Chapter 5

Starhaven, Sidor

Edmund sat at his ornate desk, quill scratching furiously across the parchment as he put every bit of anger and fury into the scathing letter the scribes would send to each of his barons but targeted specifically at a hated few. Thurston and the rest of the border barons along Iron Keep all thought they were so clever. Their peasant heroes had gained an upper hand in their rebellion, only because his barons, men who’d sworn fealty to him as their duke, who’d made oaths to his house in the name of their fathers and their fathers’ fathers, had turned their back on those oaths, supporting low-borns who wanted nothing more than to tear down their betters.

They pulled their stunt in the Noble’s Council, getting the war taxes revoked just when the kingdom was recovering from the rebellion and the maw season. They’d been behind the peasants even introducing the law, at least some of them. Thurston, for sure. Maybe Garris and a few others. It was just too convenient otherwise, the way the introduced law was brought up without him even mentioning it with enough support to repeal the taxes accomplished so easily. It had to be premeditated.

There was no other explanation for it.

He just couldn’t understand how they’d managed to get so many barons to agree. Historically, they were no better than the harrow, the evil little carrion eaters that lived around the Iron Straits and southern Lynese and mimicked sounds to lure other creatures to their deaths. Thurston and the rest were no different. Pretending to be nobles but just peasants at heart.

And now this. They had decided, in an ‘effort to give full faith to the will of the people,’ to return both coin and grain to villages that had paid the war tax. Even to some that had paid almost six months previously. As if the coffers weren’t depleted enough already by this foolish war and their rebellion.

Edmund’s quill snapped, spattering ink across the parchment. He tossed it aside with a curse and reached for another, only to pause as his eyes fell upon the intricate timepiece against the far wall. It was as expensive as it was beautiful, although the cost was more for how intricately it had to be made and maintained, and not just the status of it. Its gilded gears clicked softly, moment after moment as it counted out the minutes and hours of each day. It had to be wound religiously, since if it ever stopped, he would have to bring in a master artisan to retool it to get the timing just right.

Looking at it brought him a little joy, if only for a few moments, because it also told him it was close to sundown. Rising from his desk, he tossed the remains of the letter onto the floor to be cleaned up by a servant later, Edmund began to pace.

These meetings always made him anxious.

It was a risk, bringing foreigners into the palace, even when he ensured they did so through means no one else knew of, and when he was sure to be alone. If he were caught, so many of his plans would come tumbling down.

And yet, he didn’t see what choice he had. He was beholden to that fat imbecile and still needed his money if he was going to make those plans work. It was a two-sided blade, and there were days when he felt as if either side of the blade could cut him.

Today was one of those days.

He’d been expecting it, and yet when the three knocks came, it made him almost jump out of his skin. He moved to the wall, working the notched stones until the locking mechanism unlatched, and stepped back. There was a scraping sound of stone on stone as the man on the other side pushed it open. It didn’t swing open far, just enough to allow an adult to walk through easily, and so it could be closed quickly.

As with other times he’d been forced into one of these meetings, the man that came through was clothed in a thick hooded cloak, pulled low. He was also not someone Edmund had met before. Edmund wasn’t sure he liked having a new person see his face and know he was involved every time they met, but again, the leverage in this situation was not his.

“You’re late,” Edmund said.

This wasn’t true, of course, but Edmund liked to start these things off with himself in a more advantageous position.

“I’m right on time.”

“Fine. What does your master have for me that could not wait?”

“You know exactly what he wants from you. The same thing the other three men told you he wanted. He wants to know when you intend to bring it to an end. This war has dragged on far too long, and he is starting to believe his money is not being spent in the right place.”

“And he knows my answer. I’ve done everything in my power to hinder Sidor’s war efforts. The army is no longer getting supplies to feed its troops or men to replace its losses. Short of declaring him the victor when his armies aren’t winning, I don’t know what he expects of me. I have told him there is only so much I can do, and eventually, your armies have to actually show some kind of skill aside from dying on the end of a pike.”

Edmund could see he hit a nerve with the man, and the man’s nostrils flared in anger.

“It is not enough.”

“And I am telling you, it is all there is. I cannot push too hard, or questions no one wants voiced will start being asked. The only peace that will last is one people will believe. Appearances must be maintained.”

“Appearances mean nothing if Sidor keeps winning battles. If you are too cowardly to do what needs to be done, perhaps my master’s support should go elsewhere.”

“Mind your tongue, or I will have it removed. You forget your place,” Edmund said.

“And you forget who holds your purse strings,” the emissary retorted. “My master grows weary of excuses. The war must end, and it must end soon. One more step on Lynesian soil is too much to give. You made promises. Guarantees that you controlled the king and, through him Sidor. You have yet to prove that to be true. You cannot even keep your own country in check, letting peasants run around telling the lords what to do.”

“You speak of things you do not understand. Things are far more complex than your master seems to realize. The nobles in our kingdom are far different than his own and have always had more power than they would be allowed in your kingdom. Until that is put back in check, I have to be careful of how I do things.

“That is not what you promised my master. You promised the king was a boy, ignorant and foolish. You said you controlled him.”

“And I do, but control is not the same as absolute power. It requires ... finesse. It’s a delicate balance.”

“Your delicate balance makes our partnership all but worthless. Perhaps it’s time we reconsidered the value of this partnership.”

“I think you should reconsider. The alternative to what is happening now is a fully supplied and supported Sidorian army. Look at what they have been able to do with no supplies and no additional men, and tell me if that is in your master’s best interest. Without my efforts, Lynese would have fallen long ago.”

The man didn’t reply right away, because what could he say? The Lynesians had shown themselves to be worse at fighting than anyone had ever considered. They were so bad, in fact, losing to an idiot child, that it even brought into question Gavric’s greatness. How the people had crowed at his victories at the beginning of the war, hailing him a genius. And yet, if William could win victories just as stunning as his brother had, it clearly wasn’t as difficult as everyone made it out to be.

If it wasn’t for Edmund’s own needs, which benefited from an intact Lynese giving his people something to focus on and an excuse for pulling the resources he needed to rule the country properly, he would have been happy to see them fall.

But these were complex times.

“If your master’s armies cannot defeat our army, weakened as it is, then perhaps a different tactic is called for.”

“Like what?” the man asked, eying Edmund suspiciously.

“A partial surrender. Your master should go into negotiations before his capital falls. I know it would be dramatic, and it might lead to giving up things he doesn’t want to give, perhaps offer Rendalia in exchange for Sidor removing their armies. My nephew would go for that, without a doubt, considering the province’s importance to my family, and it would end the threat to your capital.”

The man took a step back as if he’d been shoved. “A surrender? You can’t be serious. The emperor would never consider...”

“The emperor,” Edmund cut in smoothly, “would be wise to consider it. Consider the long-term benefits of such a strategy and that it is not as permanent as it seems. Actually, it might be the perfect solution if Sidor gains a significant territory, enough to satisfy my nephew and give something to throw to the people, to justify the cost of the conflict. Lynese preserves the bulk of its empire and ends a costly war. Both sides can claim victory.”

“And lose a piece of our own country. One of the richest coastal lands in the empire and give Sidor a foothold on our lands.”

“That’s the thing of it. While it would be a major victory for Sidor on paper, in reality, maintaining lands across the Leviathan Straits, especially during maw seasons, would be costly and difficult. The nobles, who would crow about the acquisition, would sour on it quickly as they’re forced to pay for it. Public interest will wane. In a few years, when the cost of holding Rendalia becomes apparent, it will be a simple matter to negotiate its return to Lynese ... under certain conditions, of course. But, it would be enough to get our nobles to accept the terms. It’s a perfect solution, actually.”

“It sounds less than perfect from our point of view.”

“It’s temporary only. Even if it weren’t, it gives you time to rearm. Are you suggesting a strengthened and renewed Lynese could not take it back?”

“I’m suggesting it is a convenient way to set up a launching point for a new war, when you are more able to conduct it.”

“What do we need later that we don’t have now? Already our armies are within a week’s march of your capital with little standing in their way but snow. Ending the war now is better for you than it ending in your defeat, and it allows you some leverage to get the best outcome you can. Once the war is over, ties could always be strengthened, arrangements made to bring our houses closer together and form personal bonds, to offer your emperor a balm for his nerves. Dynastic connections, after all, tend to give places for conversation instead of conflict. Especially with my brother and his love for war no longer king. Besides, your master has enough daughters that it would not weigh on him too greatly.”

Again, the man was silent, but Edmund could see him thinking. At least weighing the words. In truth, the idea had just come to him, but he was rather proud of it. If he could wed William to one of Baudric’s daughters, it would give him dynastic claim over Lynese as a member of the House of Montborne. True, her father, older brother, and a sister or two would have to go to open the lineage, but the Lynese allowed for rule by either sex, and since he had only one boy, male priority did not matter.

William, on the other hand, was below Serwyn, himself, and Aldric, and he had time to find a new wife and have a true son, allowing him to displace William once and for all. But William was close enough that Baudric might see him as a viable connection to the Sidorian throne. Just enough bait to chum the waters. It wouldn’t be until it was almost too late that the fat man would realize he’d caught a nettlefish instead.

“I’m not sure my master would agree to your reasoning. Surrendering Rendalia, even temporarily, goes against everything he stands for.”

“Your emperor is many things, but a fool isn’t one of them. He’s clever enough to see the long-term benefits. This path leads to peace without the humiliation of total defeat. It preserves the bulk of his empire while giving him time to rebuild and strengthen.”

“He will not like this option.”

“And yet it is the only one he has. The only viable path to peace and future strength. Your emperor must see that.”

“I ... will relay your proposals to His Imperial Majesty,” the man said after a long moment of thought.

Edmund suppressed a smile. It was too soon to crow. Convincing a messenger was not the same thing as convincing a ruler. These things take time and have to be given space to grow.

“See that you do. And make sure he understands the gravity of the situation. Spring is almost upon us, and my son will not hesitate to finish this now that momentum is on his side. This may be your master’s last chance to salvage something from this war.”

The man gave a single nod and disappeared back through the open door. As the shadows swallowed him completely, Edmund pushed the wall back in place until the latches clicked, sealing the passage once more.

Alone again, Edmund returned to his desk. He poured himself a generous glass of wine from a crystal decanter, the rich red liquid catching the fading light from the window. He sipped the wine slowly, savoring its complex flavor as he thought over his next moves. It was a dangerous game, and there were no guarantees this newest move would work.

And yet, for the first time in a while, he felt like he was gaining the upper hand on Baudric. He’d turned the Lynesian disasters and the demands that came with that into a strength that would give him something to show the loyal barons who still supported the crown.

He took another sip of wine, letting the warmth spread through him.

Yes. This could work.

Valemonde, Lynese

Isolde pulled her cloak tighter as she made her way to the northern edge of the city where the barracks for the army were set up, close to the defensive fortifications protecting the city. It wasn’t that it was that cold. They were close to the end of winter and the snows had already started to thin, so the temperatures were starting to creep up from the lows of a month ago.

It was the atmosphere that chilled here. The entire city was in a near state of panic and had been since the loss of Talabot. Soldiers talk and it didn’t take long for the citizenry to find out how badly the war was going for them. When it had been way off in the north, in places like Rendalia, who many denizens of the capital thought deserved their fate for their attitudes toward the rest of their countrymen, it had seemed a far-off thing. Believing, of course, that the great Lynesian army would be triumphant and push the invaders into the sea.