Lord Varren walked briskly across the castle forecourt, his face still red with anger from his latest conference with the mayor of Delseroy. For once, the king had nothing to do with his bitter mood. Mayor Kerne, who had already been drunk upon Varren’s arrival, had welcomed him into his house for a drink in celebration of Samian’s forthcoming marriage to the queen of the Ronnesians.
“You drunken idiot!” Varren had exclaimed. “The proposal has not yet been accepted!”
The mayor, however, had not listened. Instead, he had continued to drink wine and sing songs. Stunned and angered, Varren had left only minutes after arriving.
He sniffed his sleeve and was disgusted to smell the man’s overpowering perfume lingering on him. Why was it that he seemed to be the only one who knew how to manage the empire? The mayor was a drunken idiot and King Samian may have matured but, as far as international relations was concerned, he still had no clue. A moment later, he threw open the castle doors with a swift motion of his hands. The doors swung wide with the force of the spell and hit the walls with a bang, surprising a manservant in the foyer and the two wardens on duty. Paying no attention to the servant’s terrified yelp and the loud crash as cutlery spilled across the floor, Varren stormed across the hall to the sweeping staircases and hurried up the left wing.
As he passed the mounted candelabra, the aura of his barely controlled magic momentarily caused the flames to flare. The wax trembled in the sudden heat, and by the time Varren reached the top of the stairs, the candles had melted away completely, leaving the wicks burning impossibly on their own.
“My lord, please, the tapestries!” the manservant exclaimed.
Varren did not bother to look at the devastation he had caused, but quenched the fires with a frustrated sweep of his hands.
“Where’s the king?” he asked a disconcerted maid on the second floor.
“In his library, sir,” the girl replied, curtseying low.
Varren hastened down the portrait-lined corridor. As always, he glanced at one portrait in particular – that of his old master, the man who had taken him into his service at the age of twelve. King Corhillar peered out of the frame with dull eyes, heavy jowls, and lips set in a thin line of determination. Archis Varren bowed his head slightly as he passed.
The king’s library was on the floor above. “Come,” a voice replied to Varren’s knock.
He found the king sitting by the fire in a large and comfortable chair with a book open on his lap. “Sire, I bring some unfortunate news,” he said, approaching the chair.
“What is it?” the king asked, looking up from his book.
“Kerne…” Varren began, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “He has got himself blind drunk hosting a party in celebration of your imminent union with Queen Sorcha.”
“Has he now?” the king asked. “What of it?”
“Sir, he could spread rumors that are mere speculation and cause mass confusion in the populace.”
“Most already know of my proposal.”
“But you have heard no word of reply!” Varren reminded him. “There’s no sense in letting that man spread these tales! If Queen Sorcha rejects you – ”
“You’d love that.”
“I have made my thoughts on the matter well known, yes.”
“Indeed. Well, if you wish, I’ll have someone send for the mayor tomorrow morning.”
“Tonight would be better.”
“Fine, fine. Would you…?”
“I would like nothing more.”
The king sighed and rose from his chair, putting the book down on the arm. He crossed the room to his writing desk and wrote a hurried note, then signed it and waited for it to dry.
“Allow me,” Varren said, reaching for the stump of sealing wax sitting beside the king’s inkwell. He held the wax above the note and touched one finger to its tip. The wax began to run and several drops landed beside the king’s signature. Varren handed the royal seal to Samian, who pressed it into the crimson wax.
“Thank you, Archis,” the king said, folding the note before handing it to him. “But, please, don’t lose your temper. I don’t want to have to stage another election a mere month after the catastrophe with the lord chamberlain.”
“That had nothing to do with me,” Varren insisted stiffly, replacing the now solid stump of wax. “The man was a rat.”
“No doubt,” the king said. “It was a feeble attempt on the Ronnesians’ part to bribe him, but no matter. With regards to the queen, do you honestly believe there is no chance she will accept my proposal?”
Varren slipped the king’s note into his jacket pocket and scrutinized his master’s face. The envoy, who had traveled to Te’Roek with the proposal, would have been received at least a week ago, plenty of time for even a woman to decide. He shook his head.
“They are biding their time with us now. I doubt very much we will receive an answer at all. They will continue to stall us while they reinforce the northern border. Though Galenros has been unable to see any clear decisions being made in Te’Roek, he has seen their Circle talk often of recruiting and redirecting their forces. Your Majesty, I did warn you this would be their reaction. They would rather risk going to war than unite the empires and lose control over what land they have.”
“Folly disguised as courage,” the king said and sighed. “Marriages have often prevented wars, that’s why I thought it best. My own great-great-uncle married the king of Monreith’s daughter to stop them from attacking our western border – now we are firm allies.” Samian returned to his armchair and stared into the flickering flames in the grate before him.
“She is strengthening her armies, sir. They must know we have been far from idle these past three years. This is why we must act quickly. My intelligence tells me they are pulling men from the coastal borders to reinforce the north.”
“Your intelligence?” the king asked suspiciously, craning his neck to see around the high back of his chair. “Something you could not share with me or your companions?”
Varren approached the fireplace and stood before it with his hands clasped behind his back. “I have a very complex network of eyes and ears across the Ronnesian Empire, sir. I have spoken of it before.”
“Have you?”
“Prior to your coronation three years ago, sir, yes,” Varren said, knowing all too well Samian had not been listening at the time. “You gave me your assurances that you would not ask me the details, so long as I provided the information you wanted. In this very room, in fact.”
“Oh, yes…” Samian said vaguely. “Well, never mind. Go on.”
“Every few weeks, I visit each in turn. Most have said the same thing: they are halving the number of men guarding the southern border and various outposts, replacing them with conscripts. As we speak, they are moving north by road and by sea to Menthenae.”
“Even after my proposal?”
“I suggest we ignore your proposal, just as they have.”
“But I have yet to receive a negative reply.”
“Isn’t this news the only reply you need?” Varren asked, spreading his arms wide. “While Queen Sorcha supposedly considers your offer, she sends out envoys to her allies and recruits men! Her armies will cross the Divide before she sends any sort of answer.”
“And you are sure of this?”
“She has advisers who know the intricacies of politics. No doubt her pet wizards will be whispering in her ear at every turn. There will be no reply, sir. You must understand that.”
“Very well, Archis,” the king said, agitated. “What do you suggest I do?”
“They want us to make the first move so they can see our plan of attack.”
“But we have no plan of attack.”
“I have been speaking with General Carter and Commander Sheon and we have devised a strategy that will surely take the queen by surprise.”
“You’ve been formulating attacks behind my back?” the king asked, frowning. “First a network of spies, and now this? Is there anything else you wish to tell me?”
“Your Majesty, I have merely been planning, not making any moves without your consent.”
“Then what are you planning?”
“What I would suggest is to send a small force down to Kilsney to reinforce our forward outposts. Should we find a single one of their soldiers on the northern bank of that town, we must consider that a breach of our southern defenses. That is reason enough to go ahead with a full-scale assault. The Ronnesians will only have themselves to blame. After we have secured the north bank, we will build a temporary bridge to cross the river.”
“A temporary bridge? Archis, that will take months!”
“Not nearly that long, I assure you.”
“Your men have already built it, haven’t they?”
“Sections of it. It will be assembled there.”
“How the hell will you manage that?”
Varren smiled. “Wagons have been stationed in the market district for weeks for this very purpose. I have over two hundred of them at present and each will carry as many pieces as possible. Once the men reach Kilsney, the carpenters will lash the pieces together and, hopefully, catch the Ronnesians by surprise.”
“That sounds awfully ambitious to me.”
“Our men will cross that river and push the Ronnesians back. We have tried boats before, and failed dismally. We cannot approach en masse along the southern bank from the east, their encampment is too well guarded. This is the only option we have yet to try. General Carter assures me that he has selected his best battalions.”
“I hope you’re right,” King Samian said.
“If all goes to plan,” Varren continued, “the bridge will create a diversion, while we transport the bulk of our forces down the Divide by ship and disembark on the south bank further upstream. Hopefully, the men in the outposts will have been drawn to the battle at Kilsney, allowing our forces to approach without detection, flank the encampment and bring about a swift victory.”
“Won’t they suspect something like that?”
“Maybe, but their forces are stretched thin at the border. The Ronnesians will not be able to withstand our combined forces for long, whether they see us coming or not.”
“Yes…” the king said, nodding thoughtfully. “Though I regret going to war, Queen Sorcha has had her time to decide. What’s the first move?”
“Firstly, you must send orders to General Carter and Commander Sheon. Also, citizens should be asked to enlist in the home army to ensure Delseroy remains safe while the soldiers are away. Have Galenros find out what he can about the enemy’s movements, then we will convene with the captains to discuss the finer details.”
“Right,” the king said, leaving the library with Varren at his heel. “I shall send the messengers immediately. We reconvene in the royal suite in two hours.”