The Column of Ash [Epic Fantasy]

Oskar looked over his new domain: Ltava. It was too nice for a man like him. He knew in his bones he hardly deserved such a place. Blind luck and audacity are what got him here—that was all. He didn't know a single damn thing about lordship on this scale, and so each day was more akin to an educated guess than anything else. The good news is he had a few long-time servants, a capable steward, and a council of merchants not afraid to point out his mistakes, even after extracting loans from quite a few of them. A forgiving bunch, them, or at least when the prosperity of the town was at stake.

Unfortunately, Milava was not among them. She kept her distance from Oskar, tending to her business every hour of daylight, every day. He watched from afar like an obsessed creep, trying to seem casual about it, checking in on his walks around the town, asking updates from his servants. They had to know it was more than just curiosity. Not that he gave a shit what they thought.

He still ruled Stent, just from afar, leaving things to the local steward there who did most of the work anyway; Oskar just collected rents and fines, occasionally weighing in on disputes. Easy enough if it weren't for all the work to keep Ltava running. Every day there were dozens of issues he had to preside over—almost all of them complex legal and financial problems he had no clue about. It made him feel dumb, to put it lightly. In the end, he did his best to keep everyone happy and things mostly fair. And since he wasn't stealing from the place, he figured he was doing at least a little better than the previous boyaress.

Oskar was speaking to a group of druzhina who held holdings in the town and who'd recently sworn loyalty to him when a boy he paid to carry messages ran up with an air of urgency.

He nodded to the young lad. "Yes? Speak up now."

"The voivode is coming to visit, Boyar. He's riding in soon."

Why does the man never give me fair warning? "Alright. Ah." He fished out a silver coin and flicked it to the boy. "On your way now."

He stared at it, wide-eyed and grinning. "Thank you, Boyar!" Then ran off.

Oskar sighed. He was richer than he'd ever been, with more to his name than ever before, as head of druzhina for the Vilskys, way back. What use did he have for so much money? He even had that old ruby from the quite-Sunken Cities at the bottom of his chest still. Buried away from where he might see it and think of worse times. Bullshit, false Sorcery is what it was. If he were a wiser man, he'd sell it off and be rid of the damned thing.

A few hours later, Voivode Vetesky sat down with Oskar on two stools in his new courtyard, watching the stablehands care for the horses, servants come and go, and guardsmen try to look extra alert. They ate spiced, dried apple pieces and drank a crisp ale. The food of late Autumn.

"How are you finding things here, Oskar?" the voivode asked, wiping his mouth.

"It's busy."

"I would imagine so. I heard a backlog of disputes had built up from previous negligence." His lip twisted and eyes narrowed, likely at the memory of the past voivodess. But she'd had her head cut off by an axe man, so Oskar didn't see what all the fuss was about. They'd gotten more than even, now. "Some of them even tried coming to me, you know. A few months ago, I had to listen to a man complain about his neighbor planting grain on his property. A territorial dispute for land I don't even oversee."

"Sounds like a pain."

"It was, but that's not the point. Now, I haven't heard a thing. You're doing well. Keeping on top of things." The voivode didn't smile as he said it, oddly. Probably just thinking about the voivodess and her greed and what it cost him.

Oskar shrugged. "I just listen and give my opinion. Tell the truth, I don't know much about some of these commercial disputes…"

"Few do. Just try to be fair is all you can do. Have good advisors." He looked around, then seemed satisfied that no one was listening, so he leaned in and said in a lowered voice, "What about the silver? How did you manage?"

"Well enough," he replied, trying not to think of her. Failing. "No real holdouts I couldn't break in the end. Nothing too ugly. There'll be enough, I think, depending on how the war goes. How quick we can win… But if we don't, well, things will get bad."

"I know. I know." He sighed heavily. "If we lose, a lot more will go wrong than simple repayments. That's why your second task is to prepare for the campaign."

"Right."

"Have you given it much thought?"

"Been busy," he muttered, then frowned out east. "What does Nova promise to send?"

"Well, they would promise Rotaal himself. They say the tsar will lead an army combined of both east and west forces, some mercenaries, druzhina and their men, and some semi-professionals—militia types and so forth. A host of ten thousand or so."

Oskar grunted. "That's a lot."

"It also depends on all voivodes contributing a sufficient number of men, which I doubt. There's still been unrest west. A number of rebel holdouts have yet to be taken." He recognized Oskar's dubiousness. "I know. I wouldn't plan a campaign in such a state either, but the powers that be are certain."

"Hm." He took a draft of his drink and gave it all some thought. "We'll not get the ten thousand. Not with how split up they are. Maybe five. The Free Cities don't have a standing army of any sort. Just semi-professionals and mercenaries. But with some militia, they might match us. Still, not enough to win in a battle, if it comes to it."

"But to hold a walled city?"

"Enough."

"So what do you advise?"

"Well, we need men of our own, certainly. Help in the war, but also because I don't trust the Eastern Commander to lead this, let alone the tsar."

The voivode nodded. "Sanei is past his prime. And he's been of no help to me. And the tsar is…"

"A drunken fool."

"I was going to say inexperienced, but yes."

"Right. So we've got enough to hire every man in the region that wants to fight, but I say don't take any levies. They aren't worth it. Experienced men only. And we'll want to keep reserves for siege engines. Ladders, rams, maybe a catapult or two, and the like. Bribes too. You'd underestimate the amount of coin needed to keep things smooth in foreign land. Especially when you want to get food to your men fast, or at all, because sometimes there's just not enough to go around from foraging." Oskar stopped when he saw the voivode smiling broadly at him. "What?"

"I'm glad I listened to my men when they realized you were out here. This war might go well with you leading our forces."

"Still plenty of time for them to be proven long, Voivode. A lot of ground between us and contact with the enemy. Anything could go wrong between now and then. Or after."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Yes." Vetesky stood and set down his cup, hands folded behind his back. "But I feel better knowing these problems can be handled by someone capable. You see? War is like anything else—it's all about the men you have serving you, looking out for your people. With you out there, I can sleep comfortably knowing it's all in hand."

The man's words made him think of Milava. Of her sharp smile and dark eyes, her quips and banter. How she left him there like a fool. It's my fault. I could've been softer, more agreeable, or shit, just not have taken this job. Oskar looked away so the voivode couldn't see his face twist in frustration. Opportunities to do some good never work out for the good-doer if life's told him anything. Anytime he's been selfless is when shit backfired. But he couldn't help himself. It was in his blood, his bones, and maybe even his Soul to be the fool.

"Well," he said, clearing his throat, blinking away wateriness that was surely just from some stray dust, "let's talk strategy, shall we?"

They went over rough plans for mustering men, requisitioning supplies, getting transport, deciding routes, and even going over strategy against the Free Cities. What to expect, how to counter it, and so forth. Most of Oskar's knowledge was practical, first-hand experience from serving in various campaigns, not as a commander of any armies, yet it seemed all straightforward enough. Almost second nature. Like when he used to lead his band, just on a bigger scale.

When they finished, the voivode stayed the night and they dined together in Oskar's hall with the druzhina, drinking lightly and bonding as warriors did. Then, when it was well past evening and the sky was dark and pricked with stars and everyone else was asleep, Oskar roamed the courtyard, kicking at the ground, head bowed in thought. He thought of the campaign and the risks involved, of some lingering issues to be settled from the day's list of hearings, and then, of course, her. Made him feel like a fucking helpless pup, how his heart ached, and his thoughts turned back toward her. But what could a man do? Sometimes, those things just happened.

Heh, maybe if things worked out back in Nova, Sovina and I could have made something work, he thought with a grin. There was no chance, but a man could hope. The smile faded. He never knew what became of them: Sovina, Emalia, Daecinus. Did they die in the Column or make it out? Knowing Daecinus, they likely survived somehow. The bastard. If it wasn't for him, Feia would still be alive. Everything would still be alright.

Of course, it was I who pulled him out of the Sinking Cities. He shook his head at the thought. He was just doing what was right… and perhaps what was smart. Could he be blamed for that?

Oskar's ruminations died out when he noticed someone at the far gate talking to a guard.

"Who's that now?" he called out.

The man turned to him, squinted in the dark, nightvision ruined by the brazier kept close to keep him warm, and looked surprised. "Ah, of course, Voivode. It's, uh, a merchantwoman who says she's here to see you about your dealings? I told her it was too late…"

He trailed off as Oskar approached hurriedly. "Let her in, man. She's here on business!"

The guard moved quickly, opening one of the large, reinforced doors. Milava swept through, arms clutching herself, heavy cloak over her shoulders, black hair held up by a simple linen headwrap. Her eyes met his. Oskar felt himself freeze stiff, then he waved her in, acting professional, turning and marching off somewhere more private. She followed behind, shoes tapping along the stone, then squishing in the wet, turned dirt off the main courtyard near the small fresh fishpond. His heart hammered away in his chest, breath thin in his throat as his mind raced. Was she here to make up and continue their relationship? Was she saying things were done for good? Was it really business? No, fool, she wouldn't come at night to discuss silver. He stopped near a patch of tall reeds in grass up to his ankles, some looming tree hanging overhead with dipping branches like rain. He'd never been here before. Crickets chirped and frogs croaked. A bird somewhere hummed a sung, faint and distorted in the wind. It was peaceful here. Beautiful, even.

They faced each other in the darkness, moonlight shining off the pond. A face cast in shadows.

"Well, uh, so I figure this isn't about the deal, right?" he started, quite poorly, admittedly.

"I've been uncertain these last few weeks, but I know now." She took a deep breath. It had all the weight and meaning in the world. "I didn't think it would happen. I'm not old, but… Still."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"Oh. Fuck."

She nodded, swallowing, throat bobbing under wide eyes. "Precisely."

"And you're sure?"

"As much as I can be right now."

"That's not very sure," he muttered, rubbing his chin, nails scratching at his stubble as he searched for possibilities in the uncertain future. We started seeing each other, what, four months ago? So it could have happened anytime since then… "But that's how things are, I suppose. I just, ah, never figured it would… Well, you know."

"I do. And it's okay. It's terrifying to me, too."

"Shit, well, yeah, I bet. Gods." He stared at her, brow furrowed as he tried so desperately to read her mind and predict her next words. "So what do you wanna do?"

"Tradition would have us marry," she replied, watching him closely. He got the feeling she was being careful here. Well, of course she was. "But I don't care what people say about me should I not. I want to do it for the right reasons."

"A child isn't?" he asked, then pinched his brow and shook his head. "No, you're right. You... uh, shouldn't feel forced."

"I'm not against it, Oskar. But I have concerns."

"I know. I know. I sprung that surprise on you with the lending."

"That, and you forced my partners out."

"I thought you'd want control!"

"It's not an army, Oskar. It's a business."

He ran a hand through his hair, face scrunched up. "Okay, sure. I was wrong in my guess. I did wrong by you. If there's any way I can make it up or put it right, tell me, please. I'll do it, Milava, I swear it on… on the men I've lost. I do."

"Thank you. I needed to hear that." She stepped closer to him. "Here's what I need from you if we're to do this. We need to put it in enforceable writing that the trading house remains mine. I built it up. I won't lose it to you just because we marry."

"What? Of course. I don't give a shit about that." He noticed her raised eyebrow and cleared his throat. "I mean, I don't want to run it or anything. I've got enough on my plate as is, anyway. Of course, it's yours."

"Good. The same applies to my holdings and their rents."

"I didn't know you had rents coming in."

"Of course, how do you think I invest my earnings?" When he shrugged, she chuckled, though it was a little strained. "You're incredible. Alright, good. And so you know, I intend to continue my work, pregnant and child-raising or not."

He gave that some thought. "Well, I think most rich boyaresses hire, uh, milkmaids and servants anyway. You know, attendants and things."

"I won't sit inside a manor all day with a bunch of brainless twits for company."

This time, it was Oskar's turn to laugh. "Why do you think I fell for you? Of course you wouldn't. That's not you. Listen, I don't care about any of that. Live your life as you wish, but, well—" he stopped, choking up suddenly, the emotion of the moment crushing like a horse's trampling hooves. "Live your life however you want, Milava. Just do it with me. I know I'm far from perfect and a bit of a fuck-up, but gods as my witness, I'm trying. And I swear I'd try every day to be the kind of man you deserve." He held out a hand, palm up, tremoring slightly. Battle was frightening, but this was something else. "Please?"

She looked down at it, then up to him, and took his hand. "I'm scared, Oskar. This isn't just a deal we're making here. This is a lot."

"I know." His lips stretched wide anyway, and an almost mad smile took over. "Is this really happening?"

"I think it is."

He squeezed her hand, and he his. And then he looked down and around, scanning their environment. His eyes met hers once more and found a lusting hesitance almost to match his own. Oskar pulled her in and kissed her, softly at first, then probably far too quickly, a lot harder as she responded in kind. They lay there among the reeds and soft, long grasses and didn't bother keeping quiet. Just like two lovers in a trading house storage room once again. Needy and immediate.

When it was done and they lay under the stars, Milava rolled onto her side, looked at him through long lashes, and asked, "Is this a mistake, Oskar? Can we do this? Be honest with me."

He let out a long exhale, one hand on her thigh, another over his chest, feeling his heart slowing into a steady beat. "I've made a lot of mistakes, and this doesn't feel like one of them."

"You're sure?"

"Sure as I can be." He squeezed her leg and tugged her closer, cupped her face, and kissed her forehead. "Do you think this is a mistake?"

"I think us not being so diligent in certain aspects of sex was a mistake."

He grinned at that. "Yeah, well, I think we can both agree we were up against some mighty odds there," he said, squeezing her. "But seriously. I need to know you aren't already regretting this—"

"Of course not! It's terrifying, yes. In about every way imaginable, but I trust you, Oskar Koyzlov. Given that, we can handle whatever comes. I'm just sorry it took me so long to accept it."

"Don't apologize. You were just being responsible."

"I was afraid. For a lot of reasons. And while it was hard, I'm not as scared anymore." She sounded honest when she said it. He hoped she was. "But let's sleep in a bed. This will be far less cozy in the morning."

"Oh, uh, right." He grinned and helped her up, then pulled her close again. "Wife."

"Not yet."

"But almost."

"You're right." She bit his lip and craned back to give him a dangerously sultry look. "Almost."