Aeolwyn's Conquest Book 1: The Boy General

Alfyn paced around the room anxiously. King Llarwyn didn’t like it. Alfyn’s nerves made him nervous. The king didn’t know why his son was so anxious, it wasn’t like he hadn’t met an assassin before.

That was, after all, what the woman who General Harmin had brought before them was. She wasn’t exactly what Llarwyn had expected. She was short, raven-haired, and as thin as a post. If he were judging her based on her appearance, she was not someone to be feared.

“Lord King, may I present Lady Reiva,” Harmin said, gesturing to the smaller woman.

She was dressed in a black tunic and black trousers. Unusual for a woman. Tied around her neck was a black silk scarf. She made a graceful curtsey and bowed her head.

“I am honored to be in your presence, Your Grace,” she said in a high, lilting voice.

Llarwyn just nodded. Her face was darker skinned than most. Not completely black, but definitely not as pale as most of his subjects. She was clearly not from Camulan.

She wore no weapons that he could see, not that he expected her to. Wearing weapons was forbidden in his presence as a safety measure. He doubted she was unarmed. A proper assassin would still have a half-dozen weapons hidden about their person. He wouldn’t be surprised if the black gloves she wore had some hidden weapon in them. Perhaps poisoned fingernail blades hidden behind the fingertips.

“Where are you from, lady?”

Dark skin was uncommon in Camulan, though not unheard of. In Tambryne it was a sign of nobility, even royalty. The Archduke of Tambryne had the darkest skin he’d ever seen. She wasn’t nearly as dark as that, but close.

“I was born on Gavinholm Isle, sire,” she said, “but I grew up in Cape Bryne.”

He frowned. Gavinholm Isle? That belonged to the Fenns, who were their enemies. Could he trust her?

“Are you Fennish then, or Tambrynese?” Cape Bryne was as far south as it got in Laryndor. The Lords of Bryne were powerful nobles in Tambryne. They had a keep on Cape Bryne’s bluff where they monitored all the shipping that passed through Larin Strait. The Duke of Tambryne claimed it was to ensure the safety of commerce, but Lord Erias frequently complained to Llarwyn that his ships were raided just after they passed through the strait.

“Tambrynese, Your Grace. I left Gavinholm as a young child after my parents were murdered.”

“I see,” he replied, not sure if he believed her. If she were a spy for King Drahius of the Fenns, she wouldn’t admit her loyalty to him.

She shifted nervously on her feet. That was good. Llarwyn wanted to make her uncomfortable. If she was uncomfortable, then she couldn’t control the conversation. He wanted to see what she was made of.

“Lord-General Harmin wants me to consider you for the post of Royal Inquisitor. Why would I trust a Fenn who grew up in Tambryne with a critical posting? It seems to me that your loyalties have been all mixed up.”

“Sire-,” Lord Harmin started. Llarwyn hushed him with a finger.

“Your Grace,” she started, “I left Cape Bryne for Camulan as soon as I was of age. I was not popular in my community and couldn’t wait to leave. I have been in Camulan for over a decade.”

“Most of that in my service, Your Grace,” Harmin added.

He rounded on Harmin. “One more word from you and by Agyassa I’ll have your head! I am not here to hear you sing her praises. I will judge her for myself.”

Harmin bowed his head but said nothing. Llarwyn wouldn’t actually execute the Lord-General. He was much too valuable. But sometimes he needed to be reminded who was in charge.

“Your Grace, I will swear an oath of fealty in front of Archstar Boress. I am loyal to my oaths.”

Archstar Boress was the high priest of the Temple of Laryn, the dominant religion on Laryndor, and the source of the name of the island. Laryn was the king of the gods and by his blessing, the source of all magic. He divided his mana, or magical energy between his four children, each of whom focus on a specific type of magic: Agyassa was the demigod of war magic, Samahdin the demigod of enlightenment magic, Jakitradus the demigod of balance magic, and Utashu, the demigoddess of life magic.

The question was, would her oath before the Archstar be worth anything? Even in his presence it wasn’t magically binding. The only punishment she would receive would be in the afterlife. In truth, he couldn’t just trust her. She would have to earn it before he would appoint her to such an important post.

“Let me think on it, Lady Revia. I am not ready to trust you. You may go.”

“Your Grace, please!” Harmin pleaded, hands clasped in front of him. He nearly stepped in front of Llarwyn. Llarwyn fixed him with a stare but said nothing.

Revia just curtseyed gracefully and backed out of the room, taking special care not to turn her back on him. That struck him as odd. He thought it was very respectful, but not something that any of his nobles did. Perhaps other rulers had made it a law that no one was allowed to turn their back to him. Maybe he should, too.

“Now come, we have a meeting to get to.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Harmin said sheepishly.

They walked through the elaborately decorated halls, down a flight of stairs, and through the garden. Servants who were scurrying about all stopped what they were doing, moved to the walls and bowed as he walked by. The king scarcely noticed them.

The chamber the privy council met in, a room most called the Lord’s Hall, was just off the west gardens. It was close to a bluff with large windows that overlooked the entire city. His council members frequently tried to get him to move the meetings elsewhere because of the distractions the view offered, but he refused to be in a closed room with so many powerful men with their own agendas. He needed an escape route, just in case; he also allowed a rumor to be spread that he’d had a previous council member who displeased him thrown from the bluff. It served to keep the council in line when it suited him.

Lord-General Harmin had rushed ahead of them so he would already be present when the king arrived. It was considered poor form to arrive with the king. Llarwyn was glad that he didn’t have to remind the lord-general of that.

He did have to remind his son to hurry ahead with a swift kick in the pants. Once he was reminded, the crown-prince ran ahead of him and took his seat at the table.

Besides the lord-general and his son, Archstar Boress was present, along with his royal mage, Jor Bashi, who not only held the post of King’s Mage, but was also the Royal Steward of the Chancellery. Shield Lord Barin was present, as required by the Shielders, though Llarwyn didn’t particularly like an outsider being on his privy council.

Lord Smyton, his chief steward was standing by the door. He banged his large staff on the ground twice as the king entered and shouted, “The King!”

The assembled men stood from their chairs and bowed their heads, keeping them bowed until Llarwyn reached the head of the table. He gathered his robe as he walked around the large golden chair and sat down. When he was seated, the others followed.

Llarwyn started by staring at each of his council members in turn. He liked to start the sessions this way. He felt it gave him a subtle insight into their state of mind, and whether they planned on hiding anything from him during the course of the meeting. None spoke. They were used to the procedure and just waited expectantly for him to start the meeting.

Archstar Boress stood. “With your permission, Lord King?” he asked.

The king nodded. The Archstar held his hands out in a symbolic embrace of the assembled group. At his insistence, they always began the council meetings with a prayer to Laryn and Samahdin.

“Great and magnificent gods,” he begain, “We thank these for Your Grace and gift of life and magic to us all. Laryn please watch over us and guide us in our day to day lives that we may glorify you with our actions and elevate those around us. Samahdin, grant these men, these rulers wisdom to make laws and guide them to bring those under their rule to the faith. Of this we beseech these. Vani’sva”

“Vani’sva,” the group echoed. As far as Llarwyn knew, the world Van’sva had no meaning, except as an appeal to the gods and to indicate a closure to a prayer.

“Thank you, Archstar Boress. Let us begin. Lord-General Harmin, what news do you have?”

“Thank you, Lord King,” he began. He still appeared a bit uncomfortable after his dressing down in the drawing room, but gathered his composure. “My reports indicate increasing activity along the borders with the Fenns. I have recalled General Alaric to discuss their intelligence and strategies on how to best combat the threat.”

“You’ve recalled the commander of Fort Camulan when there’s a threat of attack by the Fenns? Why would you do such a thing?” Llarwyn asked. Why would he bring the general when a messenger would have sufficed?

“Your Grace,” Shield Lord Barin interrupted, “Commander Boede is a capable commander. I would think the fort is in safe hands under his command.”

Coming from a Guardian of the Shield, that was high praise. As a paramilitary group, they had a strong force and strong tactics, and didn’t think very highly of other military groups. They were also quite arrogant about their martial superiority, so for one of their senior members to call one of his commanders “capable” was akin to calling them one of the greatest generals in Laryndor.

“My thoughts exactly,” the lord-general said.

“Are your plans to retire Alaric?” Jor Bashi asked.

A question Llarwyn also had. General Alaric was a good general, but he had been getting on in years, and in the king’s opinion, was ready for retirement. He had been in charge of Fort Camulan since before Llarwyn ascended the throne. His father, King Elowyn had been the one to give Alaric command of Fort Camulan.

“Not yet. He’s extremely popular among his men at the fort, and him staying at his post will inspire them to continue to fight. Commander Boede, while capable, doesn’t inspire that kind of loyalty among the men. He’s old, to be sure, but he is still useful to us.”

Harmin shot an almost imperceptible look at the king, suggesting that his usefulness went beyond his ability to command the fort. The glance was telling the king that he was speaking in his capacity as the Royal Inquisitor and not as the Lord-General.

“You do realize that he probably expects to be put out to pasture?” Alfyn said from the other side of the table. His son usually didn’t have anything useful to add to these meetings, and so tried to interject as much as possible. It annoyed the councilors, who believed he didn’t belong on the privy council, but Llarwyn wanted him here. One day he would be the one leading these meetings, and should know what to expect.

“Indeed I do,” Harmin responded. “In fact, I want him to believe it. Then, when I send him back he will thank me for it, and believe that he owes me a favor.”

“A ruse?” Shield Lord Barin asked. “Why?”

Harmin said nothing. He didn’t want the others to know that he had other plans for the old general. They knew he held the post of Royal Inqusitor, but besides being in charge of the judicial system, most didn’t know what other duties the post entailed.

“A joke!” Alfyn said. “Father, let’s feast him and keep the prank up for as long as possible before letting him in on it.”

Alfyn picked up on the same hint that Llarwyn did. Internally, he was beaming with pride. There was hope for the boy yet.

“An excellent idea, Alfyn. We shall do so. Anything else, Lord Harmin?”

“No, Your Grace.”

Llarwyn turned to Shield Lord Barin. He couldn’t help but feel a distaste in his mouth. He didn’t like the Shielders. They meddled too much and were always asking for more gold to pay for the Shield’s upkeep, yet kept the explanation of how it functioned a mystery.

“Shield Lord Barin, How is the Shield?”

Barin nodded. “Thank you, Lord King. The Shield is fully functional, but as you know, is always in a precarious state, and if it is not properly maintained, it could fail, with potentially catastrophic results.”

“Are you here to ask for more money?” Jor Bashi asked. In addition to being Llarwyn’s Royal Mage, he was also Royal Steward of the Chancellery, and in charge of all things related to the kingdom’s finances. Astute as ever, he recognized that the Shielders are always asking for more money.

“No, Lord Bashi.”

“Jor Bashi,” the mage corrected. “Jor is my title, sir.”

“My apologies, Jor,” Lord Barin said. He well knew that the mage was no lord. His choice to call him Lord Bashi was a subtle hint that he was irritated at Bashi getting straight to the point of the Shield Lord’s report.

Lord Barin continued, “While it is important to our work that we are well funded, we do not need any additional tributes at the moment. I was just reminding his grace that the potential for Shield failure is ever preset, and the threat to all of us is real.”

“What, pray tell, Lord Barin, would be the result of a Shield failure?” Alfyn asked.

“That all depends, your highness. A slight failure could be compensated for, with minimal losses. With a total failure? All life on this island would be destroyed.”

“All life?” Alfyn asked, his tone dripping with skepticism. He’d had little interaction with the Shielders, so hadn’t heard the doom and gloom that was always coming out of their mouths. If one were to listen to them, you would think they were a doomsday cult, which, Llarwyn supposed, they were.

“All life,” Lord Barin repeated. “The humans, the elves, the dwarves, the animals, the plants, everything. Laryndor would become a barren wasteland, devoid of life, and everything that supports it.”

“We’ve all heard this before, Lord Barin,” Llarwyn said, cutting off the line of discussion. “If you don’t have anything else to report, we will move on.”

“I have nothing else, Your Grace.”

“Very well. Jor Bashi? Have you any news?”

The king’s mage nodded, and smoothed out his blue silk robes. “Our finances are stable, Lord King. Nothing new to report on. However-,” he stopped.

“What is it?” The king didn’t like it when Bashi acted like this. Sometimes if he didn’t want to say something, he would start and then stop. It was almost always bad news. The king wondered if he was afraid that he would hang the mage if he gave him bad news. That was a habit his father indulged in from time to time, but he had put a stop to the practice.

“Sire, I discovered that one of my accountants was on the Star Children’s payroll.”

There was a collective groan from the group. The Star Children were always sneaking into places and trying to gain leverage over their betters. Usually they never got higher than the upper nobility. The fact that they were trying to infiltrate the king’s servants for intelligence was troubling.

“I see. What have you done with the man?”

“I have remanded him to custody, amid the protests of the Star Children. I expect that you will want him put to the question?”

Putting someone to the question was a polite euphemism for torture. Llarwyn didn’t like to admit that it was something done in his kingdom, but he acknowledged its usefulness. As long as he didn’t do it and any such behavior couldn’t be traced back to him.

The king shook his head. He was stunned that the Star Children could be so brazen. Either that or this particular man was just sloppy. He acted under the assumption that there were spies in his staff, and it was Lord-General Harmin’s responsibility to root them out. He couldn’t be pleased that Jor Bashi found this man before he did.

“The Star Children are getting bold,” the king said. “They will need to be reminded of their place. Proceed with the questioning. Leave him alive, but give him the Traitor’s Kiss.“

“I understand,” Jor Bashi said. The Traitor’s Kiss was a punishment meant to prevent someone from continuing to spy. After their interrogation was complete, they would have their ears put out, their eyes crushed, and their tongue cut out. A recipient of this punishment wouldn’t be able to see, hear, or tell. In addition to their tongue cut out, occasionally they would also have their fingers removed so they couldn’t write. Sometimes one or two of these punishments was enough, sometimes they would receive all of them. He would leave it up to Bashi’s discretion.

“Will that be enough, Sire?” Harmin asked. “The Star Children have been increasing activity recently, and I don’t know if this will encourage them to back down, or spark a revolt against us.”

“We could handle them for you,” Shield Lord Barin said. “For a price.”

That the Shielders and Star Children hated each other was well known, so it wasn’t a surprise that Barin would offer to deal with them. It was a tempting offer, one that Llarwyn wanted to accept, but the Shielders weren’t known for their discretion in military matters, and it wouldn’t take long for it to leak out that Llarwyn hired them to deal with his problem.

But on the other hand, it was a good offer to have in his pocket. One that he may need to accept in the future. But not now. He needed to know all the implications hiring them would have. Hiring them would go beyond a monetary cost. They would find ways to make sure he was beholden to them in other ways. He would have to discuss that with Harmin and Jor Bashi.

“Thank you for the offer, Lord Barin, but that won’t be necessary. I think we will be able to take care of our own house, without the Shielder’s involvement. If there is nothing else, I think we can adjourn.”

No one dared say anything. The subtext in the king’s statement was that they were done whether they had more to say or not.

They all rose when the king stood up, and waited while he and Alfyn left the room.