As Amurel reflected, an idea crept to him, whether from the depths of his own mind or the fruit of a divine seed – something to counter the prince’s play. Jaiden was the key, but Amurel was not convinced everything could develop as he hoped. Much would be left to faith.
Jaiden was beloved by the nobility, and Amurel suspected much of that adoration was possible because the young knight posed no political threat. He owned nothing beyond the sword at his side, after all. Yet they innately knew common folk would see him as one of their own, and therefore he had value as a potential pawn.
Prince Falcionus was not immune, of course. Why else was Jaiden last night’s guest of honor? This was not Rosegold, after all, and Jaiden had yet to serve anyone in Dawn’s Edge, though he hailed from the province. After making such a show of praising the young swordsman, it would be difficult for the prince to turn around and denounce him, even if only in a symbolic way.
Amurel held his sword up to the light and twisted his wrist, bouncing rays off its gleaming surface. He took pride in properly maintaining his arms. Yes, Jaiden was the answer. It might be too much to ask of one so inexperienced, but Criesha had chosen him as her Champion. The youth had developed under not only his own tutelage, but the influence of both Palomar and the goddess. She had undeniably entered his heart, just as she had Amurel’s. He could be trusted to at least strive toward Criesha’s example.
Amurel felt content, doing what he must for the benefit of the Order. He would rely on Criesha for the rest. He sheathed his sword, picked up his ornamental cane, and gathered the contracts he’d received at the petitioning. On his way to Jaiden’s apartments, a voice from the hallway behind called to him.
“Sir Golddrake, do you have a moment?” It was Baron Rogan.
“I have a few to spare, Baron,” he said, over his shoulder. “Though in truth, I am in route to negotiate an important contract.”
“I shall not hold you long, Sir,” Rogan said as he caught up. “I merely wanted to extend the courtesy of informing you in person that I am returning to Chelpa today.”
“So soon? I thought you might wish to stay in the palace a while, after how far we have come.”
Rogan wrung his hands while explaining. “The hospitality has been more than adequate, but I have personal matters that need attending. Not to mention, I will likely be of more use in my homeland than I could possibly be in your Company.”
Amurel regarded Rogan and thought back to the battle at Salmarsh, when he first encountered him. “Fair enough,” he nodded, and extended his hand. “I wish you a swift and safe journey.”
Rogan clasped his wrist. “I shall be ever thankful for your assistance freeing the Dampers…uh, Aasimar. Perhaps we will meet when Ebon Khorel is brought to justice?”
“I will count on it, Baron.” Amurel watched Rogan retreat down the hallway a few paces before continuing his own trek to find Jaiden.
He knocked on the door when he reached his room, but heard no response. After a moment’s pause, he tried the latch and found the door unlocked. “Jaiden?” Amurel opened the door halfway and peered inside. Jaiden was sitting cross-legged on the bed, bare-chested, eyes closed, as if in some sort of trance.
Amurel knocked loudly on the door once more, but still no movement from the bed. He widened the portal enough to enter and limped closer to the non-respondent Jaiden, who finally opened his eyes as Amurel came close enough to touch him.
“Sir Golddrake?” Jaiden looked around the room as if these were not the surroundings he expected.
“Are you feeling all right, Sir Luminere? It is nearly noon, and does not appear as if you have completely risen from last night’s slumber.”
Jaiden stepped onto the floor and set about making the bed. “I awoke hours ago. I was just communing with Criesha,” he said, matter-of-factly. After tucking in the edges of his blankets, he worked on getting dressed.
“As in, speaking with her?” Amurel asked, amazed.
Jaiden nodded as he fastened his belt. “There was talking, yes.”
Amurel put even more of his weight upon his walking stick. “And how often do you commune with the Goddess thus?”
Jaiden’s eyes lifted as he calculated. “Recently… nearly every day.”
Weeks had passed since Criesha last contacted Amurel, and her guidance usually came in the form of enigmatic portents left for him to decipher. Only rarely had she spoken directly. Had he fallen out of favor? “Well, I am glad you have become close, and trust her direction will lead you to righteousness.” Even as he said the words, they felt empty as a lie.
“As it happens, I need to talk to you about a decision I have made.” Amurel sat on the bed Jaiden had vacated. “Prince Falcionus has granted us his favor in acquiring the supplies we need to continue our campaign against the King-priest.”
“That is excellent,” Jaiden replied, folding a spare tunic left on the dresser.
“It does not come without cost, however, and I am bound to take the Order in a new direction. New recruits have been flocking to us since Windhollow, and such growth is more than one man can manage.” Amurel had to swallow hard before getting out the words that followed. “For this and other reasons, I am splitting the authority of the Order into three parts, and I would like you to have a share in the leadership.”
“Me? I have only belonged to the Order for two moons—”
“But you embody what I want our members to emulate: you trust the Goddess, you are brave and battle-ready. Other traits, such as wisdom, will come in time.”
Jaiden’s mouth was agape, but it took several seconds before words formed. “I am flattered, I think. And, I would be honored to hold such a position. May I ask who the third commander is to be?”
Amurel didn’t want to give the impression he had been strong-armed into his choice, and maintained a relaxed tone. “Prince Falcionus shall govern alongside us as the secular Commander of the Order.”
“The Prince?”
Amurel could not place the emotion accompanying Jaiden’s response. “The Prince is not as familiar with our edicts, so I am requesting that for the time being, you stay here and help direct our efforts in Selamus, where you can instruct him as needed and oversee the training of the recruits. I will take a shipment of supplies south, restock the Caves of Criesha, and gather our forces drilling at Synirpa.”
“Master Golddrake, I would much prefer to ride south as well – I am eager to settle things with the King-priest in person.”
“All in due time, Jaiden.” He sighed. “I understand your enthusiasm, but we still need to grow our numbers, and you are in the best position to do that here, in the capital. Let the people see you, let them rally to our cause, and soon enough you will be back on the front, I promise.”
Amurel tapped the end of his cane against the stone floor and stood. “Now, we must close negotiations with the Prince, and it would be a boon to have you present. We will work out the specifics of our respective responsibilities afterward. What say you?”
“I am at your service, Sir Golddrake.”
“Good, then let us track down the seneschal.” Amurel left the room with Jaiden in tow. He hoped when he broke the news of his decision, the prince would be sufficiently boxed into a corner – unwilling to either slander the promotion of Sir Luminere, or reverse his terms.
In less than an hour, the prince granted an audience, no doubt eager to bolster his martial influence among the provinces. Amurel kept his head high as he entered the throne room, however, giving no indication of supplication, and Jaiden trailed him by several paces. A number of other courtiers were present, mostly disinterested looks upon their faces.
“Ah, Sir Golddrake and Sir Luminere, I trust you both enjoyed yourself at the banquet last night?” Prince Falcionus led, his voice confident with a hint of expectation.
“A splendid event, Your Excellence.” Amurel bowed his head briefly, but snapped it aloft before continuing. “If I may proceed directly to the point, Sire, I have an answ
er for the generous offer you made yesterday.”
“Of course – I have always known you as a deliberate man and appreciate your candor, Sir Golddrake.” Prince Falcionus raised one eyebrow. “Shall I have my administrator draw up the supply transfer, then?”
“As you like, Your Excellence.” Amurel paused. “I am prepared to cede you a share of authority equal to mine, over the Order of the Rising Moon, in return for the goods and funds discussed during our negotiation.”
“Very good, I am glad to hear it.” The prince’s quivering voice betrayed his attempt at calm.
“I am also proud to announce that I have bequeathed an equal share upon Sir Luminere, giving us each authority over a third of the troops, and responsibilities commensurate with our particular strengths.” Amurel watched closely as the Prince’s mouth immediately shut and his face tightened.
Falcionus’s gaze fell beyond Amurel and then settled back upon him; his voice lost all of its previous luster. “Our agreement was that I would control half of the Order.”
“Our agreement,” Amurel countered, “was that you and I would share equal authority over the Order, and I have honored that condition. Sir Luminere is now an equal partner as well. Do you disapprove of my choice?”
The prince silently took measure of the room, more of which seemed to be paying attention given the interesting turn of events. Amurel waited for a response, deliberately keeping his eyes trained on the prince’s face. He had him right where he wanted him.
Finally, Falcionus spoke, his tone shifting to an altogether different inflection. Amurel placed it as grim resolution. “It would be an honor to join a brotherhood that included the esteemed Sir Luminere. I will consider our bargain struck, and look forward to ushering in a new era of security in the Cradle.”
In a private meeting that evening, the three partners negotiated how responsibilities were to be divided, and Amurel felt satisfied that Jaiden’s ascension would keep the Order of the Rising Moon on its intended path. It took another two days to make all the preparations, but now he was to ride south again, escorting a train of fresh supplies closer to the front.
How long the King-priest would be delayed at Blackthorn remained unknown, but Amurel hoped if he moved quickly enough he could establish an outpost at the ruins of Halidor, to provide warning of the enemy’s advance.
Sir Kilborn was coming with him, but Amurel left Lieutenant Orestes behind to assist Jaiden, who had yet to learn the intricacies of running a militarized organization. Palomar decided to stay with the young knight as well, though Illicurus and the majority of the Aasimar were accompanying the southbound troops. Amurel was surprised, but pleased, that Saffron insisted on coming with him. She cited her need to reckon justice with the King-priest, and that a southern victory would leave her closer to home.
When all was made ready, Amurel mounted Bastion and rode with the vanguard, leading a long column of over two hundred infantry, support personnel, laden wagons, and a small contingent of mounted warriors, each pared with a spare horse as well.
Prince Falcionus seemed pleased to finally see him off, and the streets were lined with well-wishers who mistook their procession as some sort of celebratory parade. Amurel wondered if many of them even knew the Empire of Chelpa had recently entered the neighboring provinces to the south.
It took them a week, at a modest pace, to reach the Castle at Windhollow. The weather remained fair, though the afternoons grew hotter, and the Duke of Rosegold openly welcomed their arrival. The state of the castle was much improved from when they had arrived going the other direction, appearing to function at full capacity. The common spaces were tidier, and men drilled with bows and swords in the outer courtyards.
“It looks as if you have returned full order to your house, Your Grace,” Amurel said to the Duke as he dismounted.
“Thanks in part to your men, Sir Golddrake. How was your journey, and what are these magnificent creatures you have brought with you?” The Duke of Rosegold gestured to Illicurus and his fellows, who trailed the horses by several body lengths.
“Ah, I forgot they were not with us on our previous visit. Your Grace, may I introduce Illicurus, Marshall of the Aasimar. They are our secret weapon, you might say, against the dark magic of the King-priest.”
“No longer secret, and not really yours, but a weapon, no doubt.” Illicurus stepped forward upon his introduction, considered the Duke, and then took measure of the citadel from the inside. “An impressive fortress you have here – much more defensible than the palace at Selamus. We should be able to hold it indefinitely.”
The Duke looked at Amurel in seeming disbelief, no doubt reacting to the Aasimar’s telepathy. “I certainly would like to think we could, though we are glad to have any assistance in defending her.” He put his arm around Amurel’s shoulder as they made their way in to the quieter halls of the castle.
“And although definite strides toward preparation have been made, it would be a lie to say that everything has gone smoothly since you left. There have been minor uprisings in Synirpa – backlash from those whose kin were not saved from the plague and have somehow found fault for that in your men. No bloodshed yet, but some vandalism and quite a bit of tongue-lashing.”
“I see,” Amurel responded, his brow creasing. “I shall address that early on the morrow. Most of our men and supplies stayed behind at the city while I shore up affairs here – we will be moving on shortly.”
They came to the Great Hall, where the men had feasted together a fortnight prior. “Have you news of the enemy?” the Duke questioned. “We have not seen nor received word of their presence since they abandoned their siege. I trust it is too much to hope the Chelpians have given up ideas of conquest.”
Illicurus joined the conversation, though he had been lurking several long strides behind Amurel and the Duke. “We encountered the core of their forces deep within their own country weeks ago. They could be between the mountains shortly, if they deployed soon after.”
Amurel stopped and sighed. “Indeed, Your Grace, we believe they are only gathering their strength. Nothing, short of defeat, will halt their advance. We’ve ridden for days now. If I might rely on your hospitality for one night, we can discuss these matters more at dinner this evening, and my company shall depart in the morning.”
“Of course, Sir Golddrake.” A few weeks of recovery made the Duke noticeably healthier, and though he was the older man, Amurel envied his vitality. “Your Order is welcome here, and you must be weary from travel. Take your rest, and we shall speak at supper.”
“My thanks.” Amurel nodded and the Duke of Rosegold gave a polite smile before heading back the way they came.
“There is little pretense about that man,” Illicurus observed. “Not like the Prince.”
“His Grace is a straightforward man, yes. He can be severe, but one knows where he stands with Rosegold.”
“This is a very defensible position, as I mentioned.” Illicurus looked at the high ceilings and solid stone walls of the Great Hall, the blue tips of his wings shifting as they unfurled behind him. “Hopefully, it does not fall from the inside.”
Amurel turned to ask what he meant, but the Aasimar was already heading toward a side passage housing a stairwell ascending to the next level. He had no energy to pursue or decipher the aloof outsider’s innuendo. Amurel gladly shifted thoughts toward a soft bed and a few hours of rest before dinner.
A unit of the Order’s fighting men, well-supplied and trained, remained garrisoned at Windhollow Rock in case the castle came under siege once more. Amurel also made sure the Aasimar under Illicurus’s command were familiar with the surrounding terrain, should they have need to locate and enter the fortress from the air.
Amurel met the rest of his troops outside of Synirpa. Given their swelling numbers and the fact the Order of the Rising Moon was not directly affiliated with the province, they set up camp a safe distance from the city walls so as not to induce suspicion or spark an unnecessary confli
ct. Amurel had left Sir Kilborn in charge of the encampment while he pushed ahead to visit the Duke at Windhollow, and he was waiting to brief Amurel when he returned in the morning.
“Well, things are a right mess, but I am getting it sorted out. You have between four and five hundred souls waiting to take their oaths, some of whom were only weaned a month ago by the look of it.” Sir Kilborn ran a gloved hand over Bastion’s nose as he walked beside him. “Then someone on the far side of camp tapped into the ale stores, when I strictly limited rationing to water. Numerous trainees are hungover, and one of the smaller canopies even caught fire.” Sir Kilborn snorted, as if he could barely believe what he was working with.
“From the reports I’ve received thus far, however, the exercises have progressed well, and nearly a hundred of the recruits are passably battle-ready. Any news from the Duke?”
Amurel did not bother dismounting. He wanted a quick ride around to assess the camp on his own. “The castle is in good hands. It should continue to serve well as a fall-back position, if need be.
“I was given a word of caution about dealing with the general population. A bit of trouble regarding hard feelings over the healing, it seems. If our men have cause to enter the city, make sure it is in groups no smaller than four, and no larger than eight. We don’t want to incite violence, but I don’t want us easy targets, either.”
Sir Kilborn shook his head. “Some people have a strange way of showing thanks.”
“It’s hard to imagine all the loss they have experienced. I am more interested in keeping our men safe than passing judgment on the grieving.”
“Aye,” Sir Kilborn agreed.
“I am going to stretch Bastion’s legs on a hasty inspection. Have you set up a command tent?” Amurel asked.
“Bearing the standard,” Sir Kilborn nodded toward a large pavilion near the center of the encampment.
“Good. I shall return anon and we can sift through the roll together, divvy up assignments, and plan the first initiation.” Amurel nudged his horse to the right and then picked up speed, riding in a wide circle around the Order’s temporary home. He looked for situations requiring corrective intervention, but also wanted to get a collective sense of the new recruits’ disposition.
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