Tales of Anyar

by Olan Thorensen

  “Surely, Preddi City could have held out long enough for resupply to come from Ezarkin, so why did you surrender to the islanders?”

  “I must respectfully disagree that we could have waited for resupply from Ezarkin. It was my impression from Admiral Dimir that when the 29th Corps came to Caedellium, it used almost every available ship at Ezarkin. The ships at Caedellium would have had to sail back to Ezarkin, load supplies—which may or may not have been available—then return to the island. Under the best of circumstances, it would have taken at least five months. If sufficient food stores were not available, the time could have been many months longer.

  “In addition, the islanders had twenty-four thousand Narthani either already held as prisoners or exposed to capture or death. They made it clear those people’s lives would be forfeited if they besieged Preddi City.

  “Finally, given the disaster that befell most of Marshal Gullar’s corps, the obvious capabilities of the islanders so far beyond what we were led to believe, and the presence of the Fuomi, whose exact involvement we could not ascertain, I followed my orders to secure the civilians. This, of course, was contrary to my own feelings.”

  The last words were a sop to Narthani honor.

  The grilling continued until sunset. Akuyun had noted, without appearing obvious, the shadows outside the room’s windows. An unidentified major had warned him the questioning would continue until sundown, by order of Grand Marshal Fazellon.

  A marshal with a southwestern Narthon accent finished asking another question. Then a man dressed in the bureaucratic black and blue and sitting at a small table to one side rang a wooden-handled bell.

  “Thank you, gentlemen. That concludes the time allotted for questioning today,” announced Fazellon. “This board of inquiry will retire to consider what it has heard and determine whether more testimony will be required tomorrow.”

  “How did it go, Okan?” Rabia asked when he returned to their assigned quarters. They were staying in a large compound reserved for senior officers and families.

  “As expected. Even when there are no serious concerns, such inquiries are traditionally grueling, not just to assess facts and performance, but also to determine how officers comport themselves. I believe I did well. Now I’ll wait to see if I’m called back tomorrow for more, or if the board feels they have enough information to make a ruling of any kind.”

  “Then let’s try to relax this evening as much as we can,” said Rabia. “We can’t complain about the temporary servants they’ve provided. Evening meal will be ready in an hour, and I’ve already sampled the wine in the quarter’s cellar. You know I’m not much on spirits, but we need to find out where this wine is from and if we can get some for ourselves and Father.”

  Akuyun knew and appreciated his wife’s efforts to relax him and hide her trepidations. Two hours later, full and half-inebriated, the two Akuyuns heard a knock at the quarter’s main door. Okan opened it to find an immaculately dressed captain.

  “Good evening, General Akuyun. Pardon for interrupting your evening, but you are requested to meet with Grand Marshal Fazellon at his office at midmorning tomorrow. A carriage will come for you.”

  “Grand Marshal Fazellon alone?” questioned Akuyun. “Not the entire board?”

  “My instructions are only to ask you to meet the grand marshal, General.”

  “Thank you, Captain. I’ll be ready tomorrow.”

  When Okan closed the door and turned, Rabia was standing nearby.

  “Well, well,” said Akuyun.

  Akuyun waited only five minutes outside Grand Marshal Fazellon’s office until a grizzled colonel escorted him through two anterooms. They found Fazellon seated in a straight-backed wooden chair by a window. Akuyun came to attention ten feet away and saluted, and the grand marshal waved casually to an identical chair.

  “Count yourself fortunate, Akuyun. You got to leave yesterday and didn’t have to sit through hours of acrimonious argument and posturing. Dealing with such occasions is my problem. Your problem is wondering about the board’s conclusions. I’ll tell you right off that the official report will find no fault in your actions, either for failing to accomplish your original mission nor for not committing your troops to Gullar’s aid.”

  Akuyun didn’t change expression or posture, but he felt his torso muscles relax.

  “That doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences as a result of the Caedellium fiasco, and nothing I say after this will leave this room. Is that understood?”

  “Of course, Grand Marshal.”

  “The board split between those like myself, who believe your performance was reasonable, and those grasping for as many scapegoats as possible. Even then, your supporters divided between judging that you had done an acceptable performance and those who thought no one could have done better. I was among the latter. I consider the decisions in the original planning for this mission to be execrable. They gave you a minimal force, based on hardly more than a guess that the Caedelli would be easily incorporated. Any cretin would know you don’t base a military campaign on guesses or committing the bare minimum unless absolutely necessary.

  “And yes, there was no urgent timetable for the mission, another example of idiotic thinking. Fazellon’s voice took on a higher pitch, as he imitated the voice of someone he obviously detested. “‘Oh, they won’t have enough troops to conquer the island right off, so we’ll plan for it to take longer since it’s not urgent.’”

  Fazellon shook his head. “They never considered that instead of giving the mission a better chance of success if more time were allotted, it was exactly the opposite. Any shock value from subjugating the one clan and co-opting two others was lost by the time you moved to Phase 4 in the mission outline.

  “I’ll also share with you that we’ve had indications the Fuomi only became involved in the last year. This piles on what you report of this individual who seems to be a factor in the Caedelli success—this Yozef Kolsko. Assessor Hizer told the board that after going through all the reports and interrogating the few Caedelli captives he managed to smuggle off the island, he learned that this Kolsko only became a factor in the last three years.

  “It adds up to support the idea that if we’d sent thirty thousand troops right off, more clans would have submitted, the island would have been ours for at least three years and plans for Landolin would be further along than they are now. And I won’t even comment on sending obsolete musket and pike formations.”

  Akuyun listened silently to the grand marshal vent, surprised at the bluntness and wondering why this was being told to a mere general.

  “Nevertheless,” said Fazellon, “losing Gullar and most of his corps can’t go without assigning blame. Naturally, no fault can be laid on the High Command or the Emperor’s court.”

  The marshal’s words dripped disdain.

  “Wouldn’t do the empire any good to reveal that the top leadership can make mistakes. It turns out the Intelligence and Operations offices can’t be incompetent since their heads are the Emperor’s cousin and the Empress’s brother. No blame can come back to the emperor’s household or close associates.”

  If the sacrificial offering is not me , thought Akuyun, and not anyone higher in the empire’s highest levels, that leaves only one possibility.

  “Gullar,” said Akuyun.

  Fazellon snorted. “Yes, poor Marshal Gullar. The perfect choice. Oh, there are honest points to criticize him for, such as not confirming whether the resupply could reach Adris City or not using Istranik’s forces to establish a base of operations at the island’s center before he moved his main force farther into the island’s interior. Real military men know it’s hard to judge since we weren’t there, but for those without experience, without training, or, as in some cases, with brains of murvor shit, Gullar is a perfect target since he’s dead and can’t defend his decisions.”

  The grand marshal cracked a crooked smile. “That’s where you’re doubly fortunate, Akuyun. Gullar gets the blame f
or losing a corps to the Caedelli, which tends to absolve you because you at least held your own with a fraction of Gullar’s force.”

  Fazellon held up a hand to forestall Akuyun’s pointing out flaws in that logic. “I know it’s reasoning we wouldn’t let a new lieutenant get away with, but there it is.”

  “Pardon me, Grand Marshal, if I seem impatient, but while all this is illuminating, what does the board’s conclusion mean for me and my senior officers?”

  “Could be better and could be worse,” said Fazellon. “Even with Gullar taking the major blame, the stench of Caedellium will be hard to avoid for everyone involved. There are those on the board who wanted blame to drench everyone under both your and Gullar’s commands. The result pointing only to Gullar still means there will be elements not favorable to your future prospects, Akuyun.

  “I know it was implied that success on Caedellium would lead to promotion, but that’s obviously not going to happen, at least not in the near future. There will also be marshals unwilling to have you join their commands for fear of the taint of the Caedellium defeat, for worry about alienating portions of the High Command, or to avoid promoting disfavor with the emperor’s family and inner circle. However, that doesn’t mean an end to your career. There are marshals and grand marshals, such as myself, who will accept you.

  “I have one such future posting in mind. Marshal Sulvin Turkok commands the 22nd Corps, stationed near the Harrasedic League border. His corps was grossly under-strength and is being upgraded to full readiness status. They were at only three divisions and will be going to five. In addition, his second-in-command is aging and will retire within the next year. I’ve recommended to him that he ask for you, assuming the inquiry board’s conclusions make it possible. He looked at your record and agreed. I assume Turkok would keep you on his staff or command a division. To be blunt, I think it may be the best you can hope for. Time and events can always change things, but it’s a posting not at the top of the High Command’s or the emperor’s attention. Who knows what the future may bring?”

  “I’m a little surprised, Grand Marshal,” said Akuyun. “The empire doesn’t usually post senior officers near where they came from. You must know I came from the Salas Province only two hundred miles from the Harrasedic border, and my wife’s family is near the coast only three hundred miles south.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Fazellon. “We all know the empire’s policy is to station senior officers considerable distances from their origins. The formal rationale is to give officers more experience in different parts of the empire, but we all know the historical reasons. Succession wars were a bane of our early history. Emperor Mogudon the Great mandated that stationing soldiers far from their homes and tribes would lessen the chances of conspiracies against his rule. It was one of the tactics he used to break the power of local tribal leaders and warlords, and the policy reinforced the tendency for soldiers to be loyal to him and not to their homes.”

  “I know that’s the history,” said Akuyun, “but there’s no denying speculation that a custom that far into the past might not necessarily apply now.”

  “Let’s not mince words, Akuyun. The custom persists because the royal families have never gotten over their fear of being overthrown, and the army is the only center of power in the empire where such a coup could originate.”

  Akuyun had heard such speculations from other junior officers early in his career. But he learned quickly that such talk was not well received. To hear it voiced by a grand marshal of Fazellon’s reputation was more than a surprise, almost a shock. Akuyun was tempted to probe further for the grand marshal’s thinking but decided it was a dangerous path best left untrod.

  “And what of Caedellium, if I may inquire?” asked Akuyun.

  “The reasons we wanted the island are still valid, but I think we can expect that many highly placed men will pretend it doesn’t exist or isn’t that important after all, perhaps believing if it’s ignored, the news of Gullar’s defeat will somehow disappear. Anything to ensure that blame to themselves can never happen.

  “I doubt there will be another attempt to conquer the island, at least for the next few years. The High Command’s attention has shifted directly to Landolin, the timetable for which has only been delayed. Action there should begin in the next year. There are still arguments over every detail. One good result of the Caedellium fiasco is the High Command has upgraded the Landolin invasion plan to add more troops. I think the mistake of going with minimal forces taught them a lesson they shouldn’t have needed.”

  “What of the officers with me on Caedellium?” Akuyun asked.

  “Reassigned with no marks against them,” answered Fazellon, “though, like yourself, their prospects are not good. As for Gullar’s men, generals Avan and Istranik were caught in the blame net cast at their commander. Some on the board took Avan’s survival at the final battle to be dishonorable, irrespective of the fact that he was seriously wounded and had no choice. For Istranik, even though he wasn’t charged with anything, he was demoted to brigadier, along with Avan. Unfortunate, but they still have positions in the army.”

  “I appreciate your consideration, Grand Marshal. How should I let Marshal Turkok know I will accept the position? I would also ask if I could bring a few officers with me.”

  “Turkok said I’ll just need to send him your acceptance. I’m sure there will be no problem with your officers, but I’ll include your intention in my message. I suggest you find out which officers intend to accompany you and send Turkok the names and other information.”

  “Thank you again, Grand Marshal. I will do as you suggest after I talk with the officers.”

  Fazellon waved off the thanks. “You’re too good an officer to lose, Akuyun. I’d keep you myself if I had an appropriate position and if I didn’t think your being too visible too soon wouldn’t cause problems for us both. I’ll write orders that you are to report to Marshal Turkok in two and a half months. That gives you travel time and the opportunity to see to family affairs.

  “Keep your eyes open. These are troubling times for the empire. Meddling by the emperor’s people has been a problem before in our history, and when it’s happened, the results weren’t good for anyone. You won’t be directly involved, but some of the information coming from Caedellium tells us that the ways of warfare will change. That’s always resisted by men too bound in their own experiences to look clearly at what might need changing. Don’t be surprised if I write to you on occasion, asking for opinions.”

  “Of course, Grand Marshal. Anything I can do for you, I will.”

  “All right then, Akuyun. That’s it. Narth’s good fortune to you and your family, and condolences on the loss of a son.”

  Akuyun rose and saluted. Contrary to when he had arrived, Fazellon rose to attention and returned the salute. Akuyun left the grand marshal’s offices mulling over his future, his impressions of Fazellon, and the grand marshal’s words. He had been surprised that Fazellon knew of Bilfor’s death, but even with endemic political intrigue at the highest levels of Narthani society, no man became a grand marshal unless extraordinarily talented and informed.

  Rabia waited for him, sitting in their quarters and rocking quietly, as she had done too often over the years. When footsteps approached and the door of their quarters opened, she walked to her husband, her arms crossed and hands gripping her forearms.

  “We’re going home,” Akuyun said.

  The thousand-mile trip by road from Umasya to the Ergoman estate would have been shorter if they could have taken a ship along the length of the coast of the Analian Sea and the Gulf of Numara. However, those waters separated the Narthon Empire and Fuomon and had been an active war zone for more than a century.

  When the Akuyuns arrived at Rabia’s family’s home, hours of hugs, catching up, tears over Bilfor, and then a family meal ensued. More wet eyes occurred when family stories involved Bilfor, but the feelings around the table warmed everyone’s heart enough that Rabia decided to s
hare news she had intended to pass on later to the family.

  By the time they finished the main courses, Rabia had consumed more wine than she usually drank. She leaned toward her husband and whispered in his ear.

  “Are you sure, Rabia? We thought to wait to tell the others.”

  “I think this is the perfect time, Okan. A piece of good news is never too early to share.”

  Akuyun used a silver spoon to tap on a serving dish. It took a dozen rings to quiet all the family and draw their attention.

  “Rabia and I have something to share. Something unexpected, but, through Narth’s blessing, she is expecting a child.”

  Pandemonium followed shock, as multiple emotions roiled through the family gathering. Rabia, at fifty-one years, had thought she was well past childbearing. She had only conceived three times previously, once producing the twins, Lufta and Ozem. She had told her husband of missing her monthly bleeding while they traveled from Ezarkin to Umasya. Both of them had assumed it signaled the end of her fertility, but unmistakable signs of pregnancy had provided confirmation on the last leg of the carriage trip to her family’s estate.

  When the room quieted, Akuyun tapped again for attention. “With Uzla’s permission, if it’s a son, we would like to name him Belfor, to give him his own name but also honor his brother, Bilfor.”

  Bilfor’s wife gave approval and shed more tears. Akuyun hadn’t told even Rabia of his latest decision: that he would do everything possible to prevent either a new son—or the next older son, Ozem, now fifteen—from joining the Narthani military. The army had consumed his own life, but the experience on Caedellium and his many conversations with Yozef Kolsko had somehow altered his world-view.