by N. C. Reed
It was one of the longest diatribes Parno had ever made in Feng's hearing, and to the oriental sword-master it showed just how pensive his young warlord was.
“Is the city lost?” Feng asked.
“No, just burned,” Parno exhaled it in one long breath, his exhaustion showing. “And they're already gone. Maybe most of them will die from food poisoning,” he muttered.
“That was a good idea,” Feng nodded. “Very sneaky.”
“Better than any of the ideas I had apparently since it probably killed more Nor than what I had done,” Parno said bitterly.
“How long do you plan to wallow in your self chastisement?” Feng asked. “For while you sit here, castigating yourself at length for the enemy finally being smart enough to get past you, once, there is still a war to be fought and your army still must be led.” The sword-master's voice was flat and yet cutting at the same time. Parno looked at him.
“What the hell does that mean?” he demanded.
“It means exactly what I said,” Feng told him. “You are sitting here wallowing in self-pity because a capable enemy who is hundreds of miles from here managed to steal a march on you while you were distracted by an army that is easily twice the size of your own and camped solidly on your own ground. I said before; the enemy sometimes does something correctly as well, young warlord. You have known loss to this point, but not defeat. It could not last forever.”
“Now, you know defeat, and yet your defeat is not near as damaging as it could have been. One, because of plans you yourself made and provisions for attack that you devised on your own. And two, because others are finally playing a part in this struggle. It is not for you alone to defend your realm, young lord. Others must do their part. Clearly they are beginning to do so.”
“So stop this ridiculous pouting, for that is all it is, and get back to work,” he finished firmly. “You have done well up to now, Parno. Had you not, I would have told you so. I promise you I would have. What has happened here is an act of war. Simple as that. And it is nothing less than what you have planned for them. Now, perhaps, you will have the spark you need to justify the plans you have for the future.”
“Unless of course you want to call if all off now and step down as Marshal, committing ritual suicide to atone for this unforgivable failure,” he added dryly, a raised eyebrow punctuating the statement.
For a few seconds Parno sat staring at him. Then he threw his head back and laughed. Laughed as he hadn't in long weeks. For over a minute the 'young warlord' laughed from his belly so hard that tears ran down his cheeks. Wiping his eyes, he finally managed to get his laughter under control.
“Thank you, Master Feng,” he gasped at last when he was able to breathe again. “As always, you make me see clearly that which is ever before me.” He shook his head as if to clear away the last of his laughter.
“What can you do with what has happened?” Feng demanded, always looking to teach.
“Honestly, I don't know,” Parno admitted, looking away into the dark. “I suppose I could send someone after the Nor cavalry, but . . . it seems a waste to try and catch men who are already dying from dysentery among other things. They should be out of action for at least two to three weeks, and many of them longer. I don't see the point in wasting the resources to go after them.”
“Your losses in this latest round of engagements?” Feng pressed.
“Almost nil, really,” Parno admitted. “Just over one hundred total casualties. That's not to say I don't hate every loss, because I do. But from a numbers standpoint we did well.”
“All good commanders feel the loss of their men, be it one or a hundred or a hundred thousand,” Feng nodded. “Your enemy did something you did not expect?”
“Not exactly,” Parno mused. “He just did it in a strength I didn't anticipate. They came in much stronger numbers than I had thought.”
“The boats?” Feng prompted him. Parno thought about that, the engagement that Allen had led.
“I had thought they might use the boats to try and slip past me, or else to raid into Nasil,” he said finally. “It seems they were going to try and use the boats against me here, and sent their cavalry against Nasil. Probably wanting to draw off any troops they could from here.”
“So, if that was their plan, it failed,” Feng pointed out.
“True,” Parno admitted.
“What will they try now?” his teacher asked.
“Until I know where that cavalry that disappeared from the west went to, I don't know,” Parno shrugged. “Four divisions maybe of cavalry is a lot. Actually, a stronger force than what hit the capitol. We've no idea where they went or what they plan to do.”
“Do you even know if they left? Or did they merely appear to leave and circle back?” Feng asked. “For that matter, do you know if they even had four divisions worth of cavalry across the river to start with?”
“Raines noted in his report that might be the case. The circling back I mean,” Parno told him. “We know so very little about that side of the river there's no way to know what they might have done or where they may have gone. They could already be back in their camp while we're worrying over where they got to. As to whether they had that many to start with? There is absolutely no way to know. It's too far to see even with a good telescope, and we have no intelligence at all concerning the force across the river. Until they showed up there, the last thing I expected was to see Nor coming from the west. Until now the Tribes have never worked with anyone for any reason.”
“So at this point what can you do?”
“All I can do is keep a lookout for them while I continue to let 1st and 2nd Corps rebuild and retrain,” Parno replied. “We are stretched thin, and that isn't going to change any time soon. The loss of so much in supply will hurt in the short run until more stores can be brought up from the south. And I will have to keep stores further south I suppose to prevent what happened in Nasil from happening again. We can't afford to lose another round of stores like that. We're going to face a shortage as it is before the coming winter is over.”
“You are going to have to learn to depend on others for things like that, Parno,” Feng chastised gently. “You must concentrate on winning your war. They must see to it that you have the means to do so.”
“If I thought I could do so, I'd love to,” Parno said dryly. “So far I've had a slim run of luck finding people I can trust.”
“You must start somewhere,” Feng insisted. “Your brother is a good King, Parno, and this is his realm. Ultimately, he has the most to lose. You must trust that he will do all in his power to support you or else his realm will fall. Does not his own training and education teach him how to make such decisions?”
Of course it did. Memmnon had been trained since a young age to assume the role of King. Therron had as well to a lesser extent. But Parno had grown to manhood unable to trust anything about Memmnon and it wasn't easy to simply overlook-
“You must let go of your distrust, young warlord, if you are to save your people,” Feng told him as if reading his thoughts. “Even if you cannot bring yourself to trust your brother on your own behalf, you must at least trust him to make the best possible decisions for your kingdom. It is to his own benefit as well as yours and everyone else. He will certainly do that which is best for himself, and now for Miss Hubel, will he not?”
Parno hadn't considered that. Memmnon had struck up a courtship with Winnie now. He would definitely be thinking about the future even as the war raged around him. If he was to have a kingdom to share with the red head archery maiden, then he would have to support his brother as he defended the kingdom for him.
Parno knew, intellectually, that Memmnon would of course do all he could to support the war effort. But a lifetime of distrust died hard. Parno had been learning to trust Memmnon when his older brother had essentially abandoned him before their father when Parno honestly had a right to expect Memmnon's support, and that sliver of trust that had been building had bee
n shattered forever.
“I 'll never be able to fully trust him, Cho,” Parno said finally. “Regardless of what he says or does, and knowing that he will do what is best for the kingdom I still won't ever be able to trust in him the way I should be able to.” The way I want to, he left unsaid.
“But, you're right,” he added before Feng could argue. “I should be able to trust him that far. He wants a future with Winnie, and he'll do what's necessary to secure that future. The thing is, there are so many people beneath him that I can't truly depend on, and it's my men that will suffer when those idiots fail us.”
“They are his men as well,” Feng pointed out. “His subjects. They defend his realm. You must trust that he will do all he can to take care of them as they protect his kingdom. You cannot do otherwise, young warlord because you cannot do it all.”
No. He couldn't do it all.
“I'll try,” he settled for saying. “For now I'll do my best to let it rest. Hopefully we won't get any more bad news.”
~*~
“Edema!” Stephanie exclaimed when she saw Lady Cumberland entering the hospital ward. “I had no idea you were here! You chose a terrible time to visit, Lady Cumberland.”
“Yes, I did,” Edema nodded. “I must wait a few more days before returning home, as it may not be safe to travel the countryside. Colonel Stang has promised me a small detachment as an escort but it will be several days before they can be available. In the meantime, I must try and make myself useful. Tell me, dear girl, are you too busy for lunch?”
“I was about to try and get something in a few minutes,” Stephanie admitted. “There's no reason I can't do so now.”
“Then please join me,” Edema extended an arm. “I've arranged for a table in the palace garden that will allow us some privacy.”
~*~
“Would you care to explain to me what has happened between you and Parno?” Edema didn't beat around the bush. As soon as the food was served and the steward gone, she launched right into it.
Stephanie blinked at that, unaware that Edema had even known.
“Did Parno tell you about that?” she asked, unable to believe that he would tell even her.
“He did not, nor have I spoken or corresponded with him,” Edema replied tartly. “Winifred informed me, asking my assistance in trying to mend the damage between you.”
“Then I'm sure she told you what happened,” Stephanie's voice took a chilled tone. “I have told her more than once to keep out of my personal life. I would ask the same of you, Edema.”
“You don't take that tone with me, young lady,” Edema's voice cracked across the table. “You wanted his attention. I was the one who convinced him to give it to you. I placed my own credibility with him on the line to vouch for you, Stephanie. I was tired of his all but ignoring you and seeing you so sad and nearly depressed over him. I thought you would be good for him, and told him so. Now I have to hear that on the eve of his possibly returning to battle, you corner him, making demands of him that you know he cannot meet, and then have the gall to speak to him so hatefully as you leave him alone?” Edema's voice was far beyond frosty and Stephanie had to work to keep from recoiling from the older woman's verbal assault.
“How dare you do something like that to him,” Edema almost snarled. “Do you have any idea the trust issues he has? The life he has led in this arrogance infested place with a hateful father and hate filled siblings? In you he had perhaps found someone he might finally place that trust, and then you, in a fit of temper that is completely unworthy of you, rip that trust away from him at a time when he most needs it? And then you think you can simply tell me to butt out? Stay out of your business?” Edema's voice was steadily rising.
“That boy's well being is my business, young woman,” she fairly growled. “I care that!” she snapped her fingers, “for what anyone in this infested palace thinks of him, and I can easily add you to that list if your attitude continues as it has in the last few minutes. Now did you or did you not come to me at Cumberland House, seeking both mine and Dhalia's aid with him?”
“Yes,” Stephanie didn't even consider not answering. “I did.”
“And did we not assist you?” Edema ground on.
“You did,” the young doctor replied.
“The last I had heard was that the two of you had an arrangement between you, an understanding of betrothal, provided we win this war and he survives the process. Was that or was it not the case?”
“Yes,” Stephanie kept her answers short, still reeling under this assault by a woman whose voice she had never heard in anything other than gay entertainment.
“So what, may I ask, prompted you to put such pressure on him in the first place?” Edema demanded. “And don't even think of telling me it doesn't concern me,” she snapped when Stephanie began to do just that. “That boy may as well be my own son and I could love him no more dearly if he was. You have hurt him I wager, though I'm sure he would die before admitting it even to me.”
Stephanie took a minute to try and gather herself, still reeling under this unexpected assault from Edema Willows. She had always known that the Duchess was formidable, but she had never seen her like this.
“I wanted a child,” she said quietly, her face flushing at the admission. “I wanted him to marry me that night and hopefully I would be able to conceive in that one evening before he left the next morning. Should anything happen to him, then I might at least have that.”
“I can see nothing wrong with such a desire,” Edema surprised her. “However, you are aware that since. . .things occurred,” she settled for saying, “that Parno now occupies the position of Crown Prince, and will until and unless Memmnon fathers a son?”
“Yes,” Stephanie did her best not to grate the reply out.
“Then surely you realize that he cannot simply marry you on a whim in the dark of night and then slip away to the front,” Edema's softness evaporated in an instant. “The marriage of the Crown Prince must be done as a public event whether you like it or not, and I can assure you he does not. But there are protocols at work here that are centuries old, Stephanie. Parno cannot simply ignore them, much as he might care to.”
“He said that,” Stephanie nodded.
“And still you persisted?” Edema asked.
“I told him I as sick of hearing it,” the younger woman admitted. “That I was tired of him using it as an excuse, and if he had no desire to marry me he should have merely said so and been done with it. That he as being selfish,” she added softly.
It was the look on Edema Willow's face that did Stephanie in. Not her scathing words or her biting tone, not her condemnation or her mother hen demeanor. It was the look on her face at hearing what Stephanie had said that broke the young physician.
“Anything else?” Edema's voice was brittle.
“He tried to reason with me but I was angry and wouldn't listen,” Stephanie felt a tear trickle down her face but refused to wipe it away. “I decided I had heard enough and would retire for the evening. It surprised him that I was leaving, and he asked me if I was seriously departing, knowing he had to ride with the rising sun. My last words to him were that the sun could not come too soon and to have a safe trip.”
Edema Willows was able to hold her tongue only by a supreme effort. While she prided herself on her mature behavior and calm decision making, the anger that enveloped her at this moment was greater than anything she had known save the wretched time when Edward was under the influence of Therron McLeod.
For her own part, Stephanie Corsin sat stoically, waiting for the explosion she expected, and felt she deserved. Hearing herself speak the words again simply reinforced her own opinion of what she had done, and that opinion was far from favorable.
Edema finally trusted herself enough to speak.
“All I can say is that I am very disappointed in you, Stephanie,” she settled for an opening statement. “He had made it clear to you that he felt the war must at least appear winna
ble before he could consider marriage, and that was aside from all the pomp and circumstance he would need to endure as Crown Prince. And that decision was based on his desire to protect you and your reputation, you know,” Edema added. “I had so hoped that you would be the stalwart buoy he needed to steady himself in this ocean of madness. To help him find his way when he seemed or felt lost. He is under an incredible amount of pressure, to assume such a post as so young an age.”
“He had opened himself to you in a way I wasn't positive he was capable of, to be honest,” she continued. “When he did my heart was glad and I had such hope for the two of you. I felt that you would be good for him and he for you as well.” She sighed deeply, her eyes downcast.
“Edward has told me I meddle too much in the affairs of others,” she admitted. “I didn't see the harm in just trying to help, but. . .perhaps he was right after all.”
“Has he written you back at all?” she asked suddenly, catching Stephanie by surprise.
“Back?” she asked.
“When you wrote to him,” Edema nodded. “Has he responded?”
“I haven't written him,” Stephanie replied softly. “I didn't see that it would be fruitful at this point. I do not expect him to forgive me, and I certainly don't deserve it. But Parno is not overly forgiving, Edema. You know that as well as I. And as you said, I hurt him. I cannot see that he will view what I said, what I did, as anything other than a betrayal. And he is not forgiving of betrayal most of all.”
“You haven't even tried to make this right?” Edema almost goggled. “Why would you not at least make the attempt, Stephanie? Even if you think he will not forgive you, even if he doesn't respond at all, that is no reason not to try!” Her eyes narrowed suddenly.
“You don't care for him as much as you thought, do you?” it was almost an accusation. “You don't want to marry him anymore, do you? So, you just allow this to go. To fester and die on its own.”
