Chapter 33: Forced Decision

Emperor Radu Invar III stood at the window, leaning with his left hand midway up the cold, moist, gray, stone casing. The window was old and warped so the streaming sunlight wavered over the many freshly closed cuts and abrasions riddled across the man’s face. Though he looked out the window, his eyes were even further away. Lost in thought, he blew out a long, slow breath.

He was only a few months past his 36^th year but he felt much older. He felt as if the past day had aged him more than a decade, maybe two. He had spent a long, sleepless night in deepest thought, going over his options. Plans and counterplans swirled in his head over the long night. The moves he could make, and the moves others could make to counter his own. It was almost an intricate dance, but the cost could be measured in blood and lives lost. It was a deadly game and he had only to suffer a single misstep to lose everything.

Finally, with the wan light of the morning sun burning over the horizon, he made his decision. It was an option he didn’t want to take. In truth, it was one he’d spent the long night ignoring. But it was the only way he could see to move forward. Maybe, if he were a smarter man, he could see some other plan which lay hidden from his sight. Nothing else came to him, however. What he’d come up with, the only viable solution he could see, was one of the worst things he could contemplate.

As a matter of fact, the only thing worse he could think of was going to war with Wenland.

Radu’s sister, Vondi, sat quietly across the table from Joric Kiltner, but she was all but ignoring the man. Her eyes continued to stray furtively towards her brother and then away. From time to time, she sniffed, the dry, dusty air fouling up her nose. She’d absently moved to reach for her nose once or twice but invariably her hand fell back to the thick, ironwood table with a soft thump.

She’d managed to look away the day before when the wizard’s scrying pool, against all odds, had exploded but she hadn’t been quick enough to escape all of the flying shrapnel. Luckily, only one side of her face was cut. Joric was the only one of the room’s inhabitants to escape the scratches and abrasions. Radu’s face was a patchwork.

The cuts would heal. She’d take Radu to the Temple of Burr later and have the old priest heal them. It was even likely none of them would scar. After all, they weren’t overly deep though they’d bled like chaos.

The cuts in their psyche? Not so much. Those would take far longer to mend.

They’d been betrayed by someone they’d trusted. Not liked, certainly. She knew of no one who actually liked the man pretending to be Arlade Tinsto. Even the people he trained didn’t like him. Maybe that should have been a warning, a sign of what was to come. She kicked herself mentally yet again for not seeing through the imposter’s charade sooner. She’d never forgive herself for allowing her niece to come so close to the fake Guard. It had turned out well – Audette was unharmed – but there were any number of times, any number of opportunities when Audette could have been hurt or killed or worse.

The man they’d known as Arlade Tinsto, the man they’d trusted to train the vast majority of their Red Guard – the man they’d trusted to train Audette, soon to be the Empress-an – was an imposter. The real Arlade Tinsto was long dead. Worse, the charlatan had led a double life right under their noses. By day, he trained and guided their troops as Consul of one of the three Red Guard legions. By night, he trained an unknown number of fake Red Guard troops. Their intelligence gatherers estimated anywhere from two score to five – certainly not more than eight. He’d trained somewhere between forty and one hundred sixty fake Red Guardsmen in the discipline of Ko’Natu.

But why? For what purpose?

All they knew for certain was he’d slipped into Wenland to either kidnap or kill Wenland’s crown princess with at least forty and possibly as many as one hundred of his fake Red Guard. Was this his endgame? What motivated him? To initiate a war between Wenland and the Empire?

Vondi absently twisted her hair in her hand at the silence, contemplating the conundrum. For the entire morning, nearly everything had been done in silence - and brief silences were unusual for her brother. Prolonged silences, like this one, were almost unheard of. She worried and the twisting of her hair was an unconscious result.

The silence dragged on, the light of the risen sun inching its way across the floor. No one moved or spoke to break it. After a while, it became like a physical thing, a miasma of silence hanging over them all. It became stark and oppressive, causing Vondi and Joric to shift and twitch nervously. Vondi moved from twirling her hair to chewing on the ends. Joric, meanwhile, placed his hands on the table, fingers spread, and just stared at them.

Only Radu remained completely motionless, his eyes fixed on some unseen point somewhere beyond the window.

“Any word on Werten?” Vondi asked, finally breaking the silence. It didn’t have the effect she’d hoped. Her words only served to provide contrast to the silence, making it seem even more ominous.

The emperor didn’t answer at once. He never even moved for several moments. Finally, he shrugged. “He’s recovering. Like us. He’ll join us in a few minutes.”

“What happened, Radu?” Joric asked in response to Vondi’s pointed look. Besides being the Praetor of the Red Guard, he had always been a friend and confidante to the emperor. He thought it was a good enough opening. The silence was getting to him as well.

The Kortho Empire’s Army, Navy and Red Guard were organized similarly; at least, at the lower levels. Four people to a team, led by a Lieutenant, four teams to a squad, led by a captain and five squads to a bantam, led by a commander. It was after the bantam level where the three diverged. The army and navy had ten bantams to a company, led by a legate and then ten companies to a legion, led by a consul. A sub-praetor watched over a division composed of two legions and the four divisions were overseen by the praetor. With the Red Guard, there were only five bantams to a company and two companies to a legion. There were no sub-praetors with the four legions being looked after by the praetor – by Joric.

All of the military, of course, was led by Lady Grand Praetor Vondi Invar, the Emperor’s Right Hand.

Radu looked down and shook his head before answering his friend’s question. “Drau doesn’t know.” His voice was small, almost a whisper.

“Drau?” Joric asked.

The emperor glanced at the man before turning back to the window. “Drau Werten.”

“Werten has a first name?” Joric asked in surprise. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it.”

“Everyone has a first name,” Radu sighed. “Even an arch-wizard.”

“What are we doing here?” Vondi inquired. “Shouldn’t we be going after the imposter?”

“How?” The emperor snorted. “Invade Wenland?”

“We could send a covert team without identifying papers and...” Vondi started.

“I won’t compound our problems by invading foreign soil!” Radu roared. Vondi’s eyes widened. It had been years, maybe as much as a decade, since her brother had raised his voice to her.

The emperor rubbed his hands over his face before turning to his sister again. “I sincerely apologize, Vondi. I’ve not had a great night – but that is no excuse.”

He shook his head wearily. “I thought of just such a plan first off – but it’s unworkable.”

Vondi nodded. She opened her mouth to respond but the loud sound of the heavy wooden door opening with a prolonged creak diverted her attention. Arch-Wizard Werten, Radu’s second most trusted advisor behind Vondi herself, chose that moment to enter.

Though no one really knew how old the arch-wizard was, he looked older than any of the room’s inhabitants had ever seen him. He tottered more than walked, his movements jerky and uneven. His skin was pale and lifeless, wrinkles covering his skeletal hands. He had bags under his eyes and, though his blue eyes appeared alert, there was a tremble around his lips which had never been there before. His face had long, jagged cuts all across it, even over the man’s thin, hooked nose.

“Before you ask, I still am not quite sure why the scrying pool exploded,” he pre-empted, his voice weak and gritty. “The wards were set properly; I remember setting them. They should have prevented any backlash from whatever spell was used. And, no, I don’t know if the spell was directed at us or something else.”

Radu waited for the old man to sit before turning from the window. He looked at each one of his advisors before sighing and walking to the head of the table. He didn’t take his seat. “I didn’t sleep last night. I kept going over everything we know, everything we suspect and everything we’ve seen.”

He shook his head and swallowed. “I have no answers. At this point, I’m not even certain of the questions we should be asking. For whatever reason, the man impersonating Arlade Tinsto considered it necessary to invade our northern neighbor and attempt, at least, to either kidnap or kill the crown princess of Wenland. He did this with troops indistinguishable from our own vaunted Red Guard. Based on the evidence, we can only assume he intends for Wenland to invade us. From a purely moral standpoint, I couldn’t blame them if they did.”

“By now, he’s either succeeded or failed,” the emperor sighed. “We have no way of knowing one way or the other – and no way of finding out easily in time to make a difference. Did anyone see any identifying marks we can use to determine what city he was in?”

“I was looking,” Joric piped in. “I saw nothing. The buildings were generic. I saw a sign for ‘Midtown Weaving’ but I’m pretty sure we can find a ‘Midtown Weaving’ in every town in Wenland. Chaos, I had someone check and we have two in Kortho City – ‘Midtown East’ and ‘Midtown West’ ... and they’re both in the north section of town.”

“Werten?” Radu looked over at the mage.

The old man simply shook his head, his eyes haunted. “If the scrying pool was intact – I might’ve been able to use a location spell. Without it...” The old man shrugged.

The emperor sighed. “I thought as much.”

He closed his eyes and blew another long, slow breath. “I think we have to face the probability that within the next few months, Wenland is going to invade us.”

“I can have the Korthan/Radgar and Joren/Yllucia divisions up here by then,” Vondi remarked, offering to move two of the four army divisions northward. Her agile mind was already working the problem. She quickly went over the current deployments, re-directing them in her mind. “I can probably grab a few companies from both Maragar/Hortenth and Vacilla/Endogar as well, but we still have some skirmishes on the southern and western borders, so I can’t pull them all. That should be close to fifty thousand troops.”

Korthan, Radgar, Joren, Yllucia, Maragar, Hortenth, Vacilla and Endogar were the nation provinces which comprised the empire. Each was responsible for providing their own armies, though all of the armies were subject to Vondi.

“I’ll pull all of the Red Guard up,” Joric mused, considering his troops. “That’ll add about four thousand more.”

“Do we have current numbers on Wenland’s knights and armies?” Vondi asked. “We can’t compete with their navy, but we’ll give them a good spanking if they land on our shores.”

“Will we?” Radu asked wearily, interrupting his sister’s determined plans. He wiped his hand over his face. “I’m not so sure.”

“Radu, the Red Guard alone...,” Joric started.

“Is untested against the Wenland Knights,” the emperor interrupted loudly, his piercing eyes suddenly completely focused on the Red Guard Praetor. “Both their armor and weapons are made of ghost-steel. It gives them a decided advantage.”

“We’ve proven ourselves against the Zultir knights countless times,” Joric pointed out.

“The impostor took at least sixty of his Red Guards to take on a single company of knights,” Radu said quietly. “Plus, at least one mage. That’s sixty or more against twenty – and, given who trained them, we have to believe they are as good or better than the best of our guard. You have to believe he knows something we don’t.”

Vondi and Joric started arguing, their voices merging into a cacophony of sound. Radu allowed it for a moment, his eyes closed, and his brow knit. He took a deep breath before raising his hand. “Enough!”

He waited for his sister and friend to quiet before continuing. “Enough. I didn’t call you here as a prelude to a council of war.”

He turned to Vondi. “Yes, I think it’s prudent to bring up the A and B divisions. But stage them in northern Radgar for now. Call it...,” Radu shrugged, “ ... games or tournaments or whatever. Quietly mobilize our Navy and have them ready. The exercise won’t hurt them any.”