Chapter 5: The Council's Coup
Excerpt from "A History of Toulouse"
The city-state of Rabona under the leadership of the Rabona Orthodox Church remained remarkably independent, even in the Organization's era of influence in the lands of Toulouse. For years the theocratic rule of the city went unchallenged, even from within. Church-educated clerics ran the courts, appointed all military officers, wrote the law and ensured the unity of the state. This unity was finally broken by the rise of the Council of Lords in 1. A.L.E. With the Organization's threat gone, the wealthiest citizens of Rabona forced the church to not raise new taxes without their permission. When "Phantom" Miria led the surviving claymores to Rabona's aid, the leader of this new council was...
Josephine was out scouting the western lands of Lautrec when she sensed it. A faint trace of yoki alerted her, so she looked around the dense forest. There was a nearby gurgling stream, its banks overshadowed by a line of willow trees. She could sense the source of the faint yoki not far away now. It was coming from somewhere along the bank of willow trees.
Josephine moved cautiously, drawing her two-edged claymore with a gloved hand. Like all scouts, she was wearing the navy-blue leather outfit of a freelance warrior and the annoyingly required open-faced steel helmet.
She found a peaceful scene before her, a little creek gurgling by as she crouched under the swaying willow branches. A man was encamped next to a stream wearing a gray traveler's cloak and black boots. He turned around at the sound of her foot snapping a twig. The man's eyes bulged, then turned golden yellow, the pupils narrowing to snake-like slits.
She ran towards him, holding the sword back to make the killing swing, but he jumped an inhuman distance up and away from the blade as she swung. The 'man' transformed even as he landed, his arms bulging out, as did all of his body. In place of a human being was a humanoid monster with brown skin, a bulging, muscular back, sharp teeth, and claws on its hands and feet. The transformation had annihilated the clothes, leaving even the Yoma's male sexual organ exposed.
"Ugh," Josephine sniffed, "thank god you won't be alive much longer. You look hideous."
The Yoma charged, jumping across the stream towards her. It extended a hand at her, its fingers extending into long, straight points expanding at her. Josephine smiled, ducking under the attack, and with a single swing chopped off both the Yoma's right hand and head. The corpse fell away, oozing purple blood onto the ground and into the stream.
Josephine severed one of the Yoma's fingers as proof of its existence, putting it into a small black bag on her belt. She put her claymore into its back holder, and then she started running back towards Rabona to report the news when she noticed her injury and stopped. One of the Yoma's fingers hadn't missed her body after all, and had dangerously pierced into her belly.
"Crap," Josephine cursed. "Just what I needed: a possibly mortal injury. I guess there's no point in waiting to find out if it's fatal."
Josephine pulled out the finger gingerly, then as calmly as possible sealed the wound. She began healing it with yoki, although it was rather draining. It was just as Josephine was finishing the ordeal of healing that a man's voice interjected.
"Oh dear, are you alright?"
Josephine looked up to see a very tall man wearing a hood, brown shirt and green tights approach. His face was impossible to see under the hood, but he walked like a young man and there was something about his voice that made Josephine pause.
"Do I know you?"
"What a strange thing to say," the man commented. "You look like you need my help. I'll bring by my flat cart and get you back to my house. My wife is handy at helping with these sorts of things."
Josephine was about to object when her head began to feel light and everything went dark.
There were voices in the dark as Josephine listened through a haze. If she concentrated enough it might be possible to hear them. A male voice cut through the haze in bits and pieces.
"...awfully weak, that girl is. I wonder if she's ever healed a wound like that before..."
A woman's voice joined in, though a little less sympathetic, "She should've eaten more, just look at her, half-starving herself to be lighter and faster..."
The conversation dissolved into yet another haze, and Josephine eventually fell back into a pleasant sleep. She half awoke to the pair of voices, with the female's leading off.
"Go back? Why would we go back? You want me to go back on all fours to beg forgiveness for being an apostate too?"
"We don't just have to worry about ourselves dear," the man interjected. "King Charles' troops just entered into this lake valley. If we hurry, we can get to the Kerouac Gorge in a week."
"I don't know," the woman wavered.
Josephine would've given anything to hear just a bit more, but her mind was not yet whole, and her consciousness slipped back into the comforting dark.
There it remained for awhile further, but suddenly the dark began to recede, and the voices came back.
"It's always the same. No matter how altruistic her aims are, we both know she likes power and has ambitions to use it," the woman said.
"Yes, but from what we've heard they've been for good. Come on, you're beginning to sound jealous of her success sweetheart," the man said, making his rebuttal.
As Josephine listened, the voices slowly emerged from a haze and became ever clearer.
"I am not," the woman said defensively, "and anyways, we both know she likes being in control without any interference. How long do you propose the situation in-"
"Hold it," the man said.
Josephine felt a nudge on her right shoulder, and abruptly she opened her eyes to find a hooded man and woman wearing long green robes in a small wooden cottage. The woman was far smaller than the man, and busily tending to a steaming pot of soup.
"You were asleep these last two days," the man said, "I was beginning to wonder if you would ever wake up."
"We patched up your uniform," the woman said, just as mysterious and unknowable, "you should eat and rest awhile before taking off."
"Thanks," Josephine replied, looking between the mysterious couple, "My name's Josephine, what are yours?"
"Ah well," the hooded man stammered, then paused as if thinking, "I'm Rafael de Lautrec. This is my wife...Clarissa de Lautrec."
The hooded woman seemed to be giving her husband a hard look but said nothing. Josephine ate all the assorted fruits, meats and bread on the platter beside the large bed she was in. She was just finishing when the man spoke up.
"You had best get going; this lake valley is secluded but King Charles' troops are starting to enter it, and he's put a price on the heads of all claymores," the man warned.
"Did you see any of them heading east, past the borderlands?"
"Well, there was a large column of them to the north I saw, but they were heading through the Sistine Pass, way north of the Kerouac Gorge," the very tall man divulged.
"Thanks for everything, and goodbye," Josephine said, grabbing her sword and running out the door before either man or wife could say anything more.
Josephine exited the house at full speed, running some distance along the picturesque lakeside before heading up the valley's eastern hills. She kept going, aiming straight for the Kerouac Gorge. Thankfully she still had some caution, and managed to see that the spectacular mountain pass was being guarded by enemy soldiers and plenty of archers.
Knowing she needed to get back to Miria and warn her of the attack in time, Josephine decided to risk an over-mountain trip. It took just over a day to scale the peaks and descend again, finally in sight of the ever-growing Rabona and its innumerable croplands around it. As Josephine clambered down the last outcropping of rock, it was just possible to see the morning's light strike the Teresian Cathedral's three spires.
Josephine descended into the Borderland Forest, where the first five miles of forest flew by as she dodged trees and avoided sharp rocks. She was almost to the central flood plains of Rabona when she smelled large numbers of sweaty men. Josephine had to slow down, and noticed, rounding a tree to peek, a work crew of men chopping down trees everywhere in sight. The men numbered in the hundreds, and they were all unarmed. It looked like she could risk it until she saw a squad of ten archers in red-plumed caps not far away. She edged away from the men and back into the forest.
Josephine tried to get around the men, and struck north at a cautious speed, sneaking through the treetops to the north. A patrol of ten cavalrymen rushed by below her; when they passed, she jumped to the next tree. The further along Josephine went, the more evident that there was no break in the camps of soldiers. She could hear fires crackling in the distance, the loud talking of soldiers all around, the felling of trees still further away.
Josephine snuck through the area at a snail's pace, so much so it was dusk before she could see the central flood plains stretching out before her.
"At last," she sighed.
Josephine paused to consider the mysterious couple who'd helped her, Rafael and Clarissa de Lautrec. There was something maddeningly familiar about the two of them in Josephine's mind. It was when she thought about the woman's reaction to being called "Clarissa" that Josephine realized who she'd run into.
"I can't believe I nearly fell for that," Josephine muttered. "Miria isn't going to believe this."
Josephine jumped into the last tree's branches, nearly falling when the branch cracked beneath her feet. She swung over just in time onto a sturdier branch, and sighed in relief, hanging six stories above the ground. She swung up and clambered through the tree as quietly as she could. She could hear a few birds chirping to her left and right. Then she realized that there were no birds chirping the entire previous time. She looked around and ducked as a small object sailed past her. It hit the branch above her. She turned to look and found a white-feathered arrow embedded into the branch.
Shit," Josephine muttered. She spotted the archer down below. He was drawing out yet another arrow out of a hefty quiver on his back.
Josephine ran down the tree, scratching herself several times. She didn't care though, as several other arrows narrowly missed her head as she rushed. When she was three stories above open, flat ground, she jumped down, landing like a cat. Several archers came into view around her, and fired shots as Josephine began an all-out sprint for the field.
Josephine got hit in the left leg, but she kept going despite the intense pain. The archers' shots were straying further from her as she picked up speed. The field was beneath Josephine's feet, and distantly she could just make out the spire of Rabona's main cathedral. Hope pushed her on now, despite the arrow wound bleeding being worsened by her running. She could feel the warm blood trickle down her leg, and chanced a glance behind. No matter what, Josephine decided, she had to make it to Rabona to carry both the news of the attack and of her extraordinary discovery.
Nearly a half mile back was a dozen archers running after her from the woods. She was safe. Josephine kept going, but at a more leisurely pace. She ran towards a gentle hilltop another mile away to get a better view of her surroundings. She felt the sweat drip from her face as she jogged with an awkward limp up its side. At last she made it up to the hilltop when she heard the words, "fire at her!"
"Ahh, this is the life, isn't it Renée ?"
Renée looked over from her massage table to the curly-haired Nadia beside her, who was lying belly down on a long wood table wearing nothing other than a towel. Nadia was getting a massage from another claymore, thin, coif-haired Camilla, who was standing up, completely nude.
A pressing of hands into Renée 's own back snapped her attention away from Camilla to enjoying her own massage.
"A little to the left Helen," Renée instructed her masseuse.
"Yes your imperiousness," Helen mocked.
They were in Rabona's old tower, which, as they had discovered, had all sorts of uses when given some renovations. The tower was some six stories tall, and came complete with a one-story tall outer wall and a modest square beneath it. The tower was situated at the western end of Rabona's innermost urban fortress, alongside the eastern banks of Rabona's main canal. The tower even had a basement to store meats, beer, wine, and other types of food.
The first floor of Rabona's old keep was used primarily as a storehouse for weapons, armor, training weapons, and even functioned as a small barracks. The second floor featured kitchens and a sizable dining hall. Above the kitchens and dining hall were the living quarters, which had to be extensively renovated. The entire third and fourth floors and part of the fifth had been given over to housing the girls, often two or three to a room.
Natalie had briefly roomed with Miria until Galatea's intervention, and now roomed with Nadia's current masseuse, Camilla. The three married girls, Julia, Alessandra, and Nadia, had moved across the street alongside Miria in nearby block houses with their husbands. The fifth floor, unlike the fourth floor, was mostly given over to classrooms. At the far eastern end was Miria's office, which had a balcony looking out onto the square below and a great view of the city. The sixth floor had only recently been converted, with a number of rooms being made into luxurious bedrooms. About a quarter of the space however was given over to where she was now with Helen, Nadia, and Camilla: the baths.
The baths were not an original feature of Rabona's old keep. Captain Virginia was responsible for the design and construction of the baths, and urged into it by Camilla, Virginia's cousin. The girls had become agitated they could not find clean water to bathe in or drink when they arrived in Rabona. In fact, much of the canal water below was laced with feces and urine from chamber pots upstream. To solve their problem, Virginia came up with the idea of filtering the water and boiling it.
It started with a paddlewheel powered by the canal's current, which in turn moved a small scoop-line that hoisted water eight stories above and dumped it into a large tank on the keep's roof. The tank featured numerous filters built in, ingenuously using gravity and filters to clean the water effortlessly. From there the tank's water went down to the sixth floor, where a set of furnaces then heated the piped water. The resulting hot water was piped into the bath room, where it filled a long rectangular steel tub. The tub then drained through tiny pipes emptying into the canal below.
The steam rising from the tub now was coating the room in a haze, which was not hard to be reminded of as it precipitated onto Helen's nude breasts before Renée 's eyes.
"Come on Helen," Renée sighed. "You know it was Miria's decision to make me a Commander, not mine."
"Ah don't worry yourself Renée ," Nadia joined in, looking over, "Helen's not really annoyed at you. She's just annoyed that Ruud van Willems won't leave his wife for her."
"That is a total lie!"
All three of them turned to look at Helen with an air of amused disbelief.
"Sure I banged the guy a few times," Helen admitted, "but that was a one-time thing!"
Nadia kept up the interrogative approach; "Oh really, and I'm sure you don't find the newly-minted Lord van Willems devilishly handsome, do you?"
"Of course he's devilishly handsome," Helen said, sounding aggrieved, "I wouldn't have slept with him if he weren't handsome."
"So then Helen," Nadia went on, smiling, "what would you call a girl winking at Lord van Willems, blowing him a kiss, and then making certain his wife saw it?"
Helen hesitated, and abruptly Renée realized watching the interaction between the two that Nadia had just asked a loaded question.
"I'd call her his mistress," Helen said opaquely.
"I'd call her a professional home-wrecker," Nadia said with a dangerous edge, "the kind I keep my Raul away from. I've got a note from one such home-wrecker right here."
Helen leaped upon Nadia almost immediately, trying to dislodge the note from Nadia's right arm. Renée watched a moment as they struggled before Camilla jumped in. Helen had pinned Nadia to the massage table, the back of Nadia's head squished between Helen's breasts and the restraining hold of Helen's left arm. Camilla grabbed Helen's right arm, holding it back just enough to keep Helen from grabbing the note.
Having seen enough of the risqué but annoying struggle of three nude girls sandwiched atop one another, Renée solved the situation by grabbing the note from Nadia's hand. Helen got off Nadia immediately and rounded upon her.
"Give me the note, Renée ," Helen demanded, sounding seriously peeved.
"Fine, but the next time this happens you two," Renée wagged a finger at both Nadia and Helen, both dripping nude and breathless, "I'll report it to Virginia."
"Ah," was all Nadia managed.
Helen reacted by silently walking to the room's exit, then slamming the door upon leaving.
"Nadia," Renée testily remonstrated, "what the hell were you doing?"
"Just giving Helen her just desserts for sleeping around," Nadia admitted forthrightly. "You're not honestly going to tell me you're siding with Helen, are you Renée ?"
"Of course I'm not. I'm well aware that Helen has a very bad habit of seducing and bedding married men, Nadia. I'm aware that she got Alessandra's husband Emanuel drunk and slept with him when we were back in Pieta. I know that Helen made a pass at your husband, and I'm aware that Helen's trying to get back together with Ruud. I just don't think starting a fight with Helen will work when everyone knows Helen would win."
Camilla asked, "Could you blame Helen if she passed on Julia's man?"
"No, I can't imagine I'd blame anyone for doing that," Nadia laughed along with both Camilla and Renée .
"Well, so much for massages, how about we clean up before dinner?"
"No disagreements here Renée ," Nadia smiled.
The room was segmented between the 20-foot long rectangular bath on one half of the room, and the sauna benches and solid wood massage tables on the other. The sun was creeping onto the room's tiled floor from the west, bathing the room in sunlight from two arched windows high overhead. The walls were also tiled and numerous metal drains could be found throughout the very warm room as they walked over to the steaming bath.
Nadia slipped in quickly, the water coming up just beneath Nadia's well-rounded but not perky breasts. Renée slipped in on the other side while Camilla gingerly slid into the rounded far end.
Nadia queried, "I don't suppose you know where the Ile de poires is, do you Renée ?"
"Oh, you mean that island in the middle of the Toulouse River around a mile south of Rabona? What of it?"
"I had this dream of us owning that island someday," Nadia sighed as Camilla began throwing soap into the bath.
"Well, keep dreaming Nadia. Both of us make 800 Francs a year each as Commanders and that island is listed at over a 100,000 Francs."
The bath was filling rapidly with soap suds, covering them up to their necks.
Camilla joined in; "You remember when Cid claimed he accidentally walked in on twenty of us bathing?"
"Thankfully he found Miria with us to 'rescue him from almost certain temptation," Nadia laughed, crying tears of laughter and smiling. "I can't remember seeing Miria so badly embarrassed and annoyed at the same time before."
Renée abruptly sensed something wrong as a yoki approached Rabona from the west.
"Miata," Renée breathed.
Renée closed her eyes, oblivious to Nadia and Camilla, and soon the world revealed itself anew. There were over thirty blazing lights of yoki around them; most downstairs, although Miria shielded hers so well it was difficult to tell where Miria was. The yokis looked a lot like constant sources of light in a sea of darkness, each waxing and waning as emotions poured over them.
Miata's yoki was easy to sense; its strength so overwhelming it was difficult to sense anything around it. It was not hard to read; Miata radiated fear, uncertainty, a sense of loss, and desperation.
"Renée ?"
Renée opened her eyes to find Nadia's head before her.
"It's Miata, she's in distress. Come on, we've got to shower all this suds off and find out what's going on."
They lined up underneath the showers, and then Camilla flicked a switch that would allow the steaming water out to wash away the suds on their nude bodies. They washed off within seconds, smelling far better than before, and rushed over to the changing room to find their navy-blue leather outfits dry and ready to wear. Camilla grabbed half a dozen white towels and threw four of them towards her and Nadia.
It took a half minute to dry off, although she didn't have time to correctly dry her wet braided hair. Renée put on her own outfit, fitting the top over her breasts, and then zippered it skin-tight. She was putting on the skirt when Natalie walked into the changing room to find them mostly dressed.
"Uh, Renée , can I ask you something?"
"Not now, there's been a serious incident," Renée said, exasperated. "We're going downstairs to meet Miata and find out what happened."
There came a general chorus of shrieking and angry yelling from below them. Renée bolted past Natalie, running down the narrow, curving stone staircase as fast as she could with Camilla and Nadia trailing. Renée reached the floor where the yokis were beginning to spike in stress and opened the door to the second floor of the tower, and found Miria pacing, looking furious.
"What's happened?"
Miria looked at them, and they noticed all around them in the hallway were a dozen warriors, all looking sullen, crying or pissed off.
"Josephine was killed by two arrows through the forehead out scouting today," Miria answered, her spiky bangs fluttering as she paced. "Captain Tabitha and the Elite Guard found her dead early tonight roughly 9 miles west of here. It seems King Charles' forces are on the move to encircle us and starve us of food and war supplies."
Camilla gasped, "What?"
Camilla then sunk to her feet, sobbing against Renée 's leg. Camilla was soon dragged off to sob uncontrollably out of both sight and sound.
There had not been much talking after Colonel Miria's order to get into their armor. Armor was a new thing for silver-eyed warriors. However, as Cynthia had so unfortunately learned, an arrow was equally lethal to claymores whether through the heart or the head. Thus Miria had ordered that every warrior was to be armored once she took over Rabona's military.
Renée grabbed her own mail shirt and shoved her arms and head into it. It was a snug fit. With the help of two soldiers, she fastened on her breastplate, a backplate with a cape attached to it, leg-protecting tassets, gauntlets, elbow protectors, and steel combat boots. She fitted a belt around her waist, and then a pair of male soldiers attached the gold-gilded pauldrons onto her shoulders. Renée admired the armor a moment before grabbing her white-plumed steel helmet.
The two dozen other warriors readying themselves in the first floor armory room were mostly silent. When they finished Miria appeared before them, doing a quick inspection and then stood to address them. Miria was armored much the same as Renée , except her armor she had unnecessary leg armor and gold-gilded gauntlets to emphasize her status as commander.
"Let's go officers," Miria snapped, walking hurriedly out of the armory.
They all ran after her into the low brick-walled courtyard of the great tower but Miria suddenly stopped cold. There, standing at the gates to Rabona's citadel, chatting with the guards, was a nun with milky white eyes and long blond hair in a blue nun's uniform. They ran up to the gate when they noticed the nun was carrying a claymore upon her back.
"I'm truly sorry, but I can't let you run off just yet," the nun declared.
"Sister Galatea," Colonel Miria snapped, "what is the meaning of this?"
"The Holy Council wishes for you and your warriors to appear before it at the Teresian Cathedral immediately," Galatea stated, sounding regretful.
"We don't have time for this nonsense Galatea," Miria snapped, looking imperious in her helmet and armor. "King Charles' forces are encircling Rabona, and according to my scouts all 10,000 of them are fortifying a defensive line around the city. In very short order they will be in the position to starve us into submission without having to kill anyone."
"You swore an oath to serve the Holy Council, Colonel, do you not remember?"
There was a dangerous hint in the tone of Galatea's voice.
Renée could see Miria's eyes narrow, "What is it the Holy Council wants?"
Sister Galatea motioned to the well-armored company of golden-caped soldiers behind her, all of whom looked tense. "We are here to escort you Colonel, and one other of your warriors to stand before the Holy Council. They will explain the situation to you there," Galatea explained. "I'm instructed to use force if you refuse."
Miria shook her fist at Galatea, "Have you gone out of your mind? We'll all die if we do nothing Galatea. Do you really care—"
Galatea cut off the conversation by placing her hand on the claymore's black grip.
"So is it resistance then?"
Renée , like the others, looked to Miria, who was warily eying Galatea's company of soldiers.
Miria turned around, "Renée , you'll come with me, the rest of you stay here under Commander Nadia's orders. Don't move until I come back," Miria declared.
The meeting with the Holy Council went about as well as Renée expected, with Colonel Miria a simmering mass of righteous anger restrained by the occasion. The meeting had started on a bad note, as Bishop Vincent, Sister Galatea, and the four other male priests had asked them to dangerously give up their weapons. Miria had flatly refused, which was reasonable considering they were surrounded by the well-trained Bishop's Guard and Galatea, who had her claymore fastened to her back. Eventually the soldiers simply gave up; they were convinced Galatea's presence would deter anything.
Bishop Vincent rose to conclude the meeting.
"I'm afraid a military attack upon the poor souls of King Charles' army would be an affront to the teachings of God. Killing their poor souls not in defense but in an attack would be a sin without parallel in God's eyes. I am afraid I must forbid it," Bishop Vincent declared, looking sad but firm.
Renée and Miria were on one knee in deference to his authority; it was the price they had paid to become officers under the church.
"Bishop Vincent," Renée pleaded, "surely you must see that if we do nothing the people will likely all starve and fall into that barbarian army's hands."
Miria looked over at her, her helmet off and her hair frazzled.
"Commander Renée , you must understand, there is no choice in this for you or for us. It is God's will. Now please, leave us be. The Holy Council has much to discuss about the situation. Oh, and congratulate your new Lieutenant Colonel Francois Galacon when you return. We've just appointed him as Colonel Miria's second-in-command."
They walked down the streets afterwards escorted by no one but their own despair. Miria was holding off tears, her eyes obviously moist. Neither of them spoke a word until they got back to the gate to their old tower's courtyard. A tall man and some nine of his unusually cloaked and masked compatriots were waiting. The tall man stepped forward to address them.
"Colonel Miria, we have a proposition to make to you," he offered. His face was obscured by a black mask and the low, flickering light of the torches attached to the gate.
"Ruud van Willems, is that you?"
Miria asked, evidently a little too loudly, as some of the men shushed Miria.
"My lady, I must ask you to be quieter. I apologize for my earlier behavior," Willems said, making a small bow to Miria and Renée .
Miria asked quietly, "What's this little group you've gathered here?"
"We are members of the Rabona Council of Lords. We approve all taxes the Rabona Orthodox Church levies on the citizens," Ruud van Willems answered.
Miria went on, "So what brings you to us?"
"My peers and I are willing to help you neutralize the opposition to your mobilization of the army. All we ask is for you to keep the Holy Guards outside of Rabona's walls," Willems explained.
They looked around, and seeing no one, they continued talking low.
Miria perceptively asked, "So then, will this involve any killing, or be a bloodless affair?"
"Bloodless," another masked Lord spoke up. "Well, at least as far as is possible. If the Bishop's Guard attacks, then there may be some fighting. But it won't be enough to stop us. We will be mobilizing armed mobs of supporters demanding a vigorous defense of the city."
Renée inquired, "And if they should refuse?"
Miria glanced at her, as did the other masked Lords.
"That's why you must keep the Holy Guards where they are. If you give us 24 hours to secure a deal with the Holy Council, we guarantee you they will see sense," Willems explained.
"What kind of 'sense' will this be?"
"The necessary kind Commander Renée ," Willems stated, sounding sure. "The Council of Lords will leave the law-making, tax-collection and administration of the city to the church. But they will be forced to give up their command of the Holy Guards. We will allow the Holy Council to retain its 2 Bishop's Guard companies, but the Holy Guards will be under our command."
"You do realize you're talking about a coup d'état," Miria half-asked, half-stated.
"Perfectly," Willems answered, his voice energized.
Miria looked up at the tower and then back at the masked company of Lords.
Miria demanded, "What will happen to the Holy Guards and my warriors?"
"We will rename the Holy Guards the 'Army of Rabona', and we will name you its Major General," Willems explained. "Your officers and men will otherwise be untampered with, and you will not be called on to crush any rebellion in the city."
"You make a persuasive case Lord Willems," Miria smiled. "How soon can you move?"
"Tomorrow," the Lords all answered in unison.
"We've got 1000 men gathered Lord Mayor Zaehringen," Ruud van Willems told the cloak-wearing leader of the Council of Lords, both of them looking over at the triple-spired and heavily guarded Teresian Cathedral opposite the Lord Mayor's residence in Rabona's central square.
Zaehringen smiled, "Good, that ought to do against 200 Bishop's Guards, don't you think so Lord van Willems?"
Willems was not sure how to answer as he turned to the small, black cloak-clad Zaehringen.
"We promised Colonel Miria that there would be no violence," he objected to Zaehringen.
Zaehringen completed his turn, revealing a charming face, gray eyes, and a finely trimmed beard, which covered Zaehringen's cheeks and lower chin.
"We promised Phantom Miria and then added caveats," Zaehringen stated, smiling.
"But we promised-"
"I am well aware what we promised Ruud," Zaehringen huffed, annoyed. "The fact is if we do not use force against the church, they will never negotiate. A fine thing that would be; the church may have little respect for property, but a warlord king would have no respect for property."
"The Colonel isn't going to be happy with us-"
"I damned well get the point Ruud," Zaehringen yelled, inadvertently drawing the attention of several of the Bishop's Guard across the square.
"Lord Mayor, it'd be best to avoid attracting too much attention," Ruud reminded his superior.
They sat down in some chairs underneath the precipice of the Lord Mayor's residence, which was a masterpiece of Gothic architecture. It stood six stories high, with a ten story spire adorned with hundreds of miniature gargoyles. The roof was a beautiful red-green mix of colored patterns, and the building a beautiful russet red, its arched windows and fanciful gargoyle waterspouts giving it a gorgeous appearance.
The sun's light was fading as dusk approached, the city's square slowly getting dark. The square itself contained the large quad-winged Teresian Cathedral, with the cathedral's grand entrance wing facing them. Two large church spires ascending 20 stories into the sky complemented this wing, while the cathedral itself was ten stories high at the roof, and was architecturally similar to the Lord Mayor's residence in its Gothic style. It dominated the square, its twin iron doors and grand entrance looking out on the Lord Mayor's residence opposite it and six-story homes belonging to the town's elite.
"When dusk falls, you know what happens normally in this city Ruud?"
Zaehringen asked as residents scurried quickly into homes and out of the streets.
Zaehringen never gave Willems enough time to answer, "Fear sinks in, because the Bishops of Rabona for over five hundred years have put more value in protecting the houses of worship with their own flocks. Merchants are robbed in the night, houses broken into with impunity, women out late are raped, and all of this behind the 'safety' of the city's vaunted walls. Bishop Vincent may be a compassionate man, but he labors in the safety of the cathedral and churches."
"His sin is not unique Lord Mayor, perhaps if we were to attempt to negotiate with him-"
Zaehringen, his faced riddled with wrinkles and his beard's brown hair mixed with gray, nevertheless managed to look intimidating as he glared at him, "Ruud, when the Council of Lords forced the church to give up absolute power a year ago, do you remember what we did?"
"We used force," Willems admitted, "by sponsoring mobs that besieged the other churches in Rabona, and because the Bishop's Guard couldn't protect them all, they compromised."
"Exactly," Zaehringen smiled.
"It won't work a second time you know Lord Mayor. Bishop Vincent came to power after that incident and made the decision to focus everything on protecting the Teresian Cathedral. There's not a mob in Rabona capable of single-handedly taking down 200 well-armed Bishop's Guardsmen though. So how is it we are going to overthrow the church, now that the army's outside the city walls?"
In the square's center were five large obelisks, each rimmed on their bases by four large torches each. They lit the cobblestone square enough to reveal the presence of some fifty Bishop's Guards on patrol immediately before the grand entrance, and more patrolling around the church further away.
"As the night falls, the curtain will rise on the final act," Zaehringen stated. "When the fireflies emerge, the time to act will be certain," Zaehringen said almost poetically.
"Lord Mayor?"
A building roar of human voices and trampling feet could be heard in the far distance, and several of the Bishop's Guards looked askance and uncertain. In the square, far from the obelisks' torches, a small flash of yellow light blinked. Another followed far above, near the residence's spire, and soon dozens, then hundreds of beautiful yellow flashes lit up around the square.
"Beautiful creatures aren't they, Ruud?" Zaehringen asked. "Fireflies are said to be the harbingers of change, as day turns to the night, they bring with it a new era."
Abruptly a whistling sang through the air, and half a dozen Bishop's Guardsmen fell to the cobblestones, their armor pierced by arrows. Shouts rang out as the guardsmen regrouped, falling back towards the cathedral's sheltering walls as hundreds of arrows shot in from all direction from newly emerged archers on the roofs of neighboring buildings. Several dozen guardsmen formed a shield wall near the grand entrance as other guardsmen came out wielding bows.
"Now there's a surprise," Zaehringen murmured as they watched. "The church has changed so much they're even willing to use heretical weapons like projectiles."
The night was filled with the screams of the wounded and dying, the shouts of those engaged in life-and-death ranged combat, and angry words, all of it intermixed with the beautiful light of thousands of fireflies. Willems could do nothing but sit and listen to Lord Mayor Zaehringen as another hundred guardsmen emerged from the cathedral, their numbers beginning to turn the tide.
Willems asked Zaehringen, "Surely that's not all we have?"
"You hear that low rumble of feet and voices in the distance Ruud, that's the mob of 1000 concerned citizens the Council of Lords convinced to support us," Zaehringen explained, smiling. "In the interests of not starving to death under the bizarrely militant pacifism of the church, they agreed to support the Council's overthrow of church rule in return for weapons and money."
The roar and stamping of feet grew louder, seemingly coming from all sides as he listened. Then abruptly separate mobs of torch and spear-wielding civilians, most of whom he saw being middle-aged, ran into square from all four streets feeding into it, and others charged towards the cathedral in the distance from other side streets. Some of the citizens were even women, and while none of them possessed anything beyond rudimentary armor, their swords, spears and axes seemed well beyond civilian means.
"My god," Willems whispered in horrified awe as the first wave hit the guardsmen, both sides engaged in a brutal close-quarters combat. While the first wave was being devastated by the superior armor, arms and training of the guardsmen, another wave hit them of screaming, furious peasants shouting, "Down with the church!"
The guardsmen were putting up a hell of a fight, a point emphatically emphasized when an archer on Zaehringen's residence fell off the roof, smashing the table they were seated around, an arrow sticking out of the man's blond-haired head.
"Damn," Willems cursed as he leapt away in alarm. Zaehringen in contrast scarcely flinched.
"Keep your nerve Lord van Willems, and you'll soon see, one way or another, our numbers will prevail," Zaehringen said, as two of his servants ran forward, hoisted the dead man's body away, and ran back into the residence. A second later another table was brought forward, and Zaehringen motioned for him to take a seat, which he reluctantly did.
"Why aren't we fighting as well?"
"Call it proper caution Ruud," Zaehringen explained, "their last card has just come into play."
"I don't follow-"
Abruptly a nun dressed in blue and armed with an immense sword ran out from the church. After taking awhile to ascertain the situation, the nun cleaved a peasant in two who was about to run through a guardsmen with a spear.
"What the hell?" Willems shouted, "Isn't she supposed to be totally blind?"
Even as many of the guardsmen were being overwhelmed, the peasants shied away from engaging the former claymore Galatea, around whose presence the guardsmen regrouped. Even as they watched peasants were turning to run as Galatea turned towards where the guardsmen needed help. With an escort of thirty guardsmen, Galatea charged to the right of the cathedral's grand entrance into a massive mob of peasants attacking a modest contingent of guardsmen.
Zaehringen whistled, and suddenly the peasants disengaged, falling back even as the guardsmen stayed where they were. Dozens of peasants and guardsmen lay dead, the former far more than the latter, but there were plenty of wounded guardsmen left behind as well, many groaning in pain.
"What are we going to do now?"
Zaehringen pursed his lips as the peasants reformed into a line before them and the rooftop archers continued their bombardment.
"It's obvious to me we won't take the church with Galatea anywhere nearby," Zaehringen bitterly said, "I had hoped her vision was completely gone, but evidently close up it's enough to distinguish friend from foe. We'll have everyone wait here, and we'll besiege the cathedral."
"And if Galatea manages to smuggle out a message past our men to the army?"
"That's where Phantom Miria's Elite Guard comes in," Zaehringen noted wryly, grinning in spite of the setbacks.
"You have done well sister Galatea," Father Mazarin addressed her, his face fuzzy and colorless in her sight despite him being three feet away.
"I scarcely merit the praise," Galatea sighed.
She was looking at the fuzzy details of what was the belfry of the Teresian Cathedral's southwestern tower. It overlooked the grand entrance, which was situated to the left.
"How far can you see out there?"
"At most twenty feet, beyond that everything's a giant blur, and I can't discern colors or see the details of faces beyond five feet. It was somewhat hard to distinguish our guards from the rebels, and I can't see the archers at all," she sighed. "The best I could do is to run through their lines and back."
"Exactly," Mazarin agreed. "Sister Latea, we are preparing to have you carry Father Mohr as a messenger. Once he gets to a safe place, drop him off and he'll bring a message to the army, and this will all be over."
Galatea agreed, "Alright, but is Father Mohr prepared for jumping over the rooftops with me?"
Mazarin said, sounding impatient, "Father Mohr, are you ready?"
"With god's grace I am," Father Mohr's voice interjected.
Galatea could just make out Father Mohr's beard as he came very close. She dropped to one knee as Mohr wrapped his arms around her neck and his legs around her hips.
"Guardsmen," Father Mazarin shouted to some other men whose blurred silhouettes looked armored, "prepare to open fire on those rooftop heretics. We need to give the sister as safe a passage as possible over the rooftops. Sister, grab this rope, you're going to swing down to the roofs below. Sergeant, please tie Father Mohr tight to the sister so that he may safely accompany her," Mazarin instructed in a loud, bellicose voice.
The guards began firing below onto the roofs, judging by the twangs of released bow strings and screams she heard below. Galatea stood up as Mohr was secured to her, and already she could feel his sweat dropping onto her legs.
Galatea grabbed the rope Mazarin gave her, positioned herself in what seemed the open side of the belfry, and then, as Father Mohr clutched her neck hard, she swung herself down. Fear surged through her body as she swung into the blurry details of a town at night, but on this occasion, Galatea had some luck. Flecks of light were being emitted all over by fireflies, and shortly before the rope swung upwards one gave enough light off to be reflected from the roof below.
Galatea let go and made a skidding landing, but eventually stopped safely while Father Mohr screamed. Finding her footing, she began running towards where Mohr pointed, arrows whistling through the air around them. Galatea jumped over several different rooftops and chimneys when a man's dark silhouette charged towards them. Since she was carrying Father Mohr, she carried no weapons save her fists. Luck however was on her side, as the man toppled over and off the roof, an arrow felling him moments before he was upon her.
Galatea kept running into the dark night, Mohr clutching tight now, but the ropes were loosening regardless, and Mohr shifted his grip as she made a final jump down into an open area far from where she thought the cathedral was. When she landed, she found Mohr's hands clutching around her breasts in desperation not to fall off. She knocked him off unceremoniously, and she turned around.
"I understand your desperation not to fall off, but for God's sake, any mention of where your hands accidentally went and you'll wish you never said anything at all," Galatea threatened him.
Mohr raised his hands meekly, appearing to profess his innocent intent. "I completely agree sister, and I do apologize. I do have one question before I leave for the army headquarters."
"Yes, what is it?"
Mohr hesitated, "Well," he began, "what if Colonel Miria refuses to help?"
Galatea's response surprised even herself, "If she betrays God's church, I'll kill her myself."
The bearded man stood no chance as he ran out onto the northernmost bridge over the Toulouse River. He was wearing a priest's uniform and was clutching a sealed message cylinder.
"Miata," Tabitha ordered, "knock him out, gently if possible."
Miata saluted, "Of course Ma'am."
They were standing on the western bank of the Toulouse River, watching for signs of church messengers sneaking out of the city. Miata scarcely wasted any time and tore off at an all-out run north, and in seconds encountered the priest, who looked grateful to see her.
When Miata charged forward instead of peacefully greeting him, the priest showed a moment's fear, and then Miata's flying kick knocked him down and unconscious. Tabitha hustled over to where Miata was, trailed by the athletic, tall Ursula, another member of the Elite Guard. Ursula hoisted the priest over her shoulders and ran off into the night towards the Elite Guard's nearby camp.
Miata asked, "Where's she taking him?"
"Sergeant Ursula is taking the priest back to be drugged by Corporal Julia," she told Miata, whose growth had pushed past her own height now, but was not yet especially womanly in features yet.
Miata asked, "Are you sure we're doing the right thing?"
"When Colonel Miria has made decisions in the past, they have always been the right ones. She helped save me and five other comrades from death during the Northern War, she trained us for seven years, then after that she revealed the truth about the Organization and overthrew it. Colonel Miria has always been on the correct, and in my opinion, she always will be," Tabitha answered Miata frankly.
"But what if Miria makes a mistake?"
"Colonel Miria doesn't make mistakes, ever, period," Tabitha yelled at Miata, who cringed.
Another claymore ran up wearing navy-blue leather and steel pauldrons, her short pixy-cut hair distinguishing her easily from Miata, who was the same height.
"Sergeant Alessandra reporting in," the warrior said matter-of-factly, "We have drugged, sedated and detained all of the army's chaplains. Corporal Katrin said that she's captured another messenger exiting the southern gates, and will be bringing him to camp."
"It sounds like the coup is going as planned. Lieutenant Miata, you will take Katrin's place at the southern walls and capture any messengers slipping out of the city. Corporal Alessandra, you'll remain here and patrol, and Sergeant Ursula should be back shortly to back you up," Tabitha ordered Miata and Alessandra. "In the meantime I will be reporting our efforts to Commander Renée and then return to watching the western walls."
"Let me put it to you clearly Cid dear," Miria stated, "you're either not going to interfere, or I'll be forced to put you in irons."
Cid was seated in the command tent of the army, its expansive interior lit by several candles. Miria was seated before a makeshift table, a map of Rabona and its surroundings upon the table, marked full of enemy troop concentrations in black ink. The army and the command tent were located outside the city, where she'd kept them in order to give the Council of Lords the breathing room they needed to overthrow the incompetent, suicidal Holy Council's military command.
"Miria, look, I've done a lot of things for you in my life, but standing by while you allow a coup d'état by the Council of Lords was not what I imagined that to mean," Cid complained. "I swore an oath to the church to defend it, how can I preserve my honor now by betraying them?"
Miria walked forward and sat down before Cid upon a chair facing away from him.
"I'm not asking you to do this just for me, Cid. Think of the people who are depending on the army saving Rabona," Miria said sympathetically.
Cid looked her in the face, "Do you really have to overthrow the church to do it though?"
Miria reasoned, "You know we have to act or else that barbarian king will take this city without a fight. I'm not a bad person, nor are the people of the church, but for the sake of Rabona's people I have to fight. I need to know if you're with me. Are you going to be my man or the church's man?"
Behaving like this with Cid wasn't her ideal choice, but she needed to know his loyalties and to find out just how deep his love for her would take him.
Cid blushed and then bit his lip, "I don't know if I can agree to this. Plus I'm not sure you should be offering me marriage when things are so—"
"Cid," Miria huffed. "I need to know now."
Cid's shoulders slumped, "Alright Miria, you've got your man."
Miria smiled, "Thank you dear."
She got off her chair, pushed it to the side, settled into Cid's lap, and leaned in. Cid's lips met hers and they shared a passionate embrace.
It was during this this moment that Natalie awkwardly walked in on them. Cid knocked her off his hips before Natalie could notice. Miria fell to the ground on her back as Cid's cheeks turned a bright red. Miria in the meantime was hidden from Natalie's view by the table.
"Hey," Natalie informally addressed Cid, "I was wondering if you would like one of Miria's kittens, Captain Malaga."
Cid tried not to blush, but evidently had other things on his mind, as he was busily crossing his legs and looking uncomfortable.
"That's very kind of you to offer Natalie, but..."
"Awww, but just look at them!"
Miria couldn't see the kittens from under the table, so the conversation seemed strange. She could see the mother cat pawing furiously at Natalie's left leg though. It was "Miria", Natalie's pet orange tabby-cat.
"But Miria makes really special kittens," Natalie pleaded. "Don't you want just one of her kittens?"
Cid by now was evidently suppressing a rush of blood to his extremities, as he anxiously crossed his armored legs over a third time, squirming.
"Well I suppose one would be alright," he winked as he accepted an orange-and-black spotted kitten so young its eyes hadn't opened yet. "But you shouldn't take them away from their mother when they're so young. How about later," he offered, handing the blind kitten back to Natalie.
"Ok, I'll give them back. I wouldn't want mother to be mad at me," Natalie said.
Miria heard Natalie's footfall leaving the tent, with the mother cat following after her, frantic.
Cid let out an explosive sigh of relief. "Alright mother hen, you can come out. Evidently your daughter didn't see you."
Miria stood up breathing deeply. "That girl's something else."
There came a rap on the tent's fabric, at which Cid jumped out of the chair.
"Yes?"
"It's Commander Renée , may I come in?"
"Certainly."
Renée walked in, looking tense but happy, and saluted promptly.
"I bring word from Captain Tabitha of the Elite Guard," Renée stated.
"Which is?"
"They've captured 18 messengers who managed to slip through the city's walls. They've also drugged all the army's chaplains, and Captain Tabitha has all 9 of her subordinates in the squad on watch duty."
Miria nodded her agreement. "Very good then, any sign from the city?"
Renée shook her head.
"Commander Renée , could you escort Captain Malaga back to his tent and make sure he doesn't wander off?"
Renée looked at Cid with a malevolent grin on her face, "I will once I hear the reason why you were talking about how great Miria and my "racks" were within earshot of Natalie."
"Ah shit," Cid cursed.
"Cid!"
"It was an honest mistake Miria, you know I would never intend for Natalie to hear me and Galk talking about stuff like that," Cid apologized.
"So dear," Miria continued, smirking, "you were saying something about forgiveness?"
"Alright, alright, we'll get married like you want," Cid relented.
"That's got to be the most bizarre marriage proposal I've ever seen," Renée laughed.
It was in the middle of the night when Miria heard a shriek of squabbling outside the commanding officer's tent. She rushed to help when a white boot smashed into her chest, driving the wind from her and sent her backwards over her strategy table. Miria took the momentum the kick had given her and flipped backwards, barely landing on her feet. There, kneeling with her claymore and wearing a look of fury, was the milky-eyed Sister Galatea, completely clad in a blue nun's uniform.
"This treason will end now," Galatea said in a cold fury. "I've come to relieve you of command, and I'll use lethal force if I have to."
Miria drew her sword as Galatea rose to her feet, her sword also drawn into a fighting stance, feet wide. Galatea's uniform was incomplete, as her habit had fallen off her long, stately blond hair.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about Galatea. I am merely camped with the Holy Guards and have no idea what you're talking about," Miria answered, blatantly but necessarily lying.
Galatea shifted her sword into a swinging stance, evidently intending to continue the fight.
"There was an uprising in the city today by over a thousand armed citizens. The Holy Council suspects that they were supported by the Council of Lords. The Bishop's Guard managed to protect the Teresian Cathedral, and we thought we had secured the stalemate necessary..."
Galatea rushed ahead unexpectedly, swinging the sword in a vicious horizontal cut at waist height. Miria merely rolled underneath, tripped Galatea, and turned around.
"It's pointless trying to fight sister. You are out of practice and I have been fighting and training for the last two years. It would be for the best if you surrendered now," Miria suggested.
Galatea bristled, getting up off her dirtied blue nun's dress and standing up.
"I know you approved the coup attempt Miria, and for that God's judgment will stand upon you even if mine won't," Galatea said, ignoring her suggestion. "We sent a total of eighteen messengers out, but none seemed to get far past the city gates. What I did find after I left the cathedral was a sentry line of your personal Elite Guard squad led by Tabitha standing guard just outside the city. You personally betrayed the only caretakers of the poor, needy, and abused this city has! "
Galatea rushed forward again, and this time Miria didn't even bother dodging. Instead she gauged Galatea's swing, and with a furious speed, swung diagonally. Galatea's sword flew out of her hands as Galatea gasped in shock at her disarming. Miria held her sword out, the piercing point just short of Galatea's face.
"As I said sister, you cannot win. You know, when we defeated the Organization two and half years ago, I had high hopes for Rabona's government. I envisioned Rabona's government expanding to bring order and good government to the people of this island. But instead I found an incompetent and unambitious theocracy unwilling to even attempt to guard the pilgrimage routes. You talk about God's will, but wouldn't God care about protecting the lives of his most faithful worshipers?"
"That is blasphemy; no one can claim such things after siding with the aristocrats," Galatea snapped, remarkably bravely for being disarmed and having a sword before her face.
"No, it is not. The holy book says that rulers and governments are not worthy of governing the people if they cannot help and protect them. Perhaps the Rabona Orthodox Church has forgotten its own teachings," she suggested to Galatea.
Behind Galatea two people stopped just inside the tent, Commander Renée and Lieutenant Colonel Galk, both in their armor. Their reaction was to gape at the scene before them, so Miria adjusted her tactics to fit the scene.
"I don't know why you've gone mad sister, but I assure you I can offer you help if you..."
Galatea took the bait, grabbing the sword pointed at her in a fit of raw anger, pushing it aside and throwing herself at Miria in a flying tackle. Galatea knocked her onto the ground as yelling came from behind Galatea. Galatea began screaming in incoherent rage as she threw punches, which Miria barely attempted to defend. They rolled around on the muddy grass, a mess of struggling limbs, while Renée and Galk shouted. Abruptly Galatea went limp and slumped over.
Renée had smashed the flat side of her sword into Galatea's head, looking shocked. Galk, who was looking equally shocked, helped Miria up with a hand.
"I'm truly sorry Colonel, if I had known the sister had fallen into such a state," Galk gasped, "I would have come to your aid immediately."
"Thank you Lieutenant Colonel Galacon. That was quick of you Renée ."
"I'm sorry I wasn't faster," Renée sighed.
"Lieutenant Colonel, I want you to shackle sister Galatea and imprison her on grounds of assault and battery against an officer in the Holy Guards."
Galacon nodded, "Of course Colonel. I must beg your pardon, but there is one message a member of the Rabona Orthodox Church passed on to me. He wished me to open it immediately, but of course that would have been inappropriate without your permission."
He handed her a sealed white package, bowing from the waist.
"Thank you Lieutenant Colonel," Miria acknowledged. "Take Galatea away and shackle her. Make certain to hold her in camp until I find an appropriate place for her imprisonment."
"The message is from the Holy Council, Colonel, are you not required to open it immediately?"
"Considering a member of the said Holy Council just attacked me, I believe they will have much more to answer for than me. The enemy army couldn't possibly get to the city, so it can wait till morning. The last five messages they sent me contained sermons to deliver to the troops anyways," Miria reasoned to Galacon. "You are dismissed for the evening once Galatea is properly under guard."
"Thank you Colonel," he nodded. Galk motioned to a pair of gaping soldiers at the tent's entrance and they grabbed the unconscious Galatea, shackling her hands and feet in irons. Galatea was unceremoniously dragged out of sight when Renée let out a relieved sigh.
"Thank goodness you're quick," Renée sighed when Galk had left. "We really dodged one there didn't we?"
"We still have to wait until morning, but by then the situation I hope will be much improved."
At dawn a messenger wearing red instead of the customary holy white trotted into camp. His message was much as they expected. The Rabona Orthodox Church and the Rabona Council of Lords announced that they had come to a compromise regarding governance of the city-state. The Council of Lords would gain control over the command of the military and foreign policy, while the church would retain its rights in all other areas.
The message also announced that because of the shift in command, the Holy Guards were renamed the "Army of Rabona". All chaplains in the army were now serving at the discretion of the Council of Lords. The message finished by saying that she, Colonel Miria, was promoted to Major General. The messenger had also delivered into her hands an ornate, white-plumed helmet to denote her rank. Though there was some grumbling amongst the more religious troops about the deal, it was accepted without mutiny. Miria wasted no time in calling a meeting with the top officers to settle upon a strategy for the coming conflict.
Miria glanced around the commander's tent at her officers. Commander Renée was seated in one corner, Captain Nina the opposite. In between them were a number of human captains as well as Miria's second-in-command, Lieutenant Colonel Galacon. Seated beside him was Commander Nadia, who had been recently appointed to command the new 1st Swordsmen Battalion. They were all seated around the temporary strategy table Miria had had erected overnight in the command tent's center.
"Officers, you've been called here today because of the news you no doubt heard earlier. The clergy has agreed to relieve themselves of command of the military in this time of crisis. Obviously the situation militarily is bad, but not as dire as it looks. King Charles has drawn up his forces around us in a blockade in the past week. Our scouts say he only just completed the encirclement to the east."
Lieutenant Colonel Galacon raised a hand.
"Yes Lieutenant Colonel?"
"About the blockade, where are his troops, and how many of them are there?"
"Captain Tabitha," Miria called.
Tabitha ducked under the entrance of the tent.
"At your service General," Tabitha acknowledged with a salute.
"Captain Tabitha's Elite Guard has been acting as our scouts in addition to what little cavalry we have. Captain, would you would mark out the enemy troop positions and types for the other officers?"
"Certainly ma'am," Tabitha answered. Tabitha stepped towards the map and pointed to the east.
"The blockade by the enemy forces we can confirm is complete. King Charles' forces are already attempting to build a crude set of eight fortifications on the eight highest hills around the city. They are stationed relatively evenly ten miles away from the city in a circle. He has one hill-fort to the northwest, another due west, and so on. They arranged around us like points on a map."
Commander Renée asked, "What are his troops' types and numbers?"
Captain Tabitha glanced up to answer. "As far as we can tell he has 10,000 troops total, all distributed equally between the eight hill-forts. That would make 1250 troops at each fort, with the majority of the forces composed of infantry and archers. His cavalry numbers around a 1000 strong."
"Clever bastard," Captain Helen remarked. "He's able to pin us down if we attack anywhere and reinforce with the nearest two garrisons immediately. We'd be hard-pressed even before he brought up the rest of the force."
"It's not actually as clever as he thinks," Commander Nadia spoke up. "Rabona is in most dire need of metals and food right now. If he thought about our needs, he would have distributed the majority of his forces north of the city. If we hit there, we cut his supply lines."
"He's smart enough though to have fortified his troops, placed them on hilltops with views of the river valley, and the distances involved mean he'll have plenty of time to react. He's guaranteed we'll be outnumbered if just two hill-fort garrisons join against us in the field," Helen countered, standing up. "It's suicidal to attack."
"You mean during the day," Miria corrected her feuding subordinates.
They all turned to look at her as comprehension dawned on the officers' collective faces.
Miria pointed to the northwest hill-fort. "King Charles is counting on being able to see our movements when we attack. Therefore we will move when the night covers our plan of attack."
They nodded in agreement before Captain Tabitha raised her hand, "I would like to request the honor of having the Elite Guard lead that attack."
"I had been planning on it," Miria answered. "Now then, we'll be giving you all sealed orders after this evening which you will open at sundown. Are there any issues you wish to ask about now?"
Galk raised his hand to speak, then stood up. "As you know General, I've been recently promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, but as a result the 1st Pikemen Battalion has no commanding officer. As this is an unacceptable during a battle, I would like to forward my recommendation for its new commanding officer," he announced.
"Which is?"
"Due to outstanding improvement in command and the excellent performance of her company, I would like to recommend Captain Helen for Commander of the 1st Battalion," Galk stated.
Renée mouthed, 'Helen?'
"Very well, Captain Helen, you will be promoted to Commander of the 1st Battalion following this meeting," Miria decided.
Helen looked bewildered at first, and then deliriously happy and grateful. Captains Murat and Lannes shook her hands in congratulations. It was a joyous end to a meeting that had sobered many...
The meeting had been an enthusiastic and productive one, and ended with Helen's joyous celebration of her promotion. Miria had told her to inspect the troops and get the 2nd Infantry Battalion ready for the fighting to come.
"I'm counting on your battalion Commander Renée ," Miria had said, squeezing her shoulder.
The men began assembling just as dusk fell. Their armor was markedly different than it had been, with no plate armor below the waist. This was done because it would not have been possible to run twenty miles in one night, while fighting, all in plate armor. Renée sighed as she looked at the necessarily lightened armor protecting the men around her; it didn't give her confidence.
Renée nearly jumped in surprise when she felt a large hand settle upon her shoulder.
A deep male voice asked, "Are you a little jumpy Commander Renée ?"
Renée turned around to find Lieutenant Colonel Galacon standing over her, his hand covered in a cool steel gauntlet.
"Well, no more than is normal before the battle that determines your survival," Renée admitted. "I'm a little worried the men won't be armored enough for the big fight."
"They've got enough plate armor to fight, but its light enough to allow them to pull off the general's plan," Galk reassured her, "Speaking of armor, why aren't you wearing your gauntlets?"
Renée stared at her bare hands with slight apprehension.
"I'm a defensive warrior," she explained. "We can regenerate enough to survive in combat."
"That's quite useful, but for example's sake Commander, put them on," Galk ordered.
"Yes sir."
Renée watched him leave with annoyance, as she went back into her tent, grabbed the steel gauntlets, and put them on.
Captain Murat entered the tent wearing his armor and a steel helmet.
"Commander, the captains are concerned about the troops' armor weight. We wanted to know if you would allow the men to ditch the shields in order to hit the enemy sooner," Murat asked.
"We both know they can deal with the weight on a forced march. Most importantly, we need the shields for the Bouclier Formation later," Renée noted.
"Very well," Murat said unhappily. "But that's a long way in one night, and my boys will be fighting as well. I only hope General Miria knows she'll need a miracle to push the men that far."
"General Miria has a habit of doing miracles," Renée stated, almost smiling.
Murat frowned, dubious, but saluted and promptly left the tent.
Captain Nina walked in past the departing Murat, her armor a study in contrasts to those of her troops. Nina was wearing the chain-mail tunic of a warrior, a steel helmet, pauldrons, and no other armor besides what little protection her leather outfit provided her extremities.
"The troops are assembled Commander," Nina informed them.
"Very good, we move out immediately."