Day 428 7:30 AM
“Accept everything just the way it is.”
— Miyamoto Musashi
I draw a deep breath and smile as I gaze at the capital’s gray fortifications. Even three days after seeing them for the first time, the walls of Garagord remain an impressive sight. Torso-sized missiles overgrown with moss dot its massive stone slabs, remnants of sieges found in history books, but outside living memory.
We have neither the numbers, nor the machinery to repeat the war between kingdoms. Besides, bombarding our own people because of the dispute we have with the ruling family sounds insane. Vatten and I hoped the new king would rush and deploy his army to break the siege early.
After capturing or killing most of the enemy cavalry, we would have a clear troop advantage in the open field, and with each passing day the king risks more rebels and opportunists joining our ranks. Still, he didn’t take the bait yesterday. Either he trusts the nobles rushing towards the capital, or his situation is even worse than we had expected.
I walk over to the closest cooking fire and grab myself a small basin of pottage. My meals are about five times what the rest of the men eat, but nobody protested. Not just because I’m the duke, but everyone can tell a body like mine burns calories like crazy.
“Morning, Vatten,” I greet the old villain and sit next to him. “Should we provoke them today?”
The count shakes his head. “You are not provoking anyone, and you are staying out of earshot, too. No matter what you say, they will not abandon their walls unless they are certain they can win. You, on the other hand, just might rush a castle all on your own just because of what someone says.”
I open my mouth to tell him I would never do something like that, then I recall what happened the first time our army reached Karengord.
“A fair point. I will take part in strategy meetings and bash heads on the battlefield, but I won’t involve myself in hostile diplomacy.”
Vatten cocks his eyebrow, staring at me as if this is the first time we’ve met.
“What? I can be reasonable.”
He hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Yes. You tore a man in half instead of imprisoning him, you up and left a campaign of conquest because of a prophetic dream, captured a griffon, and rode it to wage war alone against an army of thousands, then your mount betrayed you, and you hit it in the testicles. Perfectly normal, an epitome of reasonable.”
I have nothing with which to argue his points, so I ignore him.
“You gonna eat that?” I point at his slop with my spoon. We could eat better food, but Warfare strongly recommends generals should eat the same food as their soldiers, preferably in their company.
Vatten looks at his bowl, then at my basin before looking me in the eye without saying a word.
“I’m a growing boy. I need whatever scraps you can spare for me.” I’m not sure whether myself or Blunt said that.
“You have at least five pounds of food in your…” Vatten pauses to find the correct word, “tub. And if you want to change the topic or tell me to stop questioning you, speak openly.”
“I have already explained the situation to you. I sometimes see the future and have premonitions of important events awaiting us. You didn’t believe me.”
Vatten states at me flatly.
“And what important events await us in the near future?”
We’re back in the exact same conversation we had when we met up. “I don’t know all right? It happens, and I know when it does, and I don’t want it to happen ever again.”
“And if you really have a prophetic power, why do you not want it to trigger?”
Because I died, and maybe Manny and Victory died as well, and no. Just no.
“No,” Blunt says with the full weight of my convictions behind its statement, glaring at the old villain.
I take a moment to regain control. “What I meant to say is I do not wish to meet the conditions to have a vision. I have yet to see something nice in the future—”
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“Let him be, Uncle Vat. You can see he is lying his tongue off,” Manny says, taking a seat next to me.
I frown, looking at her bowl of slop.
“Shouldn’t you eat something better?”
“Well cooked meat, grain, and fresh vegetables. Everything the doctor said I should eat. But you can go over to Master Thunderwax’s carriage and ask him in person.”
The meat is overcooked, and there’s hardly any in the stew made for thousands. The cook took half a minute to fish a decent chunk of meat for me, but I guess he took more effort for his duchess, if the small pieces floating in Manny’s bowl are any indication of what happened.
She blows on a spoonful of steaming stew. “I have heard men bringing over meat to add to our stew, so that a pregnant woman has proper food to eat.”
“You are pregnant? Again?” Vatten gasps while I speak at the same time.
“How did they know?”
Vatten glares at me, and Manny glances at him.
“I expected you would realize immediately, Uncle. A midwife and our best physician followed us to a siege. Quite a few soldiers recognized Mistress Annica, and there was no way to keep the matter a secret. I am surprised nobody told you, even if you have not realized it yourself.”
Vatten wasn’t really listening to her. Instead, the old villain glared at me. “What are you doing to my niece? Are you trying to kill her through childbirth?”
A chill runs down my spine. There’s not a hint of a joke in his tone and expression, such plots exist when seeking nothing but an alliance from a marriage.
“It was an accident, Uncle Vat. Aang loves me.”
“He loves you too much and too often,” he spat. “I heard what you were doing last night, and with a pregnant woman. She needs rest.”
“I was on top,” Blunt says, and I go pale, while Manny’s cheeks turn crimson.
“Aang, Dear, please control your tongue.”
Vatten’s face is a frozen mix of fury and outrage. At least I’m now certain he loves my wife enough.
“I have matters to attend to,” he says, getting up and storming away, his hands balled into fists.
“Aang,” Manuella says, looking me in the eye. “Please show restraint around Uncle Vat. I acknowledged him as a second father when I asked him to give me away during our wedding. What would you do if Victory’s husband treated you the way you treat him?”
I clench my teeth and my free hand.
“I’d probably kill the bastard where he stands.”
“In that case, show him the same respect you think you deserve.” She ate another spoonful of stew before looking at my hand. “You need a new spoon.”
I follow her gaze and see a twisted strip of metal in my hand.
“Right. I’ll be right back.”
We wrap up breakfast and start with the drills. They aren’t as intense as they were back home, just in case the royal army tries to attack us when we are exhausted, but archers do target practice, while infantry and cavalry fight mock battles with sheathed swords and spears with capped tips.
Scouts scout the surrounding area, searching for merchants, food caravans, and reinforcements for either army, and I think we have settled into a steady, sustainable rhythm for a proper siege. Eventually, we will starve the country’s largest city and force them into a battle.
“Sir, we have captured a messenger,” a grunt I don’t recognize informs me while I’m doing pushups with Holgord veterans sitting on my back.
Varren, Ron, and Jude hop off me, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of our situation, but I promised Phill I would train whenever I have the chance.
“I came to you. I bear urgent news from Amplegord.”
The man sounds winded. I stand and look at him. He’s not that dirty, and he’s certainly not wearing Hassel colors.
“What news do you bring?”
“Dolacia has invaded. Count Hassel and his army are retreating, as are lords of Namir, Jasgord, and Monmir. The message doesn’t say it, but certainly other lords must have joined them in their retreat.”
“Summon Bastian, Lord Vatten, and my wife,” I tell the vets, and the three of them sprint towards the camp’s center.
“When did this happen?”
“They crossed the border a week ago, crushing the northern army after catching them by surprise. The border fortress of Cilemir resisted the assault for a day, but they had heavy siege machinery and the garrison fell.”
The simple explanation of what happened at the border is enough for me to tell what’s happening, but I let the messenger speak what he knows.
“The enemy army is huge, but slow. Giving everyone enough time for evacuation. My lord believes their target is the capital, and that they seek to conquer the entire country in a single battle.”
The messenger falls silent, and I consider the situation.
The king probably will not leave Garagord. He will wait for nobles and people to flock to his side, using the impressive fortification as leverage to gain their loyalty. His offer of peace probably still stands, but it’s an empty promise. If we enter the city as his subjects, we can expect only one end.
And yet, the situation isn’t all that dire. We could join Dolacia, keep Manny’s old duchy as our land, and fight on their side to kill the very people we were trying to kill anyway.
I glance at Bastian running over, while Manny and Vatten walk with considerably more dignity.
We would have to hang him out to dry. The idea doesn’t sit well with me, but if Manny pushes it, I will probably agree. Maybe we could settle them within our territory and grant them the same viscount title they have enjoyed for generations.
That thought slightly eases my conscience just as Bastian reaches us.
“You have a message from my father?”
The messenger bobs his head and looks at me. I nod my permission, and he passes the message case to Bastian. The young man, quite a bit older than Aang, scans the scroll, and sighs in relief.
“They are all right,” he says. “They are coming here to join our army.”
Vatten and Manny arrive, and we are ready to discuss our plans for the future.