“I was hoping to see you eight days ago,” Durant commented from his cushion.
As Ferron was predisposed with other matters in other regions, he allowed Durant to utilize his larger War Leader’s tent. For the time being, Durant made himself at home nicely within his father’s tent, occupying the middle of the semicircle of deggans. He sat atop his father’s cushion and sat in his father’s pose. By the derisive looks on the faces of Hubert and Barth, it was a position that was barely tolerated. The air of authority exuded was not sufficient to earn respect.
Even without the letter, the annoyed expressions and slouched postures told Valentin all that he needed about the current state of Durant’s maiden mission in charge of the Armée. He shuddered to think what words Ferron would have for this scene.
“Allbost almost got all of us killed,” Valentin answered emotionlessly, taking a seat next to Barth. You should feel fortunate that we returned at all.”
“That bad?” Darcy asked. “Was it a particularly deadly illness then?”
Valentin briefly gave a confused look to Darcy before composing himself. That was the rumor when they had left, word of Aoire clearly hadn’t reached this rural battlefield.
“Not illness,” Valentin corrected. “It was a spirit, two actually. Both close to ascension. The entire border with Norzyet is ash and we lost a few.”
“Shit. Well, it must have been bad burns for Zalavo not to be able to mend it,” Barth observed with some amount of sympathy. “Even Gervin is still limping around after being half melted by that spirit out in the woods.”
Valentin’s mouth felt dry at the mention of the healer’s name. He had already sent word to Ferron but, in his haste for revenge, neglected to notify Durant. There were no words that he could say that would make swallowing the news of his death any easier.
“Zalavo killed himself while I was fighting the spirit,” Valentin reported his own assumption.
The air was sucked from the tent. Durant chewed on his lip, almost drawing blood with the sudden force. Barth and Hubert both glowered at Valentin’s report. Darcy clicked her tongue and frowned at the misfortune. Whatever plans they did have were likely dashed by the news Valentin brought with him.
It was no surprise that Zalavo was the cornerstone to their fortune reversal. Any injured would spring back far sooner than what an average healer could do on their own.
“Fuck,” Durant said, representing the entire tent. “How did it happen?”
“There was a fire in the temple and, while the warriors I assigned to guard him went to help put out the flames, he had walked into the inferno,” Valentin explained, trying to prevent Kerwin and Mannix from appearing incompetent to the rest of the deggan.
“Who were the imbeciles in charge of guarding him?” Hubert demanded, his voice breathed crackling fire. “I need to explain to them exactly what their failure means for the rest of us.”
“And what will that accomplish?” Valentin questioned. “Besides the further depletion of manpower that your letters begged for. They know where they have failed. But, Zalavo was heavily disturbed since we set foot in Allbost. I believe that the hopelessness of watching his tireless work go up in flames was too much for him.”
Unconvinced eyes bored into Valentin. He did not know how much the assembled deggan knew of the healer’s past. But, divulging all of the information would not change anything. The man was dead, and no amount of greater understanding would overturn that immutable fact.
“What were your other losses?” Durant requested.
Valentin could not tell for certain, but it appeared that Durant had smirked when he asked that question. Even in the midst of devastating news, he still seemed to revel at Valentin’s failures whenever the opportunity arose.
The pride of the father became the vanity of the son.
“I lost three, including Vice Deggan Renne,” Valentin replied. “I did recruit two new high ability young warriors from Adharc Gorm Academy. In the meantime, Caera and Médéric will split the role of vice deggan until a more suitable appointment is made.”
Darcy clicked her tongue again. “So the reinforcements are disorganized. Are they all in fighting shape?”
“One is injured. Zalavo said that she would be battle ready by the end of the cycle,” Valentin reassured.
“Before he burnt himself alive,” Hubert clarified, digging at Valentin’s failures. He chuckled. “What a fucking disaster.”
Valentin took a deep breath. His youth and Ferron’s favoritism had always made these interactions an uphill battle. They wanted him to be flustered, they wanted him to back himself into a corner. Ferron’s pride could not be allowed to be perfect, so his faults must be magnified. The only one who did not partake in this ritual was the one who had, ironically, done the most to deserve that role.
“Enough of this petty bickering,” Barth requested with a voice tinged with impatience. “We still need to determine what we are going to do now.”
“What more is there to decide?” Darcy asked with genuine interest. “We do not have what we need to confidently win, so let’s just leave.”
“Leave?” Durant guffawed, bringing all the attention to him. He coughed into his hand, clearing his throat. “Father has placed a great amount of importance upon obtaining marble from Keriam Urshal at an affordable price. Otherwise, it will be difficult to afford the materials to build his Monument of Victory in Corvello. A monument, might I add, that will immortalize all of us.”
Hubert scoffed at the suggestion while Darcy made a petulant expression. All the deggan implicitly knew why Durant would be unwilling to abandon his first mission in charge of the warband.
“So, how much stronger are they than us?” Valentin asked, surprised that two of the most aggressive deggan were unwilling to remain.
“As soon as they learned that Ferron wasn’t with us, they had little interest in discussion,” Darcy answered bitterly. “They clearly weren’t slouches out east, but they aren’t stronger than us. It’s just…"
“Even if he doesn’t fight much anymore, Father’s presence was more important to morale than expected,” Durant said. “His strategies are unchanged, yet, we’ve been unable to punch through in any of our previous skirmishes.”
From the glower on Darcy’s face, it was not the explanation that she would have provided. She clenched her hands into fists and gently pounded the ground away from Durant’s view. The words were swallowed, but the displeasure remained.
“What was the original plan?” Valentin wondered aloud.
“We were intending for Zalavo to quickly mend our injured while we used them and your fresh warriors to surprise them with numbers and end it decisively,” Durant intoned with a condescending tone. “But we have no Zalavo and we have unsuitable reinforcements. We will just need to rethink our strategy.”
Barth’s lip raised into a snarl. He looked as though he would be the first to speak the words of condemnation towards their temporary leader.
“We can still perform the strategy,” Valentin remarked, sparing Barth from future discomfort with Ferron. “If the entire front line fights using all their favor from the beginning. My deg will sweep in and hammer them into the dirt. They are of able body and starving for an opportunity to redeem themselves. Our attack will be of a ferocity that our enemy will not be anticipating.”
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“If we fail?” Durant asked, a shimmer of hope in his eyes.
“We leave,” Valentin replied.
Loathe as he was to see Durant grinning so greedily, Valentin knew that he was the person Ferron would question over the failure. Besides, his warriors needed something to take their aggression out on.
“Looks like the sons of Ferron have things figured out,” Hubert spat, rising to his feet. “After being so careful about not taking casualties and slowly chipping away at each other, we are going to finally get bloody. But, I do want to punish them so very badly.”
“I, too, want them dead,” Darcy agreed. “I will let my warriors know to be ready for a real fight to the death tomorrow.”
With that, the other deggan departed from their tents with wicked looks on their faces. Whatever grievances they accrued on this battlefield, from both friend and foe, they would unleash it all against their unwitting opponents. Valentin shared their expression, his heart felt tangled and wanted to do something to feel catharsis.
As Valentin rose from his seat, Durant held up a singular hand.
“Wait, Valentin,” Durant requested, not bothering to move from his cushion.
Valentin offered him a questioning, but impatient look. Valentin could see that a tired look hung in Durant’s eyes. The failure to deliver victory seemed to be sapping him of vitality. Valentin didn’t feel particular sympathetic towards Durant’s plights, but knew he would have to humor them anyways.
“Is there something else that is troubling you, Durant?” He asked as cordially as he could.
“There is,” Durant replied matter-of-factly. “But, before that. I wanted to thank you. The deggan have been insufferable ever since they left Father’s vision. They complain about everything and do not perform like they usually do. I think they may be trying to sabotage me to make me lose face as the next leader of the Armée du Corbeaux. But I know that you will try your best tomorrow. Your pact with my father guarantees it.”
Valentin maintained a neutral expression. He could have discussed their pride or their professionalism or their love of coin. He could have asked Durant about the strategies he employed or the formations he ordered. But, he knew such words would be pointless.
It was not the first time Ferron allowed Durant to issue orders to the warband. Valentin knew that Durant was capable. He knew each of Ferron’s formations and the exact situation to use each. However, he was far slower than Ferron at making adjustments. His eyes were not as fast to see the changing developments on the battlefield and order appropriately. Each time, Ferron stepped in and offered an appropriate suggestion. Even with less than half of the normal warband to command, Valentin knew that, if he dug a little deeper, he would discover Durant’s inflexibility to be the primary pain point.
Instead, he simply nodded.
“That being said,” Durant continued, revealing a letter with Ferron’s wax seal on it. “We have been given our orders upon return. We will divide, make camp for Faur, and begin the war when the snow clears. Father will command the center with Hrost and Elane, I will command the south with Arthus and Darcy, and you will command the north with Hubert, Barth, and Julianna. Your forces will stay near Arven while you are to accompany Father to Mulliti to visit High Tiarna Orso.”
Valentin did his best to hide his displeasure with the arrangement. These were the only two deggan that he shared unfavorable pasts with and the only two that would be willing to challenge his leadership.
“Hubert and Barth?” Valentin questioned. “Did Ferron say why he was providing me such an unruly battlefield?”
“Because you are far better suited to keeping them in check. If they step out of line, do what I cannot and show them who is in charge. Isn’t that the entire reason that you were saved in the first place?” Durant hissed with unreserved annoyance. Valentin watched Durant wring the orders tightly in his hands. “For what other reason has Father invested so much time and resources into you if you were not meant to take this position?”
Valentin’s nose crinkled at the acidic answer, feeling stupid for asking Durant at all. He would just ask Ferron for his reasoning when they next met, amongst some other choice words.
“Father said one other thing in his letter,” Durant informed. “He said that, you are allowed to use your full might whenever you see fit. There is no need to hide any longer.”
Valentin flexed his hand. While his finger still had not reverted to its original color, his circulation felt stronger since his bout with Aoire. He itched to know how strong he had become, to show the Bothair and the Sovereign just how dangerous he had become.
“I understand,” Valentin replied.
“Good, I have nothing else for you,” Durant snipped, shooing Valentin out of his father’s tent.
Valentin exiled himself from Ferron’s tent and into the wider camp. Without all the degs present, it did not feel as familiar as he expected. However, many of the faces were familiar. Ferron’s push for recruiting brought many new faces to intermix with familiar faces.
However, much like it had been when he first came under Ferron’s wing, he was still the most unpopular of the deggan. Outside of a handful of friendly faces that would greet him and ask how he was doing.
This night, like many nights, his mind was too preoccupied with other matters. His thoughts were focused primarily on his assignments for the next cycle. Expecting compliance from the two headstrong leaders would only be folly. He would need to meet with both and negotiate arrangements for loyalty.
While Barth had never been antagonistic towards Valentin since their duel, Valentin had also never issued the deggan an order either. There was no reason to believe that tempers would not flare again when that dynamic was revived. Hubert had mostly cooperated with Valentin, but his personality was something that Valentin had never been able to appreciate. He could only guess at what he would wish for in exchange for his fealty.
These deep reveries and ignorance to those around him may have contributed to his failure at rising the ranks of likability. Valentin would never know.
The choice of who to speak to first was partially made for him. His walk towards his deg’s campsite led him directly passed Hubert’s tents. He sat prominently at the center of a group of warriors, speaking to them about the plans determined for the following battle.
“And there he is, the lynchpin for the battle to come,” Hubert greeted with the sneer that he loved to use so often. He took a sip of wine, soaking his mustache in the fermented grapes. “He is going to run down our enemies with his band of fresh-faced green swords while we use every drop of our power on the front lines.”
Hubert’s warrior chuckled at their leader’s words. Some raised their cups to mockingly toast the young leader. Hubert watched intently, scouring Valentin’s face for any reaction that he could use later. However, he would be disappointed that his target remained placid.
Only one face looked sympathetic, but Valentin was still preparing himself for the eventual confrontation. He was not yet ready.
“Yes, but, it will be the degs on the front lines that will make the largest difference,” Valentin corrected. “If you kill them all before we get there-“
“Of course we will,” Hubert said dismissively, tactics shifting. “That spineless shit, Durant, has been holding us back. I am grateful that you forced Durant to let go of the leash. We’ll get him the victory that he so desperately needs to win over daddy.”
Valentin was surprised by Hubert’s open hostility towards Durant. The change in dynamic quickly frayed the relationships amongst the deggan. He took a mental note to do whatever possible in his power to avoid the same situation later.
“There was something I wanted to talk to you about, Hubert,” Valentin said, gaining Hubert’s attention. “The assignments for the war have been determined. You will be with myself, Barth, and Julianna.”
“With you in charge?” Hubert asked, his eyes narrowed. His question challenged the hierarchy between deggans, poking Ferron’s apparent favoritism.
“Today, we are still equals, Hubert,” Valentin reassured, addressing the message underneath.
Hubert relaxed at Valentin’s words, showing him that he spoke correctly. A wolfish grin crossed the deggan’s face, filling Valentin will a familiar feeling of discomfort.
“Well said,” he complimented, taking a sip of his wine. “We have plenty of time to determine something suitable for the cycles to come. Now, was there anything else that you’d like to discuss with me, Deggan Valentin?”
Valentin swallowed his saliva and flexed his fingers. He knew what he wanted to say next, but hadn’t yet scrounged up the necessary emotions to attack it head on. However, these feelings of avoidance only led further credence to the words he was told in Allbost. He had not moved on, he was still afraid. If he was to survive these deg assignments, he had to start sooner rather than later.
“I would like to borrow Vice Deggan Morna for a short time,” Valentin requested, finally glancing briefly towards Hubert’s second in command. “Only for a short time.”
“For a short time, you say?” Hubert asked suspiciously.
Fists were clenched. There were few people who knew of the true dynamic of Valentin’s relationship with Morna. Hubert was the only one who actively used it to attack Valentin, albeit, indirectly.
“If you are going to borrow someone from me, it is only fair that I borrow one back,” Hubert declared. He peered in the direction of Valentin’s camp, gazing upon the idle warriors. With a point of his finger, he aimed at one of the newcomers. “I want that one, the tall blonde with the arm splint. She looks like she’d be a lot of fun.”
“She needs to recover,” Valentin denied.
“She will still be recovering, Valentin,” Hubert argued with a hungry grin. His tongue scraped along his teeth. “Besides, I’m more interested in the rest of her.”
Valentin furrowed his brow. He had a long time to learn that the degs follow the dispositions of their leader. Hubert, in Valentin’s eyes, was the most problematic. These brazen requests to have him pawn off his own people, a girl of barely seventeen, in exchange for cooperation was one of his lesser transgressions.
“I’m sorry, Hubert, but it is critical that she does not engage in anything too strenuous before she recovers,” Valentin denied. “She will be an important asset in the cycles to come.”
A brief silence hung in the air at the deggan’s disagreement. All eyes were trained on Hubert, awaiting how he may choose to escalate the situation. Hubert smiled, reveling in the attention and the tension that he could cause. He breathed it in, savoring the moment for as long as he could before he responded.
“Greedy boy,” Hubert complimented with a whistle. “Fine, fine, if you haven’t had the chance yet, I won’t steal it from you. Be on your way, you two. Try not to stay too long.”