“No sign behind us yet.” The cavalry general spoke in a low voice, but Elisa was close enough to hear.
Lauriston nodded and said something, but Elisa lost the conversation.
At least that report was good news. Something positive for her mind to think on instead of the unknown of the future and the beasts that chased her and the men.
It was a distraction, but not a complete escape. Elisa stood away from the others and chewed on the dry biscuits. It was no use. Even after Mon’s encouraging words, she couldn’t hide from the feelings of overwhelming pressure.
Those feelings mixed with increased questions surrounding Mon’s past now. The darkness behind his eyes during their conversation that morning only made her questions more pressing. What in his past could’ve caused him to react that way to her doubts?
What happened to Mon during her father’s wars?
Elisa stepped away from her horse and put a big oak tree between herself and the group. The noise of the soldiers fell away. A cool breeze picked up and rustled the leaves on the forest floor.
Maybe practicing Lodi’s sword techniques would help ease her mind. It would be an action to keep her mind off everything that wouldn’t stop troubling her. She put her hand on her sword hilt.
“Mon’s right, you know.”
The voice startled her. Her blade came out in a flash and she pivoted instantly and pointed the sword at the source.
A figure stood and leaned against the large oak tree. It was the guide.
She’d forgotten about him in the rush of the recent events.
The vision held up his hands and smiled innocently.
“Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
“You startled me, that’s all.” Elisa sheathed her sword and stood there sheepishly.
“It’s okay.” The guide stood up straight off the tree and shrugged.
“Won’t they see you?” Elisa nodded back towards the group of soldiers only a few feet away from the other side of the oak.
“This tree’s pretty big. But I’ll make sure they can’t hear us talking. It’s just for a little bit.”
Elisa didn’t know how to respond. She tried to think back to the last time the Lakmian vision had appeared. Was he even real? Was she hallucinating from all the recent stress?
Last time, right before the fight for the Brunian, he’d told her things were about to change. He’d certainly been correct about that.
“Mon’s right.” The guide crossed his arms over his chest and talked calmly in a low voice. “You can’t dwell on the men lost. And shouldn’t overthink the pressure of your royal birth.”
The vision’s voice settled Elisa’s thoughts a bit. She felt the breeze blowing over the back of her neck and the air pent up in her lungs released slightly.
But she still had questions and doubts.
“That’s easy enough to say,” she said.
“That’s true.” The guide shrugged again. “You have more to give this world than you give yourself credit. Watch how the men treat you, how they look at you during hard times.”
Elisa could see some of the men eating and talking and feeding horses around the side of the oak. Many still nursed injuries, but all helped with the horses and seemed to be in good spirits.
“You give everyone something to fight for. You’re one of the only pillars of the empire left.” The guide uncrossed his arms and leaned back against the tree again. He pulled an apple from his pocket and took a carefree bite. “I know it’s hard and may seem unfair. But you can handle it.”
Elisa felt a little better. Her thoughts calmed, at least for the time being. She still had far too many questions, though.
“And listen to Mon,” the guide said through another bite of apple. “He’s a good man, good soldier. He’s a good friend.”
One question pushed itself up to the front of Elisa’s mind. The guide had already started to fade away. She didn’t have much more time with him.
“Do you know Mon’s story? Do you know why he left the army and became a farmer?” She blurted the questions out all at once.
The guide wasn’t fully gone yet. He smiled at her and nodded but didn’t say anything.
“Why did he leave?” Elisa said again.
But the guide wasn’t going to give an answer. He blew away in the breeze and Elisa was left standing alone staring at the giant oak. The men milled about on the other side, oblivious to Elisa’s conversation only a short distance away.
Someone called out the order to remount. Elisa trudged back to her horse and felt a little better, but still had her questions and concerns swirling around inside her head.
She found the mount grazing happily on a patch of grass. The soldiers led their horses to bunch back into a group and began preparing to mount back up.
Elisa’s mind was still swirling with doubts and questions, but she had it more under control now. Talking with both the vision and Mon helped, even if her questions weren’t answered.
She looked up to the front of the group. Mon stood next to Lauriston and chewed on a trail biscuit. The dark light behind Mon’s eyes during their conversation told of a story from the past that he held inside. Something she’d said had triggered a memory and caused the dark tone he’d used when she’d expressed her doubts.
But his other comments to her that morning were correct. Elisa needed to fight on, no matter how much she doubted herself. The guide and Mon were showing her how important that was.
“Here, Princess. Tighten this to ensure it stays on.”
A soldier pulled on a strap on her pack to tighten it on the back of her horse. The soldier had his arm in his sling but managed with the strap anyway.
“Thank you, sir,” Elisa said. “How is your arm?”
“Fine, Your Majesty. It’ll heal soon enough.” The soldier smiled and moved back towards his own horse.
Elisa felt Mon’s lesson and saw its truth firsthand. The soldier was hurt and in pain, but still carried his head high and walked with a smile on his face. He was confident in their mission and didn’t care about his injury.
He believed in the importance of protecting her.
Elisa looked over the rest of the group as she climbed back on her horse. Others were injured and those unhurt helped the others back onto their mounts.
The group should look ragged and tired and defeated, but instead they remained strong.
Elisa climbed up on her horse. A soldier or two met her eye and nodded and smiled and faced east, prepared to follow Lauriston onward and protect her at any cost.
Elisa saw Quatre still walking with a strong limp. The general helped the soldier with his arm in a sling to mount up before climbing up on his own.
Quatre looked over at Elisa and gave a confident nod as he pulled his horse around to face east.
All the soldiers were focused. Elisa was their mission and their inspiration. They were going to get her to safety.
Elisa knew right then that she had to be stronger.
It wasn’t exactly leading. At least not like her father led. But she now saw what her presence could do for the men. She now saw that her burden wasn’t as heavy as she originally thought. All she had to do was keep living. Keep fighting.
Elisa resolved to do that no matter what happened in the coming weeks. She would keep suffering with these men until their goals were met.
If the empire was dying, they would all die together.
There was a chance to win this war still. And if Elisa could help with that, she would do it. She would fight with Lauriston and Mon and Quatre and the injured soldiers who protected her. She would keep fighting until the end.
Chapter 20
Hubris is the most detrimental trait possible in a military officer.
Maxims of War, Entry Twelve
Emperor Gerald Lannes
Rapp
It was a strange feeling to lead the army as king. Rapp had marched with his father a few times and even led a small force as a general befor
e, but having command of the entire army, and the entire realm, was vastly different.
Rapp kicked his horse up the road and heard the cheers from the marching soldiers he passed. Their king touched his hat back to them in return and continued up the road to the front of the line of black- and yellow-coated Wahrians.
He felt powerful, like a god. This was as close to being the Ascended One as a mortal could get. Rapp loved the feeling.
He was also terrified.
Rapp was alone. He had advisors and other generals and everything, but he sat alone at the head of the entire faction. The war was his responsibility. The safety of his people fell solely on his shoulders.
He might have risen as close as possible to the war god’s lofty throne, but Rapp wasn’t getting any guidance or help from the heavens.
He’d tried to hear the god’s voice again. He’d even expected the voice to return to him now that the war the god had warned about was starting.
On the morning he’d marched from Citiva, he’d prayed in the temple for over an hour and heard nothing. The great statue only stared down at him and continued to shame him for his failure at the summit.
The message was clear. The only thing left to do was win this eastern campaign.
Rapp had to show the god that he would be a great king, that he would bring glory to the Ascended One and return the Wahrian Realm to greatness despite his failure at the summit.
“My King.” Neipperg bowed his head as Rapp slowed his horse to stop next to the general on the side of the road. Rapp still had to catch himself when he heard those words addressed to himself and not his father.
“General Neipperg. How’s the march?” Rapp turned and looked back down the road at the line of soldiers marching west. A dust cloud kicked up and was carried back east on the wind above them.
“Good. The van should reach Vith tomorrow. We’ll swing this group south and reinforce the lines to the east of the city.”
Rapp nodded. “And the Lakmians?”
“So far they’ve stayed in the mountains. The Kurakin have swung back east and south. There’s not much of a flank there, but the Lakmians could take it if they wanted.”
Rapp tried to picture the campaign map in his mind but couldn’t see all the details. His memory of the exact terrain was blurry at best. He shook his head. He’d have to get the aides to lay things out in his tent tonight.
“Who would they attack, us or the Kurakin?” Rapp turned from the view of his troops and looked at Neipperg.
The general shrugged. “I would hope the Horde.”
“Same. But maybe they’ll just stay up in the mountains and let us fight the Kurakin first.”
“Hopefully.”
Rapp liked Neipperg. He was one of the best generals in Wahring’s next generation of military leaders. He wasn’t much older than Rapp and was already renowned across the realm for valor in the wars against the empire.
He was so renowned that Rapp’s sister had taken an interest in him, although Julia was interested in most of the realm’s war heroes nowadays. Julia thought she was covert enough in her correspondences with the general that Rapp or their mother didn’t know, but it was obvious enough from the first time Neipperg had dined with the royal family.
Julia was attracted to any male who showed an ounce of bravery and had a strong jawline. But even Rapp had to admit that when her gaze found Neipperg’s face, it held a different kind of adoration.
Neipperg’s battle wounds lent themselves to his mystic of valor and manliness, the most prominent of which was the eyepatch and scarring over his right eye. It was an old wound from his time before Rapp knew him, before he was a general.
The contemplative looks from Neipperg’s one eye held more military knowledge than most generals Rapp knew. He would trust Neipperg’s judgement over that of any others on the eastern side of this new war. Rapp was glad the man was with him and not in the west. Wahring would need his leadership. He was glad they were friends.
They could even be related someday, if Julia could convince their mother to allow a marriage. Rapp chuckled softly at the thought.
“What’s funny, Your Majesty?” Neipperg raised his eyebrows at his king.
“Nothing.” Rapp looked back to the column of soldiers marching past them.
These men adored Neipperg and would follow him into a tornado of fire sent by the gods if the general ordered it. It was because they trusted him; they believed he would lead them to victory, whereas they only followed Rapp because he was king. Rapp had earned nothing yet. Neipperg was something more than a general.
He was everything Rapp wanted to be.
Except for king.
“We’ll continue as planned. Strengthen Vith and keep the Kurakin in the south. Then we press them.” Rapp wanted to end this campaign quickly. He wanted an early victory to show his people the Horde could be defeated.
“Yes, sir. I’m going to keep the van out with frequent scouting. I don’t want any surprises from the Horde or the Moradan rebels.”
Rapp nodded his agreement. “Don’t use too many men. I want to make sure the defenses are well stationed when the Kurakin attack comes.” The king took off his hat and ran a hand through his head.
Rapp was tired. They’d been marching hard for almost a week. He was also getting impatient again and was ready for a real fight. He wanted to win a grand battle as king and hear the praises from his soldiers.
Soon, he told himself. Very soon.
They would get to Vith and press out from there. The Kurakin and the traitor Leberecht waited in the south. Rapp would have his revenge soon enough. The great climax of the beginning of his reign would come.
Neipperg bowed his goodbye and rode off to continue overseeing the march. Rapp watched him go and his mind went to the future and the glory that awaited the new king in the next few weeks.
This would be a glorious war. It would be important enough that the Ascended One couldn’t keep ignoring the young king and would have to speak to him once again and guide the rest of the war effort.
Rapp couldn’t wait for the first cannons to sound. For the charge of cavalry and the yells of men.
The king watched the dust rising up from the pounding of his soldiers’ boots and reveled in the feeling of being in complete control. Victory was coming for him. He just had to be patient and wait for the battles to start.
Pitt
Pitt still woke up every morning and had to think about where he was and who the voices outside his tent belonged to. He had to remind himself about the Kurakin turn in the world and the brave Erlonian soldiers that were now his allies.
His next feeling was always a warm happiness.
Pitt was ashamed of it. He should be filled with worry and fear for his country given what he’d witnessed Duroc and the Horde do to the Wahrian king. But his mind only wanted to focus on what was right in front of him.
Marshal Lauriston and the Erlonians.
He was traveling with Marshal Lauriston, Emperor Lannes’s right-hand advisor and commander.
General Desaix the cavalry commander was with him. There were legendary Imperial Guardsmen, sharpshooters, and Jinetes and their leader Lodi, master of the Lakmians.
These were all legendary enemies of Pitt’s country. Men who’d struck fear in the people of Brun for more than a decade and fought some of the Continent’s greatest battles.
Desaix had led the cavalry flank at Stetton. Lodi led the Lakmians through the swamps of Morada.
Marshal Lauriston had been with the emperor from the very beginning. He’d seen Three Bridges. He’d marched on the Ice Fields against Duroc. He’d been part of the force that occupied Citiva for the first time in centuries.
Pitt couldn’t contain himself, even in the face of danger. He’d never been with more famous company. He went through these giddy thoughts every morning.
Over a week after his rescue, Pitt rolled out of his tent and wrapped his coat around himself against the cold fog that hung outside
. The majority of the soldiers were still pulling themselves awake. Pitt walked towards the fire and found Marshal Lauriston sitting by himself.
“Mind if I sit?” Pitt said.
“Of course not.” The marshal nodded towards Pitt and continued building the fire back up from the previous night’s coals. “It’s still a strange sight, seeing you in this camp. Especially in that black coat.”
Pitt looked down and remembered where his coat had come from. The Erlonians had pulled it off a dead Kurakin after the fight when they’d saved him.
The thick mammoth fur was heavy on his shoulders and still smelled of death, but it was warm and comfortable and worlds better than being without one. Or being dead in a ditch after being hunted down by Kurakin dogs.
Pitt looked at Lauriston and shook his head. “A Brunian general wearing a Kurakin coat traveling with a group of Erlonians. I’m not sure what the world’s come to.”
“Chaos.” Lauriston chuckled.
“Chaos. Most certainly.” Pitt nodded and a silence followed after Lauriston’s laugh died.
The fire crackled to life and Lauriston fed it more kindling.
Memories of Pitt’s cold flight through the woods before he was saved flashed before Pitt’s eyes. They appeared like bursts of nightmares every so often.
“When were you promoted to general?” the marshal said eventually to pull Pitt from his thoughts.
“Recently, before the western offensive,” Pitt answered quickly. He tried to keep his failures as a general from rushing up in his thoughts. Dwelling on his captivity with the Horde was almost preferable to the memories of his failures while marching with the Wahrian king.
“Ah, so this was your first campaign.”
“As a general, yes. I marched against you during earlier campaigns, though.”
Plenty of Brunian defeats, plenty of embarrassments against Erlon in Wahring and Morada for the Coalition. Pitt didn’t need to say those thoughts out loud, though.
“I see.” Lauriston’s voice was calm. His hands were steady as he fed the growing fire.
The Fall of Erlon Page 23
