by Jason Jones
“If I had any inkling of your failure, I would say no, and work my way toward the capital in Harlaheim, just to see you squirm, Valhera. Perhaps I could be the next implanted sovereign?”
“That will not happen, not even in your lifetime, sorcerer. Last offer, take it or I put Devonmir at the top of my list.”
Koligail paused, his sharp teeth bared at the sickening smells of mortal arrogance. “It will be done. Half million in gold to us for damages done, Chalas Kalaza is now our property, and you have our support to both King Phillip and your agents in Devonmir. We will speak to Domenarch Cadius alone on matters of business going forward, since Rinicus is no more.”
“Agreed.” Johnas Valhera hated losing such a killer as the brown minotaur that butchered Heathen the Red. He caught wind that Chalas had killed Rinicus Three-Blades without permission, something he would not tolerate from anyone. Domenarchs were killed or removed by himself, his Emerald Eight, but never by a new member. The sizzle of acrid smoke took his mind off of the matter quickly as Lord Koligail vanished from sight.
Before he could get a moment of clarity on which situation to handle next, Lord Valistor Waylen of Willborne approached from his left and the noble emissary from Caberra on his right. Johnas knew that thirty soldiers surrounded him, Vermillion was there as well, and even Oggidan and fifty agents watched from shadowed vantage points. Still, the Prince of Valhirst only desired the pressure he brought upon others, not the other way around.
Valistor bowed half heartedly, his blond braids and beard streaked with gray and silver hung heavy despite the winds. His right hand never left the hilt of his longsword, his winged helm was tight under his arm, and his decorated steel scale armor would have impressed anyone as the white cape was draped half across his front. He looked up to Johnas Valhera, green eyes to green eyes, and he scowled intentionally.
“Do not begin with the Agarian blood and guilt rhetoric that Katrina has tossed for so many years, it holds no bearing upon my conscience, Lord Waylen.” Johnas smiled to the grimacing countenance before him.
“I was unaware of Prince Valhera having a conscience.” Valistor loomed half a foot over Johnas Valhera, yet turned and gazed upon the mounting battle that this wretch would be involved in very soon.
“Well spoken. Yet, I understand that King Phillip the First of Harlaheim has threatened war upon Willborne, and that troubles me.” The Prince of Valhirst glanced to his right as the Caberran man took a fast knee and rose next to him as well.
“He has, at a most inopportune time, I might add.” Valistor glared.
“For you perhaps, but not for Harlaheim.” Johnas chuckled.
“Let us cut to the meat, Prince. You control Phillip, soon Chazzrynn, but why Willborne? If it is war you crave, you have plenty here and my kingdom will not---”
“Katrina’s kingdom, you mean.” Johnas corrected with the wave of a finger as he leaned over the high walls of his castle.
“So that is it? I see no crown on your head either, Johnas. Well let me inform your potential highness that Katrina Willborne, queen or no, has not returned in some time. My scouts heard in Shanador that she was killed in the Misathi Mountains. So whether you long for her and seek revenge, or simply wish to take a wounded territory, it will mean war. I know you have sapped forces from Harlaheim to here, so we are not outmatched.” Valistor spoke fast and low, but knew the Caberran man and the dark clad figure behind Johnas heard every word.
“I have the Crossguard Legion in Harlaheim, deadliest force on the continent. You are outmatched, and I doubt you can rally your old nobles in Willborne to stand against the church. And pity, you just missed Lord Koligail from Devonmir, I have them now as well.”
“When the new Cardinal takes the Aldane, you will lose your Legion, and skulking slaves of old sorcery do not frighten me.” Despite the distance, however far it was, Valistor felt the red in his eyes from Rynnth, felt the power and confidence that her blood had given him. He looked at Johnas again.
“Interesting, I fail to recall when Agarians had eyes that went from green to red. So, the dragon whose blood you drank still lives, for now. You think I was unaware? All I must do is target her, and that willpower and resistance in your council will fade and die with the dragon. Much like your kingdom has for centuries. But, since you have strength to fight, let us make it official, Harlaheim and Willborne then. Declare it, Lord Waylen.” He had wondered if the wyrm of Willborne had survived, and now he knew. It was time to twist it and delay, for that dragon would tear armies apart, if even half the reports were true.
“I will be king of Willborne with Katrina dead, and they will rally to me. It will be skirmishes at first, as I wait for the Aldane to withdraw the Crossguard Legion from Harlaheim. Then, I will unleash Rynnth upon the crown and rose.
Pray I do not come south after, she may enjoy falcon hunting.” Valistor smiled, he knew this mans game. He had done the same in Willborne to get to the head of the council for many decades, on a much smaller scale. “Did I mention her children? There were more than two.”
“What is your offer then, as you are verbally moving toward war. I know Willborne could not afford it, yet I respect your desire at strategically making yourself a thorn at the least. Speak your terms, I am about to become a king, and have little time.”
“Traditional terms. Treaty for a decade, standard alliance, you take a city with title in Willborne, I in return, take a city and title in either Chazzrynn or Harlaheim, since you hold two kingdoms.” Lord Waylen smiled at the rather disgusted countenance upon the face of the Caberran man who seemed lost for words, yet listened to every one of them here and now.
“Agreed, as long as the treaty is for mutual support in all manners of the military, which will include your dragon.” Johnas smiled.
“Dragons, Valhera, she has many children that will come, now that her sleep is over.” Valistor grinned larger, and stared more fierce as his eyes flashed red again.
“Very well, cities then. I will take Larkenport, as Prince thereof from you. I offer you Addisonia, lord with all titles and so forth.” Johnas cared not for Addisonia, too many temples there. He needed more ports to have a swift naval force, so his decision was easy.
“Addisonia? Full of Aldane churches and priests? No, I would have to burn it to ash and start over, then it is worthless.”
“I want Larkenport, another trade stop will aid my new allied nations.” Johnas glared now, rarely refused by anyone. “Name your city, Waylen.”
“Saint Erinsburg. It is near empty, ripe for rebirth, and only the castle was put to the torch. I enjoy the smells of charred remains, lately that is.”
“Done. It will be hard to get Harlaheim to accept it, even with Phillip on the throne, but it shall be done.” Johnas nodded.
“Then the war will be called off by Phillip?” Valistor reached out a hand to Prince Johnas.
He shook it. “Yes it will. Let me know when you take the crown of Willborne, I expect an invitation, I love ceremonies.”
“Who then, in our mighty conglomerate, will be our adversary, Shanador?” Lord Waylen smiled and looked to the horrified Caberran man who had now let his mouth open yet seemed at a loss for words. “We will need reason to unite, besides your lust for trade, only war would rally a people to blind cause.”
“My conglomerate, not ours. Shanador is too large to handle, for now.”
“Armondeen or Kivanis then?” Valistor winked at the Caberran messenger and grinned.
“No, too early. I need to hear from Harlaheim’s neighbor first. He has been most patient and respectful.” Johnas turned toward the emissary.
“This is…this is…I do not believe my ears hear such things! I am Wil dell Escada, sent from Cordolla. On behalf of the Caberran courts, I seek answers to our missing Prince Edians dell Barrato, our missing Princess and rightful Queen of Harlaheim Rosana dell Barrato, and to discuss the new trade route agreements between Harlaheim and my kingdom, ones that we never signed!” His slick black
hair and trimmed beard were offset by his smooth tan face that was going rather pale at the moment. His eyes of deep caramel darted back and forth between Johnas and Valistor.
“What would make you think I know of your missing prince? Is he not in Harlaheim? As for your trade agreements, I am the Ambassador of Trade to Caberra and will be arriving to meet you, in due time.” Johnas smiled, this man was dressed in his golden surcoat and cape, tridents galore sewn proudly in the cloth, yet had just realized what sort of man he was dealing with.
“I come with the wishes of my king and queen and their sons, and those are that his daughter is found, his eldest son released, and your title withdrawn. He wants nothing to do with you or Harlaheim, Johnas Valhera.” Wil pulled the parchment from his sleeve.
“Wil, not short for Wilian, is it perchance? Wilian dell Barrato, the third and younger Prince of Caberra?” Johnas knew of the princes of Caberra, suspected, but then thought otherwise.
“It is Wilian, however it is Wilian dell Escada, but taking me hostage will earn you nothing. My family is not as valuable, as you surely know. Do you think any ruling nobleman or king would send their own son to treat with one such as you, Johnas Valhera?”
“As a matter of fact…” Johnas eyed the battlefield before him.
“Men like you should rot in hell and die young, to let the rest of us with morals and honor rule. Your trade agreements, with false signatures of both Caberra and the Cardinal, have been read by King Marcelian and Queen Sarsia. Here is their answer.” He showed the parchement to the Prince of Valhirst, and then tore it to pieces and let the wind take it over the castle walls.
“Ah, so brave of you. You may inform your king that when I arrive to write a new agreement, he had better produce some new daughters to my guest rooms, rumor is that he is short in that regard. And, if he thinks his illicit dealings with Altestan go unnoticed, tell him to try harder. Agarians have little tolerance for such things. Is that not correct, Lord Waylen?”
“Most correct, Prince Johnas.”
“You are a sick man, in many ways sick and less than sane. Dealings with cursed demon-loving sorcerors, pacts with dragon worshippers, and waging war in your own kingdom for the crown, that shall be just the beginning of what I inform his majesty of from you, Valhera.”
“You reek of wine, emissary. I mean that both actually and in the verbal sense, mind you. Perhaps another bottle, and when you calm yourself, and see how politics truly manifest, we can talk some more.” Johnas waved his hand at the shorter Caberran man.
“I will not lower myself to treating with one such as you. King Marcellian and Queen Sarsia will hear the truth from my lips.” Wilian dell Escada crossed his arms over his chest.
Johnas looked to Valistor Waylen. “Caberra then?”
“Caberra it is, Prince Johnas. I shall meet with King Phillip in Harlaheim and assist him with his northeastern borders. Rumor has it that King Marcellian holds him responsible for much, and wishes war.” Valistor smiled, bowed, and walked off with his retinue from Willborne. “After my wedding, of course.”
“This is…I said nothing of the sort! What is---“
“Best hurry across the Carisian Sea then, emissary. Word has a way of spreading faster than the winds can drive a galleon, even a fine Caberran vessel.” Johnas reached out his hand for a farewell shake to Wilian.
The Caberran man looked at the gesture in disgust. “You will regret this day, Johnas Valhera, you will. The Caberran fleet has never known defeat, in any war. My king will not look kindly upon your filthy deals and tricks. Farewell.”
Johnas watched as the Caberran emissary fell in with his entourage and took a brisk pace toward his courtyard. Willborne was his, Harlaheim, and soon Chazzrynn. To hold his growing empire in place, they would need a common enemy. Caberra would do just fine. He smiled as Vermillion of the South took his side on the battlements once more.
“Do you plan to just let him leave?” Jehrale asked.
“Yes and no. Send three doppelgangers guised as crewmen while he loads and boards. Tell them not to touch the emissary. I want his words to reach King Marcellian in Cordolla.”
“That will accomplish what?”
“Either an agreement that will have me a fourth kingdom, or information on his military that will assure I get Caberra by force when our alliance invades.”
“And with four kingdoms, then what?”
“Take more, brother. My ambition does not suffer numerical restraint.” Johnas sighed. “I think it is time to meet our uncle on the field, family reunion if you would. You will join me, of course?”
“I would not miss it. Oggidan is coming with, learning fast that one is. Let us get you dressed then.” Jehrale walked with his brother across the catwalk of their castle. He glanced to the kris blade sheathed on Johnas’ hip, the emerald with the impure dark fleck noticed him looking, he could sense it.
“Mother says to stay close to me, she is proud of you, of us.” Johnas felt the vibrations, they had grown stronger from the sword now that Jehrale was close to him. He could pick up on small empathic feelings here and there.
“Give her my love.” Jehrale lowered his head as they walked.
“I will give her blade Salganat blood, far better than love.” Johnas laughed out loud, startling many of his already tense soldiers, but not his scarred brother.
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Mikhail rose from his knee slowly. He did not want to end his prayers, to Alden or otherwise. The men around him, all noble lords that had come to war for their king, rose slowly after him and waited for his word in silence. His eyes glanced up as he turned to face them, asking even the sky for assistance this day. The king felt Aelaine’s hand on one shoulder, then Chancellor Marcus Mederris on the other. Kendrynn Shilde of Vallakazz, General Fandruss of Loucas, Lord Dimitri of Addisonia, Lord Burrain of Silverbridge, and even Lord Corey from Thurick bowed with their armies behind them.
Just over five thousand swords had answered his summons, yet nothing from the west. As he feared, the war with the ogre and troll hordes must have begun, lest he knew Alexei T’Vellon would have rallied all of Hurne, Elcram, Roricdale, and Southwind. His scouts had reported that Johnas had his defenses in place, a few thousand more men, so it was honor and courage that he prayed would see Chazzrynn to victory.
“Chancellor, are the rams manned and ready, archers in position?” Mikhail sheathed his broadsword, his fingers feeling the falcon winged pommel and leather wrapped hilt.
“They are your majesty.” Marcus bowed and handed his king two black leather gauntlets.
“Aelaine, are you and Captain Shilde prepared to take the south gates?” Mikhail felt his squire strapping his steel plate and shoulderguards into place.
The lady of Vallakazz curtsied. “We are my liege, and we will be watching for Lavress and Sir Liogan to emerge with your son.”
“General Fandruss, I want three formations and one legion in reserve. Lead the cavalry with Lord Corey north, give time for the footman to get through with the rams. Have Lord Burrain, Chancellor Marcus, and Lord Dimitri cover their walls with arrows and catapult fire. Aelaine and Captain Shilde lead the third to the south side of Valhirst. While they scramble to defend from three sides, bring the ladders when I signal.” The king stepped into his stirrup, assisted by his squire, and mounted his armored white stallion.
“Yes, your majesty. But sire, will you need Lord Corey in the rear with you?” General Fandruss bowed as he spoke.
“You know I will not be in the rears, General. My royal guard and I will charge the front, first in line.” His squire handed his round shield with the falcon crest up to him and helped strap it tight.
“And what are my chances of talking my king out of such an action?” Marcus rubbed his bald head as he looked around the ground for an answer he knew he would not find. Mikhail was older than he, over sixty winters, he did not belong in the field.
“None, Chancellor Mederris.” Mikhail accepted
his crowned helm of shining steel, his battle crown that he had fought so many wars with, it brought back memories of his youth as he placed it firmly on his head.
“You realize the peril this places you in then? You will surely be targeted on sight. You should---“
“Marcus, enough. My son is in there, my only son. I cannot sit back and watch and command others to save him. If all eyes are upon me from Johnas, then one of the three fronts should be able to penetrate, while our two brave scouts rescue Bryant from inside. It is foolish, dangerous, and a risk. Yet if it were your only living son of three, your only surviving blood relative, and all you had left, I would question you not, should you lead the charge, and I would follow you. Please do the same for your king.”
Mikhail took the banner of Chazzrynn as his squire unfurreled it, and he stared at the sky blue cloth, the golden tassles, and the noble black falcon crest as it hung in the morning air. He watched as riders left the north gates with Willborne banners, other riders on fast steeds went both directions in and out of Valhirst, and the west gates of Castle Valhera opened slowly before him.
Johnas Valhera is scrambling, he thought. Good.
“Sire, should we not intercede on all these messengers? It could be advantageous to cut his contacts.” General Fandruss mounted as did the other noble lords upon seeing the portcullis open and the Valhera banners raise from the battlements.
“No. Our scouts have seen no force within a days hard ride and his dealings with Willborne do not concern me. Let him squirm and twist, let him cry out for help. All that matters, is now. I need every man we have, no distractions.”
Four black steeds rode out from under the hanging bodies upon Castle Valhera, four riders galloped to the halfway point between the walls and the hill over the field where king Mikhail stood with his forces. He watched as the riders stopped and waited for him.
“Marcus, Aelaine, and Lord Corey, with me. General, form the men.” Mikhail spurred his steed, he heard the affirmation of his orders, and four went to meet four on the fields of Valhirst.
