Chapter 20: Raising the Stakes

“Can I get you more wine, my lord?”

Lord Regaulfus Avila looked down at his glass, now only a sip or two from being empty. With a subtle nod of the head, he watched as his personal servant, Otto, soon refilled the glass to the brim. It was an excellent wine, brought in from Apulia which had some of the best vineyards in the world, and Avila much preferred having it over all others.

“I’m told we’ll be docking soon in Dagobern,” said Otto once the glass was full. “No more than an hour or so until we arrive.”

Avila gestured to the horizon. “I can almost see the city already.”

It was a bit of a stretch, but the Lord of Cormfeld thought he could already see the dull, lifeless capital city of Swabia materializing through the fog. Dagobern was a perfect representation of how Swabians approached their lives—functional yet dull, lifeless yet aggressive, forever practical and never beautiful.

The city encapsulated everything that it meant to be Swabian.

It was only once they got closer that the city appeared from out of the fog, the imperial palace of the emperor dominating the hill that overlooked the city. If anything, Avila thought it looked more lifeless than usual, a crippling apathy that well-suited the current occupant of the throne. Even still, it was that very same occupant who had summoned him to his city, requiring Avila to travel this great distance from his own home with very little in information about why.

Summoned. That was what the dispatch said.

It made him feel much like a dog rather than a powerful lord of Swabia. For someone that recognized that the only true currency in the world was power, it was a poor feeling to have to jump when his liege lord commanded it.

In fact, his summons had been to go straight to the palace upon his arrival to seek an immediate audience with the emperor. Meetings such as those were rarely requested as a way to give thanks for his efforts, so Avila wondered if he was about to be chastised for his actions. Even though the last few months had been fruitful, they hadn’t been without setback. Andalucia was probably the biggest stain on his career, and the loss of revenue from that country was already being felt. Sorella was a small matter, but both of them occurring within short notice of each other brought a certain amount of attention to the way he went about his business.

“They are of no consequence,” muttered Avila as his personal yacht docked at the harbor in Dagobern. “As long as I get Picardy, those two won’t matter.”

“I’m sorry, my lord?” asked Otto, no doubt hearing his musings.

Avila shook his head and prepared to depart. While his servants went about gathering his personal luggage, Avila was met by one of the emperor’s carriages no more than ten feet from where the yacht was berthed. Small, ugly, and gray, the carriage would take him the rest of the way to the palace while the rest of his household staff would need to secure their own arrangements for themselves and his luggage. The emperor would spare no other resources beyond those required to get his physical body to the meeting point.

“Come, Otto,” said Avila, gesturing for his main servant to join him in the carriage. The man followed without protest, soon closing the door behind them as the carriage started to move.

It took about twenty minutes to get through the city and another fifteen to ascend the hill to the palace. It was a sweltering day in Dagobern, and Avila had a need for a change of clothing by the time they rolled to the palace entrance. Since the emperor’s men were already outside for his arrival, he doubted he’d get the chance to do so.

“Lord Regaulfus Avila,” said the first man that he saw, as soon as the carriage door opened. The face was weathered, slim, and expressionless. “Welcome to Dagobern. His Imperial Majesty will see you now.”

“Excellent,” replied Avila as he wiped some sweat from his brow. “My luggage and servants aren’t far behind me.”

“They’ll be seen to your quarters as soon as they arrive,” said the servant, before gesturing toward the grand hall just beyond the door.

Avila rarely paid attention to the surroundings of the imperial palace, having been there many times in the past. Even though it was larger than his own residence on Cormfeld, it wasn’t as intricate. The marbled walls and gray towers gave it an empty feeling, almost to the point of dread at the immensity of it. Avila suspected it was designed that way on purpose, only to add to the prestige of the Swabian emperor.

After enough walking through the gigantic monument to false opulence, Avila was finally shown into the gilded throne room. The throne room was rectangular in structure, meaning Avila had to march along a long hall with seating on either side. At the other end of the room sat the emperor himself, watching his every move.

“Ah, Regaulfus, welcome to Dagobern,” said the emotionless face of Emperor Aurelius of Swabia. Aurelius was an older man, already silver with age, with deep wrinkles cut into his face. Despite his age, he still managed to achieve a firm glare through haughty, thin lips, and his imposing facial structure ensured that he still commanded respect despite his advanced age.

“Your Imperial Majesty, it’s excellent to see you,” replied Avila, falling to his knees before the man. Aurelius got up from his throne and approached the space directly in front of him. As he came to a stop, he placed his right foot slightly out in front of him. In true Swabian fashion, Avila bent to the floor, kissing the tip of the emperor’s boot.

It was a gesture older than time. Every Swabian, from slave to lord, greeted their emperor in the same way. It was a symbol for the endless power of the man that held the empire together, a sign of submission that cut to the very heart of their society.

Aurelius looked down at him as soon as Avila moved out of his shadow. “How was the journey from Cormfeld? I expected to see you here yesterday.”

“My delay was wholly the fault of my own,” said Avila deferentially. “I’m afraid pressing business prevented us from leaving as soon as I would’ve like.”

“Pressing business, yes. From what I’ve heard, you’ve been very busy lately,” said Aurelius as he raised an eyebrow.

“All for the honor of enlarging the empire,” replied Avila.

Aurelius started to chuckle, the first sign of life of the meeting. “All for the honor of enlarging your prestige is more like it.”

“Your Majesty?” questioned Avila.

“Don’t ‘Your Majesty’ me,” said the emperor with a dismissive wave. “If you are going to be less than forthcoming with me, you’ll find this meeting much more difficult than it needs to be. Never forget who I am, Regaulfus. I have spies everywhere. I know exactly what you’re up to and what you’ve been doing.”

Avila swallowed heavily before chancing a look directly at the emperor. “I meant no offense, sire. Yes, my men have been busy. There are many opportunities in the wider world that we can seek to take advantage of.”

“Like your actions in Picardy?”

Avila pursed his lips. “Why not Picardy? Wouldn’t it be great to pick off a traditional enemy?”

Aurelius shook his head. “I have only a small issue with the fact that you’ve targeted the Picards and more of an issue with how you’re doing it. Plague, Regaulfus? That is certainly a disgustingly novel concept.”

“I sought to take advantage where I could find it,” replied Avila defensively. “The Nax slaves have been stricken with the plague and they are dying in droves. Why not take a negative and attempt to make it a positive?”

Aurelius gave him a disappointed look. “Have you not thought that your gambit could be used in retaliation against us? What if our enemies start sending plague ships into Dagobern? Or Cormfeld for that matter?”

Avila raised his chin. “Then we’ll meet force with force—”

The emperor growled. “That’s the exact kind of answer I would expect from you. All bravado and no brain. Too much ambition for your own good.”

Avila decided to take a chance. “Is my ambition not good for the empire? My ambition brought the Nax to their knees. It brought in a ton of gold from Andalucia. My personal regiments are highly feared throughout the world.”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” said Aurelius with a haughty tone. “First off, they are my regiments. They may be paid by you, but they ultimately answer to me. Never forget that, Regaulfus. Secondly, the Nax have been more trouble than they’re worth. Formerly free men make for poor slaves, and this plague has a bad habit of killing them long before they’ve proven their worth. Not to mention this debacle with Andalucia.”

Avila found his gaze hardening. “Andalucia may have been a setback, but we’ll make better of it when we pick off the Picards.”

Aurelius rolled his eyes. “And what are you to do when the Carinthians go to war with them? You’ll drag us into a general war with them with these actions.”

Avila shrugged. “Our army dwarfs that of the Carinthians and the Picards combined. When we defeat them and they sue for peace, I think they’d be more amenable to a treaty that favored us.”

The emperor made a tsk-tsk sound. “This has always been your fatal flaw, Regaulfus. You think you are bigger than you actually are. If anyone is going to make those decisions, it will be me. You act like you’re the emperor here. Has the time come for you to try to overthrow me?” In that moment, the emperor took a menacing step closer to Avila. Even though he was at least twenty years older, the emperor was of impressive stature and build. He would be no easy foe.

“No, Your Majesty,” said Avila quickly, averting his eyes. Even though Swabian culture revolved around strong lords seizing the throne for centuries, he was not yet strong enough or secure enough to move against Aurelius. The emperor still had considerable forces and allies. The time wasn’t right.

“I thought not,” replied Aurelius before taking a step back. “In that case, I’m going to order you to start deescalating this war in Picardy.”

Avila’s eyes snapped toward the man. “Deescalating? How can you even ask me to do that? Do you have any idea how much time and effort I’ve poured into that country?”

“Your time and effort, not mine,” said Aurelius. “I was quite content with the status quo, and now you’ve gone and upset the apple cart, Regaulfus. If this spirals out of control, it could be a threat to the empire.”

“What threat could the Picards be? Or the Carinthians for that matter? The old alliance is dead, sire. The Apulians have no army of consequence, and I can count the Galician regent as a friend. Who is there that could stand in our way?”

“Why then are you having such difficulty?” asked the emperor with a raised eyebrow. “If we are so dominant as you suggest, why were your forces kicked out of Sorella and Andalucia?”

“That was the result of foreign meddling,” spat Avila. “A troublemaker has appeared from the eastern stretches of the world. One that I’m working on dealing with.”

“And this one troublemaker was enough to upset your operations? We are hardly as secure as you might suggest.”

Avila found himself biting his tongue. “Picardy would make us more secure.”

“It’s rather the opposite, Regaulfus. It would make us look too aggressive. Our reputation is always working against us. That’s why when we strike, we need to think our way through it long before we act,” argued Aurelius. “My energies have been focused on reconciliation in the world and you’ve come and undone my work. You should stick with the Sorellas of the world, Regaulfus. They are more to your liking, and too small to cause ripples that might get in my way. Never forget your place before me, my lord. Leave the larger issues of geopolitics to me.”

It was too much for Avila. His teeth ground together in his mouth and his nostrils flared. He’d been willing to come here to answer for his actions, knowing there would be some mild chastising that would come from it. But the emperor stooped low enough to insult him, something he found unbearable. He was no fool. He knew the whispers that went around the country—those that suggested him as the next possible successor to the throne. Even Aurelius’ own words seemed to suggest that he’d heard the same.

Avila had to question whether this was the emperor’s way of bringing him down a peg. Whether it wasn’t so much about what he’d done but Aurelius’ way of roping him back under his control. Either way, it didn’t make it any easier to swallow. He chafed at being told what to do, just as any true Swabian lord would.

“Perhaps it would be better for me to make my way back to Cormfeld then?” asked Avila with controlled, measured words. “If my plans to expand the empire’s influence are no longer necessary, then perhaps I’m better off on my own island?”

“Don’t do that, Regaulfus,” replied Aurelius with another roll of the eyes. “You’re a lord of Swabia, not a pissy teenager. Control your temper and your ambition better.”

“Then what is to become of me? Am I to be your guest here in the palace?”

The emperor nodded. “Yes, you will be. Only because I have called a gathering of all the lords here. There are too many things afoot in the world right now. I can’t afford any more distractions from my plans. You are to stay here for the week to attend that gathering. Then, if you wish to go, you may.”

Avila fought hard to control his breathing. “If that is the case, may I be seen to my quarters here? I’m not much for pleasantries today.”

Aurelius started to laugh. “You never change, Regaulfus. Perhaps that’s what makes you so interesting.”

Avila didn’t reward that statement with a response. He kept his eyes focused on the emperor, awaiting his next message. He couldn’t trust himself to keep his temper under control with more idle conversation with the man.

“Very well,” said Aurelius finally with a heavy sigh. “Go to your quarters. Your presence is requested tonight for dining at my table. I’ll send a servant to collect you at the appointed time. You’re dismissed, Regaulfus.”

Avila bowed haphazardly and turned on his heel without giving the customary goodbye to the emperor. He knew Aurelius would recognize the lack of gesture, but the man wouldn’t call him out on it. Sure enough, even as his footsteps echoed across the marble, the emperor never called out to him as he exited the throne room. Aurelius had the keen sense to know when he’d pushed too far, and he also knew when to stop prodding.

He didn’t last this long on the throne without having innate survival instincts.

Avila found Otto waiting just inside the door, no doubt having heard the entire conversation. With him was another servant of the emperor’s who, upon spotting Avila, gestured for them to follow him. The servant took them to an elaborate wing of the palace where all the most important guests could expect to stay. Avila’s personal quarters had its own kitchen, four bedrooms, two sitting rooms, a balcony overlooking the city, as well as a small staff of servants to help make his stay more comfortable. Avila was pleased to see his luggage had already been brought up, and the various members of his own staff were already making the place more to his liking.

“Can I get you anything, my lord?” asked Otto tentatively, after he’d sunk into one of the couches in the main sitting room. “A drink or something to eat perhaps?”

“Get me my stationary, Otto? Who do we have in charge of the Picardy operation?”

“Magda Bulow, sire. Your cousin, Adalbert, is there as well.”

“Very well, I need to send them a message,” said Avila in a reserved tone.

Otto nodded in a knowing fashion. No doubt after hearing the entire conversation with the emperor, it didn’t come as a surprise to him that he needed to get word to Picardy. The emperor’s request had been succinct and obvious—stop interfering with Picardy.

Once Otto had brought over the necessary items, Avila wrote out a message to Magda, keeping it brief and to the point, just as the emperor’s message had been to him. Satisfied with the results, he soon handed it off to Otto.

The servant nearly dropped it after he read the words on the page.

“My lord, I don’t mean to question your judgment,” started Otto, who was wise enough to question his lord in only the most deferential way. “But this message is telling them to redouble their efforts in Picardy?”

“Of course it is, Otto,” replied Avila simply. “What’s the problem with it?”

Otto coughed awkwardly. “It’s just that seems to be the opposite of what the emperor requested.”

“Indeed it is,” answered Avila before lowering his voice. “But what the emperor doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“My lord, I have to wonder if—”

Avila held up his hand, cutting off his response. He gestured for Otto to join him out on the balcony, where they might be able to speak more clearly without having to worry about any potential listeners. Otto came willingly, his face filled with confusion as Avila shut the balcony door firmly behind him.

“My lord, I’m very confused,” said Otto simply. “What good can come from this?”

“What good?” mocked Avila. “Isn’t the delivery of our traditional enemy good enough?”

“But the emperor said—”

“I know what the emperor said!” whispered Avila furiously. “But I need this operation to succeed. I’ll never be strong enough to take his throne without the prestige that defeating the Picards and the Carinthians would lend to me.”

“But what if he finds out? You’re putting your life in your hands again,” said Otto.

“You leave that to me,” said Avila with a comforting sense of confidence. “Just do what I tell you to do, Otto. I will be emperor someday, and I’ll be damned if I let this old dotard tell me what I can and can’t do. The winds of change are coming to Swabia. It’s time I positioned myself for the ultimate goal.”

“So this part right here on the wings is called an aileron,” said the engineer, as Jack watched him point out the features around the airplane. “This controls the direction that the plane will turn, either left or right. You have something similar here on the rear of the plane as well.” The engineer walked the fifteen feet to the tail of the plane. “Except these are called elevators. These help control your height in the air.”

“What a piece of engineering,” said Jack quietly, running his fingers over the wooden tail of the plane. It was all so inspiring yet daunting at the same time. “What’s this piece called? Another aileron?”

The engineer shook his head. “Nope, that’s a rudder. It can also control whether you go left or right, but without losing as much stability as the ailerons.”

“This is a marvelous invention,” replied Jack, looking back at Kat with a wide grin. “Even back in Java, people have been looking for the secret behind controlled flight for centuries. And it’s finally here.”

“It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before,” said Kat. “In Galicia, we have great hot air balloons, but those are very hard to steer. They made the flying of this airplane look so effortless.”

The pilot of the plane, who was nearby, overheard Kat’s words and came walking closer with an easy chuckle. “Oh, it’s not that effortless. There’s a lot to remember up there, and one pull on the wrong lever can send you spiraling toward the ground. That’s when you have to remember what does what in a hurry.” The smile on the pilot’s face then dropped. “Unfortunately, we’ve lost a share of men in the cause of learning to control these.”

“I can only imagine,” said Jack. “You men are true pioneers though.”

Reina stepped closer to the airplane. “It’s for that reason that we’ve opened up a school here in Polana. A flight school. We keep developing prototypes of that airplane, and so far this is the best design, but we desperately need trained men who can fly them. The casualty rate is still too high for my liking, but this design has been remarkably safe so far.”

“I can only ask who the inventor was that came up with such a creation,” asked Jack. “He has a lot to be proud of.”

Reina smiled sadly. “That he did. Unfortunately, he was involved in a crash three weeks ago. He didn’t make it.”

“How awful,” said Kat quietly.

“The only silver lining to that was that he took lots of notes of his invention,” said Reina. “All his designs, all his work, has been left to us for posterity. We were even building one of his latest designs before he died. An airplane with only one wing on either side.” Reina gestured to the stacked level of wings on either side of the plane.

Before anyone could answer her, the sound of an excitable yell came from behind them. Jack turned to find Dustin gawking at the airplane while his eyes remained open wide. Jack could only laugh at that. Upon seeing the new invention, he’d asked if someone could grab the marine officer, wanting his input on the airplane.

“Either that thing is a really good mirage or someone needs to fetch me new trousers,” said Dustin humorously, coming to a stop next to the airplane.

Jack couldn’t help but chuckle. “Wait until you see it in the air.” He pointed overhead, where another airplane was now circling the field about five hundred feet above them. Dustin watched with wide-mouthed astonishment as it rolled to the right so hard that it flipped over, but not before continuing the roll to eventually right itself.

“Holy shit, what the hell was that?”

The pilot on the ground grinned. “We call it a barrel roll. It’s a lot of fun.”

Dustin guffawed and elbowed Jack. “Seems like that one has a few screws loose.”

Everyone but the pilot found that funny enough to laugh. Once they’d recovered, it was Reina that began to speak next.

“We’re still figuring out ways that this new invention can be of use to us. Of course, it has been suggested for military matters almost right away, to which I agree with.”

“What kind of military matters?” asked Jack.

“Primarily reconnaissance,” answered Reina. “It would be a tremendous asset to be able to fly over enemy lines and spy on what they’re doing. Their movements and direction could be of great value to know beforehand. It also helps that it doesn’t take much for the airplane to take off from. All we need is a clear space of a few hundred feet to act as a basic runway and it can get airborne.”

“What about to land?” questioned Kat. “Is it always as easy as we just witnessed?”

The pilot was the one to answer that one. “Usually it’s easier. We practice at another field not far from here that has a paved runway, which makes it a lot smoother. When we have to land in the grass, it gets a little bumpy. Plus the risk of tipping forward over the engine is a factor as well.”

“How long can you stay in the air for? How much fuel does it take?” asked Jack.

The pilot gently slapped the propeller. “Unfortunately, these things are real fuel guzzlers. We can stay airborne for about thirty minutes but that’s about it.”

“Which is why we’re thinking primarily reconnaissance,” added Reina. “Quick strikes over enemy lines to determine their positions and then return before the fuel runs out.”

Jack pursed his lips and nodded. “That’s not too bad but I’m guessing thirty minutes in the air goes by a lot quicker than you’d think.”

The pilot nodded quickly. “You nailed that one. I could spend all day up there if they let me, but you really have to keep an eye on that fuel gauge.”

“I’d love to get this in the hands of our own engineers,” said Jack before turning to Dustin. “Perhaps if we get them fueled by polonium, we could keep them in the air longer.”

Dustin nodded. “That’s for sure.”

“It would take someone creating an engine that would accept it though,” muttered Jack. “But I might be getting ahead of myself. Even just being in the air would be good enough, although I have to ask if there are other ways we can use it in battle.”

Reina raised an eyebrow. “What are you suggesting, Jack?”

“I get how useful reconnaissance could be,” he said quietly. “But what if we could actually fire something from these? Maybe mount some guns on it?”

The engineer was the next to speak up. “We’ve tried that in some ways but it hasn’t really worked out well. We mounted some guns on the wings, but of course, then the pilot can’t reach them and we don’t have a good way yet for him to fire it without touching the trigger. We also tried to mount them over the engine, but the first man to take it up shot his propeller full of holes and nearly died in the process. We haven’t come up with anything else yet.”

“So that might take some time to figure out,” said Jack while tapping his chin. “But what if we could drop something from the air on the enemy?”

Reina scrunched up her forehead in confusion. “Like what?”

Jack turned to Dustin. “Dustin, you have a grenade on you by any chance?”

Dustin opened up his jacket pocket, revealing three of them hanging from the inner lining. “Never leave home without them, Jack.”

“Toss one here, will you?”

After catching Dustin’s throw, Jack looked at the grenade in his hands. It was a simple design, only requiring the pull of a pin before it was active, exploding about five seconds after. As Jack looked back at the airplane, he started to smile. “What if we could drop a bunch of these from the air?”

The engineer walked closer, his hand extended to look at the grenade. “These are your grenades? I like the design of these. Simple, yet effective. Just a pin pull, right?”

“Right you are,” replied Jack. “Would make it easy for the pilot in the air to do while still keeping an eye on the controls.”

“Plus can you imagine the effect it would have?” asked the pilot as he turned to look at Reina. “How devastating it would be to the enemy to not only see that we’ve conquered the air, but that we can drop bombs on them from the sky?”

“It is a mighty potent weapon,” admitted Reina. “Although I’m wondering if it will work as well in practice as it does in theory.”

“Only one way to find out,” said Jack before looking back at the airplane. “Who wants to try it out?”

The pilot only grinned in response.

About thirty minutes later, all of them save for the pilot watched from the sky as his airplane came in low on the approach. Directly under the plane, yet still a few hundred yards in front, was a makeshift target that included several figures that had been done up to resemble army soldiers. They wore the correct uniforms, generously donated by Reina, and they’d been stuffed with straw and attached to platforms to keep them rigid. It wasn’t a huge target, but it was a semi-accurate representation of what ground troops would look like on the approach.

The pilot was given all the grenades that Dustin had, as well as those that were borrowed from the squad that came with them from the capitol. All in all, he had access to fifteen of them, letting him try a number of approaches to get it right.

Unfortunately, the first five or so flybys didn’t yield any results. The pilot either let the grenade fly too early, too late, or he was too high that it exploded in midair or he let it go too soon and it bounced off the ground only to explode into the air. It wasn’t the most encouraging results until the sixth flyby, when he managed to blow up about two of the straw figures.

“So, it might take some practice,” said Jack as they waved for the pilot to land. “It may not be as easy as we think, but I bet a trained pilot can figure out the correct altitude and timing to release one.”

“It could definitely work against troops, but I’m wondering if it might be better against buildings,” questioned Reina. “Bigger targets might lead to better results.”

“We might need something more powerful than a grenade then, Your Majesty,” said Dustin. “I can’t see one of those being able to punch through stone or mortar.”

“We’ll just have to keep trying,” said Reina before gesturing to her engineer. “If we were able to come up with controlled flight on our own, surely we can design a more potent bomb for use in the air.”

Jack smiled. “I can only imagine the effect it would have on the Swabian troops below. This is definitely a game-changing weapon.”

“That’s why I’m sending it with my own ships for your expedition to Daban,” said Reina with a grin. “I think this time the Swabians have gone too far. It’s about time they were the ones pushed back on their heels.”

Jack gave her a questioning look. “How would you be able to do that? Doesn’t it need land to take off?”

“It just needs a short runway to get going,” said the engineer from Reina’s side. “The man who invented it was actually a naval engineer. His first designs included a launcher that could be fitted on ships.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “That would be very useful indeed. But how would you recover it? Or would it just be a one-time use application?”