that were her own Temple Knights, who could barely field a single company.
“What do we do now?” asked Sister Johanna.
“We do what we should have done in the first place. We retreat into Erlingen and hope the duke has the men to oppose the empire.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
The Temple Commander turned to regard her aide. “I don’t know what to say. Our only hope is that Erlingen received word of the invasion. Should that prove not the case, there’s little more we can contribute.”
“Are you suggesting our company will disband?”
“What choice have we? Our supplies are gone, our horses weak, and we have no funds to reorganize. Added to that are our losses. Each battle reduces our numbers: one more, and we shall be unable to field even half a company. At what point do we become useless?”
“This is not like you, Commander. You, amongst all of us, are guided by your faith.”
“A faith shaken by death. How many more sisters must perish? And to what end? Will we be slowly whittled down until the last of us departs this mortal realm alone?”
“We will defeat Halvaria!”
“How?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It’s a simple question,” replied Marlena. “Tell me how you see this war playing out?”
“The Army of Erlingen will defeat the legions.”
“Both of them? I think you overestimate their chances.”
“But they must!” insisted Johanna.
“Must? You speak as though everything is foreordained.”
“Isn’t it? Do we not worship the Saints for exactly that reason? Aren’t their very words meant to lead us on a path towards redemption?”
“Redemption? For what? My father used to torment me. Are you now suggesting I must find redemption for his sins against me?”
Johanna averted her gaze. “Sorry. I spoke out of turn.”
Marlena closed her eyes, her thoughts drifting back to her time before joining the order. She was the daughter of a duke, a luck of birth that should’ve had her living in splendour. Instead, her father had treated her abysmally. Only after his death did she finally find solace in the Temple Knights of Saint Agnes.
“Have you any family left, Commander?”
The question snapped Marlena out of her musings. “I do, although I haven’t seen them in years. My oldest brother, Ernst, is a duke back in Abelard: at least, he was the last I heard. As for my other brother, I have no knowledge of his whereabouts. We were never the coziest of families.”
“My life was one of neglect,” offered Johanna. “I was the fifth child of an already impoverished merchant.”
“Is that why you joined the order?”
“Not at first. I was married off to a cobbler. He was a decent enough fellow, but things took a turn for the worse when his business failed.”
“You don’t have to tell me this if it’s too painful.”
“No. It helps to talk about it. He eventually took ill, making things even worse. Unable to pay the rent, we were tossed into the streets. He died a few weeks later. I sought refuge at a Mathewite mission, later joining the Church. I was only a lay sister initially, but I’ve always been a hard worker, and my superior suggested I might be better employed as a Temple Knight. It wasn’t so much a calling as it was a convenient way to be rid of the city that had caused me such grief.”
“Thank you,” said Marlena.
“For what?”
“For reminding me that our past is a part of us but doesn’t define who we are. Here I am feeling sorry for myself, yet others have suffered as much, if not more.” She straightened in the saddle.
“You’re different all of a sudden, as if a light has been lit inside you.”
“Your words have restored my faith. The situation we find ourselves in at present is neither new nor as hopeless as it appears. Like our patron Saint, we face great odds, but we will follow her example and overcome them, as she did when she stood up to the High Lord of Herani.”
“Inspiring words.”
“Indeed, but there is another expression I favour, said to be those of our order's very first Grand Mistress.”
“Which is?”
“Have faith, but keep your sword at the ready.”
Twenty-Seven
Tournament Grounds
Spring 968 MC
The Army of Erlingen stood on the tournament grounds, their numbers swelled by a second army of wagons and camp followers. They’d assembled to fight the Halvarians and awaited only the duke’s orders to march towards the enemy they all feared.
Beverly looked over her small command. Lord Hagan Stein had given her three companies of footmen to whip into shape, and now, only a few days later, she was beginning to see some remarkable progress.
She’d started by marching them around the tournament grounds each morning in full armour, then followed up with weapon practice and close-order drill designed to teach them to operate as a proper Mercerian company would. The men of Mulsingen grumbled at first, then began taking pride in their progress. Standing beside the other barons' companies, their discipline became more evident with their perfectly formed ranks.
Duke Heinrich trotted out in front of his army, his barons following, which Beverly found strange. If you were organizing an army around nobles, wouldn’t you think they’d stand with their men—at least, that was the Mercerian way.
She watched as His Grace came to a halt, his back to the assembled men. His barons then trotted closer, each halting in front of their own contingent of troops.
“Ah. I see now,” said Beverly.
“See what?” asked Emerson, her most senior captain.
“I was curious why the barons weren’t here with their men.”
He chuckled. “They don’t like waiting. It’s an age-old story. We’re to be here at noon, making us wait half the afternoon before they show up.”
“Half the afternoon? The sun’s hardly moved from its peak.”
“Well, it feels like half the afternoon.” He fell silent as Lord Hagan drew closer and took up his position at the head of his men.
The duke yelled out a command and then rode south towards the road. His own personal warriors followed, then the men commanded by the barons, in order of seniority: at least that’s what Beverly assumed. If she were in charge, she’d send the cavalry out ahead even though this was considered friendly territory, but the army wasn’t hers to command. Instead, she must do her duty and follow Lord Hagan’s orders.
She waited an eternity for the army to move out, and then, finally, the men of Mulsingen joined the march. Her companies advanced quickly, bringing them too close to those in front, forcing them to slow. This, in turn, led to problems with those following, causing a ripple effect. It was frustrating in the extreme, but the army settled into a steady rhythm shortly after they left the tournament grounds.
The situation made her appreciate Gerald's reforms to the Army of Merceria. At the time, it had seemed like a small thing, but insisting on a standard pace made a significant difference on the campaign trail, allowing troops to carry out complex manoeuvres in the midst of battles. It had been a revolution in the conduct of war. The thought gave her pause. Was Halvaria as disciplined?
Aldwin and Aubrey, who’d been waiting alongside the road, rode over, falling into place on either side of her. Sir Owen had been asked to accompany His Grace, the Duke, along with Krazuhk, whose ability to use the common tongue improved daily.
“Well?” said Aubrey. “What do you think, Cousin?”
“We certainly have the numbers,” replied Beverly. “I only hope we can get this army ready for battle.”
“Ready?” said Aldwin. He twisted in the saddle to view the men marching behind. “They appear ready enough to me.”
“It’s not these men I’m worried about; it’s the rest of the army.”
“You don’t believe they’re up to the task?”
“Not at the moment, and therein lies the problem.”
“I’ve seen you go into battle with less.”
“True, but they were Mercerians; I had no need to worry about their resolve. The men of Erlingen are well-equipped, but at the end of the day, it’s discipline that’ll make the difference, and I’m afraid they’ll be outmatched in that regard.”
They passed a horseman wearing a brown surcoat, who then spurred on his mount to ride closer. “Lady Beverly?” he called out.
“Brother Cyric? I see you’re doing much better.”
“I am, thanks to Lady Aubrey.” He nodded in greeting, then glanced at the men following her. “I sense you’ve had a hand in preparing Lord Hagan’s footmen for the coming campaign.”
“I did what I could in the time I had. Were you looking for me in particular or just passing by?”
“I was seeking you. We’ve received news from the west that I thought you might be interested in, though I fear it’s not good.”
“Go on.”
“The Halvarians are rolling through Angvil. From what we’ve heard, Duchess Burghild was determined to make a stand, which would likely have already happened.”
“Has your regional commander decided to join the cause?”
“He has, though only in a limited capacity. One company of our Temple Knights is to accompany the army.”
“Do the duke’s knights wear red?” said Aubrey. “I saw knights in that colour back on the tournament grounds.”
“Those are Temple Knights of Saint Agnes, a company’s worth. Not a large number, but our order works closely with them.”
“And how does that work?” asked Beverly. “Do they follow the duke’s orders or act independently?”
“I’m afraid that’s a difficult thing to answer. The Temple Knights only follow the Church’s orders, but lately, there have been some… developments.”
“Those being?”
“I’m forbidden to go into detail, but suffice it to say the senior chain of command has seen great upheaval in recent years. As such, each Temple Captain will make their own decisions on the battlefield. They will consult with His Grace, the Duke, but I’m afraid he has no battle experience.”
“Not the most encouraging news. I assume someone brought the situation in Angvil to the duke’s attention?”
“Yes, but he has not altered his strategy one whit. He still intends to march straight to the border to confront our enemy head-on.”
“I doubt he has much choice,” said Beverly. “If he delays, it would see his own lands at the mercy of the enemy.”
“Mercy is not a characteristic commonly associated with the empire. They are ruthless, not that the Petty Kingdoms are any better. Everywhere an army marches, there are tales of plundering, murder, even rape, and that’s on both sides. Sometimes, I wonder why we bother fighting. Is it the same in Merceria?”
“War brings out the worst in people, but our army punishes that behaviour. I’ve witnessed several Mercerian troops hanged for such offences, though not without a tribunal.”
“Fascinating.”
“Do Temple Knights have such problems?”
“Not the Mathewites, I assure you, or the Agnesites. We are highly disciplined and dedicated to our respective vows.”
“I noted you failed to mention the other religious fighting orders.”
“I suppose I did, didn’t I? Well, as our blessed Saint likes to remind us, if you can’t say something nice about someone, you should refrain from mentioning them. That’s not a direct quote, merely my interpretation of it.” He paused, looking skyward.
Beverly let him have his moment of peace. She glanced over at Aldwin, who returned her look with a wicked grin, and blushed. After all they’d gone through, her heart still fluttered at the thought of having him near her.
“I wonder,” said Cyric at last. “What do you think our chances are of defeating this invasion?”
“I’m no expert on Halvaria.”
“But thanks to your cousin Aubrey, you’ve been updated on events back in Merceria, yes?”
“I have, but it’s not exactly good news.”
“Go on.”
“So far, we’ve learned they’re highly motivated and well-trained. One-on-one, they’re likely superior to the men of Erlingen.”
“Do I detect a ‘but’ in there somewhere?”
“The history of Merceria tells me it’s possible to win against a superior enemy, providing you have the will to do so. The key to this battle is forcing them to meet us at a place of our choosing.”
“You speak as though you’ve read the writings of General Axalon. The title of general is a recent affectation, but you get my meaning.”
“Who was General Axalon?”
“A great Thalamite leader who lived before the rise of Therengia, responsible for the first Empire of Eiddenwerthe, or at least the first Human one. I cannot speak to the history of the Elder Races. His teachings are required reading for those wishing to achieve the rank of Temple Captain.”
“Might I ask how long you’ve been a Temple Knight?”
“More years than I care to admit.”
“Yet you haven’t risen in rank. I find that surprising, considering your grasp of military matters.”
“I am content to serve as a simple knight as it frees me up to indulge in my pastime.”
“Which is?”
“Investigating the unusual, everything from supernatural occurrences to outright murder.”
“Supernatural?” said Aubrey. “You mean magical, don’t you?”
“Not everything can be ascribed to magic,” replied Cyric. “My experience reveals there are things that defy both the laws of nature and magic.”
“Are you a mage, perhaps?”
“No, though I have a greater understanding of such things than most common folk.”
“Common folk,” said Aldwin. “Your manner of speech would suggest you’re high born.”
“I was,” replied Cyric, “but I gave that up when I joined the order.”
“Let me guess, you’re the younger brother?”
“No, the heir, but that is a discussion best left firmly in the past.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”
“And you didn’t, I assure you. On an entirely different matter, I wonder if you and Lady Beverly might be interested in meeting with the Temple Captains?”
“To what end?” asked Beverly.
