by Andrew Keith
Grayson Death Carlyle tugged at the tight collar of his dress gray uniform and frowned at his wife's words. "It was a mistake to come," he said gruffly. "And not just because of the situation back home. Damn it, Lori, we haven't missed a Day of Heroes celebration in a quarter of a century. It wasn't right to miss this one."
"I know, Gray," Lori Kalmar-Carlyle said. "But you don't turn down the Archon Prince."
Carlyle nodded, glum. It was late evening here on Tharkad, but back on Glengarry it would still be the middle of the night. And in a few more hours it would be time to begin the Day of Heroes ceremonies, the Gray Death Legion's most important holiday. It marked a chance to remember the legionnaires who had fought and died for the unit over the years, and he hated to miss this opportunity to commemorate those lost comrades. There were damned few of the old Legion left, and it wouldn't be much longer until all the original band was gone.
But instead of being on Glengarry with his men, Carlyle had come to Tharkad, feeling like a hick tourist on his first trip to the big city. It took all the iron will that had forged the Gray Death Legion from a handful of misfits into one of the most celebrated mercenary units in the Inner Sphere just to keep from gawking at the grand architecture or the throng of gaudily clad courtiers lining the Grand Hall of the Royal Court.
"There are more people here than in all of Sigurd-shaven," Lori said quietly, echoing his thoughts with the same uncanny accuracy that had made her invaluable as the Legion's executive officer. Her hand slipped into his.
Carlyle glanced again at his wife, a woman still slender and blonde and more than a little bit vulnerable even after so many years together. She hardly ever mentioned Sigurd, her home world out in the sparsely settled Periphery. Adjusting to the crowds and confusion of Tharkad had to be even more difficult for Lori than for him, making her think of the home she had lost.
Before Carlyle could respond, the PA blared a trumpet fanfare. "His Highness, Victorian Steiner-Davion, Archon Prince of the Federated Commonwealth, Supreme Marshal of the Armed Forces of the Federated Commonwealth, Duke of Tharkad, Duke of New Avalon, Duke of Donegal, Landgrave von Bremen, Minister of the Crucis March, First Lord of the Star League."
The trumpets blared again, and the enormous double doors at the far end of the Grand Hall opened ponderously to admit the most powerful man in the Inner Sphere. Prince Victor was a short, square-jawed young man of twenty-six, with blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He wore the dress uniform of the Tenth Lyran Guards: high-collared, red-and-gold trimmed dark blue tunic, powder-blue trousers with red piping, and matching red sash. Despite the gaudy uniform, Grayson thought the Prince cut a figure that was neither impressive nor dignified as he stalked down the center aisle a shade too fast. He looked, in fact, exactly as Grayson Carlyle had imagined him, an impatient man with little time for empty forms and ceremonials.
The prince of the Federated Commonwealth nodded from time to time as he made his way down the aisle, acknowledging nobles, military officers, and ministers who bowed low as he passed. He took no special notice of the Carlyles, but that was no surprise. There was no reason why Victor Davion should have singled them out. Although the Carlyle name was now well known throughout the Inner Sphere, Grayson had never previously visited Tharkad, nor had he ever set eyes on the Archon Prince.
Another officer in the Legion's somber dress grays received more attention, or at least her family did. Tracy Maxwell Kent was the daughter of one of the Federated Commonwealth's wealthiest nobles, Lord Rodney Howard Kent, who had only recently been named to the prince's Advisory Council. Lord Rodney was one of a score of prominent Federated Suns nobles accompanying the Archon Prince on his tour of the Lyran portion of his domain. Tracy had finally made peace with her family after years of estrangement, and Carlyle was happy to see father and daughter together again after so many years of bitterness. It seemed that being a captain in the famed Gray Death Legion was, after all, a respectable enough position even for a Kent. With the old breach healed, Tracy had again become heiress to the Kent titles and property, and she would almost certainly be called home to the capital to take up her aristocratic obligations as soon as she could honorably wrap up her affairs with the Legion.
One more of the Companions gone, Carlyle thought, suddenly nostalgic for those early days when the Gray Death had still been a struggling merc company trying to earn its spurs. It reminded him again of the Day of Heroes celebrations he would be missing. Time had wrought too many changes in the Legion. Most of the old outfit was gone now, killed or retired or just plain moved on. He hardly knew most of his officers the way he'd known those first comrades, and these days it seemed like he spent more time behind a desk or off on junkets like this one instead of piloting his 'Mech into the thick of a fight.
The prince ascended the five steps to the raised dais at the end of the Great Hall, then paused. Set under the three banners of the realm were two empty thrones, one under the sword-and-sunburst emblem of the Federated Suns on the left, and one under the mailed fist of the Lyran Commonwealth to the right. Placed between and above them both was a banner with the fist-and-sunburst emblem of the Federated Commonwealth. After a moment's hesitation, Victor bowed stiffly to the throne on the right, then took his seat on the left, under the Federated Suns banner. A murmur ran through the crowd, and not all the words Carlyle could hear were approving.
For better than two decades those thrones had belonged to Prince Hanse Davion and Archon Melissa Steiner-Davion, Victor's parents. The pair had been the architects of the alliance that had altered the balance of power in the Inner Sphere and nearly ended the long stalemate in the struggle to restore the Star League. Although the pair had governed a united realm, the Prince Hanse and the Archon Melissa had each retained their respective thrones, an essential balancing act to keep both sides of the alliance content. After Hanse Davion had died of heart failure four years before, Victor had inherited his father's crown but continued to honor his mother as co-ruler of the realm.
Now Melissa Steiner-Davion was dead as well, victim of an assassin's bomb blast. Since that tragic day almost a year ago, Victor had been facing a growing political crisis that threatened to shatter the fragile Federated Commonwealth alliance, and he needed to do everything possible to boost his waning popularity. The idea of power passing irrevocably into the hands of the Davion family was still anathema to some Lyrans, particularly certain nobles of House Steiner who had never fully accepted the marriage alliance. Victor's bow to the throne that had belonged to his mother might have been intended to signal his respect, but by seating himself under the Federated Suns banner he had clearly proclaimed the realm to which he gave priority in his government.
Here on the old Steiner capitol world Victor should have seated himself on the Steiner throne, Carlyle thought. In these troubled times, that single slighting gesture, might have cost the young prince far more than he could afford.
Perhaps if Victor's sister Katherine had been here, she would have found a way to smooth things over. Taller than Victor, with a regal beauty that owed as much to her grandmother's strength as to her mother's loveliness, Her Grace the Duchess of Sarna, Katherine Steiner-Davion, was much beloved by the people of the Lyran Commonwealth and she was easily the most popular of Hanse and Melissa's three children. Perhaps it was just that she so resembled the beloved Melissa, or perhaps it was the fact that she seemed to one most concerned for fate of the Lyran Commonwealth.
But Katherine was not here today to take her place alongside her brother in the Grand Hall. Where she would surely have bestowed grace and charm, Prince Victor suddenly gestured impatiently. Two huge doors behind the dais swung slowly open, and a pair of 'Mechs stepped into the hall. The tradition of 'Mechs guarding the Lyran throne went back more than five hundred years, but today the appearance of those two BattleMechs made many in the assembled crowd gasp. Traditionally, the two 'Mechs had always been Griffins painted in the colors of one of the Archon's favorite Lyran Guard units. Today the one on th
e left was a Marauder painted in the black and gold colors of the First Kathil Uhlans, a unit fanatically loyal to the Federated Commonwealth. On the right stood a Crusader painted with the red torso, black legs, and black trim of the Kell Hounds mercenary unit.
That, Carlyle thought, was another major mistake. The last thing Victor needed was to emphasize the alliance between the two realms here on Tharkad, where pro-Lyran sentiment ran deepest.
The Grand Marshal of the Palace silenced the noise with another PA announcement. "In the name of the Unfinished Book, let all who have business before the throne of the Archon Prince draw nigh. May the Divine Power give His Highness wisdom to preserve and protect the realm!" That drew more comment. The Unfinished Book was the central symbol of the unofficial state religion of the old Federated Suns, and had no place in Lyran society. Carlyle wondered if Victor was even aware of how much he was trampling on the feelings of half his subjects with these blatant attempts to impose outside culture on a proud people like the Lyrans.
Carlyle's attention wandered as the first petitioners or honorees were led before the throne. He wondered if any of these carefree court dandies had even an inkling of the events unfolding beyond the narrow confines of their sheltered lives of pomp and privilege. The assassination of the Archon Melissa was only the latest in a string of blows that had left the Federated Commonwealth teetering on the brink of collapse, yet none of these overdressed courtiers seemed aware of any change from the great days of Prince Hanse.
Of course, the rot had set in slowly, over a period of many years. It had started with the failure of Hanse Davion's drive to unite the Inner Sphere. Chief obstacle in the way of victory had been the Federated Commonwealth's traditional rival, the Draconis Combine of House Kurita. No matter the combined power of the Davion and Steiner resources, success had remained just out of reach. In the end the Combine had managed not only to survive but to mount a counterthreat sufficient to force a truce and a return to the old Inner Sphere stalemate. Then came the stunning shock of the Clan Wars, which hit the old Lyran Commonwealth frontier worlds particularly hard. Carlyle still shuddered at the memory of Sudeten, where so many of the Legion had fallen against the Clans. Though the war had lasted but three years, its consequences were both tragic and grave, adding fuel to the Lyrans' growing discontent with the Federated Commonwealth's weakened economy and overstretched, inadequate bureaucracy.
Now Archon Melissa was dead, and that would only add momentum to the Lyran separatist movements. All the evidence in her murder pointed, in fact, to one of the most prominent of those separatists as the author of the deed. Ryan Steiner, Duke of Porrima, was both a cousin of Prince Victor and a man of shrewd cunning and a wide following among the Lyran dissidents. He was also, as it happened, the major political power broker in the Isle of Skye region, and that made Grayson Death Carlyle nervous. Even more dangerous was the fact that Richard Steiner, military commander of the Isle of Skye, seemed to be taking orders from Ryan rather than from his Federated Commonwealth superiors. Glengarry was in the heart of the Skye March, and that put the Legion squarely in the middle of the growing political firestorm. Indeed, Prince Victor had assigned Glengarry to the Legion as part of his effort to counter the power of the separatist movement with his own loyal forces even before the tragedy of his mother's death.
It all struck Carlyle as too little and too late. Even if it turned out that Ryan Steiner had not been behind Archon Melissa's assassination, tightening Federated Commonwealth security in the Skye March was only fueling the separatist cause. Sooner or later the separatists would make their move, and the chain reaction of a rising in the Isle of Skye would trigger risings throughout the Lyran Commonwealth, perhaps to the point of all-out civil war. And that would be the end of the Federated Commonwealth. Of that Carlyle was certain.
Had the orders summoning Grayson Carlyle to Tharkad not been unequivocal he would gladly had deferred the trip even without the excuse of the Day of Heroes. Until the political situation was less murky and uncertain, he wouldn't feel comfortable with the way matters stood back in the March. There had been the sudden crisis on the border with House Marik, for instance, that had cropped up shortly before the assassination. Richard had sent two of the F-C's best regimental combat teams from the Skye March to mount an active defense around Ford, probably on direct orders from Ryan. At the same time nearly half the Gray Death Legion had also been redeployed out of the Skye region, sent to Borghese in the Tamar March to relieve the Black Thorns after a Jade Falcon raid. Units from other, quieter sectors were supposed to be coming in to relieve those troops, but so far none had materialized. Meanwhile the Tharkad rumor mill hinted that not all the relief forces were as loyal as, those that had been sent away from the heart of the March. That left trustworthy garrison forces few and far between in the Isle of Skye, a state of affairs not at all to Grayson Carlyle's liking.
But Victor had insisted that the famous Colonel Carlyle and a small contingent of his senior personnel must be in attendance at this Court. In addition to the strategy conferences the legionnaires were scheduled to attend, the prince also seemed determined to thrust them into a round of social and ceremonial functions designed to demonstrate both the power and the unity of his government. The Gray Death had already participated in a military parade the day after arriving in Tharkad City, marching the four BattleMech's of Carlyle's command lance through the heart of town.
And now there was this bit of pomp and circumstance to get through ...
"Colonel Grayson Death Carlyle," intoned the Grand Marshal of the Palace. Though he mispronounced Grayson's middle name, making it rhyme with "teeth" rather than "breath," the mercenary was too startled by the summons to really notice. Straightening the edge of his uniform jacket, he stepped forward, conscious of the whole Court's attention.
In a daze, he approached the foot of the dais and bowed respectfully, but without the obsequious air of some of the more accomplished courtiers who had preceded him. He was, after all, a mercenary soldier, not a Federated Commonwealth aristocrat, and that made him an employee rather than a true subject. Nor had his contract ever officially been with House Davion. He had signed on with Katrina Steiner before her abdication in favor of her daughter Melissa, and his current allegiance to the F-C government derived from that agreement.
"Ah, Colonel Carlyle," Prince Victor said with a faint smile. "A pleasure to meet you at last."
"The pleasure is mine, Your Highness," Carlyle replied formally.
"You have served the Federated Commonwealth well over the years, Colonel," Victor went on. "A distinguished record indeed. And even if that were not so impressive? the Gray Death Legion's discovery of the computer core on Helm would by itself entitle you to a place in the history books. The Federated Commonwealth is most grateful for the service of commanders such as you." While the prince spoke, a liveried servant had come forward carrying an archaic broadsword like the one on the Federated Suns banner. Pausing but a moment, the prince took it in with both hands.
"Ceremony demands of you what I would not request," he continued. "If you would kneel please, and place your hands on the hilt of this sword."
Carlyle hesitated briefly, then dropped to one knee. When his hand clasped the sword just below Victor's, the prince resumed speaking. "Let it be known on every world of the Federated Commonwealth, in the councils of the Clans, and among our enemies, that I, Prince Victor Steiner-Davion, do hereby recognize the many services of Grayson Death Carlyle to the Houses of Steiner and Davion. I hereby name you a Baron of the Federated Commonwealth. I bestow upon you and your heirs, in perpetuity, the fief and planethold of Glengarry in the Isle of Skye."
The two men stared at each other for a moment, then the prince whispered, "You have earned it, Carlyle. For your sake and mine, I hope you are able to hold it."
The announcement set off a new wave of murmurs among the crowd. It was rare for a mere baron to hold an entire planet in fief, and in the few cases where such an award was made, it
was generally a backwater world like Glengarry. Even rarer, though, was the advancement of a mercenary colonel into the peerage of one of the Successor States. Until now the Gray Death Legion had enjoyed the planethold on Glengarry as a part of their contract with the Lyran Commonwealth, with the world providing money, manpower, supplies, and land to both present and former members of the outfit. But that hold was valid only for the duration of the Gray Death's service contract. This grant from the prince was something totally different. It made of Colonel Grayson Carlyle a mercenary leader who could take his Gray Death Legion to the service of another employer, while still remaining Baron Carlyle over the fief of Glengarry.
Grayson Carlyle looked up into the prince's ice-blue eyes. He knew what would come next, and for a moment he was inclined to end the proceedings here and now. Content to remain his own man, Carlyle had been on his own since the day his father had died in battle on far-off Trellwan. Accepting a Barony from Victor Davion would change everything.
It was obviously another step in the prince's plan to maintain control over the troubled Skye March. By binding the Gray Death that much closer to the twin thrones, Davion was tightening his grip on Ryan Steiner and the Skye separatists. Besides that, it was well known that the Gray Death was engaged in a long-term feud with the Draconis Combine. While the gossips prattled on about whether Prince Victor had become overly fond of Omi Kurita, daughter of the Combine's brilliant Coordinator Theodore, Victor's honoring the anti-Kurita Gray Death Legion would help negate the idea of him toadying to the realm's oldest and most inveterate foe.
Carlyle wasn't sure he liked being a pawn in the Archon Prince's political chess game, but if any power in the Inner Sphere stood for civilization, for order, for an end to the wars that had crippled humankind for too many centuries, it was the Federated Commonwealth. All his life Grayson Carlyle had seen himself as standing against the barbarians at the gate. If the price of maintaining the Federated Commonwealth against its enemies was his fealty, how could he refuse to pay it?
