Told In Stone Chapter 13: Nine Duke and Five Splits

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Sorry for the delay, it's been crazy releasing The Last Man - back on track now.

The Faelen Queen was dead, and the funeral bells tolled all day long in Gravetree. The rain didn’t care much of the death of the monarch and hammered down on the heads of the fortune seekers who shuffled through the gateway into the red land.

The army command centre had been established in a large house in the centre of the town, and as Riot ducked inside out of the rain, he saw a familiar figure before him in the anteroom.

“Clarkson?” Riot asked.

Captain Clarkson turned and Riot moved forward instinctively to catch him as he stumbled. Clarkson looked up with eyes were like twin pools of glass, the pupils the size of dinner plates and the whites thick with burst blood vessels. His skin felt hot to the touch and he was covered in a sheen of sweat. His nose, which was normally runny, was a constant stream of snot.

“Is that you, Riot?” The man mumbled, trying to focus and giving a small chuckle.

“Yes its me, what in the gods happened to you?”

“The smoke, who knew?” Clarkson exclaimed.

After some coaxing, Riot learned that after the disgrace of the battle, Colonel Worthy had ordered all contraband to be taken from the Leybound as punishment. Over six pounds of noxious Faelen weed the men smoked had been thrown onto a fire and when the wind changed the noxious smoke had blown over the regimental officers camp.

“Half of the officers are unconscious. Uncle is terribly sick from both ends. I’m here to report to command.” Clarkson tried to salute and poked himself in the eye.

Riot stifled a laugh and gave Clarkson into the charge of a passing ensign with orders to return him to his regiment. He was still grinning when he was summoned into Roveran’s office, though the smile drained from his face when he saw the stony expression of the general. Beside him, Ritta Kerne looked angry enough to chew rocks and spit gravel.

“Do you dislike me, Lieutenant Riot?” Roveran said, leaning back in his chair and fixing him with the steady gaze of his grey eyes.

Riot stood stiffly to attention, sweat dripping down the small of his back. “No my Lord.”

To the side, Ritta Kerne grunted.

“Then tell me why, even when you are placed somewhere where you could not cause me any problems, you still contrive to occupy my time?” Roveran asked.

Riot furrowed his brow. “I’m not sure I follow–” he began.

“Don’t play the dumb sergeant with us lad. The Echo, dammit!” Kerne shouted, her fists balled by her sides. “You agreed to take the Prince of the Faelen, our ally, into the damned Echo.”

“He wanted to go, better I go with him. Wikkan Deacon will be coming as well.”

Instead of soothing Kerne, this information seemed to make her even more angry. “Don’t you worry, I’ve spoken to Wikkan Deacon. What if he dies? Or is captured? Did you think of that? How long will our alliance last then? The generals will squabble and we lose a third of our fighting force.”

“I’ll make sure nothing happens to him,” Riot promised.

Roveran gazed down at his interlaced fingers. “I would like to hear your report from the battle for the gateway, Lieutenant, in your own words if you please. You may slander whomsoever you wish, your report will not leave this room.”

Riot blinked. Roveran wasn’t the type to ask off-hand questions and so he considered his words carefully. “We should have gone to support the Erudorans, but we didn’t.”

Roveran nodded, still not lifting his gaze. “Colonel Worthy’s ineptitude is noted. Continue please, anything that struck you about the encounter.”

There had been the first cavalry charge, and then a second when the strange Cetic monks had joined in. “There was another cavalry unit, with uniforms I didn’t recognise.” They charged straight for us, but it was the wrong move. They could have hit the Erudorans in the flank, the battle might have gone the other way, but they came for us.”

“The Cetic order indeed rode into battle. Why reason do you think that they might have had for this course of action?” Roveran prompted.

The golden carriage had been sat on the side of the hill catching the afternoon sun like a boil on a backside. A prime target and the reason Riot had called the retreat. “They wanted to capture the Prince?”

“The penny drops,” Kerne scoffed. “They were willing to risk losing the battle for the gateway to get him, and you just agreed to walk him right inside.”

Riot’s mind was still racing. “But there were at least a hundred of them and they weren’t there by chance. How did they know he would be there, and poorly defended?”

“How indeed?” Roveran nodded, a grim smile on his face. Looking closer, Riot saw he had large bags under his eyes. “If they have tried once before, logic dictates that they will try again. I tell you this to warn you, Riot. You will have to remain vigilant.”

“Tell Gwilhelm there’s been a change of plan. Send him through with his own regiments,” Riot suggested.

Roveran shook his head. “Prince Gwilhelm will not agree and I am facing mutiny from the Faelen generals who are accusing me of undue influence over his royal highness. One of them is also insisting that you be tried for assault.”

“I hardly touched him, Sir.”

“In any case it is a shrewd move by the Prince to keep his generals at arms length. They can scheme among themselves, using their energies to backstab each other before he arrives at Fallow.”

“Gwilhelm might be better at this that we hoped,” Kerne suggested. “The problem we have now is that someone knew where he would be, and when to strike, which means they have information from our regiments,” Kerne said.

“Isn’t that your job to find out who it is?” Riot asked.

Kerne’s black eyes rested on Riot. “It is my job. And I’m very good at it. I’m telling you so you can be careful who you trust while Gwilhelm is in your charge.”

“You will need this.” Roveran proffered a sheet of parchment and tossed a metal pennant attached to a dull chain onto the desk.

“A captaincy?” Riot read, looking up.

“Don’t think of this as a reward, Nathanial. Deacon will lead the expedition, but she can’t lead Arcanum troops, and you can’t lead a company as a lieutenant. That’s the only reason you have this,” Kerne added.

“Which company will I have?” Riot asked, trying to keep the hope out of his voice.

“I’ve found a half company for you. They’re rough, but you’ve done more with a lot less. Don’t look at me like that. At the insistence of the Prince you’ll also have Captain Leguard and several of his officers with you. I’ll need your word you’ll play nice with Leguard.”

“You have it ma’am,” Riot said. After all, Captain Leguard couldn’t give orders to Captain Riot, could he?

“This is a temporary captaincy which will end when Gwilhelm is safely installed with his own troops at Fallow,” Roveran clarified. “He must arrive at Fallow for the battle. The path of succession in Faelen houses is not clear. If he is not at the battle, then another will seize the opportunity. A cousin, a nephew, or uncle.

But his words fell on deaf ears as Riot picked up the metal pennant, thumbing the engraved word ‘captain’. It didn’t matter what they said. This was his now and he would make sure he kept it. There was more money too, captains drew nine silver dukes and five copper splits a day.

“What about the pay?”

***

The door closed on Riot and Kerne sat down heavily, rubbing her eyes. “You think he’ll be able to do it?”

Roveran was already examining the next piece of paper in the large pile next to him. “You have put the pieces on the board Ritta, and set them in motion, all we can do is see where they fall.”

“It’d be a shame to lose him. He’s been useful, he could be useful.”

Roveran moved on to the next piece of paper without looking up. “If I might be so bold Ritta, I would suggest you save your pity for anyone foolish enough to stand in his way.”