A siege was one of those things which could be simply summarised while being the most complex part of a war. What few battles there were, they could usually be won with suitable numbers and competent leadership. Sieges, however, asked for a lot. There needed to be enough of an army to dissuade the defender from repelling them with a sortie, yet too large of an army was difficult to be kept fed, only so much that could be pillaged, and besieging a place necessarily meant being in that area for months, not the week it took to march to the next place.
Of course, perhaps having the defender sortie was one’s goal, leading down another avenue of warfare. Countless tactics, strategies, tricks—whatever one wished to call them—had been used throughout history to either hurry a siege, or to break it.
However, it was rare that sieges could be outright avoided. That was why the world was not in a constant state of war—at least, from her understanding and reasoning. War promised such gains that it truly was the case that a defender both had the strategic advantage and had greater reason to rally, creating this equilibrium where war was always looming, yet not constant. That often, war was more personal than rational.
Marquess Bavaria sat opposite her in the same seat Baron Grosburg once had. The room looked no different from then either, still the study where her father had often burned the midnight oil, where she would sit on his lap when she couldn’t sleep, staring at the meaningless pages, listening to his stories of her mother.
Such a long time ago, it may as well have been another life.
“Since things between us are clear, I shall be frank,” the Marquess said.
He did not have the posture she once knew, as if weathered, worn down, even his expression unguarded. She felt no pity, though. The last Duke of Bohemia had been partially correct: some sins were inherited as if debts. His grandfather had known and groomed him to be someone who did not incur the same debts; however, he still had debts to be paid.
“I would ask for My Lady to lend me her bombardiers.”
“No.”
There was no hesitation, only that word. After a second with no more said, his hands clenched, letting out a long breath. “My Lady, must I beg? The new Duke has no sense of reason and I fear this war shall not end until either of us are dead, and I am not entirely sure that is enough,” he said, a measured voice, gentle.
“Nothing My Lord could say or offer will change my answer,” she said.
He reached up to rub his face, dragging his hand down after, scratching against a beard that had last been shaved in times of peace. “Then name a price for the method of producing that gunpowder. Any price,” he said.
“No.”
A silence fell, one where he was deathly still and she sat back in the chair, watching him. The fireplace crackled behind her, wind whistling through what gaps it found.
“Are we not allies? Do you fear that I will turn on you the moment I can?” he whispered, voicing the thoughts he knew made no sense, yet were the only ones that came to his mind. For all his grandfather had taught him, such lessons seemed ill-suited to this Countess.
“My Lord, I believe you lied when you said things between us are clear,” she said, a hint of humour in her voice that neither lingered on her lips nor reached his ears.
He swallowed, his throat feeling tight. “Then pray enlighten me.”
“My bombards can knock down an old stone wall that had already collapsed, they can cut down many an unsuspecting man standing in close formation at such close range. What they cannot do is help besiege a well-built fortress. At best, I would be giving My Lord false hope. Even my gunpowder is something which, at present, can only be made in small quantities, regardless of how much one has to spend.”
Staring her in the eye, he waited for her to flinch. Wished her to. Any sign that she had lied—he desired that more than anything else at this moment. However, she gave none, meeting his gaze evenly. “Of course you would say such a thing,” he said, desperate, trying to get a rise from her.
“Indeed, I would give My Lord the frank truth.”
In the end, he broke first, his head hanging down as he rubbed his face with both hands this time. “What would you have me do, then?”
She tilted her head. “I beg My Lord’s pardon?” she asked.
He gave a hollow laugh. “I have no desire for war, nothing to gain from it and it is as if I am fighting to defend only my own life. However, he believes I am responsible for his father’s death, so he shall fight to the last man. They all would, it seems. Tales of my cruelty have spread far. How I slaughtered men like cattle, leaving only offal to bury. Someone who would stoop to deception to slay my honest foe. Lies and truth, woven together until inseparable.
“Even then, I do not care what reputation I have in others’ eyes, only that I could end this. All reasoning tells me is to submit myself and ask for mercy, yet it is as if I can hear my grandfather scolding me for such thoughts, and I… I cannot bear to leave my family this soon, not before holding my unborn child just once.”
What had been a dispassionate assessment turned to sorrow by the end, his voice hoarse.
“So pray tell me, what am I to do?” he whispered.
His words melted into the gloom. She gave no reaction, still staring, neither pity nor scorn in her eyes. It scared him, but not in a way that filled him with fear. That she could hear such words and be entirely unmoved—it was as if she had sat through all his grandfather’s lessons and lectures and became the very embodiment of them. If there was such a person, he knew to be scared of what they would accomplish. As it was, though, he could only remind himself that she had only met his grandfather once, his grandfather having held on with his ailing health for so long to repay a favour long held.
It didn’t occur to him to consider what kind of debt his grandfather had hoped to spare him from shouldering by doing so.
“Marquess Bavaria, I am merely a countess of little note. You ask me for solutions to problems that are neither mine nor problems I am in any place to consider. I have dealt with some traitorous mercenaries and given you some assistance in a sortie, that is all of my accomplishments, yet you would ask me how to win an endless war? I have no advice. All I know—all I have learned about—is to do with my fief. This fief is what my parents left me and I have neither the spare time nor the inclination to think of grander things than to protect it.”
He dutifully listened, a small smile coming to him by the end. “I see, you think me a fool,” he said without any anger.
“I do. Whatever notions you had of me, pray look clearly now. What kind of monster do you think I am? Yes, I am ruthless—because it is necessary. I do not have the luxury of showing mercy. What answers do you think I could have, not even a year into my majority, having been ousted from the place I thought home with no one to protect me?”
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Her words seemed to finally break him, his mouth pressed into a grim expression as he dared not meet her gaze.
However, she scolded him no more, letting out a gentle sigh. “You ask me for answers knowing what answer I would give. Well, if you have no shame, then go beg the King to intervene. This war had no justification to begin with, so I am sure it would not be difficult to sway the council.
“On the matter of surrendering, you know what that will mean, no? You are the kind of man who would leave such a burden on your son—on your wife? Never mind losing father and husband, they would be thrust into this dark and twisted world of ours.”
He opened his mouth to laugh, but no sound came out, eventually forcing a polite smile. “My Lady speaks so lowly of herself, yet sees the matter clearly.”
“It is because you are deep within it that you cannot step back to properly observe your situation. Still, if you wish to hear my advice, not as an ally, but as a ruler….”
“What harm could words do? Pray tell me,” he said.
She leaned forwards in her seat, adding an air of secrecy as she spoke in a quiet voice, that even if someone else was in the room they wouldn’t hear. “If one appears weak, they must be strong. Asking the King to intervene would only invite others to peck at you for whatever concessions they can grab. This war, if the Duke wishes to win anything, he must come for you, so wait for him and push him back in familiar terrain. Think of it as him trying to siege your entire fief. You can keep your troops easily supplied while he can only pillage so much. Even for reinforcements, you can spend the time between his assaults training more troops, so you will only grow stronger and him weaker. His anger may last a lifetime, but how could his army stay coherent?”
He listened in silence, still, even his blinks few and far between. “You speak of supplying an army as if it as an easy thing,” he said lightly.
She waved him off. “Did I not say I am ill-informed on such matters?” she said, matching his light tone. “Although it may not be much, I have a good relationship with the Nelli family. At present, they bring a lot of foodstuffs from the south to the capital, so I am sure they would be eager to expand their business. If weapons are what you need, my city has some smiths I could set to the task. Would that I could give them as a gift, but my situation… I have to ask for enough to cover the cost of the metal.”
“Of course. You are already being far too generous with such a pathetic man—I couldn’t ask for your charity,” he said, regaining a little more of his vigour.
“Pathetic?” she said, tilting her head. “Pathetic is the man who would stand proud after losing everything precious to him. Noble is the man who would give up everything, even his dignity, to protect the things precious to him.”
He gave a half-hearted chuckle. “My Lady likes philosophy?” he asked.
“Thinking is what sets us apart from the beasts,” she said, pausing to give a soft smile. “It is also one of the few things I can do. In this case, it serves me well to borrow the thoughts of our predecessors. It is much easier to judge which statue is most beautiful than carve the most beautiful oneself.”
Nodding, he went to speak, only to stop when it seemed she had more to say.
“On that matter, I would ask My Lord some things?”
He gestured for her to go ahead.
“I had expectations of the Duke perhaps crossing the rivers in winter,” she said, bringing her fingertips together.
“Such a thing is not impossible; however, the fortresses are spaced to account for this,” he said, beginning to gesture along as he spoke. “Not to mention, he would struggle to maintain his army. There is a pressing need for shelter lest his troops freeze and this area, already a common victim of pillaging in the past, is rather barren. While one always wishes to bring as many men to battle as possible, one must take care that each man does not bring down the rest of the army more than he elevates it.”
She gently nodded. “Of course, My Lord makes such a complicated facet of war something easily comprehended.”
“Please, do not flatter me,” he said, waving her off. “What I know is… how to avoid defeat. I have spent my life looking at how others failed and yet, for all I have studied victories, such greatness eludes me. Of the two of us, I feel like you would be the one to be remembered as a genius.”
A corner of her mouth tugged up. “My Lord, pray cease this silly talk. What great wisdom is there in beating a weaker foe and surprising an ally with a betrayal?”
“Speaking with my grandfather, he often treated what he could comprehend as self-evident and what he could not as something only a genius would understand,” he said, speaking slowly. “You may think it is easy to think about war. However, I assure you, it is not. Do you forget how much you spoke on simply the matter of routing outnumbered mercenaries? I dare say even the greats of history did not put such thought into their conquests.”
“Indeed, I must put in such thought—because I lack such talent.”
He laughed, a chuckle that seemed to linger in the air. “I should say no more.”
Although her expression still showed no amusement, it did soften at his concession. “Another thing I am curious about, My Lord has brought together his cavalry?” she asked.
“I have. Such brigades fell under my father’s leadership, so his… death saw them in disarray. The successful sortie helped to establish my position more than you could know,” he said, ending with a wry smile.
Ignoring his continued attempts at praise, she continued with her questioning. “May I ask how they are arranged? That is, I would think them still in the image of a knight in shining armour.”
“Such a way of putting it isn’t wrong. However, there are only so many knights and armies have only seemed to grow in recent decades,” he said, falling into thought for a moment. “Are you considering training cavalry?”
“It would be useful for interrupting an enemy’s advance, giving us time to better fortify our positions,” she said, speaking as if thinking aloud. “I am unsure if such an expense could be justified.”
So the two fell into a discourse, touching on topics of warfare that books seldom discussed, both the practical and theoretical, until such a time that her butler knocked, claiming the Marquess’s wife wished for his company.
He made no attempt to stay, rising to his feet and, on the way out, gave a last thanks to her—“For I have much to consider this evening.”
“Give Dorothy my regards,” she replied, softly smiling.
However, once the door closed, her expression became blank, absent gaze lingering on the closed door. While her butler had been the one to interrupt, he had not been the one to lead her guest away and so remained in the room. At such times, there was usually a need for him—if only to listen to her thoughts on what had transpired.
Today proved no different. “That he would be regarded as a talented general, are my standards too high?” she asked, her voice quiet enough to only be heard by the butler.
“It is natural after following in your parents’ footsteps for so long, My Lady,” he replied.
She let out a long sigh. “Could I ask for what books on war my father has,” she said, the request not sounding like a question, but still rather polite for an employer speaking to a servant.
“Of course, My Lady,” he said, giving a bow, before then going to the bookshelves.
“What is war but a means to conduct politics?” she muttered, closing her eyes. “How is it that something as simple as that seems to elude one educated as him? That he thinks me novel for considering defeat, that he is reluctant to broach a war decided without battle. Is it absurd to consider every victory against one foe a loss against all others? Which ruler has such a pool of able men that they may be squandered over personal grievances? Knowing that a siege’s greatest ally and enemy is time, yet considering only assault rather than logistics or subterfuge? What potential there is in the bombard something his ancestors prepared carefully for, that he may now be ignorant of it to his own peril?”
Her complaints accompanied the scrape of books coming down from shelves and shuffling footsteps, until finally he walked to the desk, placing a pile of books before her.
“These can be considered of My Lady’s interest. While there are accounts of more recent wars, the methods in which the old Romans and their contemporaries fought, I believe, embodies the essence of war My Lady seeks.”
Eyes flickering open, she looked at the books, then at him, a tender smile coming to her. “Truly, how did my father inspire such loyalty that it persists so vigorous this long after his death?”
Her butler chuckled. “If I could explain, My Lady, I would. It is simply the case that I still trust him and his legacy.”
Smile becoming wry, she asked, “Even though his legacy is his very antithesis?”
He looked at her with the same tenderness she had always known from him, as if uncle and niece rather than servant and master. “My Lady may not be the woman your father wished you to become; however, he has passed, that we may now only live as we believe we must. That aside, the opposite of good is not evil, but indifference, and I know very well that My Lady is not at all indifferent. In that regard, you greatly resemble your father—and your mother.”
Although she gave no reaction, she could not keep her eyes from shimmering. “You are too kind, Mr Cromer,” she whispered.
“As are you, My Lady, and I hope you shall learn that few deserve such kindness,” he replied, then bowed. “I shall leave My Lady to her reading.”
“Very well.”
So he left, her gaze lingering on the door for a moment, then she picked up the first book and began to read.