The Raike Box Set

by Jackson Lear

  “And you were the only steward left behind at camp?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Why you?”

  “I was on duty.”

  “Did you know where the other stewards were staying?”

  “Yes, ma’am. A messenger informed me before I retired.”

  “Tuco?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You had the tent all to yourself?”

  “For a few hours. The rest of the unit returned before dawn.”

  I piped in. “You don’t share a tent with the other stewards?”

  “No, sir. Each of the stewards belong to a different century.”

  “And yours is …”

  “The First.”

  “So Sergeant Muro and Lieutenant Gustali are your direct superiors?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Who do you share with?”

  Gabriella blinked back at me, puzzled.

  “Mages,” Zara said, quickly.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Zara sent me a glare, urging me to keep quiet, and returned to Gabriella. “Did anyone come to you that night?”

  “Tuco did, naturally. As did a couple of other mages who were off duty but had stayed behind. One of them was hoping for me to write her a recommendation for training in New Port. Only Tuco had news relating to Artavian.”

  Zara knotted her eyebrows together. “Sergeant Muro didn’t speak with you?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  I asked, “Should he have?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Why?”

  “It was my responsibility to keep track of where everyone was in Verseii so that can be relayed to the lieutenants.”

  “And no one came looking for that information?”

  “No, sir.”

  Muro was seeming a little more guilty thanks to that.

  Zara carried on. “Can you tell me when Sergeant Muro gave everyone permission to head into Verseii? Was it before or after Miss Kasera’s arrival?”

  “After.”

  “And was it unusual for the troops to head into town for the night?”

  “Officially? No. But we were late getting back to Torne. As long as they were back by dawn they should’ve been okay.”

  “Did you ever see Sergeant Muro talk to Artavian?”

  There came a nervous squint. “Plenty of times. They are two of the most senior members of the cohort.”

  “And recently?”

  “He suggested that Artavian should see a doctor.”

  I asked: “Doesn’t the army travel with doctors?”

  “We have medics with us, yes, but we were moving from town to town and were never more than a few hours away from a doctor.”

  “Was Artavian sick?”

  “No, sir. He just looked unwell.”

  “What was bothering him?”

  She hesitated. Maybe it was that she didn’t want to speak ill of the dead, maybe she just didn’t want to talk to me at all. “I didn’t ask him, sir.”

  “He didn’t say what was wrong?”

  “No, sir.”

  “No one asked him what was wrong?”

  Another hesitation. She was considering the exact wording of my question. “No, sir.”

  I allowed a moment of silence to poke at her before repeating a previous question. “What was bothering him?”

  “He didn’t tell me, sir.”

  “Even so, what was bothering him?”

  “I can’t …”

  “I won’t tell anyone.”

  “But you will, won’t you, sir?”

  I felt Zara smile beside me. Gabriella had me on that one.

  Gabriella added: “I never asked him what was wrong. He never told me what was wrong. No one else told me what was bothering him. Can I ask who you’re with?”

  “General Kasera.”

  She didn’t look like she believed me. “It’s just you’re not the first person who has come to see me about Artavian.”

  “Who was the other?”

  “I’m not sure, but he was in uniform and he came by last night.”

  “Someone from Kasera’s cavalry?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t be speaking to you without permission from Commander Lavarta.”

  I nodded towards Zara. “Do you recognize her?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you know she’s here on behalf of General Kasera?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. How long had Artavian been bothered?”

  There came a sinking defeat in her eyes. There was gold there, I was sure of it. “About four months.”

  “While you were stationed at Angleterra?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And he never seemed better during that time?”

  “I wasn’t stationed near him, sir, so I don’t know what caused it or exactly when it happened.”

  “How long were you all up there for?”

  “Six months.”

  “Were you expecting to see combat?”

  She hesitated. Always a good sign, in my opinion. “Yes, sir.”

  “What happened?”

  “The cavalry engaged with the enemy. The infantry didn’t.”

  “Commander Lavarta got to be the hero while the rest of the lieutenants stayed behind?”

  “Not exactly, sir. The cavalry killed six of the northerners and captured another twenty.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a lot.”

  “It’s not.”

  “What happened to the twenty?”

  “They were released.”

  “Is that normal?”

  “It’s not unusual. The commander questioned them, got information on their tribe and learned all he could about the rest of the northerners, then he released them.”

  “What do you know that he learned?”

  Along came a grumble, as though I had outsmarted her with a little word play. I hadn’t, I was just trying to move things along quickly before her sense of duty caused her to quieten up. “The northerners had a history of attacking one of our forts along the border. Nothing significant, just a hit and run so that both sides can prove their worth to someone higher up in the chain of command. Last year they did a pretty good job of damaging it. The governor sent our cohort to repair the fort and find the northerners responsible for the attack. When we got there the fort was in terrible shape. It had been for years. The foundations had weakened. The ground was nearly sludge. It would’ve collapsed on its own within a couple of years.

  “The commander scouted the area and found a stronger position six miles away. A mud slide had cleared a hill, making the terrain easier to build on. It also allowed for reinforcements from the cities to reach the new location quicker as they could bypass the forest and some hills which had hampered the old fort. It seemed more prudent to protect that line in case the northerners learned that they could hit Syuss easily. But there was still an opportunity to use the decrepit fort. The commander had the first century work on repairs while the remaining centuries got to work building a new fort. This one was going to be bigger with thicker and higher walls.”

  I had a question for clarity’s sake. “So who was in charge of repairing the old fort?”

  “Lieutenant Gustali, sir.”

  Zara asked: “And your role in this?”

  “I coordinated the reconstruction and paperwork, ma’am.”

  “You were its architect?”

  “I didn’t draw up the plans, ma’am. It was a standard military fort.”

  “Was there any tension between the first cohort and the others?”

  “I mean, some of the lieutenants questioned the commander using Gustali as bait, even before we knew of the greater threat. It became more pronounced after the cavalry returned.”

  “Bait?”

  “The northerners raided the old fort every year. This time it was barely defended.”

  I asked: “The first century is a hundred and fifty strong, isn’t it?
”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Compared to the other centuries that are eighty?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So what was the problem? Gustali had the largest century, he was second in command of the whole cohort, and he had a fort of his own to run.”

  “He was in charge of a run-down fort that was going to be abandoned in a year or two anyway.”

  “Ah. Pride.”

  “I wouldn’t know, sir.”

  “You were there during its reconstruction?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And how were Gustali and Sergeant Muro during this time?”

  “They seemed fine. A little moody perhaps, but nothing unusual.”

  “Despite knowing that they were about to be attacked?”

  “There was still some time, sir. The northerners frequently attacked just after the harvest. We had scouts watching for any activity, as well as a line of watchmen stationed every quarter of a mile between the old fort and new. The watchmen could relay a set of signals in either direction, calling for reinforcements within a minute. And we had decent mages with us as well.”

  “So what was the problem?”

  “Problem, sir?”

  I had spent twenty years listening to former infantrymen bitch and moan about one thing or another. Even on a perfect day there was always a problem. “A delay? Something not going according to plan?”

  Gabriella nodded. “The first century worked on the fort as quickly as they could but the only way to restore it properly was to use the whole cohort, not just a small portion of it. Then came the harvest. Our scouts picked up a trail heading towards us. It looked as though five hundred northerners were on the move. We readied ourselves but the attack never came. There was a debate about what to do. We could let them come to us, but neither fort was complete. We could go to them but lose the advantage of having a defended position. We could scare them into moving in one direction, but we had reason to believe that a greater force of northerners weren’t far behind, numbering in the thousands. There was a risk of being pinned in and overwhelmed, outmaneuvered, or any other eventuality.”

  I asked, “So what happened?”

  “The commander and the cavalry joined the scouts. They spent some time out there, going over the tracks. The five hundred northerners had changed direction, heading east instead of south. They found a lot of small footprints as well.”

  “Children’s?”

  “Yes, sir. The northerners might’ve used young men and women in combat, but not kids.”

  “They were families, weren’t they?”

  “Yes, sir. They must’ve known the cavalry were after them. They set up a defensive line in the south, away from the bulk of their people. When the cavalry got there, there were only twenty six northerners, not five hundred.”

  “Twenty six against fifty cavalry?”

  “Yes, sir. They were made up of old men and women, cripples or the like.”

  “The slow movers.”

  “Yes, sir. They did a good job of making it look like their numbers were higher. The cavalry charged in and suffered only minor injuries. They killed six northerners, captured the rest and questioned them. They said they were fleeing a northern king and were trying to make their way to the coast. The commander learned all he could from them and let them go.”

  “Then what?”

  Zara winced, bracing herself against something that was about to set her off. Gabriella missed it. “There was no fight that season. We thought their harvest had been more successful than the last few years and they didn’t need to raid us for food. Either way it gave us time to complete work on the two forts.”

  I peered between Zara and Gabriella, trying to figure it out. “There was some tension between Gustali and Lavarta, wasn’t there?”

  “Yes, sir. There was a debate among the commander and lieutenants about how to handle the five hundred northerners before we knew what they were up to. One of the lieutenants recommended setting an ambush and allowing the five hundred to walk into it. The commander argued that if they got wind of the ambush they might retreat back the way they came and discover the new fort. They could send word up north and prompt the king into coming down as quickly as he could to destroy the fort before it was finished.”

  “Even so, a couple of thousand northerners against six hundred infantrymen and cavalry in a strong location would be manageable, right?”

  Gabriella sent a quick look of distress to Zara. “I’m sorry, I can’t …”

  “Sure you can,” I said.

  “No, I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

  I turned to Zara. “I’m going to find out by the end of the day anyway. It might as well be sooner rather than later.”

  Zara grumbled and leaned in. “The northern king has formed an alliance with the vampires.”

  “What!? Fuck off.”

  “Yeah. Above all else you need to keep that to yourself.”

  I must’ve tuned out for a moment as Zara resumed questioning Gabriella. She got a couple of short answers out of her before I blurted out: “How many vampires are we talking about?”

  “More than one.”

  Gabriella added: “That’s why the five hundred were fleeing.”

  “And the governor now wants to build a wall between the two forts,” said Zara.

  “A wall isn’t going to keep any vampire out,” I said.

  “No. But it gives him an official reason to have more than one cohort up to there to protect the border.”

  “I can see why he doesn’t want the public to know the truth.”

  Zara nodded. “Good. Keep it that way.”

  I returned to Gabriella. “I imagine correspondence was pretty high after that discovery.”

  “I imagine so too, sir, but the officers and sergeants kept it to themselves as best they could.”

  “How did you find out?”

  Gabriella lowered her head, her eyes slowly watering over. “I overheard Lieutenant Gustali one night when I shouldn’t have. I wasn’t supposed to know.”

  “Did you deal with all of the correspondence between the first century and the rest of the cohort?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And Artavian handled everything between the two forts and back to Torne?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you see any exception? Even just once?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Who delivered the mail between the first century and the others?”

  “Steward Martius, sir.”

  “There was never anyone else?”

  “It’s possible that Sergeant Muro or Lieutenant Gustali carried a letter themselves to give to one of the stewards. If they did, I didn’t know about it.”

  “Did Lieutenant Gustali ever dictate a letter?”

  “Not to me, sir.”

  “Did you ever handle a letter with a broken seal?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Were all letters sealed?”

  “No, sir. If it was correspondence within the cohort then there was usually no need to seal it.”

  “But personal letters and the like?”

  “Sealed.”

  “Did Gustali receive a lot of letters?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “From the governor?”

  “Yes, sir. They are father and son.”

  “Did Gustali send a lot of letters?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “An equal number compared to the ones he received?”

  She hesitated again. “More, sir.”

  “How often did these letters come and go?”

  She looked over to Zara like she was asking for permission. “I’m not sure if this is important for General Kasera, sir. And ma’am.”

  “It will help us greatly,” said Zara.

  Gabriella grumbled before proceeding. “The governor sent a letter to his son every month. It would arrive a week after the full moon. The lieutenant sent a letter every two or three days.”


  Despite Zara’s stance, I wasn’t quite done yet. “Did Sergeant Muro ever send or receive a letter?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “When?”

  “He sent one four months ago.”

  “Just after the cavalry defeated twenty six northerners?”

  “Yes, sir. He gave it to me two or three days after the cavalry returned.”

  “Did he get a reply?”

  Then came a weighted clunk. “I believe so, sir. One month later.”

  “In all your time as a steward, have you ever known Muro to send or receive a letter?”

  “No, sir. This was the first.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  No matter how much I pressed Gabriella, she wouldn’t tell me who Muro addressed his letter to. I threw out some known names but I got the same answer in return: “I can’t say, sir. Not without his permission.”

  We had a round of goodbyes and ‘thank you for your time’ for the sake of politeness. Zara and I returned to the street, walking under the warmth of the afternoon sun. There were some clouds in the sky but not enough to worry about for the time being. Had we left under the cover of darkness I might’ve been forced to check over my shoulder for an oncoming vampire.

  Zara looked my way. “Well?”

  “Answers one question: what do army women do on their first night back home?”

  “You think Gabriella represents all military women?”

  “No. But she spent the night drinking herself stupid.”

  “You’re a master of female behaviors, are you?”

  I let that one slide. “How many vampires are we talking about?”

  “I don’t know officially, but the northerners knew of twenty.”

  “Holy fuck. That would be a massacre.”

  “Hence the necessity to keep this quiet.”

  “Does Artavian’s death have anything to do with this?”

  “You’re the one poking everyone. What do you think?”

  “I’d say no. Gustali was pissed off for a lot of reasons. He had to rebuild a crappy fort while the rest of the cohort got to build a better one from scratch. His efforts were likely to be wasted if the fort was only going to be abandoned in a couple of years. He was certainly pissed off that he was being used as bait. And worst of all, he wasn’t given the chance to prove himself. The cavalry got to be the heroes, not him. He was no doubt complaining long and hard to his father, saying that Lavarta was incompetent and wasn’t giving Gustali his dues. His father probably took the position of, ‘it’s the army, the commander is your boss, you’re just going to have to suck it up.’ Then came a tipping point: the vampires. At this Gustali could’ve raised hell that all of Lavarta’s decisions had jeopardized the whole army. Could he prove that the vampires hadn’t slipped through already? No. Perhaps the five hundred northerners were vampires. He could’ve spun his grievances in any number of ways but I’ve been getting the feeling that a smear campaign against Lavarta has been going on for a while. I’d say Gustali’s paranoia got the better of him. He wrote a letter or got Muro to write one on his behalf saying that enough was enough: Lavarta was too much of a liability.”