Chapter 44:
Affairs of Defeat
Perturbed, Oddeye set the pen down for the umpteenth time. The rock on which his life had been built was gone. Zeon was dead. Dead at the hands of Geshp, he was certain. He had failed…. And failed in so many ways. Not only in the death of his king, but when he had saved Gort…
Failed.
Love was a very curious thing, and so hard to define. Had he loved his king? Oddeye supposed that he must have; certainly he could no longer recall his youth as Oddler before Zeon had taken him. Love was also foolish and of little practical use, if he was to judge by the maudlin ponderings that it pressed upon him now.
Still, much though he willed it, his thoughts would not leave him to rest. Zeon was dead and… nothing was changed. Everything was changed. Or was it? After all, if Zeon was fallen, didn't he owe his allegiance to the one who had proved to be even stronger than the king of the devils? Didn't he? And yet, it rankled to sit there nodding his head like a tame little councilor at Mishalea's behest. Nor could he profess much warmth for any of his new colleagues.
Magus was a halfwit and a fool and Geshp a turncloak. The Vandal was no better than Geshp and Eiku, though shrewd enough, fairly oozed of duplicity. Certainly, the High Commander was the one who bothered Oddeye the most. He could see traces of himself in the man. Gods be dammed, he could see the man's whole existence too clearly. The mingled pride and arrogance which grew out of bitterness too deep to be bourn just as much as they were caused by the bitterness… Eiku was clever, able, and thoroughly unscrupulous. Oddeye saw all of that clear enough; what troubled him was that he could see himself too clearly in the other man.
But I am not like that.
Practically, the High Commander might well be Oddeye's staunchest ally. Now that Geshp had betrayed Zeon he would, hereafter, look for a chance to kill Oddeye. Oddeye knew better than anyone alive how difficult Geshp would be to kill, and it would be very convenient if somebody else killed the scheming turncloak… And Geshp and Eiku seemed to have already become enemies. Conversely, even if Eiku didn't kill Geshp for him, Geshp's energy would be wasted trying to fend off two foes at once and perhaps with his focus scattered… It would be worth the trying certainly.
And then… then there was Cameela. Already an uncharacteristic twinge of guilt ate at him. He had used the general.
She would have forgiven me anything in our joint task… but I lied to her about Zalbard. I let her think Geshp killed him. And this. Can she forgive me for sitting on Mishalea's council?
He certainly couldn't answer that niggling question. He wasn't even certain if could forgive himself for doing it, so why should Cameela? And why did he even care? He had served with Cameela for years of course, and over the time of their association he had acquired a certain respect for her as a colleague. None of the others could claim to have done that to him.
Oddeye sat there, endlessly reviewing the facts. Zeon was gone and Oddeye had no choice. He would have to serve Mishalea as she had proven to be the stronger. What other course was open to him now? And yet… and yet…
Sitting there, he picked up the pen and wrote the letter to Cameela, choosing each word with care. With a sigh, Oddeye realized that he was very old.
---
Slowly and groggily, the world took form before her. Cameela blinked owlishly, stretching against the unfamiliar sheets. It was not the first time in her life that she had awoken to unfamiliar circumstances, and it probably wouldn't be the last. The question was, had her forces won the battle or… A voice cut in upon her ruminations, ending all doubts.
"You are my enemy. So tell me, why should I have spared your life?"
Cameela's eyes flashed to the speaker. Tall, evidently wounded, with short reddish hair and a guarded face. This had to be Max himself. An absurd fear made her chest tight, as she gazed at this impressive man. Max had more presence than most of the lordlings Cameela had ever known. Swallowing, she guessed, "You mean to keep me to hostage?"
"That," said Max coolly, "might have been acceptable once. As it is, things have changed considerably. High Commander Lynx is fallen and Zeon is dead. Your colleagues Geshp and Oddeye now sit Mishalea's council."
"What?" Her momentary shock fading she said derisively, "That is a pathetic lie."
Max shrugged. "It's no matter to me what you believe. I have men in high places. Men who have a way of learning things even from within Skull Castle. No, I have only one interest in sparing your life, General Cameela." He leant forward as he spoke, wincing slightly. Her gaze flashed to his legs. Wounded, mayhaps, in the battle?
"If you have defeated me, then I deserve the courtesy awarded to an honorable enemy. I did not fight you dishonorably, Max, and must be afforded some respect due to this."
He seemed amused. "Courtesies are the first things to go in a war, my lady, has no one taught you? But very well, I'll answer you some questions, should you have them."
"How did you manage to come upon me so suddenly? From the north? And my tent…"
"Yes, I ordered some cursory precautions to be taken. Your tent was spelled to keep you out of the battle. Although it didn't keep you out for very long. We came at you from taking Alshar. Solo is dead."
Cameela was silent for a moment, digesting this. Evidently what he said was true, though she didn't understand how he had done it. Finally she asked, "And me. Why choose to spare me, my lord? Why not take Solo, or Slit…?"
Max laughed with audible scorn. "Slit is an idiot and a brute. I wouldn't waste my time on the likes of him. But you, my lady… Oddeye always did say that you were honorable, so you were the lo-"
"Oddeye? But what are y…" She stopped suddenly, remembering that day he had saved her from the assassins. He had been gone for a long time… Trying to defeat Geshp, he had said! But what if…
Max was peering at her. "Surely you knew? Unless he kept that to himself? Yes, Oddeye masqueraded as one of us for a brief time. He told us much of you, Geshp… and he helped us plan the attack on Zalbard. He killed Zalbard personally."
"No." Oddeye hadn't… "No," she repeated more emphatically.
Max chuckled. "Well I can see he kept you out of the loop. A power struggle, I assumed. But he did lay the groundwork for this moment. In truth, General Cameela, your life serves as a symbolic gesture. The Shining Force is not a band of brutal murderers fighting for power. Indeed, I'm according you the status of a valiant, defeated enemy, as a message to the world. And to Mishalea. Your wounds will be tended to, and we may have some more questions for you. But rest assured; you will not be harmed as long as you give us no further resistance."
He rose, slightly unsteadily. Cameela blurted out, "And what of Red Baron?"
Max paused, nearly out of the tent. "Ah. Yes. Red Baron you call him, but his name is Lemon. Did you know that?" He didn't wait for an answer, and indeed, Cameela had no answer to offer him. "In that, I am disappointed in you, general. It almost makes me want to kill you. After what Oddeye said of you, I would have expected you to be made of stronger mettle." And with that, he was gone.
Cameela leant back upon the pillows, her head swimming. It all fit together too well to be a shrewd fabrication. Oddeye had lied to her. Used her. What truly galled her, however, was that she had let him do so. She remembered that day now, that day that Zalbard had played his gamble.
Only Oddeye had taken it calmly… because he had been prepared to kill Zalbard. Shaking with anger, Cameela buried herself in the pillows. He lied to me. Her eyes were surprisingly wet. Oh, Oddeye had been clever. Dammed clever. She couldn't deny that. He had played her very well indeed and everything he had said to her had been true as far as it went. He hadn't even agreed with her that Geshp had killed Zalbard… he just hadn't contradicted it.
What truly mattered in the end though was that Oddeye had broken the trust she had put in him. He had manipulated her all along, and that she could not forgive. She had started to rely on Oddeye, but she would not… Yet the thought of just turning away from him angered her too. She could not say why.
And the worst blow of all was that Zeon was gone. King Zeon was fallen. Slain. Finished. Just when she had reaffirmed her faith in following him, he was gone… And what was she now, but disgraced and defeated? Who was she? She was no one and nothing. Zeon had given her, her chance, but Zeon was dead. And Cameela had nothing. It was enough to make her weep… and though it warred with her instincts, she gave vent to it, weeping openly for the death of the life she had once valued.
A rough voice said, "My pardons." She looked up in suspicious surprise. It was a big, rugged looking man. His lips smiled when his eyes did not. "I do a bit of healing," he admitted frankly. "Lord Max sent me to look after you. And also… I have a way of getting information. Lord Max instructed me to ask if you have any message you would like to be sent back to your colleagues." He held out a piece of paper and a charcoal stick.
That particular question bothered Cameela immensely. She had nothing to say to the others, but there was always Oddeye. That was what this was really about. Her and Oddeye. It always had been. And yet, what could she say to him? That she wasn't coming back? That she had discovered his lies? They had nothing to say, nothing… and yet…
Feeling raw in her throat, she seized the proffered paper and quickly scrawled on it, 'I think that I loved you.' Feeling her eyes misting again, she folded the paper, handed it back to the grave-faced healer and turned on her side. She was no one and nothing.
---
Max cradled his head wearily as he refused. "No. I will not condone the execution of a broken man. You should know better than to ask that of me."
Nicholas replied, "It may well be the tidiest solution, my lord. After the crimes that he committed, none would fault you if you chose to take his head in justice. The atrocities…"
"Were committed under duress! Lemon was being controlled, Nick. He didn't have a bloody choice about his actions. And you've seen his pitiable state. Gods, are you made of stone?"
"I have seen his state. Which is one of the reasons I urge execution. He's broken past the point of usefulness. It would serve us best to execute him, and it would be a mercy to the man himself."
Max jutted his jaw. "No. I've already determined that we'll send him back to Grans Island. It will be politically expedient anyway. If Granseal triumphs against Galam, then they'll doubtless appreciate having Lemon turned over to their justice. And if Galam prevails, they'll thank us for returning their greatest hero to them, unmolested."
Nicholas made a brief gesture with his hands, but, thankfully, didn't press the point. "In that case, might I enquire as to the disposition of Guardiana as regards the proposal that I set before you…?"
"In these troubled times," Max responded instantly, "Her Grace is being very careful about such matters. It will most like be some time before we are prepared to answer you with any certainty."
"Very well."
Max massaged his temples, wishing he could escape from his ally's dry, cold, expressionless tones. His hearty dislike for Nicholas had quite resurfaced. There had been a brief time where the young king had seemed almost human… but somewhere along the way he had recovered his self-confidence and his damnable arrogance. Max hated him for that.
Max turned to Mae. "Summon Deanna, if you would be so good. You might inquire after my nephew as well. We might as well convene as council now. Anyone who desires to be present may be, of course."
Mae nodded and silently padded off. Max looked after her for a moment. Sometimes he didn't know who frustrated him more when it came to Mae and Nick, but, due to his longer, if not necessarily more intimate, acquaintance with Mae, he fancied himself adept at reading her expressionless-ness. In that quiet acquiescence, however, there was rather a lot of something he had never been able to define in her… Nicholas's precise voice called him back to the present.
"I congratulate you, my lord. Your plan worked, better than even you must have hoped. Deanna's group was practically unscathed in comparison to the massacre you predicted."
"A lot," he admitted, "depended on our speed in vanquishing Solo and then Cameela. I owe you my thanks for helping me plan such an effective attack on the former. And there was also an element of uncertainty in Slit. Once he learned of the situation, it was impossible to know what he might have done. Happily, he made the most convenient choice for us." He added, as an afterthought, "There was the raider that was helping Solo as well. That was a stroke of luck. That and the sudden fall of the undead encampment in the west that Bleu reported."
"As you say. And indeed, vanquishing both the General Cameela and Red Baron must have pleased you fiercely, my lord."
"We were lucky," replied Max, thinking back to the battle. The mage, Hawel, had shown commendable loyalty, first in starting the fires that had added so greatly to the disorientation of the enemy, and secondly in saving Hanzou's life and breaking the water magic. Max had never encountered such personally, but the young mage had sworn that that was what it had been.
So Mishalea has a water sorcerer. Mayhaps it's that reptile.
Certainly, if it came to guessing, that would be the most likely candidate. Recalling their brief association, Max couldn't think of anything else that the reptile had shown itself to be particularly adept at. Its trickery in interrogation had been clever yes, but it had wasted that chance with an inane, throw-away question. No, decidedly, the reptile would only continue to serve Mishalea if it had something valuable to offer. Water magic, for example.
At the moment, however, that was one of Max's most distant concerns. Having shattered the barricade and having destroyed two armies, Max's first concern must be to following up by penning the enemy in at Skull Castle. Mishalea's resources were formidable, but Max had little doubt that even she must be feeling the strain of lost armies now. Unfortunately, he lacked the main strength to encircle Skull Castle… He would have to gamble that Luke and Hans would arrive with all the power of Rune behind them faster than Mishalea could recover. It was a pity that Slit had gotten away, but Max had never entertained any serious hope of being able to win three consecutive victories against vastly stronger opponents. As it was, Deanna had bled Slit's army fiercely.
Additionally, though he hadn't lied to Cameela, he knew that he could use her as a bargaining chip if necessary, and was prepared to do so. Hopefully he could give his forces enough of a respite to get them battle-ready again while he waited for Luke… It was a gamble, but that was the only way to win wars. And at the moment, matters of policy must take over.
"Uncle," Ian said lightly. "I heard that you were convening a meeting. To discuss important decisions no doubt. Well?"
"We'll give it a minute or so," he responded. Within short order, his advisors were assembled. Deanna had come as he requested, Anri as well as Hanzou, Lowe, and, surprisingly, Musashi. Mae stood off to herself.
Max took a deep breath. "Well. We all seem to be gathered, so perhaps we should begin. There are a few questions to consider. We'll start," he jerked his head towards Deanna, "with you. How many were lost?"
"A total of four. Your friend Adam was one." He glanced at Ian. "Julia too. And Sylvia. I'm sorry. As it was, Slit nearly had our defenses shattered in his last attack, but your successful battle against General Cameela seemed to have unnerved him and he retreated in short order." He added, "Injuries all around. Natasha and Gort were pretty badly wounded, but they're being tended to now."
"Very good," said Max, pleased. As a leader that is… as a man though… With a silent plea for forgiveness, he pushed Adam out of his heart. He could not afford sentiment, not when it jeopardized everything he had ever worked for. "Splendid. General Cameela seems suitably docile and I have discovered that it is extremely unlikely that she ever knew much of Oddeye's dealings with us. That may be just as well. She'll most like be easier to deal with. I've also decided that we'll send Lemon back to Grans. Regardless of who wins the conflict there, it will be an appreciated gesture."
Anri said icily, "Ward shall be delighted. He always said that political expedience was important."
Max winced. He and Anri had been on rocky footing despite his apology to her. Well, if she had decided to stop being both his friend and his queen that was her choice. Certainly he wasn't going to go back to begging. There would be no more kneeling and no more laughing.
"I," he responded with chilly courtesy, "am trying to fight a war as effectively as possible. I will not behead Lemon for being controlled."
"No, you'll only hand him over to people who will and count yourself well out of it."
Max flushed. Anri's complaint did have a certain justice to it… At that moment, Nicholas came to his rescue. "Be all of this as it may, we have more concrete concerns to be considering. The barricade is broken, but unless we follow up swiftly and ruthlessly our enemies will doubtless try something else. I had thought that perhaps with Master Ferik's men, we could expand our control over this territory…"
Ian said slowly, "I shouldn't think that would be very effective. Ferik fought well at Alshar, ground he knew intimately, but against Cameela, his men did the brunt of the dying. They're too undisciplined to hold much territory outside of Alshar, which they could, perhaps, hold defensively."
Max nodded, pleased that Ian had grasped the point. "I have reached the self-same conclusion. I am afraid we must wait for Luke and Rune if we are to have the men we need."
Mae arched a brow. "At this point, can we even be certain that they are coming? We have had no word of Luke for a long time."
"But we do know that Lynx is fallen," objected Lowe. "That means he can't have taken Pao."
"That does not necessitate Luke's life, or indeed the lives of most of his host. They could be fallen just as much as Lynx is."
"They could be," Max broke in, "but if they were, Ward would certainly have learned of it and he would certainly have told us." Untrustworthy, yes, but much interested in his own skin, Lord Ward. "For the moment, we must wait. Idle speculation will accrue us no benefits whatsoever." He paused, studying their faces, judging them all. Anri was clearly unhappy with him, but that had less to do with policy… he hoped. Mae, he saw, was conceding the point well enough. She had always been quick. After she had recovered from the surprise of his deception on the matter of Cameela, she had supported him whole-heartedly.
Ian was nodding and Lowe also agreed with him. Nicholas was as inscrutable as ever, and Hanzou's gaze was well guarded. Musashi looked intensely interested. Interested and concerned. And Deanna… well the day he learned to read Deanna would be the day the universe ended.
Musashi spoke into the silence. "What of Earnest's group? Mayhaps we could take this time to try to contact them?"
Mae said stonily, "It would be a waste of time. We've not once heard from Earnest since we sent him out. Nor should we send out anyone else and sit around wondering how long we should wait to hear from them. No, Earnest, Vankar and Kokichi may well be added to our list of casualties at this point."
That was hard, but no less than the truth. And Max was glad that somebody else had brought up that point. He didn't know how many deaths he was strong enough to bear. Ah, but death must be a great relief… Life was such an incredible burden. Making a small noise, he began, "I think, then, that it is obvious that our truest option-"
Pelle came running up at a sharp gallop. Though unremarkable, the mercenary had most like saved both Max and Ian. He had been the one to take advantage of Lemon's distraction in the battle. At the moment, he looked concerned. "My lord," he bellowed. "My lord, I've detected movement just on the outskirts of the camp."
Max rose slowly, trying to mask the pain in his legs. His eye swiftly roved over the group. It was a goodly force, he decided. Unsheathing the Chaos Breaker he murmured, "In that case, we are obliged to investigate these findings."
---
Domingo squinted at the unpleasantly bright light. He hadn't responded to anyone since awaking… how long had it been now? A few minutes? An hour? Days? Years, even? An eternity? It could be any of those for all he could judge.
He remembered the exultation he had felt in those moments before Solo's charged spell struck. To finally make something of his shameful passion for Anri… To buy her life with his own. What had he thought it would prove? How much he loved her? Or how much he hated loving her? And even now, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to live. Death would be so much better than the pain.
"Gods," he croaked. "Look at what the world has done to me. Look at what love has made me."
Gort's rough accents intruded upon him then. "Thaht is the essence o' et." There was some sort of understanding in the old warrior's eyes. He whispered, "Ah loved hem ahnd Ah hated hem. Ahnd Ah kihlled hem."
For the first time, Domingo met Gort's confidence unflinching. He looked at the frailness concealed beneath the dwarf's rough manner and he saw it in conjunction to the ruin of his own life. Gort had done as he had to and Domingo could understand just what it had cost him. "I'm sorry."
Domingo was sorry for Gort, to be certain, but ultimately he knew the paralyzing answer to his own dilemma. He loved Anri, yet he was afraid. Always afraid.
I'm going to get right up out of this bed and tell her.
After a moment, the magical jellyfish sighed and lay back down.
---
The outskirts were the sweetest sight Kokichi had ever seen. Relief welled up in Kokichi's chest at the sight; finally he and Krin were safe. He was so very elated that, for a moment, he even forgot that he had meant to forget Vankar and Earnest. He wouldn't share in their fate; the camp was just before him!
He panted, "This would be it, little lady. We've made it." Krin, though hardly what the old man would term an expressive child, actually looked pleased. Doubtless the prospect of a proper rest appealed to her. Even as all of this was flashing through his mind, Kokichi hesitated.
It would be hard, in a way, to be back. None of the others had known what he and… what he and Krin had had to go through to get here. They would have witnessed their own horrors no doubt; that was the way of war. And yet…
A smooth voice rang out from behind him, "Why, Sergei! Fancy meeting you here."
Cold ran down the old man's back. He spun around, gripping his short lance tightly. There he was, sure enough, still mounted on that horse of his. Kokichi's mouth went dry. "N…Nicholas," he managed. "What are… you, ah, here I mean…" This was too much a coincidence to be mere happenstance and that bitter, mocking private self-conversation that he had overhead came back to Kokichi immediately.
Pawns and pieces he spoke of. And he always struck me as a sorcerer…
"Should I take your stunned face to mean that you're overjoyed to see me again?" The man pouted. "Truth to tell, you wound me, Sergei. To find that you've been lying to me all this time has really quite upset me."
"I," he began, when the sounds of running feet stayed his voice.
In a moment there was press of people and a voice bellowed, "Kokichi!" The old man turned, feeling a numb sort of relief at the sight of Lord Max. In the next moment however he heard a sharp intake of breath and another man forced himself forward. It took Kokichi a few seconds to recognize Prince Nicholas.
The young prince's blade was drawn and his tones were ice. "Warderer."
Kokichi could hear the wind whistling through his ears. He turned, slowly staring at 'Nicholas.' The king of Iom? He could almost see it in the anguished lines of the man's face, but… Warderer? He made a small noise of disbelief.
The man held up a quick hand. "Stay your blades." Max gave the man a cold look, but Warderer continued cheerfully, "If I admit that my name is Warderer, would you still love me?"
Lord Max's eyes were wary; the Chaos Breaker was in his hand, in plain sight. "I assume that you wouldn't come this close to us unless you had something to say. If so, best say it."
The king of Iom smiled apologetically. "I'm so sorry at how much disturbance this little visit of mine has occasioned. I'd have written, but I wasn't sure how many of you would be illiterate."
"And we'd be more polite," retorted Anri, "but you're crazy."
"Is that anyway to try and foster respect between us? Especially after the trouble I've taken coming here to talk to you, face to face."
Prince Nick's voice broke in. "You're here to die, you mean."
Warderer shrugged his voice sharp with disdain. "You can certainly try."
Max took several deep breaths. "Very well. What do you want, Warderer?" He was clearly resisting the urge to question him more sharply. He added, "And dammit, nobody do anything until he's answered."
The mad king shrugged again. "I am with you, not them." Silence greeted his deadpan announcement. Warderer smiled again, knowingly this time. "Ah, they're thinking, what kind of a trick is this? How quickly and easily can we kill this self-styled king for his crimes against Rune?" Warderer laughed; a surprisingly contemptuous sound. "Well bugger that and bugger you and bugger my crimes against Rune. I'm here with an offer of service; you'd be fools to refuse me."
Kokichi could see the flash of uncertainty in Lord Max's eyes, but if Max was uncertain, Prince Nick was not. "We must take his head now. If it please your lordship, I'll do the deed myself."
Warderer smiled coldly. "I wouldn't recommend that."
"Oh for the love of gods, shut up." Kokichi wasn't quite certain whether Max was snapping at Warderer or Nicholas. Looking extremely disconsolate, Lord Max stroked his chin, as though trying to come up with something to say. Finally he said, cautiously, "And… on what terms would this alliance be?"
"NO!" Musashi and Prince Nick had shouted the monosyllable at the same time. Nick's face was drawn. "You cannot mean to bargain with this creature. He will plant a knife in your back."
"Well," began Max, but Nick bulled straight through him.
"I warn you, should you do this then Cypress will be obliged to-"
"You don't even hold Cypress," Warderer pointed out. "I think your opinion will matter very little to Cyprian policy."
Nick's face darkened, but Musashi had already jumped into the breach. "Please, my lord. We cannot… to accept any such offer it would be… dishonorable."
Max opened his mouth and then closed it. Hanzou said quietly, "I don't see why. It could well save lives in the final assault."
Warderer smirked. "I seem to have caused a great deal of disturbance. How delightful." He leaned forward, his tone becoming more serious. "Believe what you wish, Lord Max, but I tell you this; I have no greater wish than to kill Mishalea, and anything that does not actively help more towards this aim is utterly worthless." He paused, but there was silence this time. Warderer continued then, in a tone of complete earnestness. "Hear me then. I have committed crimes to your way of thinking, I admit that freely. But every act of slaughter, every seizure of wealth and power, every decision that I have ever made has been for one purpose; to defeat Mishalea. I had hoped that by committing to a truce, briefly, I might have been able to kill her more easily, but that chance is lost now. She's killed Zeon… yes, I see, you're not surprised. You knew? Well it surprised me."
Nick growled savagely, "You are my enemy."
Warderer shrugged. "War makes many strange bedfellows. I can be no stranger than most, mayhaps more handsome, but that's your gain not your loss. If it's Cypress that you want… very well. As an ally, I gift it to you."
"It is not yours to gift. It is mine. By rights."
Warderer barked laughter. "Rights? What rights were at play when your uncle tried to murder and depose you? What rights were at play to allow for the rise of Zeon, of Mishalea? What rights were at play at every instance of injustice in our sorry little world? I may have done things without rights, but I'm no worse than any of you. And you may as well admit it; you need a sorcerer of my strength for the final assault. Bend the knee my lords and you won't find me ungrateful. Oh, I won't usurp your command. Just help me kill Mishalea and I will do whatsoever you ask of me."
"What," said Max, "can you possibly have to offer that justifies taking such a risk?" When Warderer did not respond, Max pressed, "How can we trust you? How can you possibly expect us to trust you?"
"Hmm… perhaps if I swore? Let all of my power desert me forever, let all the harsh justice in the world come upon me if I play you false. I need you to kill Mishalea, and that has always been my top priority. You may not see it this way, but you need me too. Who else is going to battle her sorcerous defenses for you?"
Max regarded him for a long tense moment. Then, forcing a smile that looked more akin to a grimace, he said, "Why don't you… come with us… so that we may… discuss this further?"
Warderer smiled cheerfully. "Why, I thought you'd never ask, my lord. I should be most pleased to accept your kind offer. What's for dinner, incidentally?"
---
Nick stared at Lord Max, aghast. The man had ensconced himself in a private meeting with Warderer and now he was calling for this absurd alliance to be made a reality.
Setting his jaw firmly, Nick spat, "I will not condone this."
Max looked exhausted. "Dammit, Nicholas. You know that there was a grain of truth in everything that he had to say to us. Who else would we use, pray, for the final assault?"
"The only grain here is one of madness. The man is a butcher, a criminal, a usurper. He is the soul of my enemy; I am sworn to do justice to Cypress. That includes defeating my foes."
"Ah, I see." Max raised an eyebrow. "So you're saying that if a foe honorably bent the knee to you, you would be obliged to take off his head, for justice."
"That is not the same!"
"Why, Nicholas, you surprise me. That almost sounded like heat."
Nick knew that he was on rotten ice now, if Max's temper was so foul. One false step and he would plunge through waters chill enough to kill him. Nonetheless, he pressed, recklessly, "Well I can't say that I'm surprised. You'd make bargains with Ward, so why not another conniving-"
Max exploded almost at once. "Fuck that and fuck you too, Nicholas! I've had my bloody fill of this. Do you think it's easy, leading a war for justice when every single thing I have to do contradicts justice? Do you have any, fucking idea?" Nick was near simmering with anger himself, but he could wait for Max to finish. Unlike the other, he knew how to be dispassionate. Max pointed an angry finger, "Since the first day you got to this camp, you have been actively disagreeing with me on every matter of policy, actively sabotaging every decision that I have made."
"I supported you on the barricade."
"Only after I went to my knees before you. Is that what you want Nick? Is that really all that you care about? Are you only willing to accept anybody else as long as they stoke your bloody arrogance?"
"You are raving."
Max took a deep breath, his face calming somewhat. He lurched to his feet, his tone still thick with rage. "My pardons." He swept from the tent, his shoulders rigid. Nick leant back in his chair, unutterably weary.
Mayhaps Lord Max was right. Certainly, for the greater good, distasteful tasks sometimes had to be seen to. But this… worse than distasteful. He couldn't pardon Warderer, and nobody had the right to ask that of him. Unless in the long run it was for the greater good…
By all the gods above and below, he couldn't even believe he was considering it!
Uncle Edmond soured me on treason. And my father trained me well.
Nick cradled his aching head trying hard to focus. If only he could focus… He wanted counsel, but who to send for? Mayfair? No. He could not send for Mayfair now. It would make him appear weak, to her. He could not allow her to think him weak. He was her rightful king, aye, and he would be a strong one.
Although, now that he chanced to think on it, perhaps this business with Warderer would be what he needed in that regard. Certainly, she could not deny that with matters so dangerous, he needed a wife and heir as soon as possible. And, in such a case, wouldn't she be apt to do her duty?
Except, blast it all, Mayfair was the least of his concerns at the moment! Why this pointless fixation there? Yes, pragmatically speaking the question of the continuation of the royal line was a pressing matter at the moment, but nonetheless, surrounded as Nick was by pressing concerns, even that could only be given so much attention. Mayfair was meaningless… His hands trembled. He had to focus.
As he sat there, Nick realized, bleakly that he already knew the answer to Warderer. Gods help him; he would make common cause with that madman because war called for expedience. His throat raw, Nick laughed in bitter admonition.
People are such fools, he thought blackly. If Warderer had named himself an angel, they would have seen wings.
