by N. C. Reed
She shook her head ever so slightly at the crazy situation she found herself in. A serving girl and seamstress in a roadside inn sharing her bed with the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Soulan. To say it was insane was understatement indeed.
She was not one of 'Rosa's Girls', who entertained a certain class of clientele by way of the rear stairwell. She didn't sell her body in such a way, though she did not look down on those who did. And neither apparently did the sleeping young man she held in her arms. He had smiled at her in an open and friendly way, something few men she met ever did. Most looked down upon her and the others though careful not to say so outright for fear of being ostracized from their company. To them she was no different from the women who plied their trade upstairs rather than on the tavern floor. Theirs was a race of people that had been persecuted since time immemorial, tolerated only because they provided services that others sought. Men who would promise and proposition her whilst drinking beer that she served them would ignore her any other time at best, and at worst...
The Crown Prince, of all people, had not. Rather he had spoken to her just as he would have anyone else, even flirting with her slightly as he had leaned against the wall. He had a roguish, even boyish charm that she imagined few women he had turned it upon had managed to resist. She certainly hadn't, though in honesty she hadn't really tried.
And now he was sleeping in her arms. While some would have wondered how many times the Prince had found himself in this position, and with how many women, Jaelle did not. Instead she simply tried to make him comfortable.
She was unaware of how long she lay there with him, listening to the sounds of the tavern beginning to waken beneath them. At some point however, the Prince began to stir. It took him a few minutes to come around but suddenly she looked at him and realized he was looking back at her.
“Morning,” he said softly, then frowned slightly. “It is morning, right?” he asked, and she laughed lightly, her hand still stroking his hair.
“Yes, milord, it is morning,” she assured him. “Still somewhat early for us but I suspect not so much for you. Are you hungry?” she asked him.
“I am, actually,” Parno nodded, sitting up a bit.
“Then why don't you go ahead and take care of your business while I go and have something prepared for you, eh?” she slid effortlessly from beneath him and stood. Parno drank in her naked form with frank admiration, getting a better look than he had the night before. Well, at least one that he remembered better than the night before.
She smiled lightly as she gathered her robe and towel.
“Two doors down, to the right, is a bath, milord,” she told him. “When you are ready, you may make use of it to prepare yourself for the day. I will shower and then either have food prepared for you or else do it myself. Come down when you are ready,” she smiled again.
“Thank you, Jaelle,” Parno said softly. “I appreciate it.”
“You are quite welcome, milord,” she assured him, then turned for the door. If she didn't get out of here soon, she wouldn't be leaving for some time. His smile and kindness coupled with that same boyish charm that had enthralled her the previous night threatened to do so again. She exited the room and closed the door, leaning upon it for a moment before she headed for the bath, a soft smile on her face.
-
Parno took his time getting ready. Cold water in the bath woke him in a hurry, forcing away the remaining dregs of sleep. His uniform looked as if it would stand another day, or at least the start of one, and he donned it without much thought. He was surprisingly clear headed as he made his way downstairs considering he had drank a number of Tinker's rather strong tavern brews the night before.
A lone figure was waiting at the foot of the stairs and Parno slowed as Cho Feng turned to look at him.
“Cho, have you been here all night?” Parno asked in surprise.
“I have,” the sword master nodded. “Your escort has traded off during the night so someone was always on guard. How was your evening?” he asked solicitously.
“My evening was fine,” Parno admitted. “I was more concerned that your night wasn't if you spent it here watching me.”
“It is of no concern,” Cho Feng assured him. “As I told Brigadier Willard, a warlord must once in a while relieve the tension of command.”
“Is that what I am, Cho?” Parno asked softly. “A warlord?”
“Semantics,” Feng waved it away. “I believe someone is waiting for you, however,” he pointed toward the bar and Parno followed the motion to see Jaelle standing there with a plate.
“Have you eaten?” Parno asked Cho.
“Earlier,” Feng nodded. “I believe that particular plate is meant for you alone, my prince,” he added with mirth in his voice. “I believe you have gained an admirer.”
Parno looked at him with a raised eyebrow then made his way across to where Jaelle waited.
“Fried potatoes and scrambled eggs all right, milord?” Jaelle asked almost shyly. “There is also bread, but it is left from yesterday. They are not baking yet this morning.”
“Jaelle, I normally eat a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast,” Parno smiled at her. “If I'm lucky there might be a few apple chips or a bit of sugar mixed with it. Yes, potatoes and eggs with day old bread is more than fine.”
“Good,” she smiled at him, her demeanor relaxing as she set the plate before him with a cup of water.
“You don't have to be so tense around me you know,” he told her. “Aren't you eating?” he asked.
“I... I did not wish to presume, milord,” she stammered slightly at his unexpected question.
“Don't be silly,” Parno told her. “Sit and eat. I'd appreciate the company to be honest.”
A bright smile was his reward as she hurried to fix her own breakfast and take a seat next to him. She noticed a tear on the sleeve of his jacket and touched it lightly, running her hand along the breach.
“This looks like it was cut, milord,” she said quietly. He looked to where her hand rested and nodded.
“Likely it was. I hadn't noticed it to be honest. I'll have to get it repaired.”
It hadn't dawned upon her until this moment that the Prince himself would actually be in combat. She had assumed that he would command from the rear as others of his station did. Clearly this Prince differed from others of his line in more ways than one.
“You may leave it with me if you wish,” Jaelle told him, examining the damage more closely. “I take care of sewing and mending for everyone here. I can repair this and return it to you. Likely by tomorrow,” she added with a smile.
“There are plenty of people in camp who get paid for that kind of thing, Jaelle,” Parno demurred. “One of them can earn their crowns by sewing it up,” he chuckled.
“I'm quite sure I can do a better job than any Army tailor, milord,” Jaelle persisted. “And it... I would... it would be my privilege to aid you in whatever way I can.” She was looking more at the floor than at him, her eyes hooded. Despite that Parno knew she was watching him closely.
“Okay,” he smiled ever so slightly. “I appreciate it,” he told her as he shrugged out of the jacket and handed it to her. “But please, don't go to any trouble, okay?”
“It will be no trouble, milord,” she assured him as she set the jacket aside, laying it on the bar. “Now eat,” she motioned to his plate. “You need to maintain your strength,” she added, a slight rise to one eyebrow and the faintest ghost of a smirk on her beautiful face.
“So, I do.” Parno laughed at her antics.
Behind them Cho Feng watched. He had not expected this but in hindsight he should have. Parno was much more comfortable with what nobles called 'commoners' than he was with said nobles. Where most would never have considered taking a meal with someone like Jaelle, Parno would not hesitate or consider himself too good to do so. It was one of the things that made him such a good leader.
Still, this could be problematic.
-
As Parn
o ate his breakfast, Memmnon had finished his and was in his first meeting of the day. Sitting at the conference table facing him were Howard Govan, Gideon Philo, Sebastian Grey, and the King's fiancée Winifred.
“The refugees are preparing to depart, milord,” Philo reported. “The first group is scheduled to leave the day after tomorrow. They will have an escort of twenty men from the King's Own and have about a one-week trip ahead of them.”
“How many groups total are we looking at?” Memmnon asked.
“Five rather large groups and six somewhat smaller ones, Your Majesty,” the Agriculture Minister replied. “The larger groups average around eight thousand while the smaller average about twenty-five hundred.”
“So many,” Memmnon sighed. “And this isn't all of them, I wager.”
“No, milord,” Govan took over. “There is another, similar group in Shelby. My assistant and Minister Philo's have already begun organizing the same kind of program there and some are finding their own ways, exchanging labor on some of the larger Delta farms for room and board. Our people are quite hardy,” he added with no small satisfaction.
“So they are,” Memmnon nodded. “The time has come for us to implement the conscription protocols I believe, gentlemen,” he said without fanfare. “I am loathe to do so, but I see no realistic alternative. Those of you who deal with the refugees on a daily basis will speak to those who are trustworthy and weed from their ranks any who are suspicious or troublemakers. We will make use of them defending our Kingdom or kill them if necessary. We are at a point where conscription is all we have left. And as bad as I hate to say it, we will need to include a limited number of women as well.”
“My Lord!” Grey erupted at once. “Sire, we cannot cons-”
“Yes, we can, Sebastian, and we will,” Memmnon cut him off. “Not for combat roles or even pure military roles for that matter, but women can serve as we have seen right here at home. Parno informed me that he has women serving in observation posts and in some cases he is even commanding them. So, we will be using women in a greater capacity.”
“What we have to do is decide how to go about this,” he told them. “Women strong enough to draw a bow will be taught archery and formed into a semi-organized militia. They will not serve in front line units, but they can and will defend their own towns. Rather than force them to cower in hiding and hope the few men left in their village can defend them, we will give them the tools and training to defend themselves. To do otherwise is not acceptable. And, I will say this once, so listen carefully; this is not open for debate. I will not welcome alternatives, discussion or dissension in this matter. I trust I have made myself clear?” his gaze moved from one man to the next. No one objected.
“Good,” he nodded. “Please ensure that everyone else knows that. Now, Lady Winifred will depart in four days time with her escort headed to Jason and then to Shelby, and from there wherever she can best accomplish her task of organizing and training women to assist in defending their homes. Some of her Ladies Auxiliary will be accompanying her to assist and to serve as encouragement. Their role in defending the city from the enemy cavalry raid will be retold to show how they aided in our defense, proving to the others that they can indeed do so themselves.”
“I would much prefer that this information be restricted to those here at this table and to those whose assistance is needed to carry out that plan. Her movements need to be kept secret as much as possible to ensure her safety. Make sure that happens,” his voice took on a warning timber that no one missed.
“Women working for Roda Finn in the Foundry will be exempt from any other kind of service,” Memmnon moved on to the next item. “They may volunteer to move, of course, but they will not be conscripted into service of any kind by anyone. The work they are doing there is far too important and they are all volunteers. Make sure that all relevant parties are apprised of this.”
“The problem with Therron is officially off the docket for now,” he ordered next. “There is no profit to be had in continually worrying over his actions or movements. Admiral Semmes has ordered one of his best men to sea with the few ships he has that are seaworthy in order to interdict Therron and the Halifax. Failing that, Parno has positioned one of his best units at Cove Canton to ensure that no problems are forthcoming from the CPC. I don't expect any, but I won't make the mistake of assuming we won't have them. But for now, do not waste a single minute worrying about what Therron is doing or where he's going. We have far too much to do here and little enough to do it with.” Heads around the table nodded in agreement at that.
“Make sure any recommendations for exemptions to the conscription law are submitted promptly. The first one that came to my mind was actually the men of our fishing fleets. We can't afford not to have them working since we need their catch to help feed our people, moreso with the loss we suffered in the raid. Make your choices with care and with a mind toward ensuring that our food production in particular has the manpower we need to get things done. We can't afford losses at harvest time.”
“Does anyone have anything else that we need to discuss?” he asked. No one spoke.
“Very well then, we are adjourned.” All of them rose as Memmnon exited along with Winifred.
“I hate to leave you,” Winnie said softly as the two returned to his rooms.
“I hate for you to be gone,” Memmnon sighed. “But, you wanted to serve. And no one can do this as well as you can, never mind doing it better. You have the ladies you want to take with you picked out?”
“Yes,” Winnie nodded. “All single and all very good shots. They should do fine.” She paused a minute before continuing.
“This will take a good while to do,” Winnie warned.
“I'm sure it will,” Memmnon fought the urge to sigh yet again. “It still needs to be done. If they can raid here, they can raid anywhere. We can't leave the women behind and not teach them how to defend themselves. Simple as that.”
“Simple as that,” Winnie echoed with a nod. “But not easy.”
“No,” Memmnon agreed. “Nothing is easy anymore.”
-
“So, what's going on?” Parno asked as he strode into his command tent. “Anything happening out of the ordinary?”
“Not as yet, milord,” Enri Willard replied. “All is quiet.”
“I don't like it,” Parno frowned, looking at a map that hadn't changed in days. “This makes no sense. They have every advantage and still they do nothing. I don't understand.”
“Nor do I,” Davies agreed. “I'm torn between being thankful for the time and wondering what we're missing,” he admitted.
“I... I don't know what we could be missing,” Parno shook his head hesitantly. “I want to believe that we've covered things pretty well, but as soon as I say it something we overlooked will bite us on the ass for sure.”
“Almost certainly,” Davies nodded. “Still, if we have overlooked anything I'm at a loss to identify it. I believe they have adopted your theory from earlier. That they are killing us by simply occupying so much of our territory and are content to wait. But we have no way to confirm that.”
“Our scouts are out as usual?” Parno verified.
“Yes sir,” Enri nodded. “Patrols are constantly in and out, and we have men working behind their lines as well. I would not go so far as to say they can't move without us knowing, but it's very close to it. Pierce and his men should be back on station by now and we've strengthened the garrison at Nasil with an infantry brigade. Well, it's actually two regiments and an independent battalion, but close enough. We have patrols covering the area all around and observation posts looking at every major road and observing every city of any size.”
“The River Guard is set up on the Cumberland and has a regiment of infantry plus an artillery unit in support while we are keeping our own posts on the Tinsee and have a company of archers and a company of crossbowmen in position to fire on any boats attempting to move up river.”
“That's
all we can do then,” Parno nodded as the report ended. “Good work.”
“Thank you, milord,” several voices replied.
“Enri, call whatever part of my escort got some sleep last night and let’s ride the lines.”
“Right away, milord.”
“You going like that?” Karls asked, having been so quiet that Parno hadn't noticed him.
“Like what?” Parno asked.
“You're out of uniform,” was the smirking reply. “Where's your jacket?”
“Ah, I forgot that,” Parno nodded. “It had a cut in the sleeve from somewhere. It's being repaired. Harrel,” he said softly. Sprigs appeared before the sound of his name faded.
“Milord.”
“Would you get me another jacket, please?” Parno asked. “I would appreciate it.”
“Of course, milord,” Sprigs bowed and went to fetch said jacket.
“Is she pretty?” Karls asked, eyes dancing with merriment.
“Is who pretty?” Parno asked.
“Why, whoever is repairing your jacket, of course,” Karls jibed.
“Oh. Yes, actually, she is very pretty,” Parno smiled.
“Always a good thing,” Karls nodded in mock seriousness. “A seamstress that's pretty.”
“I thought that myself,” Parno chuckled as he made his way out of the tent. “Let’s go and see what we can see.”
-
“I th... think I ma... may die.”
Buford Beaumont stood with his legs shoulder length apart, doubled over with his hands on his knees, gasping for air. Horace Whipple stood beside him, short of breath but in much better shape than his friend. In fact, he was in better shape than most of the men in either command.
“It's not so bad,” Whipple tried not to laugh.
“Ho..how are y... you not gas... gasping for air li… like the rest of us?” Beaumont managed to wheeze out.
“Superior genes, probably,” Whipple shot back. “Clean living.”
“My a... ass,” Beaumont stood, fighting to get his breathing under control. “You've done this before!” he accused with a shaking finger pointed at his friend.
