Broken Rule | Chapter 11

This post is chapter eleven of my not-previously-published epic fantasy novel Broken Rule, which I'm serializing here on Steemit.

The story so far:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapters 3 & 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

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Baron Henrik Zsolt, Ambassador to Liat and First Minister to the Prince, was dismayed. He had come to Liat fifteen years ago, escorting the young Prince Zakhar and his new bride Princess Danijela, to take their places on the thrones of Liat. King Radoslav had intended Henrik to guide the young prince's decisions to make Liat a province of Tarkannan in all but name. However, at the time, the princess was an intelligent and sophisticated woman of twenty five, and the prince a callow youth of fifteen, and she quickly dominated him. Theoretically Henrik was supposed to counter-balance that sort of thing with his advice, but he had quickly become accustomed to the lavish parties and state dinners he had access to as an ambassador in Liat, and the Princess made it clear that a word from her could have him recalled back to Tarkannan and replaced by someone more amenable. She made it clear that his continued presence in his lofty position came at the price of his loyalty to her. He was the princess's man now and had been for so long that he no longer felt guilty about it. He had taken a Liatian lover and considered his wife and lands back in Tarkannan as little more than a formality.

New reports had come to him from Tarkannan, and he knew the princess would not be happy to hear them. He found Danijela and her advisors on a large terrace that provided a magnificent view of the city below and the rushing Marten Falls in the distance. Even fifteen years after he had first seen her, Henrik was still arrested by the Princess's commanding presence. Her pale, ice blue eyes were mesmerizing, and the bits of gray she had in her red hair made her seem mature and regal. The ministers advising the princess were all powerful men, but there was no mistaking that they were all her subjects. Henrik bowed low and announced himself. “Highness, I have ill news from Tarkannan. Duke Benedek has abandoned the field in his expedition against the goblins, and Duke Gavril appears to be amassing a private army at his Castle Thornwood. Several of the counts and barons have called their banners, fearing that Gavril will be marching on them.”

“What is that fool Radoslav playing at?” Danijela asked. “He nearly handed the kingdom on a platter to the sea barbarians. He fumbled that, and now he's trying to hand it to someone else?”

“Highness, I suspect that incompetence rather than malice is the culprit,” Henrik answered.

“Yes, the trouble with making a deal with a man that will negotiate away his kingdom is that you have to trust him to hold on to the kingdom long enough to make delivery.” Some of her advisors chuckled appreciatively.

The foreign minister, a small man dressed in an exquisitely embroidered coat and wide-brimmed hat, provided his analysis. “If there is civil war in Tarkannan, it's likely that Torzano will invade. Or if they fail to take advantage, Garn will. But Torzano, most likely.”

“Captain, how dangerous is this Gavril?” Princess Danijela asked, addressing Amittai Romo, captain of the Liatian Lancers, smartly dressed in his gray uniform coat with red epaulets bearing the Watchful Eye insignia of the Liatian military.

Romo stood and delivered his report in his crisp, martial style. “Highness, Gavril has a reputation as a strategist and tactician. He favors foot soldiers, and has a reputation for good pay and treating commoners and nobles alike in dividing the spoils of battle. For that, and his rapid rise in rank, he is widely disliked among the Tarkannan nobility. Since mounted forces in Tarkannan come solely from among the noble houses, he will have little cavalry, even if he would want them. For that reason alone, our lancers would slice him to ribbons if we could catch him in the field, but he has an uncanny knack for fighting battles on terrain most favorable to him. If he could invest a city with his men, he'd be nearly impossible to dislodge without heavy losses.”

“And what of this Benedek, who seems to cower from goblins?”

“Highness, Benedek is Lord Marshal of Tarkannan, military leader of their combined forces. The title is theoretically given by the king to his best knight, but in practice has been a hereditary title for hundreds of years. As a general Benedek is overly cautious, and has no real victories to his name. In their recent war, Benedek led a retreat that was little better than a rout, intending to concentrate their armies into a single fighting force before facing the sea barbarians. After Gavril's victory at White Ford, Benedek had to reverse course and race to be included in the harrying as Gavril chased the sea barbarians back to the shores. He has little respect among true military men, although he is highly placed in Tarkannan nobility.”

“Henrik,” the princess asked, “have you anything to add to that?”

“Our good Captain Romo is correct, as usual.” He offered a courteous salute to the captain, which the captain promptly returned. “Gavril is popular among the people, at least as popular as a Tarkannan noble can get. Since his own duchy was assembled from the counties and baronies that were pillaged by the sea barbarians in the early part of the war, his own people consider him a hero who rescued them from a terrible fate. As a result he is able to charge much more in taxes than most of the other nobles in Tarkannan and is quite wealthy, despite being only recently elevated to duke. He has made allies with several other nobles of the lower ranks, who believe that Gavril's influence is still increasing. He also has agents of own and may be secretly negotiating with other powers.”

“It's true, Highness,” the foreign minister confirmed. “There is a man in Garn, ostensibly a merchant, who is widely known to speak for the duke and frequently dines in the feasthalls of the kings. And there is a man on the Council of Lords in Torzano that we suspect is acting on his behalf.”

Henrik nodded to the minister and continued speaking. “Benedek's family has been allied with Radoslav's since time immemorial, but he is very old and has no heir, so his house may end with him. Even though he's a duke in name, his duchy is little larger than a county in other parts of Tarkannan. Even with his lackluster reputation as a general, though, the situation with the goblins is puzzling. Most of the Tarkannan nobles think of hunting down goblin raiders as a form of sport, akin to boar hunting.”

The Princess crinkled her brow in frustration. She had been waiting for years for Radoslav to die so she could ascend to the Tarkannan throne, increasing her domain sevenfold over ruling Liat alone, but now events conspired to rob her of her prize. “We may need to send troops to protect the throne from usurpers,” she announced.

“Highness, the Lancers, as always, are ready to ride at a moment's notice. But to defend Kubara from attack we'd need foot. The citizen militia would need to be raised.”

The Minister of Finance spoke to that point. “I believe we could have the men in a month, two weeks if we're prepared to spend twice as much. I feel it's my duty to remind everyone that when a man serves in the militia, he's not working the fields, working the mines, or minding a shop. Paying militiamen will cost the treasury, but sending our men to Tarkannan will cost the nation.”

Danijela responded, “It's nice to know that you watch the coin like a hawk, but the time has come to stop thinking of Tarkannan as another nation. We need to start acting as if I am already queen of Tarkannan, or I may never take the throne. Still, there's no need to spend money needlessly. A month will be sufficient. But make sure the armories well stocked, in case we need to raise another levy for reinforcements.”

“As you say, Highness, it will be done,” the minister replied.

“Highness,” Henrik said, “I feel compelled to point out that some in Tarkannan might not view Liatians as fellow countrymen and might not welcome the troops with open arms.”

“They must be made to, Henrik. There was always going to be a time when the Tarkannans would learn to accept my rule. It will simply have to happen sooner rather than later.”

“Highness, I understand, but tradition is very important in Tarkannan. Things move slowly there. If you were already on the throne, things would be different. They would get to know you, accept you, over time. Marching in at the head of an army will inflame the reactionaries, both among the common people and the nobility.”

“I'm afraid that we have little choice, Henrik. Every indication is that the throne may be stolen from me unless we march. I would think that the nobles who revere tradition so strongly would support an orderly succession to the rightful heirs.”

“That's true in theory,” Henrik conceded. “But many people are still stuck in the old ways, especially the common people.”

“I should think that the common people would welcome Liatian ways. We recognize the rights and privileges of all men, not just nobles. Our taxes are more fair and just. What could they possibly fear from us?”

“They fear change, Highness. And the nobles in particular fear the changes you just mentioned. They know that Liatian nobles have little real power. They have no desire to lose their wealth and influence.”

“Are you back to the nobles again, now? Enough of this. You offer objections, but go in circles when I ask you to justify them. You will support me on this.”

Henrik was taken aback. It had been years since Danijela had been so sharp with him. If only he had the words to make her understand, but she seemed set on this course of action. There was no choice but to follow her, and hope for the best. “Of course, Highness, I apologize if I offended you. I just wanted to offer my advice. You know that no one wants to see you ruling all of Tarkannan sooner than I.”

“Yes, Henrik. I know you are loyal.”

At least that had been settled. He hoped.