The study of military strategy and tactics has a long and rich history stretching back thousands of years. From the foundational texts of Karpageous Rex covering military philosophy to the works of Bryden, the Quick, discussing the importance of terrain and other force-multipliers, all the way to the more recent writings of General Hypathia dealing with efficiency of troop movements and supply.

And you should ignore all of that and just study Darrian Rane instead.

* Introduction to Modern Military Thought.

Darrian was bored. He reclined in a comfortable chair in an exquisitely furnished study in a sprawling estate. And he wished for his old life.

He needed something more. He had been a general in the Good King’s army. Youngest appointed to such a high position in Salitian record history. Now what was he? A Game of Swords hustler with a nice house?

“Pathetic,” the imp said, mirroring his thoughts. It was hanging from the chandelier and making grotesque faces.

Darrian ignored the imp. The bear, the other denizen of his mind, sat on the arm of his chair and yawned at its antics.

He didn’t need commentary from hallucinations. What he needed was something to challenge him. He had considered offering his services to one of the dukes, barons, or sheriffs that ruled the various fractured parts that made up Salitos. But he found the idea distasteful. Most of the nobility that had managed to hold onto power after the death of the Good King were complete bastards, and those who weren’t tended not to have much need of his services. And working as a city guard somewhere didn’t hold any appeal to him.

He supposed he could always enlist somewhere else. Lhint would probably have him, Inveritus was always looking for Shadows, and any of the lesser powers would jump at the chance. But that would mean serving another country, working against his home. It would invalidate everything he had spent his adult life doing. He might be unsatisfied, but that was no reason for him to betray himself.

No, what he needed was a Salitian lord that he could respect and that had a need for a seasoned military commander. Preferably one that would afford him plenty of opportunities for tactical problem solving and wouldn’t order him to do anything distasteful.

And after that maybe he’d get himself a flying horse.

A servant entered. It was Darrian’s valet Barrius. He was a lean gentleman whose dark hair was just starting to gray. He wore a moderately fine suit with obvious pride. He was the son of an orchard hand and took great satisfaction in being able to give his family a better life. He had a wife and two sons living in the servant’s quarters of Darrian’s estate. Darrian had paid for an Academy-trained tutor twice a week to see to the boys’ education.

All of which is to say, Darrian made a point to know his servants and treat them well. He considered it an investment in loyalty. You don’t want the man who brings your food hating you.

“Sir,” Barrius said. “you have a visitor.”

“It’s not Gregor asking for his money back again is it?”

“No sir. It appears to be a Justice. He’s in the gardens.”

Darrian’s eyebrows shot up. Now that was a surprise. There was a time when Justices were the most feared and respected men in Salitos, after the Good King himself. They had travelled the country meting out their namesake and answering to no one save the king. People said they were unbeatable warriors, stronger than five men, as fast as a running horse and impervious to harm. People said a lot of stupid things, but in this they weren’t as far off as they usually were. Darrian had seen a Justice defeat a group of twelve bandits and it hadn’t been a close contest. They were something to behold, and still commanded substantial power even now.

And one was calling on him.

That was interesting. Darrian hurried to meet him, the imp scurrying along beside him and the bear loping along behind. His study was upstairs, so he had to descend through the entry hall to get to his gardens. It was a bit ostentatious for his taste, with staircases curving down both sides of the walls for maximum symmetry and an awful lot of empty, polished marble floor that you couldn’t really use for anything. He had been considering doing something about it ever since he bought the estate, but had never gotten around to it.

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His gardens on the other hand were a feature he liked, a two-tiered affair with a stream running through them. It had featured a lot of flowers under the previous owner. When Darrian moved in, he had these removed and instead imported trees and cacti from Lhint. It took a fair bit of work to maintain through the Salitian winter, but it gave the place the feel of a desert oasis. Darrian loved walking in his garden. It was one of the few pleasures he took in his life of leisure.

He found the Justice examining a palm tree. He was a reasonably large man, broad in the shoulders and taller than average. His golden hair was a little longer than most men wore it and he sported a short, neat beard. He wore Salitian plate but no helmet and his talix rode in a translucent sheath at his hip. He struck quite the figure, the kind that men would follow into battle and women would follow into bed.

“You’ve come a long way,” Darrian said.

The Justice gave him a quizzical expression as if wondering how Darrian had known that. It wasn’t really a clever deduction, he had just met the Justices who lived relatively near him during his time as a general. He didn’t explain this though and the other man didn’t go as far as to ask.

“Yes,” he said instead. “I have. I hear you are the best tactician in Salitos.”

“I am,” Darrian agreed. “Also the best strategist.” For a lesser man this would have been boastful. For Darrian, it was simply true. He could as soon deny it as he could the nose on his face.

The Justice nodded, as if deciding something. “My name is Branton Vikor, named Justice by the Good King.”

“Nice to meet you Branton,” Darrian said. He had heard the name before. Peerless warrior. Darrian had heard a story that Branton had once beaten a Yarrlish juggernaut in single combat before being given his talix. “What brings you to my home?”

“Since the death of His Majesty, I have been searching for the hand that killed him. I would like your help in the search.”

“I had heard they found the man who did it,” Darrian said drily, referring to the man that had hung for the crime on some flimsy evidence and tenuous reasoning.

“I too have heard things that are not true.”

Darrian inclined his head. “Still. It could be very hard to determine who did it now. It has been over three years.”

“You misunderstand. I already know who murdered our king.”

That had Darrian’s attention. Lots of people had a pet theory about who killed the Good King, but Branton didn’t strike him as the sort for wild speculation.

“It was Ferrous Pax.”

Darrian’s eyebrows shot up at that. “The skard Justice? How do you know?” Darrian hadn’t met him, but his appointment had caused a stir. First non-human Justice. He disappeared not long before the death of the king. Could be connected.

“I investigated. Talked to those that were near. Looked around. It was a skard that killed him.”

“And that means it had to be Ferrous?”

“Yes.”

“You know more than you’re saying.”

“I do. It was Ferrous, of that I am sure. I have taken a vow to bring him to account for what he has done, but I cannot find him. So, I come to you.”

“You think I can find him where you have not?”

“Can you?”

“Probably, given time and resources.”

“You shall have both.”

“And of course, you will need to tell me where you have searched so far, what methods you have used, and anything you know of Ferrous.”

Branton nodded.

“In that case, yes. I’ll help you find him.”

They retired to the study and Branton told Darrian all he knew of the skard called Ferrous. They had only met twice so much of the information was from second-hand tales told around court. Eventually Darrian heard something of interest, that Ferrous had flogged one of the king’s favourite nobles for a minor crime.

“What happened there?” he asked. “Do you know any of the details?”

“Only what I’ve been told,” Branton said. “The story was the favourite plaything of many a fool at court, so I have heard it told a dozen different ways.”

“Give me the bones of it then.”

Branton nodded. “Marrius Fort was one of the Good King’s staunchest supporters. A man of honour. Not that this made him above the law of course.”

“Of course,” Darrian said drily. While Justices had technically had free reign to punish anyone found breaking the law, they both knew that those with the king’s favor were largely exempt in all but the most serious of cases.

“He apparently found one of his slaves trying to rape a woman in his household. He had the man whipped and sold him on with a warning to his next owner. Ferrous became involved, though I know not why, and found the whipping to be unwarranted. He dragged Marrius to the town square and flogged him. When questioned about it later, he told people that Marrius had gotten what was his and said nothing more on the subject.”

“Interesting.” Darrian considered that information, chewing over its possible significance. “Did he behave like that often?”

“From what I know, yes” Branton said. “He was mad. I regret not seeing it earlier.”

“Perhaps,” Darrian said. “But I think I have the beginnings of a plan to find him.”