67

By Sebastian’s estimation, he had only two friends in the world. He’d like to think he had three, but Isobelle had made it clear that while she hoped to be friends with him one day, present circumstances didn’t allow it.

And so Sebastian traveled down the Advent Road to Colmo with his two friends, the Aureumian Marcello Oreste, aide-de-camp to General Barone, and the Izmorozian Sasha Rykov, newly appointed lieutenant of the imperial army thanks to the generosity of Her Majesty. Although Rykov was still a lower rank than Sebastian, he was no longer a direct subordinate. To Sebastian’s mind, that meant they could now speak freely to each other and truly be friends. Not that Rykov had ever been particularly subservient. Or talkative. But still.

Rykov and Marcello were dissimilar in nationality, class, and temperament. Really, he couldn’t have found two people less alike if he’d tried. And yet, he desperately wanted them to get along. The trouble was, since Sebastian had such limited experience in having friends, he didn’t know how to accomplish it.

Things seemed to come to a head shortly before the army crossed the Raízian border, when Marcello brought up Sonya.

“So I’m finally going to meet this crazy sister of yours, huh?”

The three rode side by side at the front of the general’s entourage, with Sebastian in the middle.

“I suppose so,” said Sebastian.

“This time we’ll kill her for sure,” said Rykov.

“Actually, Rykov—” began Sebastian.

But Marcello jumped in, looking furious. “Good God, man, that’s his sister!”

Rykov shrugged. “That was the order.”

“Not specifically,” said Marcello. “We just have to subdue her.”

“Good luck with that,” said Rykov.

“Really, Rykov—” protested Sebastian.

“I understand she’s special, and it won’t be an easy task.” Marcello’s face was flushed red with irritation. Apparently he disliked Rykov’s blunt conversation style. “But you can’t just go around talking about killing a man’s sister.”

“Sebastian agrees with me.”

“He most certainly does not!”

“Both of you! Enough!” Sebastian turned to Rykov. “Sasha, the thing is… well, I know Sonya has done some terrible things, but so have I. I want to believe that I’m capable of redemption, but how can I do that unless I also believe she is capable of it as well? So I want to try talking things out with her. In earnest this time.”

“Huh.” Rykov’s eyes widened with uncharacteristic surprise.

While his friend didn’t press any further, Sebastian felt that perhaps he owed him some additional explanation. They hadn’t seen each other in months and he suspected the difference in his views might be quite jarring.

“This is actually something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, Sasha. You see, if Sonya has some sway over the Raízian rebels, then perhaps she and I might be able to act as intermediaries. We might even be able to find a way to address the concerns of the Raízian people without further bloodshed.”

“Concerns?” asked Marcello.

“Certainly,” said Sebastian. “People don’t risk their lives in direct confrontation with their government unless they have serious grievances. If I can learn what those grievances are from Sonya and bring them to the general, it may be possible to address the root problems without violence.”

Now it was Marcello’s turn to look mystified. “Are you mad, Portinari? You think the general will give the Raízian rebels concessions after they slaughtered an entire regiment? They must be punished, not rewarded.”

“But that sort of punitive, tit-for-tat mentality will only escalate things,” protested Sebastian. “If left unchecked, the only solution will be a contest to see who can kill the most people.”

“Fine by me,” said Rykov.

“That’s what war is, after all,” said Marcello.

Sebastian looked first at one friend, then the other. It appeared he’d helped his friends find common ground, and unfortunately, it was in disagreeing with him.

He said nothing more on the matter as they continued the march south. He’d hoped that Rykov could help keep him from losing his temper when he sought out Sonya, but now he wasn’t sure his friend was even willing to give her a chance. Marcello was supportive of Sebastian’s protectiveness toward his sister, but apparently that generosity didn’t extend beyond the bounds of family to the people of Raíz. And of course Sebastian’s entire plan was predicated on being able to actually find Sonya before any fighting broke out, which would be no small feat.

In fact, the closer they got to Colmo, the more Sebastian wondered just how feasible his idea was. The road between Magna Alto and Colmo was supposed to be thick with trade at all times, and yet they saw no one on their march south. Not a single merchant wagon. The emptiness of the road and surrounding countryside lent an air of unease that seemed to permeate the entire battalion. As the temperature slowly climbed, and the lush rolling hills of Aureum gave way to the dry craggy rock of Raíz, the infantry grew increasingly restless. They spoke in muttered whispers at evening meals, glancing often at the Raízian night sky, which somehow seemed bigger than northern skies. Dark and vast, as though longing to swallow them all up.

The battalion’s morale had not truly recovered after abandoning all their hard work in Kleiner, then enduring the forced march to Magna Alto. To be given this new and potentially graver deployment immediately after those trials was clearly taking its toll on the men. Sebastian thought General Barone might give them some encouraging words, perhaps a short rousing speech, especially once they were only a day or two’s march from Colmo. But the general remained silent, almost withdrawn. During the day he rode in silence surrounded by guards, and at night took his supper alone in his own tent. In Kante, Barone had elected to sleep in the larger officers’ tent, and Sebastian found it a troubling sign that the general had chosen to isolate himself.

One night, after breaking up a petty fight between two soldiers, he decided to speak to the general about his morale concerns.

“General Barone? Might I have a word?” He stood at the entrance to the tent.

“Portinari? I suppose. Come in.”

The tent was quite small compared to the officers’, but impressively large for a single person. A single guttering candle revealed a sharply austere quality to the furnishings that did not seem indicative of the general’s personality at all.

Barone lay in his cot reading, and did not get up, or even look up, when Sebastian entered.

“Thank you for agreeing to speak with me, sir.” Sebastian saluted.

“At ease, Portinari,” Barone said, still not looking up from his book. “What is it you wish to say?”

“I, uh…” In the past, Barone had seemed to hold some affection for his men, but none of that was on display now, and it took Sebastian a moment to adjust. “I’m concerned about the morale of the troops, sir.”

“As well you should be, Captain,” said Barone.

Sebastian waited for further words, but none came.

“So… you are aware of the issue.”

Barone licked his thumb and slowly turned a page. “I’m old, Portinari, but not yet senile.”

“M-my apologies, sir.”

Again Sebastian waited, perhaps for the general to say that he had things well in hand. But no such assurances came.

“Well, sir… don’t you think we should do something about it?”

Finally Barone looked up from his book. “And what, pray tell me, do you think I should do?”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but I know everyone would appreciate some inspiring words from you.”

“And what sort of inspiration do you think I have?”

“Sir?”

“The empress broke her word to both of us, Portinari. She promised us a rescue and recovery mission. She promised an opportunity for our battered souls to heal in constructive activity, saving lives rather than ending them. But you see, that was a promise of convenience, and broken the moment it became inconvenient. Why? Because you and I are good at sowing destruction. Others see it as a gift, but we know it to be a curse. So what would you have me do? Give our men false hope? Feigned enthusiasm? We go now to kill or to die, and as you well know, there is nothing grand or inspiring about that.”

Sebastian stared as the general went back to his book. He hadn’t realized that they were so similar. Barone was just as weary of war as he was. Probably more so. When the general had spoken of redemption so passionately, it was because he understood what it was like to seek it. Sebastian didn’t know what terrible things the general had done in the past, but now he could see how they weighed on him.

And despite both of their intentions, present events had only made things worse. They’d failed in Kleiner. Then they’d been forced to arrest Barone’s long-time friend, Captain Reyes, and treat him like a prisoner. Sebastian wondered if he should share his plan with the general. Perhaps the idea of a bloodless solution with the Raízians would help Barone shed this dark despair. But he remembered what the general had said after arresting Reyes. Even I must follow orders I am uncomfortable with, Portinari. Such selflessness is the truest expression of being a soldier.

No, it was too big a risk to tell him now. Perhaps if Sebastian was able to find Sonya, convince her to work with him despite all the terrible things he’d done, and learn what it was the Raízians sought, then he could present his plan to the general.

So instead of sharing anything further, Sebastian saluted again.

“Thank you for taking the time to explain it to me, sir.”

Barone nodded without looking up. “Dismissed, Captain.”