The Column of Ash [Epic Fantasy]

He returned to Stent feeling emptied out. Hallow. He and Milava hadn't spoken much following the argument, nor in the morning after. The silence was like the gasp after a gut punch that never went away. It left him feeling staggered and weak. On the journey back, his people sensed something was wrong and gave him space. What he really wanted was to forget about it, even if just for a little bit. What he wouldn't do to have Nifont around to shoot the shit with. Feia and her oddities simply to distract him. Waker making a fool of himself. Well, even Stanilo would do.

That's what he missed most about his old life: the people. Most of them were dead. And whose fault is that? he asked himself, sliding off his horse to plop down into the mud of the shoddy courtyard of his home. Could have been his own boyar's manor when he was a child, how much they looked alike. Look at how far you've come, Oskar. Look at it. That's something. But was it too much to leave behind? Should he have the conscience Milava assumed he did? Or should? The truth was, she just didn't know him well. Give it a few more months. More than a day every other week, and she'd see the real him. Down with the illusions and lies that best fit the day-to-day. See the ugliness that rotted his insides like Corruption.

Oskar spent the next few days doing the same thing he always did. Each day was like a memory of the last, blending together as he couldn't shake the lingering worry about Milava. What did she want? Could he give it to her even if he knew what it was?

Slow days passed. And then his ruminations were interrupted, for the Voivode of Vetera visited unannounced.

Oskar stood in the courtyard with most of the servants and guards he could muster at last minute, waiting in a neat line as the voivode dismounted. He had a handful of druzhina with him, a servant, and that was it. A small party.

"The fuck is this?" he asked in a whisper to Gaiek.

"I don't know, Boyar. I would advise caution."

"No shit. It's an ambush. But why?"

"Personal business. Oh."

He stopped, for the voivode was approaching, and they both straightened formally. Oskar hadn't much familiarity with how to act as a boyar to his lord, but decided just leaning on his experience as a druzhina would probably be fine, along with his old usual charm. "Voivode Vetesky, it's an honor to meet you. Come to see what I've done with the place?"

The voivode was a tall, elements-worn man in his forties, somewhere close to Oskar's own age, maybe with a few extra years. He looked capable and confident, which fit what he knew about the man. To be a voivode this far east meant you were a war leader as much as a schemer like those fucks in Nova. You couldn't just rely on your birth to succeed. And despite all the turmoil in the capital, Voivode Vetesky managed to ride it out fine enough on his own.

"Thank you, Boyar, for the welcome, but this isn't necessary." He gave a humble smile and gestured inside. "Let's keep it small if you wouldn't mind. I've come for a conversation, is all."

Quite a ways to ride for a chat. But Oskar acquiesced and brought the voivode into his hall by the fire, with everyone dispersing to give them privacy after Gaiek brought them cups of warmed cider. It could be chilly riding in with the winds from the east, after all.

They sat on stools before the fire pit like warriors outside an enemy fort during a siege. Oskar sat up straight, hands cradling the drink in his lap, no bloody clue what to say next.

Luckily, he didn't have to, for the voivode spoke, "Oskar Koyzlov."

The man wasn't supposed to know his full name. "That's what this is, then?"

"What do you think this is?"

"You're exercising leverage."

"In a manner of speaking, yes. But don't see it so oppositionally." He took a sip from the cup and hummed in appreciation. "This is good. Brewed here?"

"How can I not see it that way? You know my name. Means you know what I did, don't you? You'd be rewarded for turning me in."

"Your previous men were pardoned. Weren't you?"

Oskar frowned at him, trying to see the game. "It's all a little fuzzy."

"Things are different out here, Boyar. You've purchased your place. Normally, Nova's reach would not extend so far east, at least not directly, but things are changing."

"What's changing?" he asked. "The tsar finally grew some balls?"

"Not quite. A new face in the tsar's court is pushing for some radical action. One such action is concerned with the fate of the Free Cities." He gestured with the cup, thrusting it toward the fire like a spear into a gut. "Ever-forward is the new call of imperial authority. That puts a considerable deal of attention on me. Responsibility as well as power. All rely on my position over Vetera and the surrounding territory for such a campaign."

Oskar chewed on that for a minute. It had been a while since he'd dealt with this kind of shit. Not long enough, however. "You could protect me, is what you're saying."

"Sooner or later, all this—" he waved the cup about the interior of Oskar's hall "—will have to die. You can't run from it forever. You'd need to go further east for that. It's a wonder you didn't, truth be told. So yes, I offer you a chance for protection."

"In exchange for what?" He knew a deal when he saw one. Wasn't much of a deal, of course. More like blackmail.

"It is my understanding you are familiar with the Lunar Trading House."

His stomach turned and breath caught. "Maybe."

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"They deal in many perfectly legal goods and services, of course."

Oskar's leg began to bounce. "Of course."

"But they also engage in other services. Kinds the tsar has explicitly banned."

He was feeling jittery, feeling light-headed. Like before a battle. "Some silver in advance on a man's word isn't the end of the world. Does people good, I say."

The voivode's brow raised, but he seemed unperturbed, sitting calmly. "I'm not the arbiter of the tsar's law, just the enforcer."

"Yet you're picking now to enforce it, aren't you?"

"Are you going to fight me on this before you know what I'm asking? Be reasonable."

Oskar wanted to punch him in the face, but kept his hands on his cup. "What are you asking?"

"A war with the Free Cities means more than just men to fight it. It means armor, weapons, and food. Gods, the food. I'm sure you can understand what I'm saying. It means coin. Lots of it. And of any merchant in my domain, Lunar Trading House might have the most on hand. Ltava is as rich as Vetera these days, of course." The voivode gave him a long, flat look. The kind that a man gives his disobedient dog. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"You want to shut them down. Take their silver."

"I want justice for my tsar and to prepare properly for his war."

He's had me followed. He must know about Milava. Oskar's jaw tightened.

The voivode was sharp, and he said, "I see it on your face. No need to be so indiscreet. I know your attachment to the company is more than a professional one. You have a relationship with one of the owners, is that right?"

Oskar went very still. The fine tin cup bent in his grip. His voice almost shook with effort to keep calm when all he wanted was to attack. "This is where you tread carefully, Voivode."

"I know your reputation, Oskar. That's one of the reasons I'm not keen on trying to turn you in." He didn't smile or put on a show of confidence but was quiet and serious and still as death. Vetesky continued, "I can imagine your situation. What you must be feeling right now. Trapped. Cornered. But you needn't feel like a prey animal. This is no hunt."

"So get to the fucking point, Voivode."

"I want your cooperation. Again, I know your reputation. You're loyal to your people, aren't you? It was your downfall, betraying others for higher ideals?" He leaned in, voice dropping to a rasp of a whisper. "I'm going to give you what you want. Security and peace of mind. But more than that. I'm giving you responsibility over others, with the power to protect them."

"Yeah? What makes you confident my 'loyalty to my people' will align with what you want?"

He shook his head. "Because most voivodes don't care about their people. I do what's in their best interest."

"Like punishing merchants for giving out loans."

"I'm constrained by my tsar, Oskar. What happens if I lack the funds to finance a war I am forced into? Many will die. And when the powers that be visit and find I've been too loose? Punishment beyond my own hand. And I can assure you, I am a softer voivode than most." He sighed and took one last sip of the cup before setting it aside. "Now, let's not pretend you care about your woman's partners. You care about her. What if she suddenly came into ownership of her trading company?"

The man made a few good points. Still, Oskar didn't like the feeling of most of this. "They'd have to sell their shares to her. If they die or are exiled, I think they get passed on to someone else."

"That's right. They get inherited. So, I can't just force them out, even if their practices are not exactly legal. And I don't have the time to deal with each of them, for this is an issue larger than one trading house," he said, face tensing with stress and frustration. "I'd turn to the boyar of Ltava for help, but he is dead, and his wife hates me. She refuses to work with me."

"Why's that?"

"Because I won't do the typical thing and approve inheritance to her son. He is… well, something of a bastard. And I don't mean the kind defined by illegitimate birth. He is a drunkard bully. Irresponsible and haphazard and profligate." His face bent into a scowl. "I won't have a creature such as he preside over such an important town during a difficult time. Thus, a limbo state."

He likes control. He's a lot like the late Voivode Vilsky. "You need a dog that'll obey when you say heel."

"I need someone competent, Oskar. And with the war coming, I need someone strong."

"Shit. Well, how will you get rid of the boyaress?"

"She did most of the work for me by stealing taxes owed to me." He frowned in disappointed annoyance. "Sometimes, the illusion of independence is enough to get anyone to err. I have records. Executing her and her son will be of no concern, considering his numerous crimes and complicity in hers. All the better for Vetera, too."

"Pretty cold of you, Voivode."

"Is it? Perhaps. I wouldn't blink at a few silver coins here and there, but we're not talking about such theft. We're talking about vast sums. I can show you the ledgers, if you're curious."

Oskar scoffed. "No, I believe you. I've seen how Ltava's run—loose and free. Fairs and the like all the time. Plenty of coin to be had. Still, it all sounds risky. You said you know my past. This won't be a good look for you."

He smiled. "I'm one of the few voivodes who didn't rebel, and so far outside imperial control, well, I had all the right and power to. I am owed."

Oskar believed him, even if he didn't know he ought to. But this entire situation was strange. "And what do you want from me?"

"The Lunar Trading Company is one of a half dozen in the town that offers credit. Most will not be compliant with me unless prompted. You will prompt."

"And then what?" he asked.

"Help lead my armies. I'm not a commander." When Oskar looked surprised, he chuckled and shrugged. "You will advise me on matters of war. I know my limits and areas of expertise. In return, I protect you and give you a higher station."

Oskar sat back and thought on his words. He seemed honest enough, surprisingly. But still, it was a risk to both of them. Why did he want to take such a leap with a stranger? By associating with him, the voivode was incriminating himself somewhat, wasn't he? And thereby losing his leverage? "I don't get one thing: say you make me boyar of Ltava and keep Nova away from me. I help you with the merchants and the war. I get that. But why cash in your imperial favor on me? You've got druzhina. Loyal men. I'm an outsider."

"But that's precisely it. You're an outsider. You're not working for anyone else. No allegiances or hidden loyalties or agendas. A wildcard in some ways, but not those that matter. Not to me." He raised an open hand as if presenting something in his palm. "I'm offering my trust. You deserve it, don't you? Someone to believe in you again?"

He started out wanting to knife the man, but now, Oskar felt something else stirring in him. Something that tightened his throat and made his teeth grind in futile consideration. He'd already decided. It wasn't much of a decision at all, really. Oskar stood and took in a deep breath. "Can you promise me room enough to deal with the merchants as I see fit?"

"Legality and coin, Oskar. I need those two things. The rest is up to you."

Fuck it. Belly in it is. "Fine enough." He shook the voivode's hand. "I'll be your man."

"Good." His relieved smile seemed genuine. "This is a turning point. And who knows? Given enough time, maybe I can help give you some of the justice you deserve?"

He hosted the voivode that night, and they drank and celebrated a union in the way warriors did: by getting blindly drunk. During it all, he found a chance to speak with the voivode's druzhina. It was an opportune thing, for he recognized one of the men after some time. An old warrior who used to serve under him, many years ago. The druzhina told him there were a fair number of men who once served in Vilsi who were now in Vetera. Most of the rebels who escaped had fled east, in fact. He named some names Oskar smiled at. Explained a bit why the voivode knew more about him than just the bad things.

He watched the voivode across the room, chatting with his own guards, fire flashing across a face of experience, and felt something like hope bloom in his chest. The feeling made him jittery. Afraid, almost. But after everything, didn't he deserve a second chance? If anyone, didn't he?