The Barons' War
Copyright© 2025 by Lumpy
Chapter 5
Starhaven, Sidor
Edmund knelt on the cushion placed in front of the basin, his head bowed in silent contemplation. Or at least he hoped that’s what it looked like.
The private scriptorium was like others found in keeps and villages across the Shattered Lands, only much nicer. Smaller versions of the massive Hall of Ancients on holy days and special occasions when the pomp and pageantry or the large halls found in major cities were not needed.
They tended to be refuges for those desperate for answers.
Edmund was not normally one of those people, but appearances must be maintained, so here he knelt, in one of the highest floors of the castle’s east tower, pretending to seek the ancients’ forgiveness for the indulgences of summer and their wisdom to get through the privations of winter.
A robed disciple attending his cleansing pulled out a small pouch of herbs and poured them into the still water in the basin. A sharp, acrid scent filled the air as soon as they hit the water.
“I seek your wisdom, to cleanse my mind of doubt,” Edmund recited. “I seek your strength, to cleanse my body of weakness. I seek your truth, to cleanse my soul of impurity. With these waters, I wash away my excesses and prepare my body for the coming darkness of winter.”
He dipped his hands into the basin, disturbing the floating herbs. The water felt cool against his skin as he cupped his palms and lifted them, letting the liquid spill between his fingers. Three times he repeated this, as tradition demanded, before wetting his face.
Next was the chanting. He hated the chanting.
Before the disciples could continue, the door opened a crack and Orlan stuck his head inside. The disciples looked disapprovingly as the scribe stepped inside and closed the door, standing next to it.
They so loved their rituals and did hate to have them disturbed. Edmund was happy for the intrusion, although he knew if Orlan was here, now, then he almost certainly had bad news.
“Leave us.”
The robed men hesitated briefly, but even they did not argue with a king. Bowing, they filed out of the room. Edmund waited until the door shut before turning to his aide.
“They are going to make me start this all over, you know.”
Orlan bowed. “Forgiveness, Your Majesty. I would not have interrupted your cleansing if the matter did not require immediate attention.”
Edmund rose from his knees, ignoring the protest of joints stiffened by the hard stone, which was barely blunted by the cushion. “What happened now?”
“Ambleton and Langmere have fallen, Your Majesty.”
Edmund’s face remained impassive, though anger flared hot in his chest. “I hope they haven’t joined the rebels.”
“No, Your Majesty. Taken by force, following up on their attack on Gainsborough. The rebel army continued north after sacking Gainsborough and taking Milbourne. They overwhelmed our defenders at both baronies.”
“Casualties?”
“Significant, Your Majesty. Nearly seven hundred men between the two engagements. Many more wounded or captured.”
Edmund crossed to a side table where a crystal decanter held dark red wine. He poured a generous measure into a silver goblet. The cleansing traditionally required abstention until sunset, but Edmund had never held much regard for such strictures.
“I guess we will have to plan funeral services for Falkirk and young Blout. Quintine should have had more sons before he joined the ancients.”
“They did not die, Your Majesty. Both barons live, retreating with their remaining forces. They head west toward Tansley.”
Edmund slammed the goblet down, wine sloshing over the rim. “They fled?”
“They claim they were outnumbered three to one, Your Majesty.”
“Kenilworth was outnumbered at Millbrook Ford and died with his men rather than abandon his post. Falkirk and Blout should have learned from his lessons.”
“That is not all, Your Majesty. Ambleton’s storehouses were already being filled with the early harvests. Much of that was to be shipped in the coming weeks to the army assembling at Silverhall.”
Edmund drained his cup and refilled it. “So they gain territory and supplies while my appointed defenders flee at the first sign of battle. Incompetence. That is why we are losing this rebellion. Where are their families?”
“Baron Falkirk’s wife and children were at their summer residence near Middlewood Forest. As it happens, the new Baron Blout’s mother and younger sister were with them. All have been taken to Donnington in Swanstock.”
“Send riders to Donnington. I want all of them brought to Starhaven as our honored guests. For their protection. Then tell the quartermaster to divert twenty wagons of supplies from the western territories to replace what we lost in the retreat.”
Orlan nodded, clearly understanding Edmund’s meaning. More importantly, the barons, even the young one, would know what the gesture meant as well, and hopefully use it as motivation to be more aggressive in their defense of the kingdom.
“There is more, Sire. We received word of setbacks in Iron Keep. Lord Sinclair has retaken several holdings from our forces there and is moving up the peninsula. Duke Cadogan reports difficulties getting more men across the narrows to reinforce his men already in the field and is asking for help in clearing Althear Bay of the pirates that swarm his ships.”
“That fool can’t manage anything without help. Tell him I will see what we can do, but half the bay is now controlled by barons in open revolt and he controls most of the rest of it. If anything, he should be the one clearing the bay.”
“I will relay your message,” Orlan said, which sounded suspiciously like he would reword it to be less offensive, but Edmund let it pass.
He didn’t have time to get into a pissing match with the northern goat lovers. However, if Cadogan couldn’t do what he promised, then Edmund would start looking at his barons for a suitable replacement for Duke of the Icelands.
“If that is all of the bad news you have, then leave me in peace. I’ve heard enough for one day.”
“There is one more piece of news, my lord, although I am not sure if it is directly good or bad news. We found out from our friend that Prince William sailed north almost a month ago, presumably to go around the continent and back to Lynese, where the majority of his army still sits.”
Edmund’s eyes narrowed. “Why am I just hearing about this now?”
“He took almost no men with him and we were focused on building up the new army at Silverhall at the time. When I first received word, I took the liberty of contacting our Alchmaran friends to intercept him and hoped to finally have good news to present you, so I waited until I heard the results of that expedition.”
Edmund stepped closer to his aide, who shrank back. “You do not manage my expectations, Orlan. I value you as an assistant, but one of us is King and the other is not. Do not keep information from me in the future, do you understand?”
“Forgiveness, Your Majesty. I will not let it happen again.”
“And what was the result of your initiative?”
“They failed. The prince’s ship managed to sink two of theirs and drove the third off into the Bleakwater Straits. They tell me his ship was damaged in the fight, but it is unclear to what degree. If he continues to sail for Rendalia, he should arrive there shortly.”
Edmund gave a short, harsh laugh and said, “That’s Alchmaran incompetence for you. It was good thinking, even if the tools we had to do the job were insufficient. You did well, Orlan.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
A thought hit Edmund, and he stared at the symbol of the Acolytes on the wall, working it over in his mind.
“If William is gone and Sinclair is retaking Iron Keep, then Aldric leads the army in Kingsheart alone?” He asked finally.
“That is what our friend tells us.”
“This might work in our favor. Without William or Aldric, I am not sure the other barons in the rebellion will hold together.”
“They would still have Baron Sinclair, Your Majesty.”
“Sinclair has always been too self-righteous to inspire broad loyalty and is too narrow-minded to carry the day by himself. The rebellion only started because Aldric was supporting it behind my back while trying to counsel contrition to my face. And the eastern barons didn’t commit until William showed up. If it was left to Sinclair alone, the whole thing would fall apart. The man doesn’t have the talent to rule.”
“As you say, Your Majesty,” Orlan said, which was not the same as agreeing, but again, Edmund let it pass.
“With William temporarily removed from the field, we have a window of opportunity. If we remove Aldric before he returns, the rebellion could collapse before he is able to bring his men back to Sidor.”
“That is a ... risky assumption, begging your pardon, Sire.”
“It isn’t. None of the other barons have enough trust in the others to lead an army, which would force Sinclair to choose between retaking Iron Keep and pressing into Kingsheart. Garris will choose Iron Keep every time. He lacks vision beyond his own borders. With Kingsheart left open, the eastern barons will return to the fold and Sinclair will be back to where he was before William showed up.”
“Very wise, Sire. I will pray to the ancients that something should befall Duke Aldric and give us that opportunity.”
“I prefer more direct solutions than prayer. Contact our friend and have him ensure it.”
Orlan paused. “Your Majesty ... are you certain? Using our friend would compromise our information source within the rebel camp. That source is how we learned of William’s departure.”