12. ARTHAN
Rachard Castle, Delavon Ministry
Midspring, 3034
“Surely there is no finer setting for an Empire Alliance Council,” Arthan whispered as he looked around the great hall of the castle. Nearly every chair was full and many more people were standing.
“It will be ugly,” Medoff whispered back.
“Even so, I’ve never seen such a collection of foreign dignitaries.”
“A collection of windbags. You’ll see many more in Eglamour, my lord.”
“Quiet,” Alfrem hissed.
Arthan was excited to see all the delegations settling in. Maillard presided over the assembly at one end of the hall on a raised dais. Ambassadors from the Almerian Confederation, Rugen Empire, Calbrian Empire, Kingdom of Austveeden, Kingdom of Donovan, and the Empire of Ovelia were seated at long tables, their translators and other members of their entourages clustered around them. Arthan, Bardil, Medoff, Alfrem, and more of his father’s counselors were seated beside the dais with a perfect view of the speaking floor and the whole hall beyond.
“How long will it last?” Bardil asked.
“Days. Hours,” Alfrem whispered. “Depends on who wants what and how desperately.”
Arthan looked toward the Donovard delegation. “Why would the king choose Meltres to represent our kingdom?”
“Haughty, rude, witless,” Alfrem whispered. “Exactly the emissary the king would choose if he cared nothing for the alliance. Officially, your father is mediator and host. But in truth, the task of saving the alliance—or at least averting war—is squarely on Maillard’s shoulders.”
Maillard opened the council by thanking the six ambassadors for traveling to Rachard. He gave each one the opportunity to make an opening speech. The Almerians went first. They wanted to keep the current state of the alliance, unstable though it was. This notion irked the other delegations, their faces already sour.
After some tense but cordial discussion, Maillard isolated one of the issues. “Regarding the islands,” he began, “could the Almerian Confederation concede that they lie in Pemonian waters and that Pemonian kingdoms have legitimate claim to them dating back to the founding of said kingdoms?”
“They lie in close waters, yes,” the Almerian ambassador said through a translator. “But we have owned those islands since before a single Pemonian kingdom existed. We’ve served as guardians of—”
“Oppressor!” shouted the Rugen ambassador, a pale-faced woman with sharp eyes.
Maillard jumped in again to stave off further tension. “Thank you, and can the Almerians agree that their occupation of said islands is a source of strain between the peoples of the two continents? A disagreement that should be resolved peacefully?”
“Our confederation holds the islands as safe harbors for trade and bases for hunting the pirates that threaten all our merchant vessels,” the translator said. “And multiple Pemonian kingdoms claim them. Thus, by holding them for all, we help to prevent war.”
“Convenient excuse!” blurted the Calbrian ambassador. “Faukshal and Hildegad, Delnollen and Mollering…All of these islands belong to Calbria!”
“Delnollen and Mollering are within twenty and forty marqs of Donovan,” Meltres protested. “They have been and should be part of our kingdom!”
“My lords,” Maillard said, “can the confederation at least acknowledge Donovan’s historical claim to these islands, in the hopes of negotiating a settlement?”
“In return for what?”
“Continued support for the Empire Alliance, from which we all benefit,” Maillard said.
“Benefit?” The Rugen ambassador stood from her chair. “There is no benefit to this alliance. It is a relic from the days when our kingdoms were weak and the Almerians were strong. We cling needlessly to a treaty that is naught but dusty rubbish!”
“Ovelia has never been weak in the face of Almerians,” the Ovelian ambassador said through a translator. “In the Arukan tradition, we stood alone until joining this endeavor, merely to attempt peace with Calbria. A peace repeatedly broken by the Calbrians with invasion and intrigue. Ovelia will support the Almerian Confederation if it agrees to help dismantle the evil Calbrians and exclude them from trade within the Alliance.”
The great hall erupted with shouting. Members of several delegations moved to cross the floor with fists raised, their swords having been surrendered outside, before being forced back by Rachard guards.
It was not the council of diplomacy Arthan had imagined. It seemed that every king and emperor had chosen hot-tempered men and women to represent their interests. In that moment Arthan realized how unique his father was.
“My lords, please!” Maillard shouted above the din. He was standing now, almost begging the delegations. He spoke again when they had settled enough to hear. “For me it’s clear. The old treaty governing the Empire Alliance is now untenable, and I hope the Almerian Confederation can agree to amendments. The modern Pemonian kingdoms are not the original New World societies that signed the first treaty. There were nine original signatories, today consolidated into six kingdoms and empires. To say nothing of the free city-states that dot this continent. To ignore this present reality is supreme folly.”
“We can accept some amendments, if our demands are met in turn,” the Almerian ambassador said.
“Very good.” Maillard nodded. “Perhaps we’ll turn away from the question of the islands for now and discuss the sea. We can all appreciate that the Almerians, with their larger navy, have been the primary reason that piracy is more limited in every major waterway from Almeria in the north, through Middlesea, to Pemonia in the south. The sea is kept open for—”
“But the Almerians control the routes and tonnages all the same,” said the Rugen ambassador. “And they restrict the size of our fleets and control ports like Durgensdil that are rightfully ours.”
“Ambassador Vesamune, Durgensdil will never be Rugen,” Meltres interrupted. “It is in Alpenon Ministry and will always be part of Donovan.”
Vesamune steamed. “We’ll no longer be part of any treaty that denies Durgensdil’s rightful place in the Rugen Empire!”
“My lords and ladies, we must remain focused, for the sake of peace,” Maillard said. “This council has been called to address the alliance, not the claims between Calbria and Ovelia, or between Rugenhav and Donovan, or between anyone. Now, could the Almerian Confederation agree to open the sea routes and relinquish control over certain ports in Pemonia? In return, the kingdoms could grant you free access to said ports, along with shouldering more of the burden of chasing pirates.”
“Why should our empire ask theirs for space upon the wide sea?” the Calbrians asked.
The Almerian ambassador stood. “Because our navy is superior to any crew you might muster from your soggy, disjointed lands, cobbled together as they were from realms you dare to call an empire.” The Calbrian ambassador jumped to his feet, quivering to think up a response. But the Almerian continued. “And piracy? They’d infest every sea and route and harbor in Pemonia if we relented. Half your ports would be havens within the year.”
“Release the city-states!” the Donovards cried.
“Abolish the payments made to faraway crowns,” the Austveedes said.
“The islands!”
“Durgensdil!”
Maillard attempted to quell the room but it was the Almerians that got the delegations’ attention.
“If the treaty dissolves, our confederation will shut down the trade of your entire continent. We’ll release all pirates into your waters and not a single Pemonian ship will visit a Middlesea port without confiscation ever again. And not only will our confederation keep the islands, city-states, and ports, but we’ll expand our holdings!”
The hall erupted.
“Just as I said,” Medoff shouted as he waved for more guards. “Now it’s too much.” The general jumped from his seat and went to help contain the
chaos himself.
“Do not abandon an imperfect treaty of long peace for hasty war!” Maillard shouted from the dais.
But it was no use. Arthan and Bardil watched Maillard join Medoff in the throng, trying to talk down the delegations face to face. After much effort, he convinced all of them to retire for the day.
---
“Utterly intractable,” Maillard said, exasperated. Arthan had never seen his father complain like this. His counselors nodded in agreement as the fire burned low in the hearth. “Their bickering is childish, incessant, as if they—”
“Want to see it fail,” Medoff said.
“I’m afraid the general is right,” Alfrem said. “I had hoped there would be common ground to build on. But now that I’ve heard these ambassadors, well, I fear the kingdoms smell opportunity in forcing the Almerians to withdraw from Pemonia. And they’re not wrong. Control of the free city-states alone will swell the coffers of any king.”
“But for how long?” Maillard said. “The Empire Alliance should not end this way. War will be certain. No kingdom, no province will escape it.”
“Perhaps we’ll emerge stronger, Father,” Arthan said.
“But at what price, Arthan?”
Everyone was quiet for a moment, then Alfrem spoke up. “My lord, if you were king of Donovan, peace would be possible. But as long as Erech or his brothers are on the throne, peace will only be an unlikely accident.”
“I agree,” Medoff said. “Pemonia would be different if the House of Valient still ruled the realm.”
“Those days are long over,” Maillard said, waving his hand dismissively. “Whatever we may think of Erech, he is still the king and we owe him our allegiance.”
“Less and less, I think,” Alfrem said quietly. “Brugarn, Chaultion, Asteroth, and Erath. All of them usurp the king by day and rule the night.”
“Where is Serdot?” Maillard asked. “I’ve spent all evening speaking in private with each ambassador. I want to know what they are saying when I’m not with them. Tomorrow may be our last chance at this.”
“Here, my lord.” Serdot stepped into the room with a stack of reports. Arthan was glad to see him, but none of Maillard’s counselors bothered to greet him. “These are what I’ve gathered from talking with our servant-scouts. Mostly petty nonsense. They can only overhear so much without looking suspicious.”
Maillard gave the reports a cursory glance. “Then what else do you have for me?”
“Two things. First, the Rugens and Calbrians have every intention of wrecking the alliance. Ambassador Vesamune apparently has explicit orders from Emperor Theudamer himself.”
“That much is obvious…”
“Second, the Calbrians are considering abandoning tomorrow’s council before it begins, while the Rugens are considering killing the Almerian ambassador by dawn.”
“My God…” Alfrem muttered.
“Medoff, post extra guards at the Almerians’ quarters,” Maillard said. “And Alfrem, arrange for the Calbrian ambassador to break his night fast with me, so that I can convince him to stay a bit longer. Do you have any good news, Serdot?”
Serdot handed him a folded parchment and glanced at Arthan. “Another letter from Golbane, my lord. He’s a bit verbose, but the short of it is that things have not improved.”
Maillard read the note before passing it to Arthan.
Lord Minister Valient,
Please accept my apologies, Uncle, for the increasingly complicated situation in Mordmerg. What follows is the most complete report I have had the chance to write, and I request aid and reinforcements as they are available. Yourself, if possible.
I first received word of trouble in Mordmerg while at my residence in Brambard. It was an urgent letter from the free city’s alderman, Sir Hurmant, asking for our assistance. I left with a company of my knights and soldiers and found a dozen small fires burning across the city. The damage was not significant and there were no deaths. Our patrols did not uncover the culprits.
Keeping in mind your standing orders to be lenient in the city-state and defer to the local Almerian guards, I went to their garrison, since I had seen no guards on the streets. We found the door locked and no one answered our knocking. We became increasingly suspicious and finally broke down the door, whereupon we found the guards slaughtered, to a man. The garrison did not appear to be looted. Sir Hurmant later claimed to know nothing about it.
The following day the city was beset by riots, though it remains unclear why. If they had been rioting against the greedy Almerians, their deaths had not adequately sated the crowd. It was clearly something else. My knights had acted honorably since entering the gates, and there was no sign of anger against us, until suddenly the rioters turned like the wind. We sheltered at Hurmant’s tower keep.
And here we remain trapped. Of course, my men and I could escape but with it would require much bloodshed, so I appeal to you for guidance given the delicate situation. Some of the Donovard guards are still loyal to the alderman and agreed to carry this letter, but I would not trust them as escorts. Given your respected position, I believe only you can put these people at ease.
Your humble servant,
Count Golbane Valient
Mordmerg
“What is happening, Serdot?” Maillard asked.
“Hard to say without seeing it myself. Could be the Almerians giving us a taste of the rebellions they could foment if we try to take the islands or ports or city-states from them. But that wouldn’t explain the murder of their garrison. Alternatively, it could be the Rugens instigating rebellion. They’ve long prided themselves on their lack of free cities, having stamped them out years ago, and may seek to cause problems for us.
“Whatever the cause, I don’t think this disturbance is mere criminals. Nor is it coincidence with the timing of the Empire Alliance Council here in Rachard. Nor is it coincidence that the disturbance is in Mordmerg and not other city-states in Donovan.”
Arthan recalled Medoff’s initial belief that the events in Mordmerg were mere coincidence. The general now wore a frown but did not challenge Serdot’s speculation.
“What you say makes sense,” Maillard told Serdot. “And it’s very soon after Raymond’s death.”
“Yes, my lord. And interesting that Raymond’s family and the Valients are the only lord minister families that are not relatives of the king.”
“Bardil said the same thing,” Arthan said, wishing his little brother was present to hear his idea validated.
“Something else bothers me,” continued Serdot. “In his letter, Golbane requests that you go to Mordmerg to aid him. I don’t recall Golbane as someone who lacks the will to trample folk like rioters if he’s trapped with the alderman.”
“The count is quite right to ask for my guidance,” Maillard said. “He knows the free cities are a sensitive issue, especially now.”
“But to ask for you personally, my lord, when you have capable generals and commanders at your disposal?”
“A minor detail to me,” Maillard said. “More important is what to do about it.”
Medoff finally stirred. “It sounds to me like someone has stoked the people of Mordmerg into thinking they’re about to lose their free city. That simple. Nothing an additional troop of knights can’t extract Golbane from.”
“With respect, there is nothing simple about Mordmerg,” Serdot said. “It’s a place with a long, troubled history.”
“As you said, Serdot, you can’t know what is going on without being there yourself,” Maillard said. “Arthan will lead a company of soldiers to take care of this, and you’ll guide him. Arthan, take the Eighth Company, commanded by Sir Livonier. You’ll recall he has experience in the area.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Extract Golbane and return as quickly as possible,” Maillard said. “If the rioters want to kill their Almerian partners and Alderman Hurmant, so be it, it’s their city-state. It is not part of
our realm, so do not stay longer than absolutely necessary.”
“My lord, is he ready for this task?” Medoff asked.
Maillard looked at Arthan with pride. “He’s twenty now, Medoff. He fought bravely at the southern border when that Austveede baron got aggressive last year. He fought well when the Calbrians tested the Narendrabruk River the year prior. And he’ll have Serdot and Livonier.”
“I’m honored, Father.”
“And if we cannot extract Golbane, for whatever reason?” Serdot asked.
“Return with my son and my nephew, Serdot,” Maillard said. “As for you, Medoff, I want more Rachard guards in the great hall in the morning before one foreigner steps foot inside. Enough men to prevent the delegations from leaving their tables. If it all ends badly, protect each ambassador and escort them out.”
“Yes, my lord.”
13. RODEL
On the Road to Bredahade, Wallevet Ministry
Midspring, 3034
The cold rain glimmered as the clouds choked out the final rays of sunset. A black carriage with barred windows pushed through the rutty, puddle-pocked road. Four glum prisoners sat uncomfortably on their benches and watched the fading light outside. Hands bound in iron, they struggled to stay seated as the carriage bounced and jerked under them.
Rodel watched the rain seep between the slats. If only to be like water now, to infiltrate or escape through any possible space. It reminded him of his training back in Rugenhav, the whole reason for his presence in Donovan.
The horses became unsettled as thunder clapped nearby and wind pushed through the barred windows. The driver attempted to calm them as they came around a bend in the road. Rodel was not surprised that the Donovards plowed through the weather without stopping for shelter, given the sort of men who occupied the carriage with him. He wondered if the Donovards knew for sure who they had caught.
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