An Ending of Oaths
Copyright© 2025 by Lumpy
Chapter 22
Starhaven, Sidor
Edmund shifted papers around on his desk, tired from a long day of audiences. He hadn’t had enough time in the day to deal with the matters of state when he had Serwyn to handle the audiences, most of which mattered not at all. Nobles and representatives of barons either begging for favors or offering pleasantries and adulation, in hopes of getting the same favors from another direction.
Listening to them was a waste of time, but one he had to do, especially now. He needed to ensure the loyalty of the remaining barons, especially those of Kingsheart. Ignoring them, making them feel too undervalued, could push them into the arms of Garris and Aldric. Besides, he wanted to take some of the power back from the less loyal barons, and they had helpfully singled themselves out by declaring for Garris. Once this rebellion was over, he could have them executed and their lands given to people more willing to show proper respect to the crown.
The only ones that didn’t fit that category were the eastern barons and the entire Duchy of Shadowhold. Shadowhold he wasn’t concerned about, as it was the poorest of the baronies, with much of its land unsuitable for habitation or industry. The eastern barons, however, were another story. Farmland, large sources of lumber, ports and trade routes, and several large mines along the border where the hills from the Shatterstone extended into Kingsheart, those baronies were both profitable and necessary. While many had given the proper homage and resisted Garris’s call to join their rebellion, they had also been less than eager to join the fight against the rebellion.
Each had their reasons for not sending him men. Men in Lynese, damage from the peasants’ revolt, or simply just delaying tactics, but taking their time. Edmund knew they were hedging their bets, waiting to see who came out on top.
Even if they didn’t join Garris in the end, they would need to be dealt with when the rebellion was over. For now, he had to listen to their representatives prattle and pretend not to want to throttle them.
“My lord?” Orlan said, sticking his head into the study.
“You have the latest reports?” Edmund asked, waving him into the room.
“As requested, Your Majesty,” the aide said, coming into the room and shutting the door behind him before laying a sheaf of papers on his desk.
Edmund glared down at them. More paperwork.
“Give me a summary,” Edmund ordered.
“Things go well in Iron Keep. Duke Cadogan’s forces have secured Darien hills and parts of the central farmlands. Once they take the Everwood, they will have half of the peninsula in their possession, including the most fertile land. While not a major food producer, limited access to Kingshold’s farmland and their most fertile territory will make the winter difficult, should this extend that long.”
“It better not. I do not want this rebellion to stretch out any further than it needs to. And they will not be completely starved out. River Mark has the most productive farms in the kingdom. If anything, we will suffer more than they will, with Aldric publicly declaring for them.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Still,” Edmund said. “It is excellent news. I hoped Cadogan’s men would change the balance of things, but I had not expected them to be so successful this quickly. Now, we must think about other matters. Once Garris is pushed back far enough, caught between our baronies and the Icelanders, he will retreat into their mountain strongholds. I want to avoid that if possible, as it will take years to dig them out.”
“While I am not a tactician like yourself, I do not believe we can conduct a fight against the River Mark and still have enough men to march up the Greenway and get behind him. Reports are he still has men blocking the passes into the Keep. It will take an extended effort to break through.”
“Hmm,” Edmund said, frowning and looking down at his hands as he thought.
“But,” Orlan added, “Once they have marched into the mountains, we can have men circle around the coasts at the edge of the mountains and have our ships hold the Iron Straits, cutting off food shipments. We can starve them out.”
“Garris is not stupid, he will have put in supplies and will be prepared for that.”
“As you say, Your Highness. Once they withdraw, pull their men in behind them, wouldn’t it be the end of their rebellion? They will surrender any real influence. Their allies will desert them, seeing no benefit in supporting lords who can’t project power beyond their own walls.”
“Most likely. Still a slow process,” Edmund said, pausing for a moment and then waving the thought off. “What about the fight in the River Mark? If anything, that campaign is more important, as it will cut Garris off even further. Having a member of the bloodline supporting him gives him much more legitimacy than he’d otherwise have.”
Orlan’s demeanor changed subtly. “The situation remains ... fluid, Your Majesty. Additional forces continue to gather at Twyver.”
Edmund frowned. “Still gathering? I received reports that they had already assembled their army. They were meant to be retaking those towns Sinclair’s rebels had seized.”
“There have been ... new developments in that region, Your Majesty.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Perhaps Your Majesty should read this report directly.” He extended a sealed message with trembling fingers.
“Don’t play coy with me, Orlan.” Edmund’s voice carried an edge of warning. “Tell me what’s happened.”
“I...” Orlan swallowed hard. “We received a wyvern from Twyver, Your Majesty. Our army that marched south was destroyed.”
“What?” Edmund said, pushing himself out of his chair. “Destroyed? That’s impossible. They outnumbered Aldric’s forces three to one.”
“We still do not have a complete view of what happened, as very few men returned, and none of those were senior commanders. But, from the survivors’ report, they had breached Treweg’s defenses and were on the wall when a second army appeared from the Horn Road. They were caught between a hammer and an anvil, Your Majesty.”
“A second army? Where did Aldric find enough men to field another force? His peasant levies were stretched thin already.”
“It wasn’t immediately clear as to the banners ... They flew a gold lion on black, a bastardization of the crown’s banner.”
“Who would dare?”
“I believe ... the army was led by your son William.”
The blood drained from Edmund’s face. “William?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Our agent in Cloud Bay sent word that two dozen ships landed there a week past. Men and horses under Prince William’s command. They noted his chosen banner in the report.”
“That’s not possible.” Edmund’s words came out flat and cold. “The Leviathan Straits are impassable. No one sails into Kingsheart Bay.”
“They made it across somehow, Your Majesty. The reports are clear; William leads them.”
Edmund sank into his chair as he struggled to accept the implications. The boy had returned to Sidor not to support him, but to aid rebels against the crown. Against his father.
“How many men?”
“Nearly a thousand. It seems to be mostly veterans from the Lynesian campaign, knights and men-at-arms who fought under Prince William’s command.”
“My own son,” Edmund said, stuck on the news that William led them. “After all I’ve done for him.”
“If I may, Your Majesty,” Orlan ventured, “there is one piece of encouraging news. One of our men came along with his army.”
“Why didn’t he send word of this beforehand? A warning could have prevented the disaster at Treweg.”
“I can only speculate, but given the secretive nature of their crossing, Prince William likely restricted all communication to maintain the surprise. Any message might have exposed them,” Orlan said, and then paused. “Now that they’re ashore, we should receive word from him soon.”
“Let us hope so. We cannot allow them time to gather more strength. The eastern barons have delayed long enough with their excuses. Send a message to every baron between here and Twyver. Tell them I want their forces mustered and marching within three days, or I’ll consider their hesitation an act of treason.”
“The threat may push some toward Sinclair’s cause,” Orlan warned.
“Then let them declare themselves openly as traitors,” Edmund snapped. “I’ll not have them playing both sides while my enemies grow stronger. Make it clear, they either stand with their rightful king now, or face the consequences of rebellion. And send word to Duke Cadogan. Tell him to press his advantage in Iron Keep. The faster he can force Sinclair to retreat into his mountains, the sooner we can turn our full attention to crushing this threat in River Mark.”
“What of Prince William, Your Majesty?”
“He made his choice when he sailed those straits. He’s chosen to stand with traitors against his king and father. When we meet him in battle, he’ll receive the same treatment as any other rebel.”
Orlan bowed and backed toward the door, leaving Edmund alone with his thoughts and the growing darkness outside his window. He had taken the boy into his home, and even kept him after his mother died, and this was the thanks he got.
So be it.
Alther Bay
Baron Lorreen Rokeby stood at the prow of the reinforced trawler, wind whipping at his hair and tugging at the coarse wool of his practical riding cloak. Even midsummer, this far up the north end of the bay, with the frigid waters coming in through the narrows, the weather was always cool. In winter months, he could almost march across the frozen waters.
It wasn’t winter now, however, and he was worried about things other than men marching across ice. The Icelanders were making staggering progress down the peninsula. His barony, protected by the thick Everwood Forest, had managed to avoid being taken, but the northerners were making progress and he wasn’t sure how much longer he would have. Meanwhile, Garris would soon have to decide whether to retreat into the mountains or to try to make a stand.
Without reinforcements, it would be all but impossible to hold the line on his own. Which is what led to this desperate gamble. With Daunton Isle firmly in the pocket of the crown, Rokeby was the closest thing to an expert on the bay and its trade that the duchy had left, so he’d been tapped with this desperate maneuver.
The only thing he had going for him was that the Icelanders traded very little by sea, with their northern waters being impassable almost year-round and it being simpler to ship goods into Kingsheart, and let brokers there handle it.
Iron Keep was a peninsula with a wide mountain range at one end. Aside from the Greenway, waterborne trade was the majority of how the duchy got its foreign goods and it fed its people as much on fish as farm goods. Which meant they had ship captains who knew what they were doing.
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