Chapter 33: Playing with Fire

It turned out that sneaking down the Slot and avoiding Swabians in the process was the easy part. The much harder part was landing off the coast of Samara and making the inland trek to the capital city of Dobele.

A trek that included crossing a dry, barren desert along the way.

Jack maneuvered his head garment so that the thin material would cover the exposed portion of his neck. In this environment, where the heat was brutal and the sun unrelenting, it was crucial to keep every part of his body covered as much as possible.

Thankfully, their carriage afforded them enough coverage to work with but when he sat next to the door, he still received a generous helping of sun. He hoped it wouldn’t go on for much longer.

“We should be nearing Dobele,” said Bill, seemingly able to read Jack’s thoughts. “And then we can get out of this blasted heat.”

It was a good thing the desert didn’t extend for longer than it did. After docking off the coast, they hired a carriage to take Jack, Bill, Santino, as well as Ben and his small security team, toward the capital along the quickest route possible. That meant spending two days crossing this desert but after a night on the road already, Jack was looking forward to seeing the Samaran capital.

Their carriage buckled momentarily as one of the wheels caught a hole in the road. Jack braced himself against the side and looked ahead to see the team of horses pulling them along. Using the horses had been a necessity. Cars weren’t yet commonplace in Samara (or so they’d claimed) and transportation in the country was still dominated by more old-fashioned methods. Jack was just thankful it wasn’t a longer journey. He didn’t want to stay in Samara much longer than necessary. All that mattered was getting them on their side and then getting back to Apulia to fight the Swabians.

“This heat reminds me of the summer I spent in the south of Apulia,” said Bill whimsically as he rubbed at his chin. “A good forty years ago before I met Lisa. I remember meeting a girl outside of the city of Monticello that summer. It was so hot that we spent nearly the entire time swimming in the lakes that weren’t far from the city. It was truly a summer that I’ll never forget.”

Jack shot him a grin. “Sounds like you might have made it a hotter summer with the girl.”

For an old man, Bill managed to look temporarily embarrassed. “Well, we needed something to do once we were in the water. As I remember it, she was quite insatiable.” He looked out toward the desert fondly. “Those were the days. I had infinite energy and the vigor of a much younger man.”

“Whatever happened to the girl?” asked Jack.

Bill shrugged. “We fell apart after some silly little argument at the end of summer. Typical of young puppy love, I suppose. I’ll never forget her though. Nor the way she moved through the water on her way to me, with those small drops of water cascading off her supple skin.”

Jack stifled a deeper laugh. “I can see now why the memory is still so vivid for you. Funny how some of our most potent memories are tied to women.”

Bill nodded. “Isn’t that the truth. But I only tell this story now in this small company.” He leaned forward. “I wouldn’t dare mention this in Lisa’s presence.”

“You’ll just have to hope that no one here tells her when we get back to Apulia,” said Jack with a mischievous grin. “How much is the secret worth to you, Bill?”

Bill’s grin matched Jack’s. “You wouldn’t. I know you well enough by now to know you wouldn’t rat me out to my own wife.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” chimed in Ben Torben, Jack’s head of security. The officer from the Canaria took his job seriously but otherwise he was very good company during the journey. “I might now use this knowledge the next time I need a favor from you, Bill.”

Their grins evolved into chuckles. Despite the heat, Jack found he enjoyed the company. Well, most of their company. His head pivoted to look over at the other side of the carriage where Santino was staring out the opposite door. The Apulian Director was pensive this morning which was an improvement over yesterday. Ever since they’d landed on the coast, his mood had taken a nosedive and hadn’t recovered since.

Jack had spoken to Bill briefly about it as they figured his mood should have rebounded once they entered the country. After all, his wife and daughters were still in Dobele. Surely, he looked forward to seeing them, right?

“Maybe he’s anxious about facing them,” suggested Bill the previous night. “With Apulia hanging on by a thread, he might think that it’ll reflect poorly on the man he normally is. You have to remember that Santino is used to being a shrewd political operator. He’s never had to deal with setbacks.”

Jack shrugged, not buying that explanation just yet. “Sure, but it’s his family. Is his wife going to love him less because he lost Marmora? Will his daughters? Of course not. He has no reason to let pride dictate his sour mood.”

“Who knows with a man like Santino?” asked Bill. “He thinks a little differently than we do. If his pride means a lot to him, it could cause his sullen behavior.”

Jack looked over at the man and appraised him silently. “I hope not. We’ve made a lot of progress in smoothing away his rough edges. I don’t want to go back to square one with him.”

Unfortunately, square one seemed to be not far off. Even now in the heat of the day, Santino had barely spoken more than three words to them—a sullen “morning” when they woke up, and “I’m fine” when offered water. Jack just hoped he would resume his normal behavior once they arrived in Dobele.

“What about you, Jack?” asked Bill as he echoed their earlier conversation. “This heat remind you of anywhere? Anyone?”

Jack nodded slowly as he looked at the sands outside. The scenery reminded him of another memory from a year ago when he was just trying to stay alive under a barrage of arrows and threats from more primitive warriors.

“This part of the Samara looks a lot like Andalucia,” he said vaguely without turning to look at Bill. “The heat and the surroundings mostly. I’m thankful that it doesn’t include hostile warriors like it did then though.”

“I can’t imagine what it must have been like,” chimed Ben. “I’ve never been to Andalucia and from what I’ve heard about it, I don’t think I’d ever like to go.”

Bill nodded to that statement. “Aye, it’s not a friendly place. Most ships steer well around it to avoid their slave ports.”

“Former slave ports,” corrected Jack. “As the King of not only Galicia but of Andalucia as well, I put an end to that unsavory practice before I left. There are no more slave pens in Andalucia.”

Ben let out a low whistle. “Is it still true that they operate in small tribes? I’ve heard they don’t even have cities there, just tribal encampments.”

Jack shook his head. “Not at all but it’s nothing like Galicia or Apulia for that matter. There are two cities of consequence there—Methusa which was the former slave port and Septhada which is the capital city. Both are somewhat normal cities like you’d expect but then you have the tribal lands which are still dominated by the clans. It’s quite a strange place, one that I’d rather not have gone if I didn’t have to.”

“Why did you go?” asked Ben.

Jack smiled. “I had to rescue Kat. She’d been captured by the slavers and I wouldn’t let her suffer under that kind of life.”

Ben’s eyes went wide. “Was that how ... you know, you two started...” He wiggled his fingers together to say the meaning his words couldn’t.

Jack couldn’t help but laugh. For his youth, Ben could be naive but the younger man was great company. “In a manner of speaking, yes. We were quite inseparable after that. Besides, after we left Andalucia, that was when I found out about my Galician heritage. You can say the twin experiences changed me forever.”

“A fortunate thing then,” added Bill. “That you went to Andalucia in the first place. If not, we might not all be riding in this carriage in this darn heat.”

That was hard to respond to right away. Jack looked out to the desert and reflected on Bill’s words, finding a lot of truth in them. There weren’t many in the West who went to Andalucia willingly like he did but in doing so, it kicked off an entire chain of events that brought him to this current point. Even though he hated to admit it, his visit there fulfilled a line of prophecy, one that Kat never ceased to remind him about.

Part of him wondered what she would have to say about prophecy right now had they been together in the last six months.

Six months. Jack sighed deeply.

Somewhere to the east, the mother of his child was waiting for him. Would she be due to give birth soon? Perhaps she had already? He didn’t know. There were no dispatches coming out of Picardy these days. It was like the entire country had just gone quiet in the blink of an eye. Was Kat still out there? Was Abigail? Was Abigail still in charge of the task force?

There were too many unanswered questions.

Too many people he hadn’t seen in forever. Would they even recognize him when they did?

He felt Bill reach out and tap his knee. Jack forced himself to meet the older man’s eyes.

“Don’t get lost in your thoughts,” advised the older man. “You’ll see them again. It’s only a matter of time.”

No matter the issue, Bill always seemed to get to the heart of the matter quickly. He was almost as good at reading Jack as Kat or Abigail.

“It’s been a long time, Bill,” said Jack quietly. “Kat will be giving birth soon. I’m going to miss the birth of my child. What kind of father am I going to be when I’m not even there for his birth?”

“One that has a lot of responsibility on his shoulders,” said Bill cautiously. “Try not to dwell on such thoughts. Katherine understands responsibility better than most. She may not like the separation just like you don’t either, but she’ll understand the reasoning for it.”

Like usual, Bill’s words were wise and Jack could find no fault in them beyond his feelings of regret. He nodded and looked back out the window but soon felt Bill tap his knee again.

“Besides, I can’t let you be all mopey too,” said the older man with a twinkle in his eye. “Then I’ll only have young Lt. Torben here to talk to.”

Jack couldn’t contain his grin.

It was about another hour later when two things happened. For one, the desert landscape finally seemed to be breaking. The endless amounts of sand yielded to somewhat barren grassland. Trees were still very sparse but at least they were now starting to be seen. Most importantly, the heat finally let up, allowing all of them a chance to loosen their protective head garments.

With the desert coming to an end, that meant the city of Dobele was close. It was hearing the horses whine and come to a halt that signaled the second happening—the meeting of the group by the city guard.

With the desert now firmly behind them and the faint glow of the city in front of them, Jack, Bill, and Santino exited the carriage to meet with the mounted guardsmen in front of them. There were three men manning a small station right off the main road and none of them looked pleased to be doing their job.

“This will be quick and no more than just a formality at most,” said Bill as they approached. “These men are used to regulating traders coming in from Apulia and beyond. That also includes smugglers which frequent this route, which are a lot of unsavory characters.”

“Probably explains why they looked so pissed off,” noted Jack. “Do we even need to stop then since we aren’t traders?”

Bill nodded. “We need to tell them who we are and our reason for visiting. More than likely, once they hear our names, they’ll carry word of our arrival into the city. My hope is that we can use it as a conduit toward getting our meeting with the Samaran Tribunes.”

“Names and purpose please,” said the gruff guardsmen as he held out his hand. He didn’t bother looking at Jack but his eyes widened once Jack told him who they were. That caused a small amount of fanfare amongst the guards and they soon dispatched a fast horse toward the city to carry news of Jack and Santino’s impending arrival.

“See? Easy as can be,” said Bill once the carriage was moving again. “Samarans may not be the most decisive of people but at least they know what to do when important people arrive.”

“It’s amazing how quickly things fall into place when you’re a king,” said Jack. “When I was just the commander of the Javan task force, I found breaking down those doors a lot harder to accomplish.”

“Not just any king, Jack,” said Bill with a twinkle in his eye. “The Galician King!”

As the carriage neared closer to the city, Jack began to see small suburban neighborhoods that ringed the fringes. Most of the city had the same charm as in Apulia with ancient dwellings right next to more modern buildings. There was a great lack of cars and horse-drawn travel was still the primary method of getting around, confirming what he was told on the coast.

Yet in every aspect, Dobele was a trading city. Markets abounded on every corner, ranging from small stalls to giant emporiums that dominated an entire city block. Everything that could possibly be wanted could be bought or purchased in Dobele if you knew where to look.

“While not as rich as Marmora was, Dobele nevertheless benefited from being only two days’ travel from the Slot,” said Bill as they passed one particularly large market. “It’s rather funny in a way. Samarans were for centuries some of the fiercest warriors in the West. One day, they decided to put down the spear and pick up just about anything else, as long as they could sell it!”

Jack found their city fascinating and the layout of it as well. The city was situated on rocky highlands that were quite the change from the flat desert they’d just crossed. It wasn’t unusual for their carriage to go up a small hill for a block or two only to come down on the other side. The landscape was lush as well. Towering trees lined the roads, all of them thick with leaves and showing no signs of the barrenness of the desert.

Jack wasn’t the only one that marveled at the city. Ben and Bill looked out the opposite side of the carriage to see the sights. Ben’s eyes were wide, this being the first time he was in Samara. He tried to soak up as much of the city as possible, not knowing when he’d be able to do so again.

With Ben and Bill on the other side, it left Jack alone with Santino. Remembering his earlier conversation with Bill, Jack tried to engage the Director in conversation.

“You must be getting anxious,” said Jack with a friendly smile. “I know you mentioned your family was in Dobele. I’m sure you’ll get the chance to see them soon.”

If Santino was anxious, he didn’t show it. He barely lifted his head. “I suppose.”

The reply was what Jack expected and he took the moment to try to get to the bottom of it. “What’s on your mind, Santino? I haven’t seen you like this before. You’ve been as quiet as a mouse on the whole journey. What’s eating you?”

Santino actually made eye contact with him. “I don’t want to get into it right now, Jack.”

Ordinarily, that would mean changing the subject or backing off, but these weren’t ordinary times. Jack would need Santino’s help when it came to getting the Samaran Tribunes on their side. For that reason, he had to get him out of his funk.

“I’m here to talk whenever you need,” he said, trying a different angle. “If you’re nervous about seeing your family after this past month, I can understand that.”

Santino shook his head. “Please don’t try to analyze me, Jack. This goes beyond you or anyone else for that matter. I’d appreciate it if you left the subject alone.”

Message received, thought Jack. He didn’t think to say anything more. Instead, he nodded silently and slipped over to the other side of the carriage where Ben was gawking at several good-looking Samaran girls not far from the carriage.

Bill seemed to have witnessed the whole conversation with Santino. He looked at Jack with sympathy. “Perhaps another time,” he muttered under his breath, ensuring just Jack could hear him.

“We’re running out of time,” replied Jack. “The carriage is taking us to see the Tribunes. If he’s like this, well, he’s not going to be much help.”

Bill pursed his lips. “Maybe it’ll make sense to let him off to see his family before we have the meeting. It might put the wind back in his sails.”

Jack tilted his head from side to side. “The thing about it is I can’t tell if he’s anxious to see them or doesn’t want to see them at all. He won’t say anything about it and he doesn’t seem like he wants to leave our company right now to get to them. I don’t know what’s going on in his head.”

“Then the best portion of this might have to fall to us,” said Bill. “At least we still have the note that indicates the Swabians’ battle plans.”

That they did, and Jack patted his breast pocket just to make sure it was still there. The orders were a definitive boon to their cause, taken from a captured Swabian soldier just outside of Arezzo. Inside, it depicted their plans for after Apulia had fallen, which for Swabia meant carrying the bulk of their army across the Slot and taking Samara. The order was authentic and signed by the commander-in-chief of the Swabian Army, and Jack hoped this authenticity would get the Samarans to abandon their traditional neutrality.

“Let’s just hope the note is enough to sway them,” said Jack. “I mean, it paints the picture well on its own but we won’t be able to do much if they’ve decided to permanently stick their head in the sand.”

“That’s what I’m a little afraid of,” admitted Bill. “Samaran neutrality is so established that their mindset is going to be hard to change. Short of a Swabian attack, we’re going to have an uphill battle trying to change their minds.”

“All we can do is try,” said Jack. “And try again if it doesn’t work.”

Bill nodded to that statement and Jack was glad he didn’t say anything further. Frankly, he was betting quite a lot on the note doing the job, but with the Samarans being legendary for their indecision, he was walking into a situation where he might need a plan B.

And just what am I going to do if they say no, he thought to himself.

It was a question without a good answer.

Just like many of the questions that he faced lately.

In any event, Jack put it out of his mind for now. All he could work with was what was right in front of him. If the note worked, great. If not, he would find something else.

The carriage continued deeper into the city, ascending up several larger hills as they made their way closer to the center of power. The buildings here were still a careful mix of old and new but most of them seemed grander, no doubt from their service to the country.

It was here too that Jack caught his first sight of Samaran soldiers.

“Look right there, Jack,” said Bill as he pointed out the carriage. “Those men right there guard the sacred boundary of the city. While in uniform, they can never leave the city’s limits while still alive. They will fight to the death to protect the city at any cost.”

They made for an impressive and colorful sight. The soldiers he saw were marching two abreast and five deep, their legs and movements perfectly synchronized. So also was their uniform which started with a tall helmet crest that reached over two feet into the air. It was made from some kind of feathered animal. Two blue feathers stuck out from each side, directly above the ears. The rest of the helmet was formed in some kind of metal, with an intricate design just above the forehead.

The rest of the uniform was just as flashy. The topside was made of a puffy orange and white checkered top. Puffy was only the right word to describe it because to Jack it appeared that each soldier had stuffed wads of cotton inside their tops to make them pop the way they did along the breastbone. The trousers and shoes they wore were dark blue with no other noticeable features.

They are the furthest thing from modern camouflage that they could pick.

“I’m guessing these uniforms haven’t changed in a few hundred years,” noted Jack.

“No, no, they haven’t,” said Bill. “Probably from the last time the Samarans were actually at war. There’s really been no need for them to have anything more modern, but the common soldiers I’ve seen before. They are appropriately dressed, I can assure you.”

“That’s a good thing because otherwise the Swabians would see us coming from a long way off,” said Jack before looking back at the guard. They marched in good order over uneven ground, never breaking stride or losing their uniformity. They seemed to be in tighter formation than even his Javan marines, and that was really saying something. However, the color of their uniforms was still surprising to Jack. It wasn’t until he looked up that he figured out why.

“The flag of Samara,” said Jack as he pointed to it flapping in the wind. “That’s where they get their colors from. The blue, orange, and white.”

Bill made a distasteful face. “I guess there are less creative ways to pick a uniform but that is certainly one of the flashiest.”

“At least it looks like they’re well-disciplined. Without any wars to fight, they must spend all their time on the parade ground,” noted Jack.

“Samaran soldiers are famous for their discipline, Jack. Remember, back hundreds of years ago, many countries used to hire Samaran mercenaries to fight their wars for them. With Samarans on your side, you would almost never lose a battle. It almost got to the point that even seeing Samarans across the field would be enough to make your side surrender.”

“Did the Galicians ever use them?” asked Jack. “Did they ever serve any of the old kings?”

Bill shook his head. “Not so much. The Galician Army has almost always been a formidable unit. We really didn’t have much of a need for mercenaries. You can also say that for the Swabians as well. They always preferred their own soldiers. But just about everyone else used them in some capacity. The Apulians, Picards, Carinthians used them sparingly and several units fought in the last Swabian War aligned with the Picards most prominently. Other than that, most Samarans went north to fight their wars.”

“North?” asked Jack. “We don’t hear a lot about the countries north of Samara very often.”

“Nor will you. They are smaller countries for the most part, mostly dwarfed by the countries in the south. But Kish, which is right above Picardy, used Samaran mercenaries quite a lot. So did Malta, Edo, Porto, and Cervanos. When you’re a small country, a well-led mercenary unit can be the difference between winning a war or losing it.”

Jack’s attention turned back to the soldiers who by this point were now facing down the opposite street. He watched them march away but in the interim, he tried to picture what a few thousand of their more modern counterparts would look like in his army. With that kind of discipline, it could only be a blessing to his cause.

Once they were gone, it was soon apparent there was only one thing left to see. The large Palace of the People was the center of power in Dobele and even all of Samara. It was perched on the highest hill in the city, visible to all outsiders as one of the highest points. What made the palace so unique was that it had three great domes that dominated the middle of the building as well as each end.

“Three domes are for each of the three individual tribes that united to form the Tribuneship,” said Bill. “You’ll notice many things in Samara seemed to come in threes. It’s a very lucky number for their people.”

Bill wasn’t kidding. Everywhere that Jack looked, he seemed to find nothing but sets of threes. Every column was separated from the next one by a series of three windows. Three rows of the same color bricks were stacked before another three rows of another color. Even the entrance had three grand doors to the inside, decorating in such a way to catch the eye with their use of flashy colors that just happened to catch the sunlight.

The inside of the palace was even more opulent. The main receiving hall had three grand chandeliers that were placed in a row from the front doors until the hall split off into two sections, one going left and the other right.

It was clear to Jack that this receiving hall was just under the main dome as the space to the top of the ceiling seemed to go on forever. That space was decorated with an endless array of artwork showing different scenes from Samaran history. Despite not knowing much of the details, his eyes were able to follow the story as it wrapped around the dome, showcasing primitive times all the way until the unification of the country under the three original Tribunes.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” asked Bill from his side. “The Samarans were always a people that liked to tell their historical story. The artwork is rather grand.”

“That it is,” agreed Jack. “And I’m sure it took a lot of time to paint the entire dome.”

“Seven years to be precise.”

Both Jack and Bill looked over at Santino, their eyes wide in amazement at listening to the Apulian Director talk without prompting. Santino then made eye contact with Jack. “I’ve heard before that it took them seven years to get all the work right. Although you’d never know if it actually took that long or if they spent most of that time just deciding what to paint.”

Jack gave a weary glance at Bill before looking at Santino. It appeared the Apulian Director had recovered from his earlier funk.

“In that case, I’d say the jury’s still out,” said Jack finally as he cracked a smile.

Santino nodded. “You should see my presidential manor in Marmora. It’s decorated just as fabulously but without some of the more garish pieces that you’d see here.”

“If we do what we came here to do, then maybe that might not be too far in the future,” said Bill. “I wouldn’t mind seeing Marmora again but I’d like there to be a lot less Swabians there when I go.”

“Amen to that,” said Jack. “So while we wait for the Tribunes, tell me a bit of what you know of them. Names and any personal history. I’d like to go into this as prepared as possible.”

“I can probably tell you their names,” said Bill. “But as for personal history, I’d be at a loss. Samaran Tribunes change every year so it’s nearly impossible to keep up with all of them.”

“I can fill in some of the personal history,” interrupted Santino. “We keep track of the Tribunes when they’re elected since they’re our closest neighbor and all. I won’t have all the details but I can tell you what I know.”

“Very well then, let’s start with the senior Tribune,” started Bill. “That would be Anton Roosa, and he’s the senior Tribune because he’s from the largest and most important tribe. In theory, all the Tribunes are equal to each other but the senior Tribune’s word can outweigh that of his counterparts.”

“I’ve noticed the same thing too,” added Santino. “It’s a good thing to get the senior Tribune on your side because his yes will surmount the other’s nos.”

“What have you heard about him?” Jack asked Santino. “Easy to work with? Anything about his personality?”

“Just that he’s ambitious but so are most politicians in republics,” said Santino. “I do know that he’s a widower. He was married at one time in his life but his wife died years ago. Supposedly, he’s a greatly different man now than he was when he was married.”

Jack pursed his lips. “That doesn’t sound promising.”

“Unless it was a bad marriage,” said Bill. “In any event, we’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”

Jack nodded. “All right, what about the other two? What do we know?”

“The other two Tribunes are Bram Nourot and Hendrick Tysen,” said Bill. “All I’ve heard about either one of them is that Tysen is quite young. He’s apparently still in his thirties which is odd for being in that position of power.”

Jack couldn’t help but smirk. “What are you trying to say, Bill? I’m only thirty-six.”

“True, but you weren’t exactly elected to it,” said Bill quickly. “An elected politician is generally on the older side, which makes it unique. I hope that’s due to his skill at his job and hopefully not nepotism on someone else’s part.”

“I don’t have much to add to that,” said Santino. “I’ve heard Nourot is on the quiet side. Not that he’s a mute but he won’t add much to the conversation. The other two will do the talking for him.”

“That’s not entirely true, I’d say.”

All three of them stopped talking to see two men approaching their direction. Their way of walking indicated that they were important, but so did their dress. They wore customary black suits but the most important part of their ensemble was an orange and white sash that was worn across the chest. It originated at the shoulder on one side and went downward to wrap around the waist on the other side of the body.

It was clear which one was the younger one from the start. Jack didn’t have to guess which one was Hendrick Tysen, seeing a man who was similar in age, at least compared to his colleague. Hendrick had light brown hair that was cut close to the scalp. It came to a prominent widow’s peak that was just above his forehead. His face was thin and angular, as was the rest of his body but at least his smile appeared to be somewhat genuine.