Chapter 26

East of Cestralion, Lynese

William rode at the head of a long column with the rest of his commanders, his army finally on the move again after being stalled for months in the Lysmir woods. The spread of the Elder Curse had been stopped, and almost all of the quarantined soldiers had been released by the Disciples. Thankfully, with the widespread quarantining and halting of the men, allowing the Disciples to do their work more efficiently, they’d managed to halt most of the spread of the disease, losing only a few dozen to its ravages.

Most of the army was with him, leaving only a small force to block any Lynesian troops who had retreated into the Lysmir Woods from entering into Rendalia. It was a risk, but one he deemed necessary.

It had been a long three-day ride from their previous lines, but they were close enough to Cestralion that signs of civilization had reappeared. Farms, large roads, and the like showed they were almost to their destination. Their progress slowed as a group of scouts rode towards him, bringing their horses to a halt and saluting.

“Report,” William ordered.

“Your Royal Highness,” the lead scout said. “The Lynesians have reinforced the city. Their walls look to be strong and well-manned. From the standards I could see, I believe some of the forces who fled our battles to the east came here. The city looks to be fully manned, maybe more so.”

“Not a surprise,” Pembroke said. “This is the largest settlement for them to return to, keeping them near the front, as opposed to running all the way back to Valemonde. It’s the dregs of broken armies, but still a significant force behind stone walls.”

“Taking those walls will be a costly affair,” Sir Alistair added.

“Which is why I don’t think we should take them,” William said.

Sir Alistair raised an eyebrow. “Then what are we doing here?”

“We’re going to surround the city,” William said. “Cut them off from their supplies and starve them out. Commander Haverhill, Commander Baldwin, assemble your squads. I want you to start pulling in supplies from the countryside immediately.”

“The locals may not take kindly to that, My Prince,” Commander Baldwin said. “Unrest in the surrounding countryside will make things more difficult for us, and possibly cause issues with our supply lines back through Rendalia.”

“Try to be as diplomatic as you can. Use the money we confiscated from Port Belmar and the Lynesian build-up in Lysmir Woods. Pay a fair price for what you take. But make it clear they don’t have the option to refuse to sell to us.”

Haverhill frowned. “And if they don’t have surplus to sell?”

“Leave enough for the villages to get by,” William said. “But anything extra, we take. Inform them the markets they usually sell to in Cestralion are closed. We’ll be their only buyers now. They won’t like it, but I’m hoping the fact that we leave them enough to not starve and pay them fairly will offset that.”

“Even paying them, a lot of people won’t want to sell,” Sir Drummond said. “They’ll hoard what they can or try to sneak it south to Valemonde.”

“I know. I’m trying to soften the blow, but we can be more forceful as needed. We’ll have to send out regular sweeps to confiscate harvests as they come in, but they will sell to us. This will also be costly, so any manors, noble residences, or keeps are to be stripped bare, as long as it doesn’t draw us into prolonged fights. Treating the peasantry fairly will make our lives easier, but I see no reason to offer the same consolations to their nobles.”

“What about the nobility themselves?”

“Put them in chains. If the emperor wants them back, he can ransom them back from us. If not ... well, we can always use some forced labor in the works. Send a detachment to secure the roads leading south. I want checkpoints on every route. Nothing gets through without our say-so.”

“It will be done,” Haverhill said.

“If a keep or other defensive work is fortified heavily enough skip it and inform us, and we will make the determination if it should be taken or bypassed. Do not let yourselves get bogged down in protracted fights.”

“Understood,” Baldwin said.

“Sir Cedrick,” William said, turning to the grizzled knight as the two men-at-arms rode off. “Once the perimeter lines are established, I want you to position siege equipment and archers along the shoreline on both sides of the city.”

“Not around the city itself?”

“No. I’m not looking to storm the walls unless we have to, and would prefer to take it intact if at all possible. These actions are to further limit their supply. I want you to target any ships attempting to resupply Cestralion. We cannot allow them to bring in fresh provisions or reinforcements. Every vessel that reaches the docks lengthens this siege.”

“It will be done,” Cedrick said. “I’ll see to it personally.”

William hadn’t interacted with Sir Cedrick much, but the times he had, he’d been impressed with the man’s willingness to get his hands dirty carrying out orders, instead of standing back and letting others do it.

“We should also send word to our fleet in Rendalia Bay,” Pembroke suggested. “Have them redeploy to the mouth of the Lysmir River. They can intercept any ships trying to aid the city from the north.”

“Agreed,” William said. “That will allow us to concentrate our efforts on vessels coming up from Valemonde and Dawnstar Lake to the south. Cestralion’s position on the river gives them too many avenues for resupply. We need to cut off as many as we can. They also have a port up there that I’d like to deal with. We can’t siege it, since they’re on the wrong side of the river, but we can choke it off from the river once we have Cestralion. I’d like to take both this city and that one before winter. Together, they’ll give us a jumping-off point for the march to Valemonde and allow our army to supply via the river instead of a long overland route.”

“One thing at a time, however,” Pembroke warned.

“Yes. Just thinking ahead. Send a messenger under a flag of truce to Cestralion. Offer them terms for surrender. If they yield the city peacefully, we’ll spare them a sacking.”

“They won’t agree to that,” Pembroke said. “Not now, at least. Those walls are strong, and they’ve got plenty of soldiers to man them.”

“True, but they also have a lot of mouths to feed,” William pointed out. “Every refugee and soldier that fled into the city is another drain on their food stores. The downside of our foes in the city being so strong is they all have to be fed, and you can’t keep soldiers you want to be able to fight on half rations. It’s why I want to cut off their access to the river and strip the countryside. Anything we do to make their ability to bring in more supplies weakens them and feeds our men. Give them a few weeks, maybe a month or two. When the granaries start running low and the belts start tightening, they’ll start thinking differently.”

William had never run a siege himself, or been present at one, but he’d heard stories from his Uncle Gavric and some of the weapons masters in Starhaven, all of whom did time in the armies before mastering their craft enough to be allowed to teach the prince ... and William.

In the beginning, the defenders would be defiant, confident in their walls and their stores. But as the days dragged on and the food dwindled, their resolve would start to crack. First would come the rationing, the cutting of meals to stretch the supplies. Then the first pangs of real hunger would set in, the gnawing ache that never quite went away. Tempers would fray, and fights would break out over scraps and crumbs.

When they looked out over their walls, they would see the besiegers, well-fed and waiting, the promise of plenty dangling just out of reach. Few cities could withstand that kind of pressure for long. Sooner or later, someone would decide that a quick surrender was preferable to a slow death by starvation. They would either convince their commander or replace him with someone who was willing to end their suffering.

It was just a matter of time.

Grand Hall, Starhaven, Sidor

The ancient grandeur of the Grand Hall was on full display, with long tables laid out across the central chambers, and the massive columns decorated with banners bearing the sigils of Sidor’s noble houses and tapestries showing scenes from Sidor’s history, long before the unification.

The hall was packed with guests from across the kingdom, all gathered to celebrate Redwald’s Day, the commemoration of Sidor’s triumph over Thayan invaders in the sixth century. Nobles from as far away as the Duchy of Icelands in the north to the far southern Duchy of Shadowhold filled the space, each dressed in their best finery, making an impressive showcase of the breadth of styles to be found across the kingdom. Servants wove through the crowd bearing trays laden with delicacies and flagons of rich wine.

Edmund lived for these sorts of affairs. It allowed him to dress in his finest, which today included a magnificent doublet of deep blue lake silk and a thin, magnificently elaborate duke’s crown to remind everyone of his station. In addition, this was the second biggest event in the kingdom, after Lion’s Day, and was one of the few times so many of the kingdom’s nobility would all be in one place, making for an excellent opportunity to feel out Sidor’s current political undercurrents and begin planning his moves for the next year.

Of course, that was a downside too, especially in difficult times, such as the one the kingdom found itself in at the moment, since it gave those same nobles a chance to waylay their betters and complain about things above their station.

“I admit things are not as advantageous as they should be, Arden,” Edmund said to Baron Stonehill, who’d pulled him aside to complain about more unrest in his region, as if he was the only one facing difficulties. “But you’ve been given more than adequate resources to deal with it. In fact, from the reports I have been getting, the troubles in your barony are worse than in any of the others in the region. How is it that your neighbors have managed to maintain a hold on their people while you have not?”

“Your Grace, I was not saying the situation was out of control or that I cannot contain the issue. I simply wanted to bring the problem to your attention. While I will acknowledge that some of my fellow barons had suffered fewer indignities from the rabble, I would argue that is perhaps a side-effect of their shirking their responsibility to the crown and refusing to uphold the law as vigorously as I have. If you are suggesting that I should lessen my efforts...”