Blood Mercenaries Origins

by Ben Wolf

  Aeron bowed again. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Kent shot him another look, and Aeron glanced away.

  Ruba led them into a large, inner meeting room, and Grak closed the door to seal them inside while he waited outside with the other royal guards. They all took their seats, and General Ruba explained the situation in greater detail.

  Muroth’s invading army numbered somewhere between 7,000 and 8,000 soldiers, including heavy cavalry, archers, and infantry. From what Inoth’s scouts had reported and what Aeron had determined while delivering messages, Muroth had also brought catapults, but they hadn’t been assembled yet.

  Kent knew plenty about Murothian catapults. Just two years prior, he’d commissioned dozens of them for precisely an occasion like this. They were ruthless machines, capable of hurling all sorts of terrible things across battlefields. Chances were, his family had bought and paid for the majority of the catapults out there.

  By contrast, Inoth had mustered closer to 10,000 soldiers between those sent from Goldmoor and those gathered from other forts nearby. Plus, they controlled Dewmire, which was well-provisioned in case of any siege attempts.

  “Of course, it is my hope that all of this information is moot,” Ruba concluded. “If Her Royal Highness is capable of brokering the peace treaty, then perhaps we can all go home.” Ruba paused. “Well, I would remain here, of course, as is my duty.”

  “Has Muroth attempted to make contact with you directly?” Aveyna asked.

  Ruba shook his head. “No. All communication thus far has gone through young Mr. Ironglade.”

  “So they haven’t made requests regarding terms for a meeting?”

  “Not yet. I think they were waiting for you to arrive.”

  “Do you know who commands their army?”

  Ruba shook his head. “Ironglade dealt with a messenger speaking on behalf of Emperor Bouwen, but the messenger himself was no one of consequence. I do not know if the emperor himself is present.”

  “Doubtful,” Kent said. “The emperor is old and rarely leaves Lowmir Keep anymore. It is possible, given the nature of this invasion, that the emperor would’ve come, but the odds are slim.”

  “Very well.” Aveyna looked at Kent. “I believe it is up to us to send an invitation to a meeting.”

  Kent nodded.

  “Please have Aeron deliver a message to them,” Aveyna said to Ruba. “I will meet with the emperor or his authorized representative tomorrow morning.”

  Ruba bowed. “Right away, Your Highness.”

  Kent stared at the flickering campfires dotting the landscape. High atop the fortress wall, the night air chilled his face, and his breath came out in wisps of vapor, reminiscent of the clouds that obscured the moon and the stars above.

  How many men down there had he personally met? How many would have called him their lord less than a year prior?

  Was Fane among them? Kent still didn’t know.

  He clenched his fists and exhaled a long sigh. The idea of Inoth making peace with Muroth made sense for both countries, but it did nothing to resolve Kent’s desire to exact revenge upon his treacherous brother.

  “There you are,” a feminine voice said from behind him. Kent turned back in time to see Aveyna walking toward him.

  Twenty feet behind her, Grak stood with two other royal guards near the stone staircase leading up to the wall, positioned between the nearest soldier on night watch duty and Aveyna.

  “What brings you up here so late?” Aveyna wore thick, leather boots and a heavy coat made of furs, but Kent surmised she wore only a nightgown underneath.

  “Just wanted to think. Clear my head,” he said.

  Aveyna stood next to him, and their shoulders touched. “Having second thoughts about swearing allegiance to Inoth?”

  “None whatsoever.”

  “Good.” Aveyna leaned into him.

  Kent glanced back at Grak and saw him scowling in the torchlight.

  “It’s alright,” Aveyna said. “Put your arm around me. Grak will have to endure.”

  Kent put his arm around her. “He is a bear I do not wish to poke.”

  “He’s overreacting.” Aveyna lowered her voice. “And he has too high of an opinion of himself. I find precisely nothing about him attractive. He is doubtless useful and good at his job, but that is where our relationship begins and ends.”

  “He is relentless, to be sure.”

  A long moment of silence passed between them.

  “Do you know the emperor?” Aveyna asked.

  “I did not know him well,” Kent replied, “but we have met on several occasions. He and my father were contemporaries. They shared an amicable relationship.”

  “What of the emperor’s children? Do you know them?”

  “About as well as I know their father and the empress.”

  “I want you at the meeting with me,” Aveyna said.

  Kent tensed. “I will of course obey, but are you certain that is wise? The sight of me at your side may provoke an unfavorable response.”

  “Let me rephrase: I need you at the meeting with me. I’ve never dealt directly with Murothians before. Not before you, anyway.”

  “Why would you have? We have just been content to kill each other until now.”

  “Exactly,” Aveyna said. “But you understand how they think. I need you to help me speak to them, to help broker this peace.”

  Kent sighed.

  “Are you nervous?”

  “Worried. Concerned.” Kent exhaled a vaporous breath. “And nervous, yes.”

  “About your brother? If he’s down there?”

  “He may be. He may not be. It could go either way,” Kent said. “When our father was alive, I went with the army. Fane accompanied me on occasion, but mostly he remained at home to aid Father in overseeing our other affairs. I always had a taste for battle, combat, strategy, and tactics, so I enjoyed coming to the front.

  “Now that Father is dead, Fane may remain at the family estate. He was always less inclined to get personally involved in Muroth’s military actions.” Kent thought of General Calarook and wondered if he’d be present. “Our province has a strong slate of generals who handle border defenses, invasions, and other military actions, so there may be no need for Fane to come.”

  “If he is there, can I count on you to maintain your composure?” Aveyna asked.

  “Of course,” Kent said, albeit reluctantly. “I would not do anything to jeopardize the greater mission.”

  “I know how important it is to you to see that justice is served to him.”

  “It is, but peace between Muroth and Inoth is far more important. I will honor my commitment to both you and Inoth.” Kent added, “And my brother may continue to live a healthy, happy life until the day he dies by my hand.”

  Aveyna grinned up at him. “Yes. Let it be so.”

  Another long, quiet moment passed.

  “You said you do not believe the emperor is here,” Aveyna said more than asked.

  “He is an old, frail man. He was always mentally sharp, despite his age, unlike my father, whose faculties had begun to slip over the last few years of his life. But the emperor’s physical body is worn out. I imagine he has sent someone.”

  “Whom will he have sent instead?”

  “Possibly one of his children. His oldest child is his daughter, Sarina, but his second child and first son, Wye, is his heir. Sarina is beautiful and intelligent, but she has a hot streak to her that riles her temper easily. Wye is more subdued, but I always sensed a general apathy behind his words and eyes.

  “If it is one of his children, I would bet on Sarina over Wye, simply because Emperor Bouwen is old. If something were to happen to Wye as well, then another of his male children would have to take the throne. It seems less risky to send Sarina or one of her other brothers instead.

  “But then again,” Kent continued, “it could be one of the southern lords or one of Muroth’s generals. There are multiple possibilities, but one
fact remains true: they are coming to meet with no one less than the Queen of Inoth herself. Anyone less than the emperor will pale in comparison to you.”

  “Thank you.” Aveyna leaned into him again, and Kent squeezed her tighter. Her voice low again, she said, “If you are through, perhaps we could retire? I could use some inspiration and some comfort tonight to help prepare me for tomorrow.”

  Kent grinned. “Certainly.”

  As they walked toward the staircase, Kent noticed that Grak wasn’t there anymore, but the two royal guards were. One led the way down the stairs, and one followed behind Aveyna and Kent.

  The stairs fed into an open-walled corridor one story above the courtyard. Kent saw Grak standing with Kymil in the courtyard below, nodding as Kymil spoke.

  Kymil noticed Kent and Aveyna walking past, and he stopped talking with Grak. Then he waved up at them, casually, and resumed his conversation with Grak.

  Kent waved back, but Kymil missed it.

  By the time Aveyna and Kent reached her chambers, a fire already raged in the hearth, and a decanter of wine with two goblets sat on a small table near the bed. The space felt cramped compared to Aveyna’s sprawling chambers back at Hunera Palace, but they would do just fine for the night.

  Kent and Aveyna skipped the wine and indulged in each other instead. When they finished, Aveyna lay next to him, silently searching his eyes.

  “I’ve never been so happy,” she said.

  Kent stroked her face. He considered whether or not he’d ever been as happy.

  His time with Miranda had been far too short, but he had enjoyed it immensely. She had meant everything to him, and he had found rest in her arms. They’d certainly been happy. But could he quantify their happiness as compared to this moment, right now, with Aveyna?

  “Kent?” Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

  He refocused on her and studied her face. Her beautiful, enrapturing face.

  An impulse rose within him, one inspired by madness and heightened by anxiety over thoughts of tomorrow’s meeting.

  He acted on it nonetheless.

  “Aveyna,” he said. “Will you marry me?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Aveyna blinked at him and sat up in the bed. “What?”

  “I cannot see a future without you in my life.” Kent sat up as well and took her hands into his. “You said you had never been happier. Does it not make sense to take this next step?”

  Aveyna stared at him. “I’m not sure.”

  Kent opened his mouth to speak again, but he stopped. Aveyna’s last marriage was marked with abuse and had ended with murder. A strong- willed approach to convince her to see his point of view would not gain him much ground.

  Instead, he said, “Aveyna, I love you. I want to give you the very best of everything I have to offer, which, admittedly, is not much. But what I have, I give to you. I believe our paths converged for a reason—so that we could heal each other and grow together. If any part of you believes that, then say yes.”

  Aveyna remained silent, studying his eyes and his face. Slowly, her lips curled into a grin, and the grin spread into a smile. She grabbed Kent’s head, pulled him close, and kissed him long and hard.

  When Aveyna finally let go, Kent asked, “Is that a yes?”

  She smiled again and nodded. “It’s a yes. I can’t deny the truth of what you said. I do believe we were meant to heal each other. And I want to grow together with you. So, yes, Lord Kent Etheridge, I will marry you.”

  They kissed again, and then Aveyna pulled Kent on top of her once more.

  Morning came quickly for Kent, and before long, he was riding out of the fortress alongside Aveyna, Kymil, Grak, and the royal guard into the frigid morning air. A hundred-man entourage of elite Inothian soldiers also accompanied them.

  Kent had strapped a sword to his hip, something he hadn’t done for months in light of his nearly incessant study of magic. But he wore one today because he wanted to convey an air of strength to his former countrymen, regardless of who might show up.

  He had also donned a belt with several pouches full of various natural items. That way, he could use magic if he needed to. Kent didn’t know if he would need any of it, but he was fed up with barely surviving the last year’s trials thanks to quick thinking and luck. Better to be prepared, for once, even if nothing happened.

  In the distance, riders galloped toward them with the white, black, and bronze banners of Muroth flapping over their heads. A carriage of sorts also accompanied the procession.

  Minutes later, Aveyna, Kymil, and Kent stood before neither Emperor Bouwen, nor Sarina, nor Wye. Instead, they faced Graeme Bouwen, the emperor’s sixth son. Relief, but also regret, at not seeing Fane with Graeme filled Kent’s stomach.

  He also didn’t see General Calarook among the group. Perhaps Calarook had stayed behind, ready to lead Muroth into battle, or perhaps he’d been demoted or reassigned in light of Kent’s escape from Ranhold Fortress.

  Kent had only met Graeme once before, more than ten years earlier when Graeme was only a child running through Lowmir Keep. He’d grown up since then, now with dark brown hair like his mother, and with his father’s unmistakable square jaw and commanding presence.

  He wore golden armor, both denoting him as royalty and setting him apart from the white- and bronze-armored Murothians who accompanied him. Two of his advisors, both northern lords whom Kent recognized but could not name, stood several feet behind him, effectively leaving Graeme alone.

  Kent doubted Graeme would recognize him, given the time that had passed since they’d last seen each other. Sure enough, as Graeme approached, he glanced at Kent for a moment, then he refocused on Aveyna.

  “You are Queen Avenya Armanix, ruler of Inoth?” Graeme asked in a deep voice.

  “I am.” Aveyna motioned toward Kymil. “And this is my son, Prince Kymil.”

  Graeme acknowledged him with a slight nod. “I am Prince Graeme Bouwen, son of Emperor Elex Bouwen, ruler of Muroth. We have received your messages, and I come with his full power and authority to discuss your proposal.”

  Kent scanned the soldiers surrounding the meeting. Like the Inothians, the Murothian soldiers had formed a semicircle behind Graeme. But unlike the Inothians, Graeme had half as many soldiers with him.

  Having lived in Inoth for nearly a year, now, Kent found it unsettling at first, but he recalled the sense of Murothian pride and superiority he’d once held so close to his heart—especially when it came to Inoth.

  Despite having lost the war that resulted in Inoth’s separation from Muroth, Murothians now viewed themselves as inherently superior. Part of the mentality came from attributing the pervasiveness of magic within Inoth as a widespread curse rather than a benefit.

  The other part came thanks to the intense, ongoing training Muroth subjected its soldiers to. It made them notoriously efficient in battle, especially against mages. So it made sense that Graeme would only bring a few dozen men with him compared to Aveyna’s hundred.

  Furthermore, it made little difference if Graeme were somehow killed during these negotiations. As the emperor’s sixth son, Graeme stood little chance of ever ascending to his father’s throne. Thus, if he perished, it would inspire national rage without hindering the Bouwen family’s lineage.

  “Do you agree to our terms?” Aveyna asked.

  “No,” Graeme said flatly. “But I believe you may wish to hear our counter-proposal.”

  Aveyna’s jaw tensed, then it loosened. “What do you propose?”

  “My father requests that Inoth cede all lands north of here, including Dewmire Fortress, to Muroth,” Graeme said. “Citizens of Inoth will be given thirty days to remove their property and themselves from this land to resettle farther south.”

  Aveyna stared at him with a half-smile fixed on her face. “And the ceding of these lands to Muroth will buy lasting peace between us?”

  “In part, yes,” Graeme said. “My father also requests that Inoth pay Muroth
an annual tribute of 500,000 gold coins, or the equivalent worth in comparable goods.”

  Aveyna squinted at him. “Would you give me a moment to confer with my advisors?”

  Graeme nodded to her. “Do as you must.”

  Aveyna turned around and walked between Kent and Kymil. Then she turned and faced them with her back to her own men rather than to Graeme and the Murothians, which meant Kent and Kymil had their backs facing the Murothians instead.

  Kent didn’t like it, but he recognized she was doing it so her back wouldn’t be turned to Muroth.

  “His terms are steep,” Aveyna said in a low voice. “The crown cannot afford to maintain a functional army and navy and pay such a massive annual sum in tribute to Muroth. Within ten years, we would be crippled.”

  “Were you considering paying Muroth any tribute?” Kent asked.

  “I offered them a one-time payment of 100,000 gold to be used for reparations, specifically for the families of the Murothian soldiers who have perished in this senseless conflict,” Aveyna replied.

  Kent straightened his spine. She’d made a bold—and curious—move.

  “We have a surplus in our treasury of roughly three million in gold,” Aveyna said. “I figured it was a small price to pay to buy some goodwill from Muroth, regardless of whether it made it to the soldier’s families or simply lined the pockets of Emperor Bouwen or Murothian lords.”

  “500,000 gold per year, Mother is a ridiculous rate,” Kymil said.

  “I agree,” Kent looked at Aveyna. “This is a power grab by Muroth. As you said, they want to cripple Inoth, albeit slowly. Their request for ceding the lands is indicative of that.”

  “I never volunteered to cede any lands to them,” Aveyna said.

  “Doing so would increase Muroth’s lands and weaken Inoth’s strength as a country,” Kent said. “These two terms alone would transform Inoth into a sort of vassal state under Muroth’s partial control...”

  “And that would lead to further persecution and ultimately our nation’s demise,” Aveyna continued for him. “So they aren’t proposing peace. They’re proposing to weaken us to the point where they can take over our entire country.”