by Gav Thorpe
"Your predecessors used to rule the territories they conquered in the name of the king. Whatever they could take they could keep, as long as they gave a fair share of the proceeds to the Crown. But the empire grew and new provinces had to be governed by men with minds more suited to the civic and mercantile than the military, so the king offered to buy the provinces from his commanders and appointed governors to run them. That is the reason why generals like you still have partial ownership of the lands you bring into the empire; just over a hundred and fifty years ago a contract was sealed between the Crown and the legions. That agreement is still in effect."
"And that's when the generals gave up the rights to hold a governorship? That's why I can never take civilian authority?"
"Unless you are of the Blood, like me or Nemtun," Aalun replied. He gave a lopsided smile. "The Blood can do whatever we damn well like. It is our empire, after all."
Ullsaard nodded in appreciation of what Aalun was telling him. Perhaps Ullnaar's choice to become a lawyer was the smarter career move than merchant or soldier.
"Which of your legions do you trust?" asked Aalun.
Ullsaard was insulted by the question.
"They have all sworn oaths of loyalty!"
Aalun shook his head, pushed the map to one side and placed a wax tablet on the desk.
"I did not ask which of them were loyal to Greater Askhor. I asked which of them you trust. For all of my talk of reminders and rights, let me clear what I am proposing. You are going to bring several tens of thousands of armed men into Askhor, set up camp within sight of the capital and tell the king that you want to launch a campaign into Salphoria."
Ullsaard blinked with astonishment to hear the plan put so boldly.
"I see that you are starting to understand," Aalun said. "While I might talk about 'reminders', you were more correct when you said it was a threat. If my father senses any weakness in you, he will exploit it, and you will be ruined."
The general took a deep breath.
"I have always been a good soldier," he said slowly. "From legionnaire to general, I have done my duty to Greater Askhor. I have held my tongue when my superiors have erred, and I have followed orders that I have known were wrong."
"All the more reason that you should now get the recognition, power and reward that is owed to you, Ullsaard." Aalun stood up and came around the desk to lay a hand on Ullsaard's shoulder. "I know this can be troubling. I have spent a considerable time and no small amount of effort to bring you this opportunity, but I would not force you into any course of action. When we are finished talking, I will sit down at this desk and write your new orders. It is your choice what they will be. If you remain unconvinced, I will simply order that you return to Mekha, send Cosuas to the Greenwater and continue your campaign. If that is what you want."
What do I want? Ullsaard asked himself. Everything he had learnt in life was about obedience: don't speak out of turn; follow orders; bring honour to the legions; respect the Crown and the Blood; do your duty to the empire. Even his mother had always told him to shut up and not ask awkward questions. What Aalun proposed ran counter to all of that, and the more Ullsaard thought, the more the prince's plan seemed like foolishness. Yet also the more he thought about it, the more Ullsaard realised that he wanted this. It wasn't what he thought was for the best, it wasn't the most sensible course of action, but it was what his instincts told him he needed. Aalun was handing him an opportunity on a plate. He would never get another chance like it.
"The Fifth and Tenth are both Enairian legions," he said slowly. "They'll follow me anywhere. I raised the Thirteenth myself and they'll do the same. The Eleventh and Fifteenth are Cosuas's men. Ersuans mostly. You should send them with him to the Greenwater."
"Good, good," said Aalun. He sat down and started scratching notes on the tablet with a bone stylus. "What about the Twelfth and Sixteenth?"
"Mixture of Okharans, Maasrites and Anrairians. Most of the First Captains are men promoted by me, so they'll follow happily enough. I think the legionnaires will follow their purses more than anything else."
"They certainly have something to gain from this," said Aalun, still writing.
"I have a concern," said Ullsaard. The chair beneath him creaked loudly as he leaned back, his enthusiasm evaporating. "I can't march over thirty thousand men from Mekha to Askh without being noticed."
"You will be following orders, plain and simple," said Aalun, waving the wax tablet at Ullsaard. "If anybody tries to stop you, tell them to piss off and mind their own business; and that includes Nemtun and any of the other governors."
Ullsaard's eagerness was drying up quicker than a puddle under the Mekha sun.
"If I do all this, and the king says no, what then?"
Aalun dropped the tablet on the desk in a gesture of irritation.
"My father cannot say no," he said. "He cannot simply ignore you. That leaves him with two options: submit to your lawful rights or break the law."
"He could change the law, take away those rights."
"Stop worrying about things that will not happen." Aalun laid his hands flat on the desk and looked straight at Ullsaard. "This might seem new and devious to you, but men in your position, men in all positions of power, have been doing this sort of thing for generations. Take Murian today, for example. His point about the grain shipments through Magilnada was an implied threat. He might well have said 'Don't forget that I can starve half the empire if I choose, so help me out with this problem.' The king needs the grain supply, and he needs the loyalty of the legions as well. He has more to lose by refusing you than by indulging you."
Though Ullsaard found it hard to accept this reasoning, he trusted Aalun to know about this sort of politics. There was only one other thing that caused him to hesitate.
"You know that I could never raise a weapon against another Askhan," he said.
"Of course not!" said Aalun. His look of revulsion would have been no greater if Ullsaard had suggested the prince perform a sexual act on his sickly brother. "Implied threat, Ullsaard. Implied."
Finally satisfied, Ullsaard stood up. He shook hands with the prince and turned to leave. As he grabbed the door handle, he looked back at Aalun.
"Is this politics or plotting?" Ullsaard asked.
The prince looked at him with surprise.
"Is there a difference?"
V
That night, Ullsaard slipped into bed beside Allenya. She rolled over and stroked his arm.
"You are tense," she said.
Ullsaard said nothing. He planted a long kiss on her lips. His attentions moved to her neck as his hands cupped her breasts. He stroked them gently and lowered his head to kiss them. Allenya giggled as his beard tickled her stiffening nipples. She threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer, her other hand moving to lightly scratch the back of his thighs with her long nails.
He continued downward, ducking beneath the covers to kiss her belly before moving on to her thighs, placing delicate kisses in a trail from waist to knee. Allenya's hands pushed through his hair, tightening as his tongue delved into the bush of hair between her legs. His hands lifted her up, always strong but gentle, caressing her buttocks, running along the outside of her legs.
She pulled him up, rolling onto her back so that he could enter her. His lips found her mouth as he slid inside, and she clasped him tighter, pulling him down onto her. They embraced as he began to thrust slowly, her hips moving in time to his. Allenya felt his measured breaths on her cheek as he moved his head to kiss her shoulder. She planted her hands on the small of his back and urged him to go faster, wrapping her legs around him.
Harder and faster he thrust, still planting kisses on her; on her breasts, on her chin, on her forehead. With shuddering sighs they both reached the point of climax. Ullsaard clasped onto Allenya, holding her tight, until he was soft inside her. He rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling. She took her hand in his.
Not once had Ullsaard l
ooked Allenya in the eye.
"You are leaving," she whispered. His only reply was a tightening of his grip on her fingers.
Free Country
Autumn, 209th Year of Askh
I
It was a pretty model, Anglhan had to admit. Using little more than bits of wood, pebbles and old frayed rope, Aroisius had cobbled together a scale representation of Magilnada. The miniature city sat on a hummock of dirt and rocks, just as the real Magilnada squatted on the slope of Mount Gellian. Anglhan had been to the city more than two dozen times, and all of the winding main streets, the marketplace, towers and barracks were where they should be.
Aroisius the Free, self-declared rebel leader and hope for future generations of exploited Salphors, explained how his army would capture the city.
"Two hundred men could easily take the coldwards tower by climbing down the cliff face above the tanneries and across to the wall." Aroisius dangled a few pieces of string down the corresponding rock face. "When the tower is in our hands, the garrison will have to move up from the wall barracks in the merchant quarter, along the wall here. An attack at the gatehouse will trap them between two forces."
The chieftains squatting around the model grunted and nodded in appreciation.
"How would you get enough rope?" asked Barias, a roundshouldered man with a hook for his left hand.
"Rope isn't difficult to buy or steal," replied Aroisius. "The cliffs around the camp will allow our men to train on similar terrain. I am confident that the descent can be done in darkness and at speed. The tower guards will have no time to react."
"What about the militia house over here?" asked Griglhan, a lean Salphor brigand with pock-marked skin inflicted by some past disease. "What's to stop the militia coming along the cartway from the duskwards wall?"
Aroisius peered at the model with a slight frown and rubbed his chin.
"Burning arrows across the wall targeted at the millhouse beside the river," he said confidently. "That would keep the militia busy enough until we have control of the dawnwards wall."
He looked at the chieftains, but they had no more questions.
"Good," said Aroisius. "I'll find someone to procure more rope, and we'll begin selecting the soldiers who'll train from the cliff climb. I want to attack before the eve of Serinalia. After that, the weather will quickly worsen and the climb might be impossible. We take the city by the start of winter, and the Salphors cannot respond until spring. Is everybody agreed?"
There were nods and words of assent. Anglhan cleared his throat loudly. Aroisius and the others turned to look at the debt guardian-turned-rebel standing leaning against the cave wall with crossed arms.
"You have a comment?" asked the rebel leader. Anglhan nodded.
"How many men do you have?"
"Two thousand full fighters," Aroisius answered. "Perhaps the same again of elders and boys."
"And how many soldiers defend Magilnada?"
Aroisius shrugged.
"Perhaps two thousand as well. Mostly militia, poorly trained."
"I see," said Anglhan, pushing himself away from the cave wall. "Do you expect any of the city's people to take up arms in defence of their homes?"
"Why should they? There'll be no looting or raping. We'll be liberators, not conquerors."
There were a few bemused noises from the chieftains at this announcement. It was Lubrianati — oldest of the chiefs, a wiry, bearded dwarf of a man — who voiced their dissent.
"The men will want some compensation for risking their lives," he said.
"And they will have it," replied Aroisius. "When I become lord of Magilnada, every man who fights with me will be granted a home in the city and deeds to lands outside."
The chieftains exchanged dubious glances but said nothing. Anglhan had noticed the divided agenda before; Aroisius was so possessed of his goals that he was blind to the nature of the men he had recruited.
"A worthy reward indeed," Anglhan said with a smile. "They will, of course, be keeping any arms you give them."
Barias erupted with a snorting laugh.
"A few bows and pikes? Pot hats and bucklers? That's not a lot to take home."
"I have men out trying to find more supplies of weapons," Aroisius said quickly. "I understand that our equipment might not be the best, but it is the heart behind a sword that counts for as much as the sharpness of its tip."
"I am puzzled by something else," said Anglhan. "I have been with you for the best part of fifty days, and you have yet to tell me what my part I can play in this war for our freedom."
"Yes, I am coming to that." Aroisius stood up, annoyed. "I want you to spy for me. Take the landship into Magilnada a few nights before we attack and scout out the city to make sure there is no call for last-minute alterations."
"Your spies seem to be doing a good job already," said Anglhan, pointing to the mock city. "I don't see how I could help further."
Aroisius looked a little uncomfortable and darted a look at the chieftains before he answered.
"As a debt guardian you have access to sources of news that are currently beyond my men: the chieftain's council and their households; captains of the militia; armourers and such."
"Oh, you want me to use my contacts?" said Anglhan, grinning broadly. "Of course I can do that! In fact, I was hoping that was what you were going to ask me to do. You see, I think I can do more than just bring you some news. I know several merchants in this area. That rope you were talking about? I'm sure I could get you fifty casts of the stuff for a good price within three days."
He turned his attention on the chieftains.
"And weapons? Armour? I know just the man who could sell us what we want."
"What sort of weapons?" asked Barias.
"Proper ones," said Anglhan, crouching down in front of the sitting chieftains. "Javelins, knives, scimitars, arrowheads, spear tips. And proper armour too. Bronze breastplates, helms with cheek guards, light mail shirts. The sort of thing those militia boys in Magilnada will be wearing."
"Such things would be very useful," said Lubrianati, looking up at Aroisius. "Our boys could match that militia for sure with that sort of kit."
"Well, if you tell me who your contact is, I can send a delegation," said Aroisius. He raised a warning finger. "If you think I am prepared to let you just go off on your own, you must think the spirits shit me out of the sky yesterday."
"On my own?" Anglhan feigned surprise. "I wouldn't know where to begin judging the quality of weapons. I'm more of a barley and wood man, myself. No, I was going to take Barias here with me. And other than a few men with essential ship skills, I was going to let you pick my crew. If any of them think I am up to no good, they can stick a knife in my gut."
Aroisius' face betrayed his distrust.
"Why not simply give me the information you have, and I will broker the trade."
Anglhan shrugged apologetically.
"Because that knowledge is the only thing I have left that stops you from killing me. We will have to learn to trust each other, and I am sure we will. Until then, I think we can agree that mutual interest will keep us both honest. As a sign of my support for you, I will even purchase the weapons with my own money, and when I return you can pay me for half of them."
Aroisius's mouth opened and closed a couple of times as he sought some fresh argument to Anglhan's proposal.
"That seems good, boss," said Barias. "I'll make sure he doesn't pull a fast one."
"We need those weapons," added Lubrianati. "Quality gear would make all the difference in a close fight."
The rebel leader sagged and looked at Anglhan.
"All right. We will organise this trade mission on the terms you have laid out. If you betray me, I will make it my life's work to hunt you down and stake you out for the crows to peck out your eyes and guts. Am I clear?"
Anglhan performed a gracious bow.
"I only wish to see your cause succeed, Lord Aroisius the Free."
II
"You're tying a line, not wrestling a whore!" Furlthia bellowed.
He ran down the deck and snatched the rope from the hands of a man struggling with one of the sail cables. For what seemed like the hundredth time, he showed the rebel how to properly secure the line through the starboard grommets and returned to his watchful position on the aft deck.
"Sorry," said Anglhan, joining the first mate from where he had been loitering at the aft rail. "Aroisius wouldn't let me keep more than ten men."
"Bunch of idiots," muttered Furlthia. He glanced over his shoulder. "At least he let us keep some decent steersmen."
The landship steadily shook with the clatter and rumbles from the cranks below, trundling along at a steady pace. It had been slow-going at first as Aroisius' men had been unaccustomed to the slow but methodical rhythm maintained by a good turnsman. The journey had been made all the longer by a diversion that took them further coldwards from Magilnada than would normally have been the case; Anglhan had been adamant that they keep clear of the city until they were ready to enter.
"We're going to Carlangh, aren't we?" said Furlthia. Anglhan nodded. "You're going to do business with Meaghran! I told you we shouldn't have anything to do with that dogfucker."
"There's no need to get personal," said the captain. "You really shouldn't pay heed to rumours."
"Rumours?" laughed Furlthia. "My cousin was there, he swears it by the spirits. Meaghran fucked a dog for a bet when he was drunk."
"He could have fucked a dozen dogs, he still has what we need," replied Anglhan.
"I still think this is madness," said Furlthia, keeping his voice quiet. He looked around the ship for Barias. The chieftain sat at the forward hatch, chatting with some of his men. "I can't believe you actually volunteered us for this nonsense. You're dragging us deeper into the shit, you realise that?"
"We were in the shit already, friend," said Anglhan, his voice also low. "We just have to keep paddling for the moment."
"And I suppose you have a scheme for getting us out of it later?"
