“You have been keeping me quite busy, my lord,” Lentarus remarked with a wry smile as Alaric dismounted from his horse, the animal’s flanks slick with sweat from the long ride and the heat of the day. “Just how I like it.”
Grinning, Alaric dropped down into the knee-high grass of the meadow, sending a few startled grasshoppers into the air, jumping hastily away. Behind him, his escort was also dismounting, their armor clinking and chinking.
Lentarus’s camp was next to a good-sized river, its surface shimmering under the sun. A welcome breeze blew across the water, and the light danced on the gentle ripples. The day was bordering upon being very hot, the air filled with the sweet scent of blooming wildflowers and fresh grass. Overhead, a few clouds lazily drifted by in the otherwise clear blue sky.
Overly warm in his armor, stiff and weary from the long ride, Alaric took a moment to note how the meadow was scattered over with a handful of sheep, their bleating a soft background chorus to the tranquil and peaceful scene.
Four communal tents had been pitched off to his right, along with a small guard for the engineering contingent. One tent was larger than the rest, its sides rolled up to allow in the fresh and cooling air. There were two long wooden camp tables, with several stools in view, along with a large trunk. Just outside this tent, a campfire had been set. An iron pot hung over it. An unhitched wagon a few dozen yards off was loaded with supplies, and the tarp covering the bed had been pulled back. A team of horses was picketed just behind the wagon, as were several mules.
Alaric made his way over to join Lentarus, his chief engineer, who stood waiting just outside the main tent where he had been working moments before with three assistants. The tent was clearly his headquarters. He held a leather-bound notebook. Without needing to be told, the assistants nearby stepped aside to give the two men space and made themselves busy.
Lentarus, despite his shorter stature, just a smidge over five feet, commanded attention with a robust frame, powerful arms, and a large, brown beard that was so wild and unkempt it seemed almost a living being. His brown eyes were hard and piercing. As if he were trying to see through something, he had a perpetual squinting look.
Upon meeting Lentarus in the capital, and recognizing the engineer’s keen mind and indefatigable spirit, Alaric had brought him into his service the previous year, making the man an offer he could not refuse, the ability to work on projects no one else was. Lentarus had jumped at the chance. It also helped that the monetary offer was substantial. Alaric had not regretted his decision and since then made the man his chief of engineers.
Just beyond the tent, for several hundred yards, the grass was speckled with white flags fluttering from wooden stakes planted in the ground. Alaric figured these were some type of measurement system.
Two more of Lentarus’s assistants were engaged several yards away; one held a large piece of parchment, while the other methodically planted additional stakes.
“You mean you are not out here for a picnic? Am I keeping you busy, really?” Alaric was amused, his tone light, barely suppressing a smirk. “I had not noticed.”
“Just a tad, my lord,” Lentarus responded with a chuckle. “Between all the road building, supporting the efforts at the port, and now…” His hand waved toward the river, gleaming under the sun like a vast pool of liquid fire. “…this project. If I was a pig in a pen with plenty of shit to wallow in, I don’t think I’d be happier.”
That caused Alaric to bark out a laugh. He genuinely enjoyed Lentarus’s company. Though he was here for work, to learn and inspect what was planned, the escape from his keep in a way was a break from his headaches, his worries about the coming war. It still worried Alaric that he’d heard nothing from the king.
Alaric intended to spend the night here, camping. Come morning, he would start back for the keep. If he knew Lentarus, the man had a supply of fine wine on hand. After a day-and-a-half ride just to get here, the thought of wine was more than welcome. The river also looked inviting. A swim was not out of order.
“That is good to hear.” Alaric turned his attention back to business, his gaze sweeping across the meadow and then beyond at the rugged terrain in marking the border of the earldom of Sekal, one of Alaric’s direct neighbors. He’d met Earl Kinton on two occasions. The man had been cold and unfriendly. He had not left a good impression on Alaric.
Alaric was in the southwestern part of Dekar. The boundary of his lands was perhaps no more than five miles distant. The region was wild and largely undeveloped, a canvas of natural beauty mostly untouched by the hands of builders or the plow. Alaric knew that the tranquility of these rolling meadows and hills would not remain unchanged for long, especially with what he had planned.
He turned his attention back to the engineer. “Now that you have had a chance to look things over, what do you think of the feasibility of the project? I want it straight. What do you really think?”
“What do I think?” Lentarus repeated thoughtfully, turning to fully face the river. He ran his fingers through his beard as his eyes roved over the expansive flow. He started walking up to the bank, just feet away. Alaric followed the man. For several moments, they both stood looking out over the tranquil surface of the river. “What do I think?”
The last was more to himself than anything else. Alaric was accustomed to this behavior. He glanced at Lentarus. The engineer was clearly gathering his thoughts. From one side to the other, the river was one hundred yards across. Less than a quarter mile past the far bank, steep green hills rose up, and beyond them were the distant peaks that marked the extent of his earldom.
Lentarus squinted hard against the sunlight reflecting off the water. Finally, he let go a breath. “I’ve never done something like what you are proposing.”
“I know that,” Alaric said, “and I appreciate what I am asking you to do.”
“Good, because it is going to be challenging in the extreme, a real bitch of a job.”
“I figured it would be. Can you do it? Can you pull it off for me?”
“Coming out of those mountains, the water seems fresh enough and the flow is good. The elevation here is sufficient to do what you want, but the process of building this aqueduct, the size of what you are asking—well, it will take considerable time. That is, if sufficient labor is available, and even then, it will likely be a year or more of hard work for us to realize the fruits of your vision. Dark Forge is forty miles distant. No one has done this sort of thing before.” Lentarus paused and shook a finger, wagging it at the river. “Well, no one in the last few hundred years.”
The project was indeed daunting, Alaric understood that. It was a monumental engineering challenge, particularly given the remote location and the lack of nearby resources.
“Forty miles of rugged terrain,” Lentarus continued, “no established roads along most of our path, which means we have to build them, not to mention establish a supply chain. We’re going to have to get surveyors and prospectors to find locations to quarry the rock needed. It is either that or haul it from the coast. If we’re forced to do so, it will add significant time and expense to this venture, not to mention the cost of the stonemasons.”
Ezran came up, assuming a position to Alaric’s right. Lentarus glanced over at the former ash man as Thorne took a spot a few paces to the left. Their gazes moved outward as they scanned the grassy fields around them, searching for potential threats.
Lentarus turned to face westward, where the late afternoon sun was beginning to sink in the sky. “Over in Geras, I’ve seen the ruins… from the empire, that is. I’ve studied them—not ever did I imagine I might be in charge of such an effort.”
“Can you do it?” Alaric pressed.
Lentarus’s brow furrowed as he contemplated the task ahead. “I will have to map out and mark the route straight from this point here to Dark Forge, but I should be able to pull it off.”
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“Should? I don’t like the sound of ‘should.’ I prefer certainty.”
“There are a lot of unknowns. The plans you provided, though detailed, did not include all the information I require for a project of this magnitude. A scale model of what you want done must be constructed first, my lord, to test things out, to confirm assumptions, prove the theory.”
“And how long will that take?”
“A few days, maybe a week, no more than two,” Lentarus replied confidently, tapping his notebook with an idle finger. “As I see it, the challenge will be getting the grade correct. What I really mean is exact. Having the aqueduct drop a foot every forty-eight hundred feet will be the true challenge of this project. Too steep, say we make a miscalculation, and the water will run too fast, possibly overflowing the end basins at the town and the freshwater fountains you wish built for the populace in Dark Forge. Too slow with the flow and we risk pressure issues when it comes to those same fountains.” Lentarus’ expression turned serious. “At least, I believe that is what will occur, but I am unsure. That’s why I need to test everything out before we break ground, create some truths, some things we can rely upon for the finished version. Once complete—the testing phase, that is—and I have figures I can rely on, we can get to work.”
“Excellent,” Alaric declared, clapping his hands together, a note of satisfaction in his voice as he contemplated the possibilities before him. The echoes of ancient grandeur he witnessed in Divinara—the remnants of sprawling aqueducts, each running for dozens of miles, and the ruins of the vast cities they had sustained—served as both an inspiration and a cautionary tale. These ruins stood as a silent reminder to both the ambition of their creators and the ravages of time and neglect. Despite the potential hurdles, Alaric’s faith in Lentarus was strong, unwavering. If anyone could do what he desired, it would be him.
“Are you certain this river is sufficient for our needs?” Alaric inquired, his eyes tracing the tranquil expanse of water as it flowed lazily by them. The river didn’t seem very deep, but Alaric knew looks could be deceiving when it came to water. With the wind having died down, the surface was almost smooth, mirroring the afternoon sky.
“It should be for what you want done, my lord,” Lentarus responded, following Alaric’s gaze across the river’s surface. “The elevation is correct. Now, if you desire more water, to expand the number of public fountains, well then—we will likely need to find a new water source, another river or something like that, where we can divert water into additional storage reservoirs. Then again, we might be able to build a second aqueduct downstream, as the river may be large enough. I am not certain how that will work, as we will need to construct a dam here first—how it will impact things downriver with a reversed flow. Either way, on the delivery end, Dark Forge will require several storage reservoirs. As you know, those will create the pressure needed to send the water into the town through lead pipes and power your fountains.”
“Let’s focus on ensuring the success of this first aqueduct,” Alaric decided. “Begin here. Conduct your testing with the scale model. Take as much time as you need before building. I want to limit any costly mistakes and errors when actual construction begins, understand me?”
“Of course, my lord, and I do. I already have my assistants working on the model back in Dark Forge. I will try to hammer out as much as I can to limit future complications.”
Alaric nodded, a sense of satisfaction swelling within. Lentarus was not merely an engineer; he was a whirlwind of proactive energy and resourcefulness. More importantly, he was self-motivated. This dynamism was precisely why Alaric entrusted him with such a critical project. He respected Lentarus not only for his expertise and accomplishments, but also for his ability to transform vision into reality, a rare trait that made the man an incredibly valuable treasure.
“My lord,” called a voice, snapping Alaric from his thoughts. He turned to see Thorne gesturing urgently in the direction they had traveled in crossing the meadow. Alaric’s heart sank—a foreboding chill sweeping through him, the kind that only comes when trouble rides fast on the wind.
A rider was galloping across the field at breakneck speed toward them, kicking up clods of grass and dirt in his wake. Instantly, Alaric regretted his choice to travel so far from the keep for this meeting. As the figure drew closer, he recognized Jasper. Alaric braced himself for bad news, the sort that could derail even the best-laid plans.
Jasper slid from his horse before it had fully stopped. The horse, sides heaving and lathered in sweat, panted heavily, almost gasping for air as Jasper straightened, his face etched with the intensity of his ride and the importance of his message. Alaric stepped forward, his expression hardening, ready to receive whatever tidings Jasper brought, his mind racing through the possibilities and their implications.
“Report,” Alaric ordered.
“My lord,” Jasper panted, like his horse, out of breath, his voice strained with urgency. His clothes were caked with dust from the road, and his features bore the lines of exhaustion from relentless and hard travel. “It is war. Averndale has crossed the border.”
“When?” Alaric’s voice was sharp. “And where?”
“Three weeks ago,” Jasper reported, his brow furrowed with the gravity of the news. “They’ve sacked Haren’s Gap, a large border town, my lord, and put the people there to the sword. They’ve also taken the bridge at Stanis and are pushing farther inland into the heart of the kingdom.”
“And what of our king?” Alaric asked.
“The king has called his army to form and concentrate at Meers Point. My understanding is much of it has already arrived and is preparing to contest Averndale’s advance.”
Alaric’s brow knitted in frustration as he thought, picturing how far away Meers Point was, a small city to the north. It would be a hard march to get there.
“Why did we not receive word sooner?”
“A messenger was sent as soon as Averndale’s army marched and crossed the border, more than three weeks ago,” Jasper explained, meeting Alaric’s intense gaze. “I spoke with the king’s administrators myself. They confirmed a messenger was dispatched, detailing the king’s commands. Word around court is you received the missive but ignored it. My lord, you are ordered to march as soon as practical with all the force you can muster and join the king’s army. I was told that any further delay would be viewed as potentially treasonous.”
The news hit Alaric like a physical blow. It confirmed his worst fears, and now, critically, through no fault of his own, he was late in responding to the king’s summons. His forces, nearly ready to march, faced a daunting trek to Meers Point—a journey of over a hundred fifty miles. It would take them at least five to six days if he pushed it, maybe more, to cover that distance, for the roads north of Dekar were not the best. In fact, they were poor to deficient. Alaric would also be hindered by his supply train, wagons filled with the means to sustain his men for an extended period.
What had happened to the messenger? Had he been intercepted? He had a feeling it had been Laval, but there was no proof. At least, not yet.
With a heavy heart, he understood he would need to compose a message to the king explaining the situation and offering his apologies, along with excuses for the delay in marching. Alaric hated making excuses. Whether or not he was believed was a wholly different matter. The responsibility weighed heavily on him, knowing the strategic setbacks this could mean for the overall war effort. Worse, he did not have a change in mounts between here and the keep, a journey of forty miles. It would take time to return.
“Thorne, ride to the castle, through the night and the next day if need be,” Alaric ordered. “Inform Grayson that we march come the morning after tomorrow. Everything is to be readied for departure. Understand?”
Before Thorne could move, Jasper interjected, holding up a forestalling hand. “My lord, I saw Grayson before I came here and passed on the news. He directed me to tell you he would have the men begin readying themselves. He also said he’d start organizing and loading the supply train. That alone will take at least two days’ work. It took me a full day of hard riding just to make it here.”
A wave of relief washed over Alaric upon hearing Jasper’s words. Grayson had already set the wheels in motion. This news slightly eased the weight of command and urgency that had come to rest on Alaric’s shoulders. He could ride back home at a more measured, but hastened, pace and be there in time to march with his men.
He turned to Lentarus, who had been silently following the exchange, his face marked with concern. Alaric had planned on spending the day with the man, being walked through what would be done here at the river, detailing how the water would be diverted and used.
“I need to go,” Alaric stated and started for his horse.
“I understand, my lord,” Lentarus responded, comprehending the gravity of the situation. His expression was serious. “Would you like this project halted, delayed until you return from the war?”
Alaric paused in his stride to his horse, a thoughtful frown crossing his features as he contemplated the engineer’s question. One of his escort, a cavalry trooper, was holding the reins patiently a few feet away. Alaric took a moment more to consider the implications of halting the project and the delay it would cause in his plans for Dark Forge. He shook his head decisively. “No. Continue with your planning, testing, and the project as a whole. I very much want it to move forward. Report your findings to Grayson. He will keep me abreast of developments while I am off campaigning. Labor may become an issue, but do what you can to advance things.”
“As you command, so shall it be done, my lord,” Lentarus replied, his voice carrying a note of relief.
“Now, I must be going,” Alaric declared, continuing onto his horse and taking up the reins. He pulled himself up into the saddle with the ease of a seasoned rider. His escort followed suit, each man mounting and readying himself.
“Jasper,” Alaric said, looking over. “Take a break here, bathe, and eat. Follow when your horse is rested.”
“Yes, my lord,” Jasper replied and bowed his head.
Alaric wheeled his horse around and nudged her into a trot, heading back the way they had come. As he rode away, his thoughts shifted from the aqueduct project to the strategies and tactics of war that now demanded his full attention. He slapped his thigh in a moment of intense frustration. His arrival at the rallying point for the king’s army would be later than he hoped, far later, and the king would not be pleased with the delay. Worse, there was a good chance he’d arrive after Roderick’s army met Thorold’s in battle.
“Damnation,” Alaric breathed to himself. “Damnation.”
War waited for no man.