> ‘Soft is the wind coming from the Hath Kirk Delta, most of the Khanate’s poets always remind us,’ Ramen-Toka thought. ‘For it smells of different spices, open fields and carries a taste of Wetull.’
>
> He paused near the corridor’s tall narrow window and stared at the large port sprawling under the short but flat overhang. He could see from this favorable spot the triangular scarlet sails of the merchant galleys beyond the market, the day clear and the Shao Na-Lan crowds buzzing with excitement at the news.
>
> ‘There was a Prince in the city was the word,’ though the palace’s gongs remained silent for some reason. It wasn’t Prince Atpa, ‘the Lurking Asp’, but the Heir himself, the former Lord of the Gulf, now the Prince of Rin An-Pur.
>
> The Gold Leopard had come to punish the Sisters, people gossiped in the taverns and the markets of the large port city.
>
> Ramen-Toka sighed and moved away from the window, then unclipped the polished but worn-out metal mask from his helm to wipe some of the sweat away. His sister’s saccharine voice interrupted the Chariot Leader’s thoughts.
>
> “You should let him rest brother,” Tamun-Toka said, hinting at her disappointment. Ramen nodded and approached the Prince’s spouse. He bowed before her small stature and she touched his unshaven face with a graceful ring-adorned hand. ‘A daughter of Dinar,’ or as Khan Burzin Radpour had put it many years back, ‘A golden bride for the Gold Leopard.’
>
> “He asked for me,” Ramen said kissing the inside of her perfumed palm. “How is my little niece?”
>
> “Prays she grows a cock,” Tamun replied brazenly. “Or I get pregnant before another campaign starts.”
>
> “How is he?” He asked, uncomfortable talking about his sister’s coital activities with the Prince.
>
> “The desert was better for us.”
>
> “The summer is here,” he said to reassure her. “The Healers I talked with are optimistic the infection has retreated.”
>
> “Some days I wish the witch was still alive,” Tamun replied. “Then I come to my senses. Better he remains scarred and breathing than having that snake put her vile hands on him.”
>
> “Speaking of snakes,” Ramen said changing the subject, not wanting to talk ill of the dead. “Is Aquila-Dor around?”
>
> “The serpent remains brooding at his villa near the bridge, but half the palace serves the other snake Atpa. It’s like we walked inside a nest Ramen.”
>
> “Any word from him?” Ramen asked of the Lord of Shao Na-Lan.
>
> “He’s on ‘campaign’,” Tamun replied rolling her almond-colored black painted eyes. “You’ll see him now?”
>
> “Who is he with?”
>
> “Finished talking with the Khemet, Sept and Lord Har might still be around,” his sister replied and glanced at a slave exiting from a side door. She paused until he was away and continued. “He wanted to speak with Beon-Mau next and Master Ibn-Robet. Can’t we just go to Rin An-Pur? I haven’t been to Dinar once in six years. Nubia is growing up in tents brother.”
>
> Ramen stared in her comely face soberly. “Father told me to praise your good fortune. You are to be the First Spouse of the future Khan. Our family is much pleased.”
>
> “Assure Lord Kosey-Toka I’ll not disappoint him,” Tamun replied frostily and stepped back to allow him to pass. “Nesut is with the Prince. Send her if there’s anything you need.”
>
> Ramen nodded and watched her walk away slowly, dragging the sheer veils of her skirt behind. Then he turned around smiling mask in hand and walked towards the palace guards guarding the carved redwood doors.
>
>
>
>
>
> -
>
>
>
> “Brave Ramen,” the Gold Leopard said in a rasping voice seeing him enter, scarred face and chest covered in oiled bandages. He reclined on a comfortable divan before two large maps of the Gulf and a table that had a scaled gypsum model of the whole Peninsula placed on it. The table itself almost cut the large hall in two, extending to over six meters in length and three in width. The engineer Beon-Mau was showing him something on a piece of parchment and Ibn-Robet the industrious architect that followed the Prince around since their youth, now busy placing wooden figurines on the realistically painted sculpted map. “Have a look at the numbers.”
>
> “Prince Nout,” Ramen greeted him kneeling, a deep bow of his head following and the Prince stood up with a grimace and walked to him. Nout tended a bandaged arm to help the officer up and Ramen took it, feeling the strength behind the grip with relief.
>
> “You’ve brought the army,” Nout said simply, looking in his face when he stood up.
>
> “Most of it,” Ramen replied. “I’ll have a report ready before noon.”
>
> “You shall,” Nout agreed. “It is good to see you again Ramen.”
>
> “Your mere presence lifts the heart, my Prince,” Ramen replied truthfully much moved. The Prince was more than distant family to him. Prince Nout was also one of his longtime friends. A loyal man to those he knew, the Prince’s close circle was filled with people who had been with him for years. Studied, hunted, fooled around with slaves and went to war at the edge of Eplas and back again.
>
> What is forged in triumph or bloody hardships can never be broken, he thought.
>
> The prince stared in his face perceptively for a moment and then made a gesture towards Ibn-Robet.
>
> “When even your dearest friends start shamelessly lying to you,” Nout noted, his tone half-teasing half-serious. “Then you know… by the desert’s evil spirits, I must look like yesterday’s shit.”
>
> “I would place the time further into the past your Excellency,” Ibn replied sadly in jest and Nout chuckled not offended.
>
> “Fair enough,” the Prince decided and walked back to the divan accepting a gold goblet from Nesut, Ramen’s sister loyal female slave. “Now, have a look at the numbers old friend. Let us hear your opinion.”
>
>
>
>
>
> -
>
>
>
> “That’s a lot of gladiators,” Ramen commented looking at the reports. “How did Lord Letakin and Lord Tsuparin manage to train so many? And so soon?”
>
> “War brought them slaves aplenty,” Nout commented simply. “They bought them eagerly. We knew that. Didn’t expect they’d use them in this manner.”
>
> “Alright, but how do you go from fifty or a hundred per year to…”
>
> “Three thousand at least. They built a whole war school for that,” Nout said sipping at his spiced tea, his eyes on Ibn-Robet. “They are not trained to die in the arena. This is an army.”
>
> “Another two thousand at least fully armed men, these are equipped by the Sopat, have been added to their already excessive number of personal guards,” the man said. He had his eyes painted a deep orange with a blue shade at the edges. The Prince didn’t care about appearances or fashion much, but Ibn-Robet was the most social of their group. “Probably more knowing them.”
>
> “Stationed of sorts at Nasar currently,” Nout elucidated, turning his eyes on Ramen. “It’s a siege really, but it won’t last.”
>
> “They also utilized most of the caravan hands, slavers and mercenaries. They rearmed them fully,” Ramen added and grimaced. “That’s a lot…” he paused thinking about it. “I get they could have invested in reaction to Chubin Amin’s treatment from the Khan, but still the Three Sisters were skittish in supporting the war.”
>
> “This was done years in advance,” Ibn-Robet said and the Prince nodded as they had probably talked of this earlier. “Amin used as an excuse for this treachery.”
>
> “Ramen reveal your thought,” Nout urged him perceptively. “You stopped earlier.”
>
> “Rin An-Pur is monitoring the iron and steel exports carefully. Remember the Khanate’s Gulf is cut off for the Sisters,” Ramen said and stared at the maps. “Despite all that Sartak reports plate armour in big numbers, quality blades and our spies insist the cities are not affected much.”
>
> “Trade is booming,” Nout commented looking at him.
>
> “I get the Peninsula is wealthy, but where does the wood come from, or the iron in such numbers? A shift to war materiel should have crippled them. The rest of the Khanate is having its hands full supporting the armies. Everything is siphoned there. How did they pull that off?” Ramen asked. “They cut through the Jang-Lu and withstood an open field battle.”
>
> “Jang-Lu recruits,” Nout corrected him. “Still, you make a good point. The gladiators are well-trained we must conclude. Motivated surely, obviously well-led and they have a war plan. Herein lies the second mystery my friends.”
>
> “Who’s supporting them?” Ramen asked.
>
> “Ditches and walls are a Jelin custom,” Nout replied thoughtfully and pushed himself up with the help of Nesut.
>
> “I understand that,” Ramen replied. “They were bound to start trouble for us with the war dragging on.”
>
> “The war drags on because no one envisioned Kaltha would lose its young king,” Nout replied. “It happened. There’s a vacuum. Furthermore, Radin allowed his spouse to wage war on him and lost Eikenport. A small loss seemingly, everyone overlooks, but not without consequences. That girl should have been brought to Rin An-Pur and locked up as a bargaining chip. Radin is a greedy fool. Still, the Khan shall force them to negotiate and open up the Shallow Sea for us. With Raoz in our hands, it’s a matter of time. We need nothing else and I pray father stops there,” he paused and breathed deeply. Nout had a sip from his goblet next, his lips pressed together as if in considerable pain. Seeing his worried expression, the Prince cracked a smile. “I’m better each day Ramen.”
>
> “Of course my Prince.”
>
> “We had to make that cursed crossing,” Nout reminded him. “Else we would be still fighting outside the walls of Rida today.”
>
> Ramen would have preferred the Prince to have stayed at the rear where he was safe but kept his mouth shut. They had quarreled about it years back and there was no point in bringing it up again.
>
> “It was a great victory, my Prince,” Ramen said instead.
>
> Nout nodded. “Not a perfect one. We must remember that. There’s no such thing as a perfect victory. The ‘Jackal’, whoever he is, has won the day. Que Ki-La is doomed.”
>
> Ramen stood back shocked. The Prince raised his left hand and gestured for him to calm down. He then continued his thought.
>
> “Nothing in life is faultless. Nothing stands neatly arranged with no wrinkles. An Heir can have his skin filled with boils and fall off, another can be burned alive in his bedroom or a High King left a paralyzed vegetable falling down a set of stairs and his biggest weapon, his navy, ruined by mere cutthroats. The Cofols of the Peninsula have always been merchants, always calculating the costs and risks of each action. To embark on such an endeavor, something has fallen in their lap they never had afore. What I’m saying is, you can’t ‘magic’ iron ingots out of thin air Ramen or mass-produce weapons unfit for the arena out of whim. Plate armour. Heavy shields. You don’t start building an army two years before you make your move unless you’ve found a patron. Someone to support and have your back. Someone with resources and the means to produce them. The means to transport them to you timely out of the Khan’s eyes using an ancient trade route. If you haven’t and the Three Sisters are doing all this just the same by themselves… eh, moreover amidst a strict prohibition on steel due to the war…”
>
> “At least ten thousand full sets of armour and steel blades is the estimate,” Ibn-Robet elucidated. “In two years without imports and with Elur Sol watching them.”
>
> Nout nodded in agreement.
>
> “Import them from where then?” Ramen gasped not understanding where the Prince was going with this. “How?”
>
> “There are ships visiting Lai Zel-Ka under strange imperial-like banners for quite a while now,” Ibn-Robet replied instead of the silent Prince Nout. “Just a rumor, fueled by the disappearance of Lord Phon’s sister. Most thought he had her killed, but maybe there’s something else at play here.”
>
> “Imperial-like…” Ramen murmured unable to follow the Prince’s thought.
>
> “For the past four months, at least two of these… ships, have been mooring regularly in Fu De-Gar as well,” Ibn-Robet added. “We have confirmed sightings. The Pirates speak of strange sails coming out of the mist at the Reefs.”
>
> “Large transports? Lorian?”
>
> Kaltha’s navy rarely operated in the Scalding Sea, while the remote Lorian kingdom of Lesia had been rumored to have built some pretty big ships the last couple of years.
>
> “Huge. Nothing Lorian about them.”
>
> “From where then?” Ramen asked. “Run by humans?”
>
> The latter he asked hesitantly as it was an absurd notion.
>
> “They are humans present at port but very few deals are struck with local merchants. No significant coin is exchanged. This is a prearranged covenant at a higher level. A lend lease even. Timber, bronze, iron, outright steel, wine for spirits sake,” Nout replied. “But they moor in the dark of night, stay aboard the ships most of the time and leave come night again.”
>
> “Can Kaltha make the journey, Regia, are they using pirates? What… my Prince you said Imperial afore?”
>
> Nout nodded and breathed out, his feverish eyes on the rebel forces' movements. Three pincers, one of them already at Que Ki-La trying to strangle the loyal Fourth Sister. “I did. It changes nothing Ramen,” the Prince added seeing his troubled face. He walked to the drawn maps of the Peninsula, took a thin piece of coal in his hand and painted a straight black line across the blue waters of Wetull’s Straits approaches. Effectively parting them. From the remote Reaz Fort at the edge of the Minor Desert all the way to the Shark Isles. “We’ll do it again as afore with a twist. Cut the legs out from under our enemy and then wipe him out.”
----------------------------------------
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Sir Emerson Lennox
Mista Savar
‘Pale Jackal’
‘War Leader’
The Fourth Sister
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The first month of summer of 193 NC
Third week
Outside the Chiliad’s camp
Outskirts of Que Ki-La
Second week of the siege
“Will it work?” Emerson asked Sim Ib-Lurd and the Cofol shrugged his shoulders and stared at the civilian engineers putting the machine together. Que Ki-La’s walls were made out of stone bricks and while not tall but at its gates, Sol’s Palace was standing right behind them and its square towers were incorporated in the defense of the city.
A direct assault could overcome whatever Lord Sol had managed to scrape together but would be costly and Emerson didn’t want to lose any more men at his point. They didn’t have a system in place to allow them to train more while on campaign and he didn’t trust the mercenaries loyal to the Lords of the Peninsula.
“It’s a copy out of a book and based on your input Mista Savar,” Sim replied finally tossing the blame of a potential failure at Emerson’s feet. “Maybe a couple of shots?”
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“Don’t test it,” Emerson grunted. “Just keep it visible to the defenders.”
The threat of the trebuchet more useful than a couple of shots that may not even find their target.
He walked away from the engineers, the streets of the empty houses outside the walls of the old city well maintained. Que Ki-La had outgrown its initial fortifications but no effort had been made to expand them. There was no enemy at the near for centuries so the locals weren’t wrong in their decision.
There was no enemy until one appeared that is.
Troy waved a hand seeing him approaching their horses. A couple of well-maintained mounts in the mix and one of the two men had a slave armband on. Emerson grimaced but returned the gladiator’s greeting.
“Mista Savar,” the second Cofol said, richly tanned skin turning almost gold on his face. He sported several gold rings and two large ivory loops on his ears. “Salutations. I’m Serebus, commander of the Sopat Fort.”
“Where’s that?” Emerson asked with a grunt.
“Turtle Claw Peninsula, the south edge of Amethyst Coast,” Serebus replied readily and smiled showcasing his well-maintained teeth. Two of them encased in gold and adorned with small diamonds.
“Ever fought anywhere?” Emerson snapped unsure what the Cofol wanted.
“We recently won the siege of Nasar,” Serebus replied.
“Hmm. Is the Sopat army here?”
“Near the Simun Gates Mista Savar.”
“Laying siege?”
“We are still looking for a place to set up camp. A portion of the forest must be cut down first,” Serebus explained.
“Thought the land was flat as a table. You’ve run out of tents?”
“No, but we need the shade,” Serebus replied. “Seeing as we don’t have buildings available.”
“The Chiliad is staying in the camp. It’s over there,” Emerson pointed with his arm at the many tents built in the open space at the edge of the city.
Serebus nodded and stared at the sun above their heads, then at the nearby woods. “It seems it would have been—” He started to say but Emerson stopped him.
“Lad, this is not an excursion or a hunt,” he explained soberly, Serebus opening his mouth to add something but pausing unsure. “Tell Phon to setup camp and block the plaguing road. Anything else?”
“I need to relay some messages,” Serebus replied.
“Couldn’t Lord Phon make the journey? It’s about an hour, or two?”
“That would be… He’s freshly married, Mista Savar.”
“Again?” Troy asked and Emerson rubbed his unshaven face with a hand.
“I have a meeting in an hour,” he finally said curtly. “Get yer slave on a horse and back to Lord Phon. He is to tell him what we talked about. I want to put some pressure on Lord Sol. You can join us.”
“Is there a place to refresh myself?” Serebus asked and Emerson pointed at the cistern their horses were using.
“Use that son,” the grisly knight advised, his tone austere. “See you don’t foul them waters too much. So no soap or scented oils. I lose a single horse, you lose an ear.”
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“Now, that was a commander dealing with supplies and rear administration duties for sure,” Troy commented riding next to him later on their way to the small village size camp of the Chiliad that had sprouted next to the outskirts of Que Ki-La. “Observably an extremely well-paying job,” he added.
“All Sopat men I’ve met are extremely loyal,” Emerson cautioned him. “Getting rewarded for their services is one of the reasons.”
“What’s the other reasons?” Troy asked.
Emerson stopped his horse and watched the slavers of Bohor and Nertor greeting Serebus, an enthusiastic Asmudius present.
“Pride,” Emerson murmured glancing at the Capricorn banners billowing over the neat elongated tents of the slavers. “Coming from wealth, a more cultured city and the belief they are serving worthy masters. Camaraderie flows out from that.”
“We need more soldiers Ballard,” Troy griped.
“I reckon we need allies more,” Emerson retorted and climbed down from his horse.
> At the start of summer, the year of the new calendar 193, Lord Phon-Iv Sopat, admittedly the richest man of the Peninsula and the brains behind the rebellion that had remained cautious in attacking the Khan’s men, made his move to break the soft siege of Nasar. It is still debated today what forced him to act and lose the veneer of neutrality he’d managed to maintain up until that point. No one believed the Sopat would actually go to war or not attempt to break out of the conflict at the first sign of trouble.
>
> Whatever the reason was Lord Phon-Iv made contact with Kefenu-Nasar in secret, the rich but minor Lord of Redleaf (the named after the color of its leaves type of plant produced a drug with hallucinating and medicinal properties and matured near Kefenu’s tobacco plantations) and proposed a deal. The two families had never seen eye to eye due to Lai Zel-Ka desiring a piece of Kefenu’s business and the latter needing access to its port facilities for trade at logical prices. Phon-Iv agreed to marry his daughter Mesi-Nasar and give Kefenu control of the disputed opulent territory between the Gipsy Tents settlement and Levai River all the way to the edge of Opal Mountains.
>
> Lord Phon-Iv, a man with three young children and four wives already, elevated Mesi-Nasar making her his first wife in a surprise deal Kefenu agreed to. As part of the deal it is probable that they had also agreed to get rid of stubborn Esugen (the man leading the considerable force occupying Nasar) and his wife Anuke-Sol, the eldest daughter of Lord Elur Sol. It is believed (mostly through the memoirs of captains working the trade routes I have acquired, retired pirates oral recollections and old Cofol merchants gossip, as unfortunately access to the official records is not allowed today), that they bribed Esugen’s second in command, a man named Merehor to do the deed.
>
> The story goes that Merehor recruited in turn an unspecified number of bought-out troops using the Sopat limitless purse and staged an insurrection inside the Cofols army camp. The insurgents stormed the headquarters and butchered Esugen, Anuke-Sol and their young son Kemat along a big number of loyal guards. Merehor managed to get control in the chaos that followed and blamed the local community of gypsies for what happened.
>
> He then proceeded to request an end to the hostilities from Lord Phon-Iv’s forces stationed near the city with the agreement the soldiers wouldn’t be harmed but given refuge instead in Lai Zel-Ka and a hefty pension.
>
> Phon-Iv agreed to compensate the around two thousand men in an emotional address to the troops standing on one of the twenty large wagons of gold coins he’d hauled inside the city and the siege ended without further bloodshed according to the official record. Well actually there was bloodshed aplenty as the outraged locals expelled the nomads from the city and then burned down their nearby settlement that still has their name today. It is very telling that in the ‘siege’ of Nasar more gypsies were killed than Cofols.
>
> While the newly married Lord Phon-Iv got rid of his Esugen problem thus, dealing with the Fourth Sister wasn’t as easy and the now grieving the loss of two children and a grandchild Lord Elur Sol was impossible to negotiate with. So Phon-Iv started down the desert Simun Road with his intact mercenary force toward Que Ki-La. There Sir Emerson, who had won a spectacular battle against Sol’s forces in the Plains of Dor O’ Cofol was besieging the large city for real.
>
> He’d just received reinforcements from Thalion, the latter still busy trying to control Rohir and get rid of Nancin’s force roaming the Stallion’s Rest endless fields. The settled from the Great Desert Horselords there were loyal to the Khan and unsympathetic to bribery. Three times Thalion’s gladiators sacked Rohir, but he had to retreat as many times closer to Fu De-Gar as the local riders lay waste to his supply caravans with extreme prejudice and kept reinforcing Nancin.
>
> Even so, Lord Phon-Iv’s Sopat’s army approaching from the Simun Road would all but encircle the sprawling city port, leaving its weakened defenders (Prince Nout had ordered the reinforcing force dispatched from the capital to remain in Lukela) with only one free road of retreat if the walls were taken. Across the great fig forests north of Que Ki-La, the idyllic road following the east banks of Clear Lake beyond the north walls of the city in the direction of the stone bridge at Small River.
>
>
Velox grimaced looking at the plan proposed by Samir of Ani Ta-Ne. He got his sharpened dagger out and then slowly worked on his scarred cheeks some, the blade scratching at the surface but finding nothing to shave. The sound disconcerting inside the silent large tent for those present, but for Emerson who was reading the reports and missives brought in bulk from the two forces that had come to reinforce them.
“Three kilometers is not a big distance Samir,” Velox finally said raspingly.
“Lord Sol doesn’t have the men to guard the wall,” Samir insisted. “We could keep him pinned down with arrows and strike where he’s weak.”
“Good luck wit that,” Qathor commented with a grin. “They’ll be working on their oiled rods under cover, shove them down yer throat when ye run out of missiles and jump over the walls.”
Samir stared at the Issir disgusted.
“We’ll attack the port,” Emerson intervened. “So a bit further than that Samir. It will leave only the north gates out of our reach. But if we take the bridge, then the city is cut off.”
“Time is on our side,” Samir agreed, with Emerson correcting him gruffly.
“No it ain’t me lad.”
“We need to hurry is his meaning,” Troy explained at the taken aback Cofol leader.
“Of course,” Samir gave a nod and the commotion outside the large tent stopped them. Emerson turned his head and stared at the entrance. Asper who was standing there pulled the thick fabric aside to see what was going on.
The slave that had been send back entered. He paused at the packed hall of the large field tent, stared at the rough ground under his sandaled feet and exited. The man returned after a moment, the ruckus outside the tent growing. He carried a large rolled up crimson carpet on his shoulder. The slave unrolled the carpet walking on the thick soft surface all the way to Emerson’s table where the campaign maps were located.
He then bowed deeply under the amused eyes of the gladiators and officers present, turned around and walked out. A moment and he reappeared, Asper narrowing his eyes at his shenanigans, stood up straighter and said in the effeminate voice of a eunuch.
His tone though sober.
“Lord of Amethyst Gulf, the eminent Phon-Iv Sopat.”
The slave had announced.
“Damn it Foreal,” a clad in a rich leather partially-armoured outfit Phon-Iv said and walked inside. “Celebrated has a better ring to it,” he paused, painted blue eyes returning the stares of those present, glanced a little uncomfortable at the fresh carpet and then walked towards the table.
“Lord Phon,” Emerson rustled, an eye at the entrance of the tent opening again and Bohor, Nertor and Asmudius walking inside. “I was led to believe you were indisposed.”
“On a honeymoon slotted in a tight schedule,” Phon replied. He was over thirty years old but for some wrinkles under his eyes nicely covered by subtle makeup, Phon looked a young twenty five. A handsome Cofol for sure with clever eyes that quickly evaluated those present afore returning his stare on Emerson. “Then I was reminded I had a contract to honor and moreover an old promise to keep.”
“Is that what changed yer mind?” Emerson was not about to apologize for ruining the man’s wedding celebrations.
Phon’s face darkened and his eyes roamed the hall. He nodded at the pensive ‘Black’ Toros who he recognized and Bohor, the slaver standing next to Serebus looking devastated. In fact the slavemaster’s face turned white and then he collapsed on his knees. Nertor with Serebus had to stabilize him grabbing his arms.
Phon smacked his painted lips and sighed.
“As I said Mista Savar,” the Lord of Lai Zel-Ka replied sadly. “I had a promise to keep. The Sopat honor their words.”
“Get him a cup of wine,” Emerson grunted and the slavers carried the sobbing, usually very cynical, slavemaster outside.
A restrained Phon watched in silence. Emerson realized there was a solid foundation under the carefully constructed outer veneer of indifference the rich Cofol Lord carried around like a shield. While one could mistake the older Sopat brother for Don-Iv, they weren’t the same man.
“They were very close,” Phon commented forlornly. Emerson pressed his mouth tight unsure on where Phon was going with that. The rich Cofol Lord showed him a small yellow scroll and then glanced at the crowded room.
“Troy, Velox get everyone out. Stay back Troy. I’ll talk with Lord Sopat,” Emerson ordered gruffly.
“Why do I…?” Troy protested, but seeing Emerson’s face he hanged his braided head and turned to Qathor. The two gladiator leaders were longtime friends. “Come on Qath, help me out here.”
“Princess I’ll raise yer spirits,” the muscular Issir assured him knowingly, several of the departing men chuckling at his words.
“Fuck off Qathor!” Troy snapped with an embarrassed grimace and showed him his closed fist. “Or you’ll get this up the arse!”
Qathor smiled. “It was my meaning darling.”
“Use Foreal,” Phon offered casually, the scared slave ogling his eyes staring at the impressive physique of the dark-skinned gladiator. “He can handle an oiled fist, anything but a horsecock really,” Phon added, each detail more disturbing and Qathor breathed in sharply very intrigued.
“Troy, get everyone outside now!” Emerson grunted irate. “You have two darn swords. Use them plaguing things on those stalling!”
The gladiator reached for his twin blades and the last hangers on rushed outside, Foreal sprinting faster than everyone else but a determined Qathor went after him with large strides.
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Phon-Iv stared at the map depicting Que Ki-La and the lands beyond it, the massive Khanate’s Gulf present in the detailed drawing. Serebus returned and bowed deeply before reporting they had delivered his words to the men under his payroll.
“Stand by the entrance,” Phon ordered dismissing him.
“What’s the deal with Bohor?” Emerson asked when the Cofol commander departed.
“Um,” Phon-Iv said and used a fine hankie to gather the moisture from his face. “Have you ever lost family Ballard?”
“I have.”
“Anyone left back home?” Phon stared at his grim expression.
“What is this about Phon?”
“So stern,” Phon replied and looked for a chair to sit but finding none, he remained standing with a pained grimace. “I can understand that.”
“I’d like to understand it as well. You took yer time at Nasar.”
“I can’t ruin a city. Destroying wealth is not what I’m good at Ballard.”
“It’s a war lad,” Emerson grunted. “We left more than three thousand bodies rotting near Palar.”
“Elur Sol won’t give up the city,” Phon argued with a grimace of distaste.
“He will to save himself,” Emerson countered.
“Then what?”
“Then you’ll negotiate with the Khan’s people. Or we march on Rin An-Pur.”
“There are over half a million people living in Rin An-Pur Ballard,” Phon said. “They are not the Horselords of old but they can raise armies to counter us. Thousands more.”
“Who would lead them?” Emerson queried. “A ramble is not an army.”
“The Gold Leopard is coming our way,” Phon reminded him. “He spent part of his youth here.”
“Will he fight for it?”
“I believe he would.”
Emerson crossed his arms over his chest. “It is better to have the city then.”
“Why?”
“A wall is a wall,” Emerson replied. “Much easier to defend.”
“You are thinking to lure him here?”
“The plains end at the walls of Que Ki-La. Then it’s all forest, palms and figs, a lake and Small River, who ain’t that small. We either fight him here or take our chances on them flats beyond.”
“You can’t outsmart Prince Nout Ballard,” Phon said. “I’m reaching out to Prince Atpa—”
“You do that,” Emerson told him. “But Prince Atpa isn’t running the Khanate. The Khan has chosen another Heir. While we may be right about Prince Nout, I don’t see another way,” Emerson continued. “I need to best his army.”
Phon-Iv nodded and stared at the map again. “I cut the desert road,” he said. “The dangerous men in Elur Sol’s camp… from those left breathing that is, are Sartak and Nancin. The former especially is loyal to the Khan. He’ll keep the north road open.”
“Will he retreat?”
“Perhaps.”
“What if we threaten to cut them off completely?”
“We don’t have the men…” Phon frowned. “Can it be done?”
“We control that bridge and nothing comes in or out,” Emerson replied. “Provided we manage to wrestle away the port from Sol. The walls are easy to scale with a good distraction. If I had machines I’d punch a hole through easily. Since we don’t have one I trust at the near, I need you to assault the West Gates from the Simun Road. I’ll penetrate the walls near the coast and take the docks. Then swing around and head for the bridge, unless the defenders collapse.”
“You don’t want Prince Nout landing inside the city.”
“I don’t believe he would, but then again it’s possible,” Emerson said furrowing his brows. “What changed your mind?”
And decided to move was the knight’s meaning.
“I lost my sister,” Phon said hoarsely and Emerson nodded, his face solemn.
“I’ve a sister as well. My condolences for yer loss.”
Phon cleared his throat. “Sen… was Garth’s wife. The Queen of Wetull.”
Emerson stood back alarmed.
“It was unrelated to our problem… I think. Bohor was there for part of it. A pregnancy gone wrong I suppose. It’s my fault.”
“Not it isn’t,” Emerson grunted. “She was another man’s wife.”
Phon-Iv scratched his trimmed goatee with a hand, then pressed a couple of ringed fingers at the bridge of his nose in visible discomfort.
But it could just be grief, Emerson thought.
“Does Glenavon have another child?” Emerson asked instead walking to the table and taking the perfumed scroll Phon had showed him earlier.
“They do… ahm,” Phon grimaced. “He hinted at sending help. But it is not as easy to reach him now.”
“Does Glenavon have an army?” Emerson queried reading the missive written in courtly Common and in an extremely calligraphic script. A female hand had written it months back, the insight into the future offered in it astonishing.
“He does. But not many humans serve in it Ballard,” Lord Phon-Iv replied. “He also has a Wyvern.”
“You’ve seen it, this wyvern?”
“My cousin Ron-Iv has. Bohor, very recently,” Phon-Iv replied. “It’s as big as a house.”
“Can he control the beast?” Emerson asked calmly and turned his eyes on the map of the Peninsula.
“I have no idea. Never got a good read on young Reeves,” Phon replied hoarsely. “But Sen-Iv believed we can’t win without his help and she rarely erred. His people were helpful but without her I don’t know his intentions.”
Emerson nodded in pondering silence.
“You claimed you know him,” Phon said on his back. “Will the King beyond the Pale Mountains come to our aid?”
“I knew the boy,” Emerson replied sternly. “Not this King,” he glanced at Phon’s sorrowful face and grimaced. “The Gold Leopard is closer than him Lord Sopat,” he added raspingly. “Glenavon shall do what he believes is right for those counting on him and we must do our duty to those counting on us. Assault the walls on the morrow Phon-Iv. Let’s see if Sartak stays to fight or retreats again. If he’s under orders from a different master, then perhaps Lord Sol would be forced to talk with us.”
“What about the Gold Leopard Ballard?” Phon asked him worried and Emerson’s deeply-lined from age black eyes roamed the Khanate Gulf’s long coast afore answering.
“We can do nothing more than wait to see where he’ll land and try to defend against him,” Emerson had said. “Again, I faced Prince Nout in the past, but time changes all people.”
The Prince was in a hurry then, probably under orders and risked an assault against an unknown force. Now he knew what Emerson had would the Prince come at him again straight away? What would the Heir do when given full command?
Where? He pondered looking at the map, deep wrinkles forming under the grey hairs of his square jaw and Phon-Iv who was rereading his late sister’s letter behind the knight’s back, took advantage of the empty tent to lament in private.
Rest assured, the Leopard shall leap over the desert even if he’s half-dead, Sen-Iv Sopat had written to her brother. Don’t believe our spies for his people are fanatically loyal to him.
> He’ll cross the Gulf and land on the Peninsula, dear Phon. He’ll take the cities and raise them if he’s given half a chance. He won’t bargain or show mercy. Don’t allow the beast to reach our lands. As long as we have the ports he can’t win. Take the ports brother and bring the fight to him. Don’t be idle. You need to survive the summer, but you’ll only do it as a soldier this time.
>
> Do use your head please. You are good at deals. Use the knife along with coin. The more land between him and us the better. The more distance for the Leopard to traverse. He’ll want it all back because it’s a matter of pride for him, so use that and buy the Three Sisters time even if that means that the Fourth Sister dies.
>
> Remember, a wyvern leaps much further than the leopard.
>
> Always.
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