Secret of the Sunstones, Part 1: The Wanton Kingdom

Chapter XL : Strategem

Earlmorn of Terminus, Seventh Day of Autumnmoon

Before approaching the now occupied city of Rungholt, Bram needed to prepare. He dug into the bag of clothes that Matthias had purchased, searching for garments consistent with local traditions. He found a sheepskin tunic and boots, a heavy coat made of wolf and sable fur, and a woolen cap. He felt overdressed, given the high temperatures. And the material held moisture, making it a poor choice, given the rains that began during premorn. Unfortunately, choice was limited.

Géorg parked the sandskipper in a hidden space behind a limestone escarpment. It was a league away from the city gates, because anything closer would have risked being seen. Just hours after the attack, more ships arrived, each with its own squad. By morn, the whole region was swarming with Angkorians troops.

Bram set his gaze on Rosa, who was still protected inside Matthias’s enchanted stasis. She looked peaceful, her face serene and unblemished. And yet, the magical illness still lingered inside her body, like a parasite waiting to feed. The sylvians’ magic kept it contained, but no one knew for how long. Without proper care …. Bram shuddered. With the city in such bad shape, it wasn’t clear when Rosa would receive the care she needed.

He had to face the truth. Leaving her alone in Angkor had been a reckless move. A few days earlier, he thought it had been the right choice. But the reality was that he had made his choices years earlier. These included his decision to remain with the Knights, which first caused the strain on his relationship.

Sadly, his state of mind had changed so much over the last week that it seemed impossible to relate to what the Old Bram had been thinking. He couldn’t have thought that missions with the Gnostics would last into old age. Certainly, they wouldn’t have endured as long as a lifetime of love with Rosa. She had always been his north star, but he put the Knights first and took her for granted. Had his choices resulted in her finding love elsewhere, he would have been lost without her.

He questioned his selfishness, wondering what had truly motivated him. Perhaps, he felt he needed the Knights to prove his purpose in life. Perhaps, they had given him a sense of belonging, when he lacked familial roots of his own.

He shook his head. Whatever the reasons, they didn’t matter anymore. Now that he had turned against his former kingdom, the Knighthood meant nothing. His country, his king, even his best friend … they all betrayed him. But not Rosa. She never stopped believing in him. She risked her life to research the sunstones and might have paid the ultimate price. And if she were to perish, it would all have been in vain.

Virgil Garvey might have given her the illness, but the responsibility to keep the dangers of his work from harming the ones he loved was Bram’s. That’s why Gnostics never pursued relationships. Anyone who loved the Knights was sure to get hurt. Bram squeezed his eyes shut. It took every ounce of strength to hold back the urge to howl in grief.

Unexpectedly, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Matthias stood by his side. Thankfully, the old scholar wasn’t looking for a confrontation. Despite the stress shared by everyone, he appeared to be in a compassionate mood.

“Ah know it’s painful seeing her like this, Bram, but when yar ready, we need ya.”

Bram didn’t need reminding. The old man was right. There was more to do than sulk over Rosa’s body. “More reconnaissance?”

The old man nodded. “Aye.”

Bram had accompanied the scholar for surveillance already. In fact, they watched the whole tragedy unfold over the course of the night from a perch atop a nearby hill. Angkor bombarded the castle, took down the ramparts, wiped out the barracks, and entered the city to wipe up the remains. They still occupied Rungholt, and it wasn’t yet clear who in the Kitezhian government still lived. The unprovoked attack was unprecedented. Bram had no idea how far Richard was willing to go. He could occupy the city for weeks, or burn it to the ground with the help of the sunstone.

Bram might never have a chance to speak with King Henrich, and the Kitezhian sunstone might already be in Angkor’s possession, but there were plenty of other reasons to stay. Foremost, he had given Matthias his word that he would help him find his daughter, knowing the old man’s stasis was the only thing keeping Rosa alive.

The magus still hoped to find his daughter. She was in the city, somewhere, and he clung to that hope, just as Bram did for Rosa. Hope was the only thing keeping both men going. In Bram’s case, he hoped his search would find surviving members of the royal sorcerer’s guild. If he could find enough of them, they might be capable of curing Rosa’s illness. He knew it was a long shot, but better than beating himself up.

To know for sure, he needed a plan. Entering the city blind meant certain death. Richard would have told his troops to expect a turncoat. Moreover, the Angkorians brought their own scholars, meaning they had the means to detect any of Matthias’s magical assists. An effective plan would need to rely on stealth and strategy, as well as knowledge of the enemy’s presence.

Géorg remained with the sandskipper to watch over Rosa and Yuri, while Matthias and Bram returned to the top of the hill. The scholar believed he was far enough away to use magic without being detected. With all the circling airships, the veil of invisibility was crucial.

Bram counted sixteen crafts, nearly half of Angkor’s fleet. Among these, the Goliath, Angkor’s only remaining galleon-class ship. It dwarfed all the others. Bram remembered going on board during The War to meet with the generals. It was so large, it couldn’t land without special provisions. So it remained airborne, casting a fearsome shadow over the city.

Bram looked through Matthias’ eyepiece. “You’re sure your daughter’s in there?”

“O’ course I’m sure,” he barked. “She wears the pendant I gave her as a child. Ah’ve got th’ other half, which points me in her direction. It’s tellin’ me she’s close.”

“Do you know the specific location inside the city?”

Matthias shook his head. “It’s not that precise, Ah’m afraid. Ah’ll know more as soon as Ah get closer.”

Bram kept on brainstorming. “What if you cast an enchantment beforehand? Isn’t there anything that can get us close without being detected?”

The old man gritted his teeth. “Ah cannot promise you that. Enchantments still emit detectable signals. If Angkor’s scholars are watching the gates—and they will be—they’ll see right through it.”

Bram wracked his brain, searching for another way. Carelessness would cost him everything.

Matthias waited a few minutes before interjecting. “Time’s up. If we don’t ‘ave a plan, we come back tomorra.”

Bram hated to admit it, but the old man was right. Things were still too hot. He and Matthias returned to the sandskipper, dispirited. Time was not on their side, and their food supply had nearly run out. Bram had to make a move soon, or they would all perish.

Fortunately, the next morn brought about the change he was waiting for. Forty hours into the siege, the Angkorian fleet departed. Now was his chance to implement an idea he had been forming. It was time to get Matthias’s take.

The magus was more irritable than usual. Bram wasn’t surprised. The stakes were already high, and each passing moment made it less likely to find Angela alive. Bram hoped the pressure might make the old man more amenable to taking risk. With that in mind, he pulled Matthias aside.

“Now that Angkor’s defense has lightened, I think I know a way to get us inside. But … I need to confess something, first.”

The old man sneered. “Out wit’ it, already.”

Bram kept calm. There was no holding back now. “When we met, you recognized me as a soldier. That much is true, but there’s more. The fact is, I left the army years ago. Since then … I’ve worked for Richard as one of his Gnostics.”

Matthias chuckled under his breath. “Aye, a man of many surprises, ya are, Bram. But let me make one thing perfectly clear. Ah don’t give a rat’s ass who you are, be it paragon or pariah. All Ah want is t’ find Angela. And at this point, Ah’ll do whatever it takes.”

Bram eyed the scholar carefully. Matthias might have grown more pragmatic, but Bram hadn’t forgotten the day he kicked him off the sandskipper and threatened to leave him on the side of the road. If things went south, and Matthias felt threatened, it wouldn’t take much for the old man to turn on him. Bram would have to take that risk, if he wanted the old codger to go along with his plan.

“I’ll get to the point. Gnostics have high-ranking authority, and it grants me the privilege to demand entrance to the city. They’ll have no choice but to let me in.”

The old man rolled his eyes. “That’s yar plan? And ya think they won’t recognize yar likeness from the wanted posters?”

Bram’s gaze never wavered. “They won’t recognize me, because you’re going to give me a disguise.”

“But my magic—”

“It’s fine if scholars detect it.” Bram was certain his logic was airtight. “They won’t tell the difference between the disguise and the enchantments already on my armor.”

Matthias looked dumbfounded, so Bram explained. “I’m referring to what’s inside the burlap sack. It’s my armor.”

The old man’s lips curled into a smirk. “Ahh, Gnostic armor, you say? Ya know … it just might work!” He stroked his beard as he considered it. “What kind o’ disguise did ya ’ave in mind?”

The smirk was contagious. Bram felt it, too, and it gave him confidence. “His name is Luke Baron, another Gnostic Knight I used to know during The War. I’m almost certain he’s still in Richard’s employ.”

The old scholar’s brows furrowed. “How d’ ya expect me t’ make a convincing disguise, when Ah don’t even know th’ man?”

“We’ll work on it together,” Bram promised. “I’ll describe what he looks like. It just needs to be close enough. Most of those soldiers at the gates won’t have ever met another Gnostic Knight.”

Matthias still looked skeptical. “Let’s say the guards are as dumb as ya say. How exactly d’ya plan to smuggle in a Vinetan scholar?”

Bram widened his smile. “We’ll use the Jangal Stratagem.”

The old man laughed. “Yar serious? Ya mean the bit where I pretend to be yar prisoner? Ya think that old cliché’ll work?”

Indeed, Bram referred to a popular tale, often adapted into theater production or bard’s ballad. It was so widely performed that it became a part of popular culture. It even had its own name.

“They don’t even have to believe me,” Bram assured, fully confident. “Gnostic Knights far outrank grunts like them, and in Angkorian military, they have to obey. By the time they tell their commanding officers what they’ve done, we’ll already be beyond their reach.”

The old scholar almost glowed with amusement. “What about an exit strategy?”

Bram hesitated. “I haven’t worked it out yet, but I’ll think of something. Let’s worry about that after we find your daughter.”

Matthias shook his head and grunted. It sounded like something in between enjoyment and derision. “Look, Ah’ll be honest. Ah think it’s a long shot, but we haven’t got much time left, and Ah don’t ‘ave anythin’ better. So let’s do it.”