Intelligent Moves

As Martel woke after another night of unsatisfactory sleep, he allowed himself a slow morning. Eating a breakfast made of scraps of food left from yesterday, he reflected about last night. While it had not been what he had expected, spending time with Eleanor had been pleasant. She laboured from morning until eve, organising their troops and the administration of the city; despite being just across the hallway, they did not see much of each other. He was glad she had enjoyed the play; that he had not wasted the one evening she allowed herself a leisurely activity.

The rift between Eleanor and her father was a less happy matter. He wondered if she had simply not found the opportunity to tell him about it, or if she did not wish to trouble him. That would be her style, just as she would give up seeing her mother and sister, taking that burden upon herself to make their lives simpler. After his breakdown in the Undercroft, she probably feared that it could happen again, and so she kept her concerns to herself.

If he was stronger, she would be able to lean on him, as he did her. She had noticed his dissatisfaction yesterday as well because he did not know how to restrain his emotions. She took his burdens, and he did not take hers.

He would have to do better, Martel knew. Give her no further reason to doubt him. Show the same strength of character she possessed. Be the captain prefect that kept order and saw an end to the civil war, making her burdens lighter. Once the negotiations with the northern provinces were at an end, hopefully with a successful conclusion, he would grant her whatever she wanted. A seat on the High Council, lands in any region that she desired, or she could empty the Imperial treasury and spend the coin in any fashion she deemed suitable. Yes, Martel thought to himself, he would stop feeling sorry for himself and think of others, the way she always did.

***

Martel arrived in his study, later than usual, but with more motivation. A few pieces of parchment lay on his desk. Number of soldiers disciplined for various offences, wounded soldiers discharged along with suitable compensation, and other figures related to the condition of his legions.

"Sir, there's a fellow here. The clerks don't think he should go through, but he said you'd let him in if you knew his name," a guard told him, standing in the doorway.

"Well, what is his name?"

"Wulfstan, sir. Short fellow, bit of a suspicious look to him. Probably why the clerks aren't happy."

Martel stared at nothing in particular. That made no sense, but he had heard the soldier say it clear as day. "He's a spy," Martel finally replied. "Search him for weapons and let him in, but keep close. Consider him an enemy. Better you're too rough on him than not enough."

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"Understood, sir."

***

Martel stared at the wiry, short man with a mix of emotions, all of them hostile. He used his sense of magic to determine that he had nothing golden on him. Neither jewellery for protection nor a blade for offence. At least killing him would be easy. "If you want to die, cutting your own throat would be easier and probably less painful."

"I come to warn you, captain," Wulfstan claimed. Hearing the rank come out of his mouth felt eerie; it sounded like he meant it. "The fact that I deliver myself into your hands should be a testament to how important this is."

"I guess I can hear you out before I kill you. Harder to do it the other way."

"There's a conspiracy to kill you."

"I'm sure there is. I've robbed the entire nobility of their influence."

"This is more than idle words. They are actively looking for an opportunity to kill you," Wulfstan declared. "If I may explain before you have me run through?"

Martel narrowed his eyes. "Go on," he sighed.

"I heard that you threw that woman, Kerra, out of your office some days ago. It seemed a possibility for trouble, so I and others working for intelligence kept an eye on the copper lanes," he spoke swiftly. "Last night when you left the fortress, one of her men followed you."

Martel was not convinced. "She's not going to assassinate me just to get revenge. She's far too pragmatic for that. She'd never take such a risk just to satisfy her wounded pride."

"That would be my assessment as well, sir," Wulfstan concurred, and Martel almost shuddered hearing the title spoken. "I think she is exploring the opportunity to kill you, and when she has found it, she will either sell the information to the highest bidder or perhaps seek to do it herself, accepting payment from everyone seeking your death."

That did sound like her. But a more plausible explanation for Wulfstan's presence occurred to him. He had come to learn the location of the emperor and plan for his escape. "What is your stake in this? As a loyal servant, you should look forward to my imminent demise. You certainly planned for it once."

"I am a loyal servant, yes, to the Empire, not the emperor or the council. I don't care who rules, as long as there is stability. Same way I never planned for your death, sir, only a way to end the war against Khiva. In that, our interests are aligned as well."

"The swiftest way back to stability would be my removal and a return to the old ways."

Wulfstan shook his head. "Your death would cause a struggle between your officers, each supported by their own legion. Blood would colour every street in Morcaster. The northern legions would not care for peace at this point, seeing your forces weakened, and a siege would follow. The Empire might very well tear itself apart if you died, sir, and I'm not willing to take that risk."

Martel almost believed him, but that was one of the skills a spy possessed, he imagined. The ability to create a story out of nothing. "Wait here," he said. He got up and crossed the room, only stopping next to his guard. "Don't let him leave."

He went to the office opposite the corridor. "Lara."

"Yes, sir?"

"In my study is a member of our intelligence service, Wulfstan. He claims to be on our side, but I suspect he's only interested in finding the emperor. Make use of him as you can, and the moment you feel the slightest suspicious, have him killed."

"Yes, sir."

Martel returned to his study and looked at the spy. "Go across the hallway. Tell my legate and legion prefect anything they wish to know about your work."

Wulfstan bowed his head. "As you command, captain."