Book 4, Chapter 43: Final Matters
Moping wasn’t helping. I dressed, left the room I’d been in, found Brundle, Morry and guards in another room. Food and drink on a nearby table. I sent the guards out.
“You should have known I didn’t want them killed.” Arms folded, angry. Morry standing in front of me. He got the anger. Brundle beside him.
“Princess, we had no choice. They attacked you and you are the princess. Of the kingdom.”
Despite the hours of cooling off, rage filled my mind, and I tried to keep it out of my voice, “You knew I wouldn’t want this!”
“Her father was a traitor. Her brother. And she tried very hard to kill you yesterday.”
“And the children? They were innocent!”
Brundle stepped forward, “My lady, those children would have grown up to challenge you through military means. If not by their own desire, then through the manipulations of others. There’s no erasing the history of their blood while they remained alive.”
My head fell into my hands. This was their world. I knew they were like this. Murderous. Brutal. Could I have given them more detailed instructions on the handling of prisoners? No. They knew how events turned out better than I did. I just didn’t want to believe it. This hierarchy based on blood that made some people better than others, worth more, worth armies, was poison.
Brundle again, “It’s done now. You have to choose a new duke for us to continue our spring campaign.”
I looked up with anger in my eyes, bitterness that gave way to sadness in my heart. About to say something but words wouldn’t come. Shook my head, looked away, trying to find a clear thought.
Brundle gave a quick nod at Morry and the big man turned and left.
I’d been shouting. As he walked away, my throat hurt and I realized I’d been shouting. Damnit. Some small part of me was annoyed with me, driving my only friends away. Yet somehow that voice didn’t matter right now. It seemed I was either being mean to my friends or killing them. God damnit.
The chainmail I had worn, now necklaces for my officers, Saph had given it to me. My sword, my spear. She’d rescued me from the dowager’s plans in a sense. And if you extended it, I killed the priest, then saved my army from decimation, all because she’d given me this armor. This young girl with her strange red hair and white highlights, never to smile again.
I stared at the wall for a long time.
“Your Highness?” Brundle’s voice brought me back into the room, “Morrentz had nothing to do with it. Their hanging. His only concern was for you. Wouldn’t let anyone come into the room but the head nurse.” He placed a mug of ale in front of me.
“Fuck. I’m . . . I’m acting like a child.”
“I ordered them hanged.”
“Brundle,” I shook my head, “just . . .”
“I’ve stated my reasons already. From a military perspective-”
“Ok, stop. I’ve heard it the first time. They were an enemy power, bent on replacing my family’s control over the kingdom. Yes, I get it.”
“Ma’am.”
“Brundle, you killed kids.”
“Yes.”
“I need a few moments alone. Take . . . take the ale with you. Get me some tea.”
He probably said some honorific, but I wasn’t paying attention. Didn’t even hear him leave or the door shut. The guards I’d sent outside the door, probably whispering amongst themselves about my mood, too.
I wished I’d brought Brin. Needed someone outside the military to talk to. Well, just a friend. We’d have a good cry together about Sapphire being gone. Her sisters and brothers, whose names I never learned, who were scared of me for killing their older brother and taking their home. Gone.
Or maybe Brin would tell me it needed to be done. Like when she told me I was a fool for not crushing the Barclay family for the last treachery. This place, this world. It was antithetical to mine in moral structure. The sins of the father, the sins of the family indistinguishable.
I knew these men were monsters. Killers without conscience in too many situations. Morry, Brundle, Rand, Gun, all of them. They’d urged me to kill 6000 unarmed men – get them to dig their own graves first, they said. Morry had been happy, vaguely sexual, after killing and killing in a one-sided battle.
Hell, if I was being honest, and I didn’t really want to be, Maitlan was the only man I knew who approached thoughtfulness and empathy.
But, no, it wasn’t so clear. Morry warned me against Bechalle after the late duke had slaughtered the Ketzillian force’s unarmed camp followers, including their children. Some atrocities, even these men found reprehensible.
I could get rid of Brundle, replace him. But it wouldn’t help. I’d just get someone worse. At least the general didn’t approve of pillaging, and he listened when I instructed that our soldiers were to treat enemy combatants with dignity. Probably, out of view, the soldiers didn’t.
My thoughts turned to leaving this place. I needed someone to run it, someone I trusted. Well, maybe not trust, but someone who wouldn’t try to overthrow the kingdom and get me killed. My entire existence here, it seemed, was based around not getting killed. It might have been simpler if I’d been born a farmer. Except, of course, Tread’s sisters had been sold by the Ketzillians into slavery. So, no, perhaps simpler, but not safer.
I felt like throwing it all away. Isolating myself. Make Morry the duke here! I could trust him. Maybe then I could become cold, ruthless, murderous, and build a kingdom. But that little tenacious and wise voice buried under the emerging teenage hormones knew I’d regret leaving him behind. I needed loyal Morry by my side.
Gun. The answer was Gun.
He was trustworthy and loyal and too into me. He’d think I was exalting him to duke to make him closer in rank to me, but really it’d be so I could leave him behind, put some space between us. Maitlan would be annoyingly happy with this decision.
I’d have to leave Gun some of his infantry, making up for the loss with the former Barclay troops, to ensure they didn’t rebel against him. This would weaken my own army considerably though, and I didn’t like it. We didn’t bring tens of thousands of extra sarissa and, even if we had, the Barclay troops didn’t have the training. Yet, it seemed the only way to go. Gun needed a supportive military, or he wouldn’t stay in power long.
***
After hours of brooding, and maybe eating and drinking – some soldier brought morning tea in the meantime – I sent for Brundle, to get his advice. I told him my plans.
“Your Highness, it’s not a good idea to split up our army like that. Also, you’d be instituting military occupation which, given how close this duchy once was to Nevarrelund in friendship, is going to cause unforeseen problems.”
“Ah, yeah. That makes sense. I hadn’t thought about it that way. Let’s toss that plan. Who do we leave the duchy to?”
“Probably one of the earl or baron bannermen to the Barclay castle, my lady.”
“I’m going to have to interview them, aren’t I?”
“Shall I gather them up for you ma’am? We captured two of them in battle and another here at the castle.”
“I wish Brin were here to sort this for me. Yes, go fetch the lords.”
“Certainly, my lady.”
“Oh, wait! Which do you think holds more power, the ones who joined their frontlines or the guy who stayed behind?”
“As a military man, I never trust the ones who stay behind voluntarily. Ma’am.”
“Thanks. That makes sense. Also, Brundle, we’re going to have to dismantle the church here, especially its military. No more rights of force for those guys.” Where I’d come from, there’d been plenty of armed religions, but secular rulers would invariably neuter them. There are few things a military will not do with a deity on its side. Better to keep them unarmed and under heel, with little choice but to support the rulers.
“That may be tough, my lady.”
“Ok, stop. Brundle, you’re doing overkill on the ‘my ladies’ and ‘ma’ams.’ I’m angry, it’s true. But you’re staying my head general. I know you, I like you and you’re good at what you do.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Brundle!”
“Sorry.”
“Ok, yes, so why is this going to be a tough decision?”
“Depending on how you approach this, it may stir up a rebellion.”
“Then we hand it off to whoever wants the duchy. Let him be the bad guy.”
He gave me a head tilt, but I couldn’t tell if it was surprise or admiration. It’s probably strange when a fifteen-year-old invokes the techniques Machiavelli used. But, hey, I had a tight schedule.
“Also, we should leave this duchy as soon as we can. Occupations are never welcome and I would guess the former Barclay army is grumbling about the deaths of their monarchs.”
“We could, I don’t know, find the leaders and offer them titles, land?”
“We could, but that would take time. We’ll end up in a similar situation to what happened with the Bechalle duchy. If you want to-”
“I think you’re right. We don’t want to get bogged down in politics here. I’m in favor of moving on as quickly as possible.” Aggression against us would likely start with attacks on our soldiers when they were vulnerable. Moving in small groups or such. “Can you ensure the troops don’t walk alone at night, that sort of thing?”
“That’s already taken care of. We’re not patrolling the village, just staying in the castle grounds. If they reorganize and attempt to attack the castle, we’ll have to resort to magic. The phalanx isn’t so useful behind walls.”
“Do they know this? Those who would attack us, I mean. That we have overwhelming magical advantage on our side?”
“If they don’t, it’d become readily apparent upon attacking us.”
“Somehow, that’s not as comforting as you’d imagine.”
“As a military man, comforting others isn’t high on my list of priorities.”
“I’ve become well aware of that fact recently.” No smile on my face. “Arrange a meeting with the earls and barons as soon as possible. Let’s try to get out of here before it becomes a mess.”
“I’ll have them rounded up and brought here in under an hour, my lady.”
I nodded. One of the traits I liked about the general was his lack of using honorifics. Maybe it’d take him a while to feel comfortable around me. That was the first time I’d yelled at him. Ok, maybe I screamed, too.
If I was an alien and watching this, I’d think humans were crazy. A fifteen-year-old girl in charge of a kingdom. A bunch of adults catering to her whims.
***
I hadn’t gotten over my bad mood when Brundle rounded up two earls and a baron. We’d found some other room in the castle to hold this meeting. I naturally took the head of the table, and they sat on the right and left, a chair space between us, guards lined the walls. Perhaps twenty men. Just in case.
I mean, it’d probably be faster for me to blast them if they troubled me, but that would be a public relations nightmare. Assuming I let any survive. Guards it was.
“Gentlemen, thank you for coming.”
They nodded, warily. One guy crossed his arms. The one sitting closest to me on my right said, “Your Highness.”
“I need to elevate one of you to the duchy.” That piqued their interests, the center guy raised his eyebrow. “I have four demands of you. First, you’ll give me hostages. I caused this pointless war by not taking hostages after the battle of . . .” my brain froze for a moment, not knowing what to call it – battle of the crucified? Then, I remembered the river name, “battle of the Dernam River Crossing. Second, as duke, you’ll demilitarize the church here. Third,” I paused to look at each man in turn, “the two of you who aren’t appointed duke will each give me 20 000 soldiers for my campaign.”
The man sitting to my left said, “now wait just a moment! You just crushed our armies and you want my troops? I’m not even sure I can give you that many men.”
“We held back. I stopped the battle when your army was in full rout and before our mages unleashed their power.” I waited, he didn’t say anything, so continued, “And fourth, and this goes for all of you, I want your oaths.”
The guy sitting three chairs down on my right, whom I thought of as the center, despite that the table continued, said, “I’m not swearing an oath to a girl!”
The left guy looked across the table at him, then me, and asked, “And if we refuse?”
Yeah, they weren’t helping my mood any. “What do you think? You think I’m just going to stand here and take backtalk from those I defeated in battle?” I waited, no answer, so I said, counting on my fingers, “Ok, let’s see, if you refuse, I’ll one, have all the men here executed, maybe castrated first, two sell your women and children into slavery, three burn down your lands and, I don’t know, salt the earth so nothing ever grows here again and, four, steal your libraries. Ok? Is that enough of a threat for you?”
“Princess Cayce,” the man on the right said, his voice as calm and soothing as he could make it, while reaching his hand across the table, “you probably won’t remember this, but you were a little girl when I first met you. Five, I believe.”
“What? Ah. Yes, I apologize, that was, uhm, a long time ago.”
He went on, “Of course it would be our pleasure to renew our oaths to the rightful throne. As for hostages, that is your right as monarch, but it might be prudent to wait until you recapture your castle.”
“And, what about soldiers from each of you?”
“If you give us time, we can arrange for that. But our armies are in disarray, it will take at least a few days to sort through the ranks, the wounded, arrange supplies, and so on.”
“Excuse me, my lady,” said the guy on the left, suddenly less angry, “what did you mean by demilitarize the church?”
“Strip them of their right to bear arms and keep a standing military. Their job is to lead in spiritual affairs, not,” I searched for the right words here, “to overthrow monarchs.” The thought came to me, to include them, so I added, “Like us. They shouldn’t be capable of threatening our interests.”
“That may cause unrest among the people.”
“I really don’t want to occupy these lands with my military. I really don’t.”
“I take your meaning, my lady.”
“Good,” I said, rising. “Work this out amongst you, report to me in two days to inform me which of you is to ascend to dukedom.”
They stood, each throwing ‘My lady’ at me before being ushered out by the guards.
It was starting to annoy me, and yeah, I was well aware, that I made a better leader when I was angry. Dismissive of other people’s goals, imposing of mine. It was this place, this world. Kept beating it into me that my morality didn’t fit here.
If it got easier to accept that, I’m not sure I’d be me. And it was getting easier. I didn’t, for example, fire a laser through the walls out of frustration.
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