The Crown of the Conqueror

I

The wind flapped at the fabric of Ullsaard's pavilion and brought a pattering of rain. The king sat in his campaign throne, brow knotted as he stared at the large map spread out on the rugs before him. To his right and left sat two of his First Captains, Anasind and Jutiil, and two others, self-appointed army commanders who had raised their own legions for the war; the first was Arrak Maalus, head of one of Askh's oldest noble families, a squat man in his fifties with a clean-shaven chin and head, but with jutting side whiskers that reached to his shoulders; the other was a Maasrite fleet captain, Lukha, who had arrived with three thousand legionnaires and twenty Nemurian mercenaries.

Ullsaard liked neither of the men, but suffered their amateur suggestions in silence, knowing it was the price he paid for having them help to finance his campaign. Of the five extra legions so far raised by the nobles, two had been all but destroyed, and the other three had achieved little except to spread fear and confusion amongst the Salphors. It did not matter; as long as the Salphors were under constant attack they would never have the time to gather their forces. In the wake of the ad-hoc invasions of the others, Ullsaard would sweep duskwards and tidy up, until he was camped at the walls of Carantathi. He felt some guilt at the legionnaires' lives being wasted in this way, but in the long run the campaign would prove to be less costly.

"Enough squabbling," said the king, stepping down from his chair. "Maalus, you will take your legion coldwards of here, the Aaglios River. That secures these forested hills. There are likely to be tribes in the forest itself, so don't try anything spectacular, you'll simply be ambushed. Lukha, you need to keep moving duskwards along the Aaglios, until you take this group of settlements here, at this fork in the river. I have it from my Salphorian allies that there is a town on the lake island. I figure with your expertise with ships that shouldn't be too much of a problem."

Lukha looked sourly at the map.

"So, Maalus gets hundreds of miles of the finest fir trees, while I have a lake and an island? What am I supposed to profit from? Fish?"

Ullsaard wanted to strangle the man, but fought the urge.

"We don't know where the Aaglios leads, but it is bound to be an important route duskwards to the sea," Ullsaard explained, not entirely hiding his irritation. "That island will be the perfect place for a dock. It'll be as large as Geria; maybe even as big as Narun if there's as much land to duskwards as I think there is. Maalus will be paying your port fees to ship that timber to the coast."

Maalus was about to object, but was stopped by Ullsaard's raised hand.

"And before you complain, Maalus, consider this," the king continued. "Docks mean wharfs and ships, and that means timber. This stretch of river could be the centre of Askhan expansion in Salphoria, and there's going to be enough coin for everybody involved."

The two men exchanged a glance filled with suspicion. Maalus looked at the map again, rubbing a hand over his scalp.

"That is quite a way from Magilnada," he said. "I would not want to be sticking my neck to the block. Perhaps another legion or two would make the situation more secure?"

"No," said Ullsaard. "Winter's coming, and there's no time for you to raise any more legions. We need this advance to happen as soon as possible."

"I know I cannot raise a legion overnight, but you have five of them sitting here with nothing to do…"

"No."

Maalus frowned and stood up with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I am not going to wander into the heart of Salphor territory with just one legion." The noble took two steps towards the tent door before Ullsaard grabbed his arm and hauled him around.

"You will march your legion tomorrow," said the king, speaking slowly and quietly. "If you do not, I will find someone who will."

Maalus tried to shrug off the king's grip but failed. He met Ullsaard's stare with a look of contempt.

"You cannot force me to do anything," said the noble. "If you want my men, you will allow me to choose where and when they march. I am not one of your captains, to be ordered around at your whim."

Ullsaard tightened his fingers until Maalus was squirming, knees buckling.

"This isn't Askh," hissed Ullsaard. "And I am still your king. I could cut your fucking head off right now and there is not a man in this camp would raise a word about it. I have offered you ample reward for your efforts. Do not test my patience."

The flush of anger drained from Maalus's face as he saw the look in Ullsaard's eyes. The king pulled Maalus back to his feet, let go of his arm and waved towards the door.

"Feel free to return to your legion now," said Ullsaard. He glanced over his shoulder to his First Captains. "Jutiil will accompany you back to your camp to help you make everything ready for your departure."

Jutiil stood up, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. He smiled at Maalus and nodded for the noble to lead the way. Ullsaard watched the two of them until they had left and then turned to Lukha.

"Any questions or objections?" the king asked.

Lukha smiled hesitantly and shook his head.

"No, my king, that all seems to be perfectly clear."