“Tempting her?”
He gave his father a careful once over with his eyes. The man was uncommonly good looking for his age. Will didn’t think he would ever be that handsome. “She has a problem with men.”
“I’m not afraid of some fae trollop,” insisted the baron, “and if you’re worried that I won’t show proper restraint then you’re badly mistaken.”
“You should be afraid, and no, I’m not worried about your ability to control yourself. Just trust me on this and give me some privacy.”
His father acquiesced, and Will called his aunt to let her know they no longer needed the fog.
Chapter 38
Tailtiu ended the fog, and the day turned clear and sunny within half an hour. Cheers went up once the soldiers could see, for the dense mist had felt oppressive, even for those who had relied on it. The Darrowans surrendered in a slow progression of bits and pieces as clusters of the defenders were isolated within the city and cut off from support. Near the end, after a fresh ‘message’ from Will had unnerved them, Lord Fraelis was trussed up and turned over to the Terabinians.
The disgruntled lord was red-faced and angry, partly because of the rag in his mouth and partly because he’d never suffered such indignity in his pampered life. According to a set of rules that Lieutenant Renly conveniently trotted out, Will was supposed to hold the man as a prisoner of war, regardless of what he had done. Only the king himself, or an official magistrate from Terabinia, was allowed to levy justice on someone who was effectively a representative of a foreign state.
Very likely, that meant a long imprisonment, followed by freedom once the war was over. Lord Fraelis’ crimes against his own people wouldn’t be considered crimes given the state of war. The lord had been acting in defense of his lands, on behalf of his government, and upon people within his jurisdiction. He would probably lose his land, title, and much of his wealth, but he would almost certainly go free.
This was all according to a quick assessment given to him by both Nerrow and Hargast, who both had much greater familiarity with the laws governing both Terabinia and the king’s army. Unless Lognion had a particular reason to render a harsher sentence, Fraelis would live, and Will already knew that King Lognion didn’t much care about cruelties or crimes against the people.
Will wasn’t willing to leave things like that. He took Renly’s law manual from him and using a quick fire-starting spell rendered it to ash. “Oops.”
“What are you doing?” demanded the shocked lieutenant.
“That was an accident,” said Will. “Since we don’t have any written guidance, I’ll have to rely on my best judgment for now.”
“I have another copy stored with the baggage train,” said the lieutenant, glaring daggers at him. Several seconds later, he added a begrudging, “Sir.”
“Unfortunately, this can’t wait,” said Will. Giving a quick succession of orders, he sent the other senior officers away to manage the multitude of duties that capturing a city had created. He didn’t want anyone else to be held accountable merely for being a witness to his actions.
After that, he summoned the captured lord to testify before him in an impromptu field trial. It was a mockery of real justice, but Will did at least get supplemental testimony from some of Fraelis’ subordinates before rendering his judgment. It helped that Fraelis didn’t deny ordering the burning of farms and the execution of anyone who resisted the destruction of their livelihoods. The man sincerely didn’t see anything wrong with his decisions. Those who worked in the fields had no rights in his eyes.
Will wasted no time. “In light of the testimony you’ve given, I find you guilty of the crimes of murder, theft, and arson against those whom you were sworn to protect.”
“What?” Lord Fraelis stared aghast at him, as though he’d grown a second head. “How can a man be accused of arson for burning his own property, or murder when he kills only his own chattel?”
He ignored the outburst. “I hereby sentence you to death, sentence to be carried out immediately.”
Fraelis laughed in disbelief while the junior officers and Terabinian soldiers who had been bearing witness gasped in shock. “You’re mad!” accused the Lord of Maldon. “Who do you think will carry out such an absurd sentence?” His eyes went wide, however, and his outrage turned to piteous cries for mercy when Will summoned his falchion.
An executioner’s cut was no easy feat, Will knew that, so he used the silver-sword spell to enhance the blade before moving forward in two quick strides. Fraelis jerked to the side, desperate to save himself, so Will was forced to grab the man’s hair to keep his head and neck in line for the strike.
The first blow wasn’t perfect, but it did the job, though the blade ended its stroke against Fraelis’s collarbone. The lord was already dead, but his head was still attached by a thick piece of skin and flesh. Will made a second, smaller cut to finish the job, dismissed the spell, cleaned his blade, then left with one last instruction to the nearest soldiers. “Bury this trash in an unmarked grave.”
As he left, he could hear some of his soldiers muttering. “—chopped him up like he was butchering a pig.”
“Cold as ice.”
“Did you see his eyes?”
He kept walking, but Will couldn’t help but enhance his hearing as he went. Well beyond earshot, he could still hear them talking.
“That was nothing. He walked up to the gate and it started screaming before the whole building came down on top of him, and he just walked away afterward. Everyone else was dead.”
“He’s not human.”
“I heard he sold his soul to Marduke. He’s not afraid of anything because he’s already dead.”
Shaking his head, Will went to his tent and had the sullen Lieutenant Renly pour him a large cup of wine. His head hurt, and he hoped that the wine would help, at least temporarily. Despite the constant stream of men coming in an out for orders, he felt alone. Laina had been gone less than half a day and he already missed her. He regretted sending his father into the city to meet with the civil officials and try to get an accounting of the city’s current state.
Technically, he’d accomplished his goal in taking Maldon, but killing Fraelis had left him feeling unclean, even though he’d already used Selene’s spell to remove the dirt and grime he’d accumulated. It went deeper than that. I did the right thing, he reassured himself, but deep down, he knew there were stains on his soul he would never rid himself of.
During a brief lull in messengers, Will realized he hadn’t even thought about the men who had died when the gate exploded. So much had happened, there hadn’t been time. No one would reasonably blame him; it was a war, after all. It was an accident, he told himself, I had no idea that would happen. But then again, he’d had enough awareness to warn them when it was too late.
“I’m no better than the man I just executed,” he muttered quietly. Thinking about the most recent assassination attempt against him, Will wondered what the families of the men whom he had killed would think. Some might consider it a freak event in a chaotic war, but others would blame him. How many sons, daughters, wives, and parents might want him dead in the years to come?
And worst of all, deep down, he didn’t care, not as much as he should. I made mistakes, but I only did what I thought was best. He felt remorse, but mostly he was worried about the consequences. More people would want him dead, and Selene could suffer once again, simply for being his wife.
Maybe I am turning into Lognion.
His dark thoughts were interrupted when an urgent messenger was ushered in to see him. It was the first rider of the day bearing news of the First and Third Divisions. It wasn’t good.
The missive had been written by Sub-Marshal Nicht of the First Division, which in itself was a bad sign.
Marshal,
I regret to inform you that First Division has met with disaster, losing close to fifty percent of our men during an ambush yesterday afternoon. Sub-Marshal Spry was killed and Field Mars
hal Lustral is currently unconscious, so in the meantime I have assumed joint command of the two divisions. Third Division’s losses were not as severe, but they still sustained close to twenty percent casualties.
As to the circumstances. Sub-Marshal Spry counseled withdrawal to Klendon, based on your last recommendations as well as the scouting reports that indicated a greater force was in the area, but Field Marshal Lustral insisted on advancing instead. His theory was that a retreat was expected while an advance was not. I myself did not agree with this, but the field marshal insisted that this would catch the Darrowans off-guard.
They were ready for us.
Caught close to dusk, as we were about to make camp, First Division was surrounded on three sides, forcing us to retreat in the direction of Third, causing a great deal of chaos and confusion in the ranks. A reserve force that was completely unknown to us then stopped Third Division, preventing them from moving.
Thus caught and disordered, the enemy corralled us like sheep for the slaughter. If not for Lord Spry’s heroic efforts in breaking through to the rear, the complete rout and humiliation of both the First and Third Divisions would have been all but assured. It is with great regret that I inform you of Lord Spry’s passing, for he died a hero.
At present we are retreating toward Klendon, but I have no doubt the enemy will seek to capitalize on our current weakness. With the number of casualties we have with us now, it will be difficult to avoid another disadvantageous situation, for our mobility is limited. I have faith that you will send reinforcements to prevent our retreat from becoming something worse.
Field Marshal Lustral’s wound seems minor and he may wake and resume command at any time, unless a more senior officer is present. This may be important for deciding how you will handle the situation.
Yours in service,
Sub-Marshal Nicht
Will stared at the page as if he could rearrange the letter through will alone. A cold knot had formed in his stomach. All he had to do was keep the Patriarch’s armies busy for a while. I didn’t expect the fool to rush headlong into an ambush. For the first time, he seriously considered that Lustral might not be the traitor. If he was, he shouldn’t have nearly been killed. Instead, it appeared the man was simply an idiot.
And Eric might be dead, thanks to the fact that he’d left his cousin under the command of the half-witted nobleman. He fought the sudden urge to tear his own hair out. He wanted to break something. Something moved, and a force-lance tore a hole through the flap of the tent before Will realized what he was doing. Everything went still, then a few seconds later Lieutenant Renly pushed the flap back and entered, his eyes wide with fear.
“Is it safe to enter, sir?”
I almost killed him. Looking down, Will could see the letter in his hand was shaking. I need to calm down. “Yes, come in.”
“The sub-marshal wants you to know that the city is fully secured, though he expects it will take considerable time to completely sort out the various administrative issues that will arise—”
He was referring to Nerrow of course, the only sub-marshal with them at the moment. Will interrupted, “Send for him now, as well as Commanders Lambel and Hargast.”
“You just sent them out two hours ago, sir. I’m sure they’re all occupied with your previous orders.”
“Ask me if I give a damn!” yelled Will. Leaping out of his seat, he stalked forward while Renly tried desperately to shrink into himself. “I don’t want your opinions, Renly! All I require from you is obedience, not questions! Do you understand?”
His breathing was heavy, and Will could feel his heartbeat in the blood rushing to his face as it flushed red. Renly looked terrified. Will closed his eyes and tried to breathe slowly. “Forgive me, Lieutenant. I shouldn’t have spoken in that tone. I’m a bit overwrought at the moment.”
“Y-yes, sir,” stammered his assistant. “I’ll send for them immediately. May I go?”
“Please do.”
The officer left, but Will remained where he stood for several minutes. He was angry with Lustral, not Renly, but he’d allowed his emotions to boil over in an unacceptable manner. And I’m still angry. In his mind, he kept seeing the execution of Fraelis, but with Duke Lustral in the Darrowan’s place. What would Selene think if she saw me now?
That was an open question, actually. She’d grown up with a psychotic sociopath for a father. She might be repulsed, but then again, she might also be understanding. Either way, he didn’t want to find out. This isn’t who I want to be, he told himself.
When the sub-marshal and the commanders arrived a quarter of an hour later, with several of their junior officers in tow, Will was in better control of his emotions. He recognized one of the younger men beside Commander Hargast. It was Captain Barrentine, the man who led Will’s company back when he’d been just a private contract soldier. He nodded in recognition to his friend, before addressing the senior officers.
First, he gave them a summary of the recent news, which resulted in a lot of grim faces. Then he asked a few pertinent questions, turning to the sub-marshal first. “You’ve already made a preliminary assessment of the city, correct?”
Mark Nerrow shook his head. “No. We’ve just made certain we control it. The assessment is only just beginning. Even a preliminary will take days.”
Will sighed. “Obviously we can’t afford to wait that long to make decisions. What’s your best guess at how many men you’ll need to hold Maldon as well as restore the gates?”
“The gates could take months. Rebuilding the stonework of the gatehouse is no small feat—”
“I don’t mean a complete restoration, simply a functional replacement, so the enemy can’t just walk in the door on a whim,” clarified Will.
“That’s easier. We can manage that within a week, but holding the city, that’s a big question. Assuming little resistance and no significant Darrowan forces attempt to retake it, two or three companies will be sufficient. However, if the Patriarch does send an army here, we’ll need at least two brigades,” answered the sub-marshal.
“A full division just to be safe,” commented Commander Lambel.
Hargast shook his head. “I could understand that number for Klendon—it was crucial for our continuing campaign—but Maldon isn’t necessary. We’re going to need everything we can muster to conclude this war when we get to Myrsta—if that’s even possible now.”
Will felt his eye twitch at that remark, but he kept himself under control. “You’re making a key mistake in your thinking. Maldon isn’t a diversion, nor is this an invasion of enemy territory. Maldon is part of Terabinia, just as Klendon is, and as the rest of Darrow. If you’re going to understand my thinking, and more importantly, if we’re going to win this war, you have to think about this as a continuation of the Terabinian War for Independence.”
There was a lot of confusion in their faces as they stared back at him, but Will went on. “This was all one nation. We were divided and forced to accept a new smaller nation when Terabinia was created. We are now correcting that. Every inch of ground we reclaim is ours, it’s part of the new Terabinia. We treat the people as citizens, not enemies, and we rebuild whatever we damage. You may think this is kindness, but it isn’t. It’s absolutely vital for the future if we are to reunite the people of our divided nations.”
No one said anything after his remark. Silence in the face of madness, thought Will wryly. He pushed on. “These are my orders then: Sub-Marshal Nerrow, you will remain here with Fifth Division. Maldon will be your responsibility to repair, administer, and protect. I will expect you to manage it with the same care and efficiency that you give to your own lands until such time as I can afford to relieve you. Your daughter is already arranging shipments to assist the people of the region, and you will need to ensure those supplies reach the people who need them most.
“Lambel and Hargast will take the Second and Sixth Divisions to the crossroads, where they will meet—”
“Hold on!”
barked the sub-marshal, interrupting him. “I don’t need a full division, and it shouldn’t be me that’s left here. Give the job to Lambel or Hargast. You need me beside you!”
“You’ll do as I command, Sub-Marshal,” said Will coolly, his eyes showing no emotion. He turned his head to the others. “As I was saying, Commander Hargast and Commander Lambel will bring their respective divisions to the crossroads, where they will either meet with the First and Third, or they will continue on to whatever new location I have subsequently ordered them to head for. Understood?”
Hargast responded first, “Yes, but—”
“I don’t agree with any of this,” interrupted Will’s father. “You’re going to—”
“I don’t need your approval, Sub-marshal,” said Will, glaring at the older man. “That wasn’t a request. It was an order. An order you will obey if you wish to retain command of the Fifth. Maldon is precious, and I need someone I trust to guard it for me. That means you.”
Mark Nerrow had spent his entire life as a peer of the realm. Being spoken to in that fashion wasn’t something he had experienced often, and certainly never from someone younger, much less his bastard son. His face flushed red and his mouth opened, but Will leaned in and stared him down. “One more word and I’ll relieve you of duty and send you packing back to Cerria. Is that what you want?” Will’s eyes softened after the words left his lips, communicating a deeper message. Either way, you’ll be safe, unlike my cousin Eric.
The moment dragged out until Commander Lambel finally broke the tension. “You said we’d meet with the First and Third, but if you aren’t here in Maldon, won’t you be with us, sir?”
Will’s face relaxed and a faint smile played across his lips. “I’ll be riding ahead as soon as this meeting is finished. I can’t afford to leave the First in the field marshal’s hands should he recover in the next day or so.”
“It would be safer to travel with the Second and Sixth,” remarked Lambel.
“And far too slow,” concluded Will. “Any further questions?”
Disciple of War (Art of the Adept Book 4) Page 35
