An Ending of Oaths
Copyright© 2025 by Lumpy
Chapter 23
Devonport, Barony of Shalesport, Kingsheart
Baron Kieran Newberry entered his private solarium to find seven of the eastern barons finally assembled, seated around his broad table. It had taken most of the day to sneak the men into the city through hidden passages and side alleys, and then into the keep without being seen. They all knew they must be careful, considering the eyes this kind of meeting would have on them from the west.
Tension was high in the room, the men looking to him as he entered, none smiling or seeming pleased he was there.
Everand Trelwaney of Cragshand spoke first, as he always did.
“What game are you playing at, Newberry? Summoning us here when the king has already made clear his worries about our loyalties. Do you have any idea how a meeting like this would look should word get back to him? It makes us look like we’re conspiring against him.”
“Good, because that’s exactly what we’re doing.”
The words hung in the air for a heartbeat before chaos erupted. Baron Donnington and Baron Loxon shot to their feet, while Holden Kenmore just looked stunned, like he wanted to find an escape. Voices overlapped in a crescendo of outrage and fear.
“Have you lost your mind?” Donnington’s face had gone crimson.
“This is treason!” Loxon backed toward the door.
“Sit down, all of you!” Roderick Halbrok’s commanding voice cut through the din.
Halbrok was the only one of them to see service with King Gavric, having been a loyal aide and retainer to the Golden Lion for more than a decade before he was wounded. He’d been given the Barony of Harlington as his due and he’d shown himself to be as good an administrator as he’d been a warrior ever since. Despite his limp and the cane he’d been forced to use since the lance shattered his hip so many years ago, he remained an imposing figure.
“We all knew what we were doing when we came here, and every one of us knew what a meeting like this meant when you agreed to attend. Professing your loyalties now is performative nonsense. Now sit down and hear him out.”
The men looked unhappy about it, but they all did as they were told. Like chastised boys being scolded for making too much ruckus.
Even though he obeyed like the rest, Trelwaney couldn’t control himself from taking one more shot before he quieted.
“I might not have come had I known you were also inviting him. A meeting of his eastern barons is one thing, but to include a Baron from Iron Keep, which has been declared entirely in open rebellion, is quite another. Might as well send a wyvern to Edmund confessing our plots,” he said, jerking a thumb at Baron Whitby of Deepford.
“That’s unfair,” Holden Kenmore retorted. “Deepford has made his allegiances clear, though he has not sent men to join Garris.”
“Did he have a choice?” Trelwaney’s words dripped with venom. “Trapped on this side of the mountains with the rest of us?”
Fergus Whitby’s weathered face darkened, but he kept his peace. He was in a tough position and he knew it. His technical allegiance was to Iron Keep, but his traditional cooperation with Kingsheart was due to his being so separated from the rest of his fellow Iron Keep barons.
“He has as much to lose with current events as any of the rest of us,” Newberry said. “Now that we’ve expelled the requisite outrage, shall we discuss why I truly called you here?”
The other men didn’t settle entirely, but under the glare of the Halbrok, none argued further.
“First, a question. How many of you have received messages from trusted advisors or subordinates serving with our armies in Lynese?”
One by one, they raised their hands. Even Trelwaney, after a moment’s hesitation, acknowledged with a slight nod.
“Then you’ve all heard about the king’s son? William Whitton has returned with a portion of his army, and now fights alongside Aldric and Garris.”
“We’ve heard,” Donnington muttered.
“And I suspect your messages, like mine, suggested we chose poorly in supporting the Crown, or even remaining neutral.” Kieran pulled out a letter from his doublet. “My man writes extensively of this man they call the ‘warrior cub.’ He speaks glowingly of William’s judgment, his devotion to the Ancients, how he shares the soldiers’ hardships.”
“The natural flattery of men toward their commander,” Trelwaney interrupted, waving his hand dismissively.
“A commander who conquered Lynese without any additional support from the Crown, something that even Gavric did not manage,” Halbrok said, tapping his cane against the floor for emphasis. “And who also controls the largest and most battle-tested Sidorian army in the Shattered Lands. One of the reasons River Mark and Iron Keep have been so badly outnumbered so far, is because so many of their men were across the straits in Lynese. Consider this: if William brings his entire force back, what chance do the Crown’s armies stand, even with Icelander support?”
The question hung in the air. Lynese was far away and many had not paid much attention to the progress of the war this past year, not with all the chaos happening at home, but they had all been equally stunned by the shocking victory pulled off by the youngest of the Whittons.
“There’s more to consider. These messages have spread far beyond our own lands,” Newberry said as the men looked to each other, considering Halbrok’s words.
“What do you mean?” Donnington asked, leaning forward in his chair.
“I’ve been in contact with Duke Blackwood. His barons report similar sentiments from their men in River Mark and those who witnessed the naval victory in Alther Bay. Shadowhold will declare for Sinclair within days.”
The room erupted once more.
“Finally!” Halbrok exclaimed, thumping his cane against the floor.
“Madness,” Trelwaney spat. “Pure madness.”
“Listen to yourselves,” Kieran said. “I understand our position. We backed the Crown because it appeared to be the wisest course. The East Bridge fell, Iron Keep suffered defeats, it seemed Edmund would crush the rebellion swiftly. We had to protect our people, our lands.”
“That wasn’t the only reason,” Donnington interrupted. “Have you all forgotten what Aldric did? He murdered our king! Many of us withdrew support from Sinclair after Aldric’s treachery came to light.”
Halbrok’s laugh was bitter as he said, “And you believe that? Pure fiction, and you all know it. We’ve known Aldric for years. I’ve fought beside him, hunted with him, broke bread at his table. And we know Edmund just as well. Tell me truly; which man would be more likely to murder his own blood for power?”
Murmurs of agreement came back to him. Even Trelwaney’s expression softened slightly.
“Besides,” Halbrok continued, “Duke Aldric tells a very different version of events. One that fits far better with the men we know.”
“The truth of Serwyn’s death matters little now,” Kieran said. “What matters is our future and the future of our people. We all know Edmund orchestrated those laws that brought us to this point. He’s worked for years to diminish baronial authority. If he prevails here, he’ll finally have the power to succeed.”
“He’ll strip us of our ability to protect our own people,” Whitby added, speaking for the first time, “and force us to send more gold to Starhaven while our people starve.”
“Remember why we first supported Sinclair,” Kieran pressed. “His complaints against the Crown were just. Those reasons haven’t changed, only our fear of backing the losing side. But now, with William’s return and Shadowhold’s support, victory seems far more certain. We can finally follow our consciences rather than our fears.”
The barons exchanged glances. They had all seen their people suffer under Edmund’s policies, watched their ancient rights erode under those commands. Perhaps Serwyn had signed them, but they all knew from whose mind they had originated.
“When I served King Gavric, he told me something I’ve never forgotten. He said a man’s true character shows not when he must choose between right and wrong, but when he must choose between right and safe,” Halbrok added. “I believe we face such a choice now.”
“It’s not that simple for everyone,” Kenmore said. “My duchy is filled with the king’s men. They watch everything. The moment I begin gathering forces, Edmund will know and I’ll be in chains.”
“Then don’t gather forces,” Kieran replied. “Hold your position. Continue to cooperate. But speak with the knights you trust. When the moment arrives, they must be ready to fight for the right cause.”
“That ... that I could manage.”
“Baron Halbrok.” Kieran turned to the older man. “I’ve never led men to war. If there was one of us to decide how to manage this, it would be you.”
Halbrok leaned forward, resting both hands on his cane. “We face two challenges, supporting Garris in Iron Keep, and Duke Aldric in River Mark. I suggest you, I, and Donnington gather what forces we can spare, and move through the Lindenwood. We’ll help drive out Edmund’s puppet baron, then push north with any of Thurston’s remaining loyal knights we find to reinforce Garris.”
“What of Stanfield?” Donnington asked. “He’s always aligned with our interests, and you two have history, Newberry.”
“Darrington’s position is too exposed. He could not get to us without being seen,” Kieran said. “But Stanfield supports our cause, even if he can’t openly join us yet. He has given me assurances that, whatever we decide, he will be with us.”
“Good.” Halbrok nodded. “While we go to Garris’s aid, Stanfield, Donnington, and Farrow must secure our eastern borders against Crown forces, particularly those from Ambleton and Langmere. They’ll need to watch Penshaw and Dunwic’s Reach as well, freeing up Loxon and Kenmore to send men to River Mark.”
“Once my lands are clear of Edmund’s spies,” Kenmore added.
“Precisely.” Halbrok pointed at Loxon and Whitby. “You two will muster your forces and prepare to support Aldric’s assault on Twyver. The timing must be perfect. We’ll need to coordinate through trusted messengers. As far as I’m aware, all of the Crown shipping has been driven out of the Iron Straits, so you should be able to send ships back and forth easily through Merchant’s Bay.”
Both men nodded. Iron Straits deposited out into the eastern seas with Alchmara, Iron Keep, the frozen north above, and Inos and Thay below. Very little western Crown shipping ever came this way. Most traveled across Alther Bay and out the Narrows. Even with the loss of the Sisters, the twin forts guarding the exit from the bay to the seas beyond, the defeat of the Icelanders in the bay meant nearly all of the eastern shores were still controlled by forces loyal to Garris.
“If we succeed,” Halbrok continued, “the east becomes one unified force. From there, we look to Aldric and Garris for direction.”
Kieran studied the faces around the table. Fear still showed in some eyes, determination in others. But they all understood the gravity of their choice.
“Then let us begin,” Kieran said.
Waldar Plains, North of the Iron Mountains, Iron Keep
Garris watched his men trudging down the Waldar Plains. Named after an ancient king of the Keep, the littoral plain between Bleakwater Straits and the Iron Mountains extended west out of the Shatterstone Mountains and part way up the western half of the Iron Peninsula. In normal times, it was a wonderful place to live, fed by the sea and runoff from the Iron Mountains; not as cold as the Northlands, but still far enough north to be cool in the summers. A great planting region and one of the jewels of Iron Keep.
For the last two months, the hundred-mile-wide stretch of land was an escape route for refugees fleeing from up the peninsula, making for the eastern Kingsheart baronies or the strongholds in the Shatterstone Mountains. Anywhere that wasn’t currently being ravaged by invaders.
Garris wasn’t sure there were many places like that left in Sidor. Edmund had murdered his way to the throne and was essentially contaminating the entire continent with his evil. The fools in central Kingsheart might support him now, but they would learn their folly when he finally got rid of all opposition and had a free hand to rule as he wanted.
At least the Icelander nobles were smart enough to get paid for selling their people out.
As perfect as this land was for living, it was terrible for defense. Not wide enough to give him space to operate against a bigger force but not so narrow to use it as a bottleneck to counter their numerical superiority. And when he reached the base, he was going to hit the Shatterstone, and either fade into its narrow passes to the traditional Iron Keep strongholds or be smashed against its walls.
Not a choice at all.
“My lord,” Sir Odran said, pulling his horse alongside Garris’s mount. “A messenger reports Kingsleigh’s men have abandoned their positions in the Darien Hills. They’re falling back toward us with the Northerners close behind.”
Damn. His best chance had been to hold them at the Darien Hills. Now that that had failed, he’d lost his only real chance to save his people without something major shifting in the balance of power. He had known this was coming, but the news still struck him like a physical blow.
“How many did they lose?”
“Nearly half their fighting men, including the baron, who was injured and last seen being overrun by the Icelanders. They’ve been conducting rear-guard actions, trying to slow the advance, but...” Odran shook his head. “The numbers are simply too great.”