The Fall of Erlon

by Robert H Fleming

  The tall general standing to the right of the king’s chair nodded. “The men are ready, Your Highness,” the general said.

  Charles received his next piece of chicken. This breast piece proved much messier for the king’s evening jacket than the leg.

  Pitt looked from General Lukas to the king and the rest of the room. He wanted to tell them again how pointless this attack would be, how many men would be lost against the high walls of the non-strategic city.

  He passed a hand back through his hair and chewed the side of his mouth. Charles had final say over this two-nation army and he wanted the city. His generals would do or say anything to please him.

  The king wanted glory. Even if that glory was pointless.

  Pitt left the meeting in a foul mood. He remounted his horse and moved back through the Wahrian camp. He splashed back over the stream and reached his own camp in what felt like no time at all as his mind swirled with thoughts and helplessness.

  They’d take the city. There weren’t enough Erlonian defenders to hold an attack for long. But they’d lose many men in the process. And they’d lose very precious time for this campaign.

  Reports were already putting the Kurakin at Plancenoit. The southern part of the Coalition was going to take the capital. They were going to be seated in the palace and ruling over the larger part of Erlon. All while the Wahrian king threw men at the wall of a pointless northern city.

  Pitt ducked under a low branch on his path and continued towards the flicking lights of fires in the Brunian camp. He nudged his horse into a slightly faster trot.

  Pitt understood what King Charles was doing. He’d been humiliated by the emperor. He’d been thoroughly outsmarted in multiple wars and lost his throne. Charles had overseen the first Wahrian capital to be occupied in centuries, and he’d done it in embarrassing fashion.

  But now Charles was back. And there was an opening to take a city Emperor Lannes was famous for taking during the Erlonian consolidation. Charles could take the city and then say he conquered the same city as the infamous Lannes. He could finally say he was equal with the emperor.

  The king was saving face where it didn’t matter.

  Pitt shook his head and muttered something under his breath he wouldn’t want the king to overhear.

  Pitt’s horse came out of the trees and moved along the edge of his Brunian camp. Some of the Brunian soldiers were sitting outside their tents. They stood up as their general passed by them and saluted and Pitt nodded and touched the tip of his hat in return.

  Pitt’s tent was in the center of camp near a fire pit. It was the same size as the others and a far cry from the giant pavilion of the Wahrian king on the other side of the forest.

  Pitt found a group of his officers waiting for him.

  “Sir,” Win said, taking off his plumed cavalry hat. The other officers stepped up behind him.

  Pitt let out a heavy breath before beginning. “The attack will move forward. There’s no swaying the Wahrians.”

  He saw one of the officers spit into the mud at his own feet but let it pass.

  “We’re to barrage from the south. Luckily, the Wahrians will be the ones attacking. Our side will be a decoy.”

  A few of the officers nodded their heads at this.

  “I still want us to be ready. If we’re needed as reserve, I want us to be quick.”

  Nods came from the circle of men.

  “General Smith, I want pickets out in full force in front of your cannons. No sallying force will get through our side. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” the artillery officer said.

  “My men are scouting the forest paths as well, sir,” Win, the cavalry officer, said.

  General Win was a stiff man. The bright colors and flamboyant decorations of the cavalry uniform seemed to wear him instead of the other way around. But he was dependable and a great fighter.

  “Good.” Pitt looked around at the group again. He was the commanding general of this army but felt like he controlled nothing. Everything depended on the Wahrian king lounging and feasting in his tent on the other side of the army. “Gentlemen, you are responsible for your own pickets. The attack begins tomorrow, be sure your lines aren’t compromised in the night. You’re dismissed. General Win, wait a moment, we need to speak in private.”

  Win nodded. The other officers left and walked off into the camp.

  “Sir.” Win stood at attention, the white plume from his hat swaying in the nighttime breeze.

  “The forest is dense south of here,” Pitt said. “This attack will slow us down, but I want us ready to move once the city is taken.”

  “Yes, sir.” As usual, Win knew the orders before they were fully given.

  “Find us the best path south. I want us Brunians to be the van once the city is taken. I mean to move as far south as possible. We’ll be the ones who find the remaining Erlonian armies.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Win was dismissed and rode into the night with his men. Pitt was left alone. The sounds of the camp slowed as the soldiers found sleep. The next day would bring the rumble of battle and Pitt knew he needed rest. It would be hard to come by, but he forced himself into bed and let his thoughts and worries rage at the back of his eyelids until slumber finally took him deep into the night.

  Chapter 3

  Nothing will get accomplished when two or more diplomats are gathered in the same place. If the diplomatic number rises above ten, progress will prove extremely elusive.

  Maxims of State, Entry Three

  Emperor Gerald Lannes

  Elisa

  Elisa felt the cool breeze moving between the trees of the forest. It felt nice against the thickness of her coat. It threatened to calm her and would’ve succeeded if not for the persistent raging of her thoughts.

  Midday was fast approaching. She’d bagged two rabbits in the early hours and seen nothing else. It was as if the forest animals knew an army of evil was close by and the land was now dangerous.

  The animals had vacated their normal homes. Elisa wondered if she should do the same.

  She continued her walk back towards the farm, her eyes at the ground and her mind lost in thought. She knew this forest by heart now, every tall pine and wide oak and thick bush full of thorns.

  She could turn and run from it all. This was on the northern side of Mon’s land and she could just as easily turn around and flee. The rabbits hanging from her belt bumping against her legs would serve for her first few meals out on her own. She could hunt and kill more food.

  She could survive.

  A few days ago, the Lakmian vision on the hilltop overlooking Plancenoit had made it sound like such a simple task. Elisa looked around at the woods and wished the Lakmian would appear again.

  The farm was still about a mile away through the low hills. This was plenty of space for her mind to roam. Her thoughts often behaved the same as Elisa’s body and wandered in random directions.

  Today, Elisa’s focus was on the god who’d appeared to her. He’d told her to flee. He’d said the farm wasn’t safe. And that the Kurakin were looking for her.

  As if in answer to her thoughts, a low rumble echoed from the west.

  Plancenoit. Her home. Still under siege and soon to fall.

  But even when it fell, would the Horde find her here? The vision had said they would, but should she trust a strange Lakmian who could appear out of thin air to her in the woods?

  Elisa knew what her mother would say. Epona had told Elisa to never trust visions and dreams. Even if the Ascended One himself spoke from the heavens, it should be met with caution.

  The princess had never had reason to consider that advice until now.

  But her mother wasn’t here. The sorceress had abandoned Elisa. She hadn’t returned from the campaign in the south. The stories and rumors said she’d not returned to her father either and had betrayed the empire. Some said her disappearance led directly to her father’s capture and exile.

  Elisa did
n’t want to believe it. Something must’ve happened to her mother. She wouldn’t abandon her family.

  But sorceresses made their own rules. History had shown that time and time again, most recently through Elisa’s Aunt Thirona’s actions against the Erlonians at the Battle of Three Bridges.

  Elisa also knew of her mother’s history before coming to Erlon to marry her father. The stories were unavoidable and scandalous. Her time with the Wahrian king in the east…

  Elisa didn’t want to think on it. Her thoughts wanted to wander to dark places and she wouldn’t let them.

  She crested a low rise and dropped down into a creek bed. The trickle of water in the ditch would lead her back to Mon’s field.

  She reached down and adjusted her belt and made sure the rabbits were still tied on tight before continuing beside the water. Her hand brushed the silver of one of her pistols. It was cold from the morning air, but Elisa felt a peace run up her arm.

  The weapons had been a gift from her father. A pair of silver pistols engraved with the Erlonian imperial seal. Forged using her mother’s magic.

  Elisa moved her hand away from the pistol. She reached for her sword and drew it instead. The weapon felt light in her hand and took her mind away from her mother.

  The pistol’s peace had been fleeting. Practicing with the sword would do a better job of easing her thoughts.

  She spun the blade vertically to the right of her body and pivoted her feet in the creek bed’s clay. The steps of her exercises from the palace’s sword master came back to her easily enough. She spun and thrust and parried with an invisible enemy.

  Her mind went numb and focused on the movements and nothing else. It was a great escape from her worries.

  She completed the training combination with a thrust forward and her blade almost hummed in the air.

  More rumbling came from the west. It was deep and felt like it was underneath the ground at her feet.

  Elisa sheathed her sword and continued down the creek bed towards the farm.

  The questions came back to her mind immediately.

  Should she follow the Lakmian vision’s advice and flee the farm? Should she leave Mon and the farmhands and go?

  Or was she crazy and only seeing visions in the forest?

  Even if she was going insane, what was her reason for staying on the farm?

  The palace guard had told her to come here and she followed their orders. But the palace was about to fall and Elisa’s home was about to be destroyed. The farmer Mon was in charge, but Elisa didn’t much trust him, especially after a bottle or two of his wine.

  She should leave.

  That was her most persistent thought now. She should run.

  More cannon fire echoed from the horizon, but this time farther north. Were there more battles north of Plancenoit? Were the other armies of the enemy Coalition encircling central Erlon?

  More and more questions appeared any time Elisa thought she made a decision. If she ran north now, she might be running directly into more enemies.

  She continued south towards the farm and fingered the imperial seal pressed into the silver and fell deeper into her thoughts. Gabriel might talk to her about this, he might help. But she’d have to explain her real identity to him.

  Gabriel had been nice to her and was one of the main reasons she’d tolerated being on the farm for so long. Even with her identity a secret, though, Elisa still wasn’t allowed to have these common-girl hopes and dreams. She wasn’t allowed to fall for a farmhand. Especially with a war raging across her country.

  She should run.

  She should stay; the Horde wouldn’t find her here.

  No answers came to Elisa as the creek bed died and the forest fell away to farmland.

  Elisa didn’t stop walking south. Montholon worked hard despite his drinking and did provide for her. There was never a shortage of food on the farm despite the rations from the war.

  The first field she came to was winter wheat that had only just been planted. She found the path around the side of the field and moved towards the sound of work from the far end.

  Mon and the farmhands were starting on the tilling of the next field. Elisa tightened the belt knot holding the rabbits as she moved towards them.

  Gabriel was the first to notice her approach. He stood from his work and smiled at her. “Only two then?”

  The other farmhands laughed.

  “Hard to hunt with cannons nearby.” Mon pulled the ox to a stop and hopped off the tiller and gave Elisa a smile before throwing a glare at the farmhands.

  “Hard to harvest wheat, too,” Gabriel said.

  Mon had sweat on his brow despite the coolness of the fall morning. He wiped it on his sleeve and pulled a flask from his pocket for a drink. He chose to ignore Gabriel’s comment but pointed for the farmhand to take control of the ox-driven tiller.

  “See anything unusual in the forest?”

  Elisa froze for the briefest of moments and thought Mon meant another vision. But she quickly realized he meant in regards the Horde army.

  “No, nothing,” Elisa said. “Most of the animals have cleared out.”

  “Makes sense. War does that to a forest. It’s a shame, really.” Mon wiped his brow again and turned to look at the farmhands at work with the dirt.

  Elisa watched the light wind blow through tops of the trees on the edge of the clearing and didn’t say anything.

  “At least you got two.” Mon took another pull from the flask.

  Elisa nodded. “I’ll clean them and put the pelts with the others.”

  Mon nodded but didn’t return to his work. Elisa stayed put and waited for the farmer to say something else.

  “Plancenoit won’t last much longer,” the old farmer said.

  The low rumbling was now constant in the distance. Mon stared at the far side of the clearing in the west. Elisa didn’t have a response to his statement.

  Mon’s smile was gone. “If you want to talk about anything, let me know.”

  Elisa was taken aback by the kindness in Mon’s eyes. There was the usual drunken shakiness, but that now gave way slightly to an emotion Elisa hadn’t seen in Mon before.

  Maybe she should open up to him more. Maybe it would be good for her to talk through her emotions from all that had happened to her family and country instead of hiking and hunting alone in the woods.

  Maybe that was a decent idea.

  Instead, Elisa only nodded. “Okay.”

  She wasn’t sure talking with a farmer would make her feel much better. She longed for her friends back at court in the palace. But the rumbling from the siege told her they would be far away from here or trapped on the wrong side of the battle.

  She wanted to talk to her father. He would be much better than a drunk farmer. He was clear on the other side of the world, though, with a cold sea in between them as well.

  Elisa was stuck here.

  Mon looked away from her and drank one last time from his flask before returning it to his pocket. “Those rabbit pelts will be good come winter.”

  Elisa didn’t respond. She watched him move back across the dirt and resume his place on top of the tiller.

  She was about to continue on to the farmhouse but stopped when she heard the sounds of a horse. The men in the field heard it too and the ox was hauled to a stop.

  Galloping.

  Mon shielded his eyes against the sun in the direction of the noise. The rider came around the corner on the path and made straight for their location at a frantic pace.

  “A rider,” Mon said. “From the village.”

  The rider reined his mount to a halt but didn’t dismount. He was out of breath when he spoke.

  “The Horde have breached the wall. Plancenoit will fall.”

  Mon dropped from the tiller again. “Are you sure?”

  “News came this morning, they’re in the city.”

  Elisa knew it had to be true no matter how much she wished it wasn’t. There had barely been any s
oldiers left in the city when she’d left for Mon’s farm months ago. She was surprised the city had lasted this long.

  “Thank you.” Mon pulled his flask out again.

  The rider nodded and rode off.

  Mon looked towards Elisa. “Let’s hope he’s right,” he said. His voice was low and didn’t inspire confidence.

  Elisa met his eye and felt the questions of the moment run through her again. This would be her time to flee before the Kurakin realized she wasn’t in the palace. This was the time to take the Lakmian vision’s advice.

  But she shouldn’t trust visions.

  Her mother’s voice echoed in her head. The voice of the same mother who’d abandoned her and her father.

  Mon turned to the farmhands. “We’re done for the day. We’ll need to hide some of our stores in case the Horde comes through here.”

  The men nodded and began gathering up their things. Elisa couldn’t help but notice the quick glance Mon gave towards her at the mention of the Horde coming to the farm.

  Her thoughts raced and she felt overwhelmed. She didn’t know what she wanted to do, what she needed to do.

  There was still rumbling in the distance as the final cannon shots were fired at her old home.

  Elisa walked back to the farm with the group. No one said much and Elisa’s mind wandered in all directions.

  There were multiple paths in front of her.

  And she didn’t know which she wanted to take.

  Rapp

  The great leaders of the Coalition against the Erlonian Empire descended on the capital of Wahring and gathered atop the heights of the royal plateau to decide the fate of the Continent.

  Ambassadors from Morada and Brun and Vith and Laine and all the other factions arrived to much fanfare. Brun brought their sorceress Thirona. The Tribune of the Ascended One’s Legion arrived a day before the summit began. Even the Kurakin sent a representative that spoke the northern language and seemed familiar with northern customs.

  Queen Caroline pulled out all the best finery to decorate the palace. Rapp’s childhood home, the palace of his great ancestors, looked absolutely wonderful.