Chapter 29

Cestralion, Aurorin Province, Lynese

William stood on the balcony of the viceroy’s keep, looking out over the city of Cestralion. Although snow hadn’t started to fall yet, there was a notable chill in the air, helpfully marking the first day of winter. The city bustled with activity, people going about their daily lives despite the cold and the occupation by Sidorian forces.

That part, at least, had gone well. William’s biggest concern over the negotiated surrender was that the people would still have defiance left in them and push back against their occupiers. Amazingly, they’d adjusted relatively well. There had been a few contentious spots, and he’d maintained pretty rigorous patrols, but he’d also made sure all of his officers knew to come down hard on anyone who abused or took advantage of the locals, which would be the surest way to turn this into a problem.

Cestralion would be their home for the foreseeable future, and the last thing they needed was civil unrest all winter.

“My Prince, if we could continue,” Pembroke called from inside.

William gave one last look at the city, his biggest achievement to date, a real, tangible trophy, before going back inside, where Pembroke was still seated at the long table the viceroy had used for entertaining.

“As I was saying, with winter here and the first snows most likely to start within the next few weeks, I recommend we hold our position here. We’ve managed to secure enough of the harvest and ransom payments from the Lynese that our supply situation is good; we have strong fortifications to operate from, and complete control of the entire Rendalia province. If we handle things correctly, we will have enough resources to last through the winter and cover at least half of next year’s campaign, solving most of our problems from this campaign season. I am concerned that if we continue to operate aggressively, we will burn through our resources now, leaving us unable to hold onto any new gains we do make and giving the Lynesians an advantage when they do bring their forces back from the coast once winter ends.”

“We’ll stop soon,” William said. “I’m concerned we aren’t as secure as we’d like to think we are.”

“How so?”

“Our supply lines are still too long. I know we’re mostly relying on captured supplies at this point, but Aldric is trying to get that fixed, and I have hope that he will do so by the spring, when it’s time to begin the campaign again. When he does, I want us to be prepared for it, and the smaller ports we’ve captured, like Port Belmar, are just too small to do the job.”

“True, but we can work on expanding their capacity over the winter. It’s not ideal, but it’s manageable.”

“I’m not so certain we can get the capacity where it needs to be, and that is only one concern,” William said, shaking his head. “We are still open to attack by river from the north and south, which will make us weak during next year’s campaigning season.”

“While it could be better, I would argue our stance right now is still fairly good. We have patrols along the Dead Man’s Hills, and they already saw how easily we defeated the last group that tried to attack through there, and the Lysmir Woods are well within reach of here. Between Cestralion and Rendalia City, we have both ends of the province, giving us a strong position for defense.”

“It could be better and the Lynesians will not sit still come the spring. I want to get us prepared for that by controlling at least from here north through Lake Lysmir to the sea. Which is why I want Barentez, the port at the mouth of the Lysmir River. It would give us control of most of the northern coast, with the exception of Uvengati Bay.”

“Crossing the river there would be no easy task,” Pembroke said, pointing to the map spread on the table in front of them and tracing a line from Cestralion to Barentez. “The Lynesians could easily contest our landing on the other side. We would need to cross south of Lysmir Lake and march north, exposed to attack the entire way. They have an army in Talabot to the west that could march in time to either intercept us or break any siege of the city we set up. They’ve been limited by our partial control of the river so far, but if we attack Barentez, we will be the ones in the weaker position on the wrong side.”

“That is all true. There are, however, considerations in favor of this,” William pointed out. “Barentez itself is lightly defended at the moment, having sent most of its garrison to bolster the forces in the Lysmir Woods in anticipation of our advance. Men who we either just ransomed or are sitting in our prison camps. With everything that’s going on in the southeast, I don’t think they will reinforce until spring. From the reports I’ve seen, other than keeping a garrison on hand and the walls lightly manned, they aren’t doing much, and no one from Talabot has shifted to Barentez in preparation for an attack. I don’t think they expect us to do anything before spring either.”

“But you want to do something? How do you plan on taking the city without losing a large number of our men? Men that, I should remind you, will probably not be replaced from home anytime soon.”

“I’m not planning on taking a big risk. In fact, I have a plan that might work. It’s risky, but if we pull it off, we could take Barentez with a relatively small force and secure the city before Talabot even realizes what’s happening.”

“Really?” Pembroke said, leaning forward. “Tell me more?”

Starhaven, Sidor Edmund stood next to the king on the balcony of his personal study, watching the crowds below. Hundreds of people, maybe thousands, swarmed the gates, pushing them with enough force to cause the thick metal to shake and bend. Edmund couldn’t see the faces of the few guards still in the closed courtyard below, but he could imagine the fear they felt.

Even looking down on them from above, everything about the guards looked anxious, worried. And they were right to be. Before he got the remaining guard in the city pulled back to the palace, several had been literally ripped apart by the angry mobs as the peasant tier rose up in a giant, violent force, storming the merchant tier and the docks, taking anything that wasn’t nailed down.

Those merchants and nobles smart enough and with a few guards had managed to seal themselves up in their homes, like small islands in a violent sea. The rest had become chum for the starving masses.

It had been fifteen days since the last shipment of food to the city, after three weeks of reduced shipments as ports fell to the rebels, which had left the city in incredibly short supply when the food stopped coming at all. By day three, people were hungry and angry, with fights and violent conflicts over stolen food on the rise. By day five, most of the smartest had taken the last ships out, choosing to take the chance of being captured by the rebels surrounding Starhaven Bay or hoping to swim across it into the wilderness, running for their lives.

The riot itself started on day ten, when a group of protesters ran into some of the last guards trying to hold the market square. Things had gotten out of hand and a few peasants were killed, sending the rest of the city into a bloodthirsty rage. Half the guards in the market quarter had died, swarmed by men and women ready to lash out at anything they could over their current state. For the last five days, they had been trapped in the palace, eating through the stores in the sub-basements, waiting to see which would go first, their food or the gates to the palace.

It was only a matter of time.

“It’s time to negotiate with the rebels,” Edmund said, turning to Serwyn, who was busy glaring at the crowd, silently trying to will them all to drop dead.

“Absolutely not!” Serwyn slammed his fist on the balcony railing, his face twisted in rage. “I want the guard sent out to slaughter every last person daring to attack the palace.”

“You know that’s not possible. We barely have enough guards left to keep the palace from being overrun.”

Serwyn whirled on him, red in the face and nostrils flaring. “Then bring back the army that Aldric put together and marched to Shadowhold. He has thirty thousand men. They could easily crush the rebels holding the port and end this damnable revolt.”

“That isn’t possible either, Serwyn. The Maw has already opened, and the assault on our southern shores has started again. If we were to pull the army there back, the creatures would ravage the south, maybe even through River Mark and into Kingshold itself. We would lose a full duchy for a generation, and maybe half the kingdom, which would be the end for us. Even if they didn’t, to give away Shadowhold would make the rebellion exponentially worse. Right now, the rebels are just peasants, but if we allow the Chaosborn to ravage the country, the rest of the people, including knights and barons, will rise up. The result would be the same as if we just wait to starve here.”

“This is unacceptable! I am the king, and they dare defy me? I’ll have their heads on spikes!”

Serwyn was working himself into a fit of rage that threatened to overwhelm even what little reason he had. Edmund needed him to get it together, or they were doomed. Grabbing him by the shoulders, Edmund spun him around and held him tight, meeting his furious eyes with anger of his own. It was a gamble, but only a minor one. Most of the guards who’d made it back to the palace were more loyal to Edmund than they were to the king, who had terrorized them since he was little. It was still a risk, but Edmund needed the boy to snap out of it.

“Serwyn,” he said, shaking the boy hard. “Get a grip. You need to listen to reason, and you need to do it now, or we’re all dead. You are the king, and it’s time to act like it. I know how infuriating this is, but being a ruler means making difficult decisions, even if it means accepting a temporary setback.”

Serwyn tried to jerk away, but Edmund held him in place. “I will not bow to the demands of rebels and traitors!”

“Do you want to die? Do you want these people, this mob, to rip the gates down and tear you limb from limb? I love you, boy, but you need to get it together right now, before it’s too late. Are you ready to give up your crown to these people?”

Edmund wasn’t sure which part of that got through to him, but Serwyn stopped fighting, almost sagging as he weakly said, “No. I want to be king.”

“Good. That’s good. Now, it’s time to understand that a wise king does what needs to be done for the greater good of the kingdom. Sometimes, you must take a step back before you can move forward. I know you are a wise king, Serwyn. You have the potential to be one of the greatest rulers Sidor has ever known, but only if you learn to make the hard choices.”

“What would you have me do, Uncle?” a defeated Serwyn said.

“Negotiate. Even the rebels have yet to call for your head or crown, so there is room to make this work. We will have to repeal the Edicts of Travel. It will strengthen the barons, who will see this as a victory, but we have no other choice. There are other ways to deal with the barons and the peasants who defied us, but we must do so from a position of strength. Offer to put things back to how they were.”

“They’ll see that as a victory. It will open the door to more demands. To thinking they can stand up to us every time things go wrong.”

“Some will, it’s true. Others will just be happy it’s over and want to go back to their lives. It will buy us time. Time to bring the armies back from Lynese, fortify our position, and we can deal with the traitors then. It’s our only real option. We have only three paths before us: Negotiate, giving the rebels the minimum of what they want, recall the army in Shadowhold and allow the kingdom to fall to the Chaosborn, or do nothing and die from starvation or the mob. The choice is yours, Serwyn. I know you’ll choose wisely.”