A big man with long red hair opened his eyes. Margrave Reinhardt stared at the stone ceiling above before suddenly leaning up. He grabbed his neck and grunted in pain from the sudden movement. A serving woman in the room froze in her tracks. The margrave opened his mouth to call out to her, but she quickly exited the room.
As Reinhardt leaned back into his bed, his son—a red-haired man quite similar in appearance to himself—entered the room, led by the serving girl who’d left earlier. One of his eyes had been rotted away by the waxpox, leaving a glossy useless eye in its spot. The other was rich and red like a ruby, and the two stared at each other.
“What’s happened?” the margrave demanded of his son upon sight.
Elias stepped to his father’s bed, and though his relief was evident, he did not hesitate in explaining, “You took a blow to the back of the head in the ambush. We won the battle, but the Duke Enrico was captured.” He looked at his father and narrowed his one good eye. “We had this same conversation yesterday. We thought you were better, but then you…”
The margrave looked stunned. “Last I remember…” he closed his eyes. “Walking into the fortress, and the ambush.”
“You didn’t remember that last time,” Elias sat on the bedside.
Reinhardt closed his eyes. “Enrico… was captured?” He opened his eyes. “And I wasn’t hit by an enemy.”
Elias’ concern grew. “What do you mean?”
“I was in a tight corridor. There were no traps above, and no place for any enemy to attack from. You said… I was hit in the back of the head?” The margrave rubbed the spot, yet his fingers found no scar to trace past his mane of red hair.
“…you were,” Elias nodded after hesitating a beat. “Are you sure you’re remembering this clearly? When you woke up last time, you passed out about eight hours later.”
“I’m certain. Gods be damned, how many days has it been?” Reinhardt grabbed the sheets over him and threw them off, then turned his body slowly. “You look grim. What else has happened?”
“Duke Sumner chased after the routed forces with about five thousand men—largely cavalry, partially spellcasters. A very potent force,” Elias moved to his father’s side, helping him stand as though the patient was liable to collapse again any moment now. “On top of that… Nikoletta and Mina took off the day after, too. I had Stain in command of the scouts, but even they lost track of the pair.” Elias looked up at his father as he came to full height. “She’s pursuing her father, I’m certain.”
“A quick defeat despite an ambush… Duke Sumner gathering forces to chase… someone attacking me from behind…” the margrave stepped away from his son, standing without assistance. “I feel… bare. I need my armor. I need to talk to my people.”
“You’re not alone in your suspicions.” Elias stopped offering to help his father stand, knowing well his pride. “I’ve been having Stain look into things. He found one thing… it was a letter about someone who had a way to grant an army access to the walls of Dirracha. The letter ties back to Sumner. This person the duke corresponded with seemed to be very confident in their idea, whoever it was.”
The margrave looked at his son, brows high in surprise. Then, his face grew stoic and he nodded. “You’ve grown up,” he said simply, then walked towards the door. “Let’s go.”
#####
Argrave’s small force of elites rode as fast and hard as they were able. Elenore had some trouble adjusting to the horse as it had been decades since last she rode. Nevertheless, she was quick to remember how, and after the first few hours progress towards the first stop occurred efficiently.
They passed back through all of the lands that Elenore had subjugated under Argrave’s name, with the princess making brief checks on the various fortifications to be sure that everything was up to her standards. It was only there that they could eat, drink, and rest. Each of those experiences were short-lived, as they could afford no long breaks. Where it was reasonable, they exchanged horses for ones with calmer hearts and unworn legs.
The spellcasters with them facilitated unreasonably quick travel. When it was dark, they could light the way. When water was required, it was easily produced—this enabled them to travel lightly. Anneliese’s scouting made their path highly efficient. She ensured they travelled on largely level ground, enabling the horses to show their full potential.
In one day and one night, they had cleared all of southern Atrus. Next on their mind was Relize. They arrived there at dusk. Though Argrave wished only for a brief resupply, Anneliese and Elenore prudently advised that pressing into central Vasquer might mean armed combat, so the men would need to be well-rested. On top of that, they could spread word of the victory at Castle Cookpot while they were here.
Argrave chose to sleep in a tent just outside the city with the soldiers, yet even still he couldn’t avoid a select few from inside the city. Or rather, avoid a specific person.
“We had deserters come here, Your Majesty,” Leopold told Argrave as the king ate tiredly, trapped. The old patrician didn’t seem to care about Argrave’s need for rest.
“Hope you sent them on to the fortresses,” Argrave said once he finished chewing. “It was important to our strategy they spread fear. That’s how the Mongols did their thing, in large part—fear,” he told Anneliese. They’d discussed that topic before.
“I couldn’t send them on, seeing as how they came from those fortresses,” Leopold shook his head.
Argrave brushed his hands off of crumbs as he contemplated that, then looked to his side where Anneliese ate a large loaf of bread. While she had the loaf in her mouth, he tore it in half and took away the new piece. She didn’t seem to mind.
“We executed them,” Leopold continued, stroking his white beard. “No room for deserters, Your Majesty.”
Argrave frowned as he chewed bread, then swallowed a spoonful of meat broth. “It’s your city. You want to kill free labor, that’s your business. Did you at least ask why they deserted?”
Leopold sighed. “Of course. They gave answers, but the truth of it… they sought to spy, perhaps? This was long before Rovostar’s apparent ‘defeat,’ and your tremendous victory in that chokepoint at Atrus. Regardless, they can’t be trusted. Nor can the news from the south.”
“What are you talking about?” Argrave stopped eating briefly. “Speak clearly.”
“I’m an old man,” Leopold craned his body as though he ached. “I’ve seen a lot throughout my years. I followed your father’s conquests as they happened, drinking in all news eagerly. And Duke Rovostar is not a commander that is so easily beaten by one like Sumner, who hastily assumed command after the margrave was injured. Perhaps if Margrave Reinhardt fought him squarely, the duke could lose. Otherwise…”
Argrave nodded slowly. “You think they’re collaborating. Then why not rout the south? Why this show of pursuit? What would they be hoping to achieve? Defeating the south is much more valuable than… whatever it is they could be doing.”
Leopold lowered his gaze and shook his head. “That is what I cannot say, Your Majesty. This is why I present to you only what I know, in hopes you might have greater insight. Despite my doubts, our forces have prevailed in the north greater than I thought possible. This was due to your re—your efforts, Your Majesty,” Leopold caught himself.
“Recklessness works, if it’s done smartly,” Argrave gestured towards Leopold, knowing well what word he’d stopped himself from using. “Now, I haven’t slept for two days. Unless there’s something else, I’ll think about what you said.”
Leopold bowed and left the tent with nothing further to say, evidently as eager to sleep as Argrave was. Once he was gone, he looked to Anneliese. She stared at him with unkempt hair and tired eyes.
“Seems it’s a pattern for us. Stay up two nights in a row, sleep for ten hours,” Argrave noted.
“I could go for twelve, now.” Anneliese sighed. “The day is long tomorrow, and we must check with Elenore about what Leopold told us.”
Even with Leopold’s words weighing at Argrave’s mind, he didn’t let it stall him in his tracks. Elenore had no answers for Leopold’s concerns. The next morning, their army fed and tense, they once again took to horseback and advanced onwards towards the first of the fortresses between them and Dirracha. Elenore sent word to the new structure they’d built in the Indanus Divide ahead of time, requesting they posture with soldiers to raise alarms on one end while their force approached.
With their approach largely undetected, they managed to get near to the walls of the first fortress without much fuss. The garrison commander was all to eager to call for parley. To spark the garrison’s fear, Argrave sent one [Electric Eel] dancing about in the sky above the fortress. In the parley to come, he stood with Galamon, Vasilisa, Anneliese, and an Elenore with feet and eyes recovered.
Hit by such a battery of negative omens, it took no time at all to work out a favorable deal. Perhaps the commander had been banking on their inability to enforce the fortress’ seizure… but when the soldiers stationed at the Indanus Divide arrived, the castle was secured.
Their path towards Dirracha might be considered a dire overextension, but the aim of the operation wasn’t to secure the region—it was to secure the capital, and thereafter secure the support of Margrave Reinhardt. That would lead to a complete consolidation of all Vasquer as their two factions folded inwards on the center. Argrave felt, given Leopold’s warnings, he would need to be prepared for significant improvisation once the full situation was at hand. Nevertheless, Argrave was ready for whatever trickery the other armies would throw.
In time, they laid claim to the last fortress blocking their path—nothing more than a rudimentary wooden keep with fifty soldiers, but it was sufficient for resupply. And in the far distance… one could see the Dragon Palace atop the mountains, and the great walls of Dirracha shielding the city like precious jewels from the banners pitched just outside its gate. That city was the current key to all Vasquer, he felt. The snake, the kingdom, and the heir apparent… Orion.
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