The Column of Ash [Epic Fantasy]

I exited the ship and entered Novakrayu's harbor with my men, two Soulborne, and Ignatia. The archon Sorceress had been making a concerted effort to learn Vasian over the last number of weeks. So she occasionally spoke to the others in a halted, clumsy grasping of the language, yet her progress was quite remarkable for so little time.

They spoke behind me as I led the way through the crowded dockyard streets, people turning to gasp and stare as we passed. Though not quite a villain, I was certainly not a hero here. And why should I be? I killed many of their brothers, fathers, and husbands at sea when we betrayed them.

"All I'm saying is that you're going to have a damn hard time convincing most Merkenians to trust a word from you," Wendof said, shaking his head. "Years of raiding and all that, Ignatia—it doesn't just go away."

"They chased us away," she replied in Vasian. "Long past. Try to kill all. You see the… the… Artifact."

"Aye. But that was, what, a century ago? I'm talking about a matter of months here. Of course, I trust you. You're a good person. And, well, maybe I don't distrust the isle at large, I'm a bit more neutral on the matter."

"I'm not," Aelle said.

"What? They treated us well, fed us, clothed us." He looked down at his armor. The simple mail shirt had been augmented with a layer of splinted steel, increasing the defensive capabilities of each of my men, courtesy of New Pethan armorers. "You can at least be a little thankful."

"We come with a god returned. They wouldn't treat any Merkenian like this."

"I'm not a god returned," I said over my shoulder.

Aelle grunted. "Fine. Some kind of prophet. But they did it because they had to."

"Well, it's little steps," Wendof grumbled. "Right, Ignatia?"

"Little steps. Yes." She turned to me and spoke in Pethyan, "Do you intend to speak to the Black Han? We should make an appearance. Even if the Martyr has already formalized the alliance, it would be wise to call upon him as the High Magistros."

"Her name suffices, Ignatia."

"Very well. But do you concur?"

"I still struggle to see how a subordinate of the Great Han can confirm an alliance on his behalf, but yes, I intend to make a visit. All hinged upon a safe landing and maneuvering inland. Betrayal by Taraz would fundamentally undermine the entire campaign." I leaned toward the men, catching Bowyer's eye in particular, for he was sharper with such things, and spoke in Vasian, "We are meeting with the Black Han. Watch him and his attendants. I also want someone to scout their war camps. Red Locke and Aelle, can you take that?"

"On it," Aelle replied as Red Locke, unblooded and even-keeled, nodded in confirmation.

Soon after, we were in the palace once claimed by the voivode of Novavysky. I idly wondered what happened to the man after seeing him subjugated and subservient to the Black Han. It didn't matter. The city had to move forward with the progress of a new age—one in which it was not bound by the isolationist policies that would slowly see it strangled to nothing. My actions were justified. Benevolent, even, in a certain light. Or am I justifying it to myself so I don't feel the guilt of greed and expediency? Regardless, there was a certain comparison to be made between this city and the isle in their isolationism, interestingly.

We made our presence known in the han's court and were soon attended to, as a meeting with advisors shuffled to the wayside. I bore their suppressed frowns as we passed them in the hall, approaching the throne-like seat I expected the han to be at. Instead, he had a saddle mounted upon a wooden stand and seemed to be in the process of making adjustments. He didn't wear his mask, perhaps as we were not in the presence of strangers, and so I could make out his ruddy, almost jovial features contrasted with a scattering of small scars that told of a physical, combative life.

My brow rose at this as I stopped some ten paces away, hand behind my back, severed arm bent backward in a feeble attempt to appear symmetrical. It looked better than letting it hang, I figured.

He looked up and smiled broadly. "Ah! You ride with the wind at your back, Daecinus Aspartes. Fortunate to have come at the right time and not when I was gone!"

I allowed a small grin myself. "And I have returned bearing the title of High Magistros. As promised, I wish to formalize, in person, our agreements."

"Good! I did exchange words with your Demetria, however…"

"So you have. But I wanted to find you in person again. The trust we have demands it."

"Yes, well, I cannot disagree with the notion." He swung off the saddle, came forward, and extended a hand. I gripped his forearm, eliciting a wider grin from him. "You know, in our customs, a marriage between our two peoples would cement our alliance. That's a Vasian practice too, I hear. Can you take multiple wives?"

"That is not the Pethyan way."

"Ah, worry not. I just joke. Though it is sad for you." He turned and sat on the steps leading to the hand-carved chair, arms on his knees, smiling eyes on mine, observant and keener than expected for one so seemingly light-hearted. "We will keep to our agreements, Daecinus. Your landing will be secured and independent campaign unmolested by our forces. This shall work best if we operate in unison."

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You promised me Nova, yet few would go to such lengths to satisfy an ally who may turn to a competitor. Will a betrayal come? Or is there some other scheme in the works? "We look to leave port come Spring."

"So soon! Remarkable. Give us until Summer, and we will be scattering Vasian forces in the shadows of the Silver Peaks." He continued when he saw my slight surprise, "They will be assaulting the Free Cities, it is true. With luck and speed, we shall catch them when they are burdened outside the walls of Sino Point under a child tsar, if all goes well. And if you take Ladoga as we grab the cities, with the blessing of our ancestors, we shall move quickly enough to pin them in Vetera before they can retreat across their mountain passes." His smile widened with a sort of gleeful anticipation. "And then, good High Magistros? As they find all their voivodes and boyars trapped? We shall slay them all, I say!"

…

"He's ambitious," Bowyer muttered as we made our way from Novakrayu upon horses, led by a guide who knew Hazek's Hills well enough. "But I trust what he says is true. He's too proud of himself to lie about this."

My two Soulborne scouted ahead and to the flanks, as my men rode around me—an unnecessarily defensive precaution, considering there were well over a dozen of them. Ignatia rode at my side, alert to our surroundings but listening to our conversation. I also trusted her advice on these things, for she was not just a Sorcerer who helped lead a fleet, but an archon who had her own estates, subordinates, and loose command structure, weak and decentralized as aspects of the New Pethan 'government' was. Indeed, beyond the powerbase of magistrosi, the nation relied on archons for local rule and justice, showing fealty yet having some relative independence. In time, I would need to strip their power to strengthen my centralized rule.

Regardless, I looked to Bowyer and nodded. "Taraz seems honest. If betrayal will come, I expect it to be a future action, not now. " I turned to Aelle and Red Locke. "Tell me of their warcamp."

"It's a damn mess," Aelle muttered. "Reminds me of the shit we dealt with in Merkenia. A hundred bondsmen and their retinues. Scattered command. Looks like a migrant city with the amount of hanger-ons." He shook his head in disgust. "The Targul are warriors, not soldiers. Their camp makes that clear."

"Numbers? Strength?"

"Mainly horsemen, as is to be expected, I guess. They seem competent enough. How many you count, Locc?"

"A good few hundred, I'd say," the warrior concurred. "More coming in by the day. If they march in the Summer, I expect close to a thousand, maybe more."

"A thousand horsemen," I said to myself. It was no small force. It was not quite enough to meet a full Vasian host in battle if they were committing armies to their attack on the Free Cities, but then, no one really knew what the Vasians were mustering. "He will likely be joined by at least one other Han. Perhaps the Great Han will lead."

"Ehhh, whatever they bring, it won't be everything," Wendof said, shrugging. "They got the east to keep an eye on, Novakrayu to hold, the people of the Silver Peaks to keep under their thumb—I don't think they can march more than two hans, let's say. And each han will have to keep sufficient reserves."

I glanced to Ignatia. She seemed to pick up on most of the conversation, nodding curtly. "They must cross the distant steppes or venture through the mountains and river valleys," she said in Pethyan. "Either way, it will slow and hamper them, especially with a mounted force. But we will move fast by ship upriver. The timing will be in our favor. By the time the Vasians hear of us hitting their Ladogan ally, the Targul will be behind them."

I hummed in agreement. The Vasians wouldn't be able to come to Ladoga's aid, yet we would have enough time to make progress without risking the Targul stealing away Nova. There was the danger of the Targul getting slowed down, allowing the Vasians to march north and offer a united front against me, then heading south to fight the Targul, but I doubted their competency enough to pull that off. Their tsar was a weak coward and leaders factitious and rebellious. It would be a big enough demand to bring them together for a campaign in the first place. And then there was Taraz's mention of a different tsar? I should have followed up on that. Does he have an assassination attempt underway? That could change everything. I'd need to check back with him upon my return.

We discussed strategy more, out of earshot of the guide, of course, as we made good time throughout the day. The roads were decently kept from Novakrayu into the foothill, though once civilization began to thin, the state of the roads waned as well. Contrasted with the hectic pace of the last few months, which involved politicking and organizing, it was an odd escape. One I disliked. I felt lazy and useless, spending days merely riding, productivity reduced to thinking about what was to come. I thought of my sister and possible explanations for her isolation, for her work at the Grand Observatory. Was she striving to rebuild it? To make a mirror to the Crown of the Column? Why? Maybe she had it in her mind to repurpose it for something else. I hoped it had nothing to do with her dislike of Sorcery, and she had moved on from such childish concerns, but based on what the Pethans had told me about her pursuit of anti-Sorcery policies, I doubted it. Unfortunately, so much time had passed that I simply couldn't know. She might very well have changed into another person.

I also thought of Emalia, Sovina, and Protis. Emalia had not been in much contact with Taraz, the Black Han, but she had spent large amounts of time working with the priests and speaking to the people. Nothing rebellious or unrest-inducing—quite the opposite, in fact. By brief tales of what I'd heard, she spoke of a different kind of religious belief, something rooted less in zealotry and more in symbolism and meaning and, oddly, love. The people devoured her words, and soon, talk of it spread. Her disappearance just added to the fires of curiosity and devotion.

I knew better than to think she had manipulated such things purposefully. Emalia was an honest woman. Intelligent and clever, yes, but honest. She was speaking the truth as she saw it, and evidently, that was exactly what those on Novakrayu needed to hear.

We slept in halls in villages, welcomed out of necessity, and regarded with suspicion and fear. I tried not to let it get to me. I didn't like being seen as the villain, but then, to do what I had to do, how could we not be? So, I looked upon worried facies with dispassion and ambivalence, focusing instead on the problems back home, the problems of the future. War was a set of puzzles to find answers to, estimations to make in the absence of full information, wagers to bet upon. The best one could do was calculate all the odds and place an appropriately hedged bet. And that's what the entire campaign was: a bet the Vasians would come for us eventually. A bet that seizing the initiative with a bold opening would strengthen us in the face of attack. A bet that we could do it and win.

But first, I had to secure the home front. I had to find Maecia and ensure she would not return to tear authority from my grasp and ruin everything.