Lauriston, supposedly the empire’s greatest marshal, had failed before. He would fail again.
He shook his head to try to rid his mind of the thoughts. His horse trotted onwards. His men followed him as always.
They trusted him. They would follow any order he gave.
But Lauriston didn’t always have the answers.
He’d led thousands of men to their death throughout numerous wars. The wars and battles flashed across his thoughts.
The Moradan Campaign. Battles in the swamps against insurgents. Disorganized but savage. Months of death tolls too high to count and nothing gained.
The Three Bridges of Brun. Sorcery and destruction. The drowning of thousands of Erlonians under Lauriston’s command. The great Erlonian army broken on the banks of the Brunian Riversea.
The end of the empire. Emperor Lannes’s capture and exile. It was all Lauriston’s fault.
Lannes was brilliant. Lannes was unbeatable.
His fall had been Lauriston’s fault.
The Southern Campaign had been Lauriston’s plan. He’d orchestrated it. He’d assumed the Kurakin would never join the Coalition. He’d been the one to never plan for fighting mammoths on cold ice fields.
Lauriston had been the one to split up from Lannes during the retreat back to the safety of the north. He was the reason Lannes was separate from the army and vulnerable to capture when the Lainians betrayed him.
How different would the wars with the Coalition have been if Lauriston hadn’t been the second-in-command? Would the empire still be strong if Lannes had trusted someone else?
Lauriston couldn’t shake the doubts, but he forced himself to hold strong to his plan for Elisa and his men. He kept the nose of his horse pointed north. He weaved through the trees and tried not to think about the Scythes behind them or the Horde army just to the west or the mistakes of his past that had cost so many lives.
Lauriston nodded to himself. He was making the right decision. He was going to lead the group to safety. He was going to make up for his mistakes and get Lannes’s daughter to safety. Then he was going to somehow save Erlon and turn this war around.
Or else it was all hopeless and Lauriston’s mistakes had already doomed them all to fall with the empire, and Erlon would be no more.
* * *
They stopped for a quick break at midday. Quatre handed out hardtack for lunch and Lauriston walked among the men and made sure they had enough water and that their horses were well.
The actions were a welcome distraction from his doubts and him second-guessing the group’s course.
When they started down the path again, Mon fell in beside Lauriston at the front of the group.
“Not sure what I’ll do when this runs out.” Mon took a swig from his ever-present bottle of wine. He held his reins in one hand and the bottle in the other.
“Lodi brought a few more for you,” Lauriston said. He smiled over at his old friend.
The thought of a general drinking while on campaign would’ve been ludicrous back at the height of the empire’s military strength. But Mon wasn’t a normal general and this was a strange and desperate war.
And besides, Mon had a good excuse for his vice. Lauriston knew that better than most.
“I’m going slow, trying to make each bottle last,” Mon said. “I was trying to drink less anyway, so this is a good excuse to taper back.” Mon chuckled and took another swig.
“It’s fine. You kept Elisa safe and got her to us. As long as you’re sober enough to fight for her if it comes to that.” Lauriston smiled again at the old man. “I think your return to the army has been quite successful so far, don’t you?”
Mon laughed and shook his head. “I wouldn’t call it a return.”
“What else would you call it?”
Mon waved his bottle around in front of him and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. But I was happily retired until the empire fell apart. I enjoyed farming.”
Lauriston raised an eyebrow. “Did you now?”
“It was quiet.”
Lauriston kept his eyebrow raised.
Mon looked at him. “And terribly boring.” A smile broke through the old man’s scowl. He nodded. “It’s good to be back.”
“Good to have you back, General.”
The two rode in silence for a long while. The group behind them was mainly silent as well. Lauriston had scouts out in front and to the west to spot any approaching enemies or danger. It would’ve been fine for the group to be as loud as they wanted.
But the days on the trail were starting to wear on everyone. Most kept their heads down and focused on their horse and the path.
“We should go rescue him.” Mon’s gruff voice cut through the silence of the afternoon forest.
“What?”
Lauriston had been thinking through everything that could go wrong the farther north he pushed the group. His doubts were a rising tide still and he struggled to keep them back when the trail was silent and he was allowed to think.
“We could go east,” Mon said. “Sneak over the mountains and get to the coast. We could go rescue Lannes.”
Lauriston laughed. “We certainly could.”
The marshal’s imagination ran with the images of the troop trekking over the Antres Range and sneaking through Laine and Morada and stealing a ship to sail to Taul. He could picture the surprise on the emperor’s face when they broke through the main gate to set him free.
“That would be a story.” Mon took a long pull from his bottle. It was nearly half-empty now.
“I’m not sure what it would accomplish, though.” Lauriston reached up and scratched at the stubble on his chin.
Mon shrugged. “We’d all be together again.” He took another swig from his bottle and then offered some to Lauriston.
The marshal felt a twang of sadness at Mon’s words. He longed for a return to those days as well. The height of the empire, the entire northeastern part of the Continent under Erlonian control. It was all prosperity and military might with no other faction challenging Emperor Lannes and Marshal Lauriston at the head of a column of invincible soldiers.
That was all long gone now.
Lauriston reached over and took the bottle from Mon. He took a small sip and swished the liquid around in his mouth before letting it wash down his throat. He relished the burn and felt the world brighten in his eyes at the rush as it hit his stomach.
Mon’s eyebrows were almost to his hairline as Lauriston handed the bottle back. “I didn’t even think you liked wine.”
“That’s the most you’ll ever get me to drink while on campaign.” Lauriston smiled over at his old friend.
This conversation had been a welcome distraction for the marshal. He wondered if Mon had somehow sensed Lauriston needed someone to talk to.
“We’ll win this war,” Lauriston said. It felt good to say it out loud.
He turned to face forward again and kicked his horse a little faster up the trail. “We’ll save Erlon and keep Elisa safe. Then we’ll go get Lannes and return him to Plancenoit. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds like the perfect plan to me,” Mon said. He spurred his own horse faster to keep up with Lauriston.
The group behind them sped up as well and the entire troop of Lauriston’s Erlonians marched farther north on the path to safety and continuing this war to save the empire.
Pitt
Pitt squeezed his legs and pushed his horse up the final stretch of the hill. The view of the river and town opened up below him.
His men were already crossing the stone bridge and marching through the town. They passed under the spire to the Ascended One in the middle of the town’s square and moved out the road heading west, parallel to the river.
The Erlonians called this river the Branch and the town was called Neuse. Like most of what Pitt had seen of Erlon, the place would’ve been scenic if there wasn’t a war raging all around.
General Win rode up the hill and pulled his h
orse to stop next to Pitt.
“A glorious Ascension Day, sir.” Win tipped his plumed cavalry cap towards Pitt.
“It that today?” Pitt hadn’t thought about the day of the week or the specific date in a long time. It was late fall in terms of the campaign season and that was all that mattered. “I guess it is. Happy Ascension to you, Win.”
Win smiled and placed his hat back on his head. “The van is crossing now. We’ll assemble in those trees to the west before marching onward to the Broadwater.”
“Good.” Pitt nodded.
“My horses are already down the road. We’ll scout everything and hopefully find the last Erlonians soon.”
Pitt knew the Erlonians would be far away from here. The army could march west and find the Broadwater, but he didn’t expect Marshal Lauriston to be waiting around for them.
King Charles was moving too slow. Pitt would have to wait for him every few days. The king was giving the enemy too much time to regroup and flee on their own soil. Pitt wouldn’t be surprised if they never found the Erlonian army. Or the Kurakin would defeat them first. The Horde had already taken Plancenoit, so it was only a matter of time before they surrounded the last marshal.
Pitt was going to return home with no glory won for his family. It didn’t matter what he did now, nothing would change.
Pitt hung his head and followed Win across the bridge with his men. They passed through the town and Pitt didn’t see a single Erlonian citizen in the stone houses. The land was deserted; all the people fled in the face of enemy armies approaching.
Pitt caught up with Win after supervising some of the crossing. They talked about their marching plans while they reached the road heading west at the edge of town. “We’ll leave part of the first brigade here to hold the crossing and wait for Charles to arrive.”
“Any idea when that will be?” Win flicked his reins to keep his horse on a straight path next to Pitt.
“He’ll arrive when he arrives, that’s all I know.” Pitt shook his head and rubbed his forehead with a calloused hand. “All we can do is be a good vanguard for him. Let’s find the Erlonians to the west, if they’re out there. If not, we’ll surround the forest and hope to trap them.”
Win nodded. “I’ll find them, sir.” He saluted and kicked his horse into a trot and moved around the marching soldiers in front of Pitt to head off to the west.
Pitt slowed and turned his horse to look back at the town and the rest of his part of the army crossing the river into central Erlon. They’d made it; they’d conquered all the way to the center of the great enemy empire.
Pitt didn’t feel like he’d accomplished anything.
This was a moment the Coalition had been striving to achieve for a decade. King Charles should be at the front here. It should be a glorious joint achievement, on Ascension Day no less.
Instead, there was a sinking feeling in Pitt’s chest. A despair pulling him down because he knew that no matter what he did, no matter how the rest of the war turned out, he’d return home as a land general to a maritime nation with no glorious victories to call his own.
Pitt’s conquering army continued to march through the deserted town. He’d continue leading them west and follow the Wahrian King’s orders. Maybe he’d get lucky and find Marshal Lauriston and be able to fight the Erlonians in open battle. Maybe he’d get lucky enough to die a hero’s death.
Pitt was starting to consider that kind of death a better option than returning home with nothing.
He sighed and turned his horse back to the west and away from the town he’d never see again. He had work to do and men to oversee. He shook the despair from his mind and pressed on like a good soldier should.
Chapter 13
I stand before you overlooking the greatest nation on the Continent, the greatest empire since the Ascended One’s own. Yet, there is still more to conquer. There are more glorious heights for Erlon to scale.
Emperor Lannes’s Ascension Day Speech
Plancenoit, Year 1113 Post-Abandonment
Elisa
Elisa couldn’t help but keep thinking about how Erlon was already defeated.
It was a horrible thought, she knew, especially for the heir to the once-great empire.
But how could she avoid it?
She rode with the soldiers every day and got to know both the officers and the soldiers under them. She sparred with Lodi and learned more about the Lakmian style of fighting and practiced some sword techniques that would be useful when it came to battle with the Kurakin.
The officers were happy, it seemed. They joked with Mon and told old stories and Lodi played pranks almost daily. Lauriston kept the men well organized but content. It was like her father’s old army, just on a smaller scale.
There was camaraderie here. There was an unimaginable hope and confidence in the future from these soldiers. They were going to fight onward, just like her father would. No one else seemed to be dwelling on the fact that it was already over for their empire.
Elisa couldn’t avoid the dire thoughts, though.
Her father was in exile. Her mother had abandoned them and disappeared. All that was left was Marshal Lauriston leading this small group of stoic soldiers and whatever army waited for them in the north and east.
Elisa was the heir and was still alive, but what could she possibly do? She was a fourteen-year-old girl who’d been left by her parents. She wasn’t a soldier, no matter how much practice time she had with Lodi.
Elisa looked up the line of soldiers in front of her. They’d just finished a short break for lunch and now pressed on for the afternoon. Light stretched the canopy above them and lit the path Lauriston still had the group following.
All these soldiers had broken away from the main army to come and rescue her. Marshal Lauriston himself had stopped a campaign with his army against the Coalition and led the group personally.
It was because she was the heir. She was Lannes’s daughter, true, but Elisa had never felt like a leader of the empire. She’d never felt like an empress when her father was running things. As a little girl, she might have felt like a princess at the height of her father’s power.
But now, with the empire on its last leg? She felt like nothing but a scared teenage girl running through the woods.
So why did these men smile at her and work so hard to protect her? Why were they ready to give their lives for her when she had nothing to offer in return? Why did Marshal Lauriston look at her with a distant hope in his eyes and the determination of the entire empire?
“I just realized it’s Ascension Day.”
The voice brought Elisa out of her thoughts. She turned to see Lodi riding next to her once again.
“Is it really?” she said. The question did a nice job of pushing away Elisa’s negative thoughts. It replaced those thoughts with happy memories of Ascension Days past. “My father always liked Ascension Day.”
“Oh, I remember, Princess.” Lodi smiled widely. “That was always a fun time to be a soldier. Especially if we were back in Plancenoit.”
“Lakmians celebrate the Ascension?” Elisa knew the Lakmians had their own religion and worshiped their own gods separate from the Ascended One.
Lodi tilted his head back and forth as if to say it was complicated. “Those of us who fought for your father did. But you’re correct, we have our own gods that we worship. Old beings who walked the Continent long before your Ascended general rose to glory.”
That’s what Elisa thought she remembered learning. She couldn’t remember many details about the Lakmian religion, but Lodi didn’t give her a chance to ask further questions on the topic.
“Your father would let the army feast on Ascension Day,” the Lakmian said. “The barracks chefs would pull out all the stops for the soldiers.”
“It was wonderful.”
Both Elisa and Lodi turned in their saddles to find Quatre behind them. The man had his eyes closed, imagining the large feast back in the Erlonian capital. Elisa had to s
tifle a laugh at how joyous and satisfied Quatre’s face looked.
“The feasts were grand, I remember them in the palace,” Elisa said. “Father would work most other holidays, but this one he spent with us, mother and I. Unless he was writing his speech.”
“Ah, the speeches.” Lodi’s smile grew to match Quatre’s. “They were wonderful. Even if we didn’t have an active war going, every soldier in the army would want to charge through the stones of the Antres Mountains themselves for your father afterwards.”
Elisa remembered marveling at her father’s way with words even as a child. His ability to inspire the people of the empire. His ability to lead. It was something she still hadn’t mastered, or even come close to understanding.
Her doubts about her capability for leadership came back in a rush, like a gust of wind. She had to fight to dampen them as she worried about tearing up on the trail. She didn’t want these brave soldiers around her to see her cry.
Why was she acting like this?
She had other things to worry about. More important and short-term things, like the enemy Scythes chasing them and the Kurakin army invading her homeland.
Elisa told herself to focus on that problem and nothing else. She repeated it in her mind over and over until the doubts went back to the edges of her mind.
“The Ascension Day the year before Three Bridges was the best,” Quatre said. His eyes were still closed in memory.
“That was the last grand feast we had,” Lodi said.
The Lakmian’s words didn’t dampen Quatre’s mood. “There was boar and pheasant and great big steaks.”
“There was a beet salad too, if I remember.”
Quatre’s eyes finally opened, but just long enough to scowl at Lodi. Elisa held in her laughter as the Lakmian gave her a quick wink before letting Quatre continue with his daydream about celebrations past.
This company and conversation helped Elisa keep her doubts at bay. They continued talking and reminiscing for the rest of the afternoon and the group made good time heading north. Lauriston seemed pleased by the time they stopped for the evening.
The Fall of Erlon Page 15
