Chapter 13
Several leagues east of Aubergine, in the south-central valley of Anhalt, the road split in two. One led north towards the capital of the province, while the other wended south through the mountains that formed a natural barrier to the neighboring principality, Wortemburg. It was at this point that Henrietta's procession came to a stop, so that the men could rest and they could determine which path to take.
Their original plan had been to take the northern road. It was the safer and easier route by far, with many small towns and villages along the way for rest and resupply. The capital of the province lay in that direction as well. Courtesy demanded that they pay their respects to the prince whose territory they were passing through. But all that made it a predictable course of action. Now that they knew that there were those who sought to kill Henrietta in this country, they did not dare walk blindly into what could be an ambush.
"It'll be harder on the men," Mazarin said finally, "but we have no choice but to go south. We cannot gamble with the princess's life."
"If it is her safety you value," Joanna von Zerbst said, "then I cannot recommend the southern pass either. Bandits have recently taken shelter in the mountains there, and I do not much relish the thought of traveling through their territory."
"Combined we have over a thousand men," Henrietta said curiously. "Surely no mere bandits would dare try to attack such a formidable force."
"Greed may blind even the wisest of men," Lady Joanna said, "and bandits are already not known for their sterling wisdom. What they lack in wisdom, however, they make up for in numbers, which is all too conducive towards promoting a reckless courage in the unit as a whole."
"Do you know how many of them there are?"
"Two thousand, last I've heard."
"Two thousand!" Henrietta exclaimed. "Forgive me, my lady, but how could your lord husband allow this problem to grow so out of hand?"
"To say that he allowed it would be to ascribe him the fault of not trying." Lady Joanna shook her head. "Your Highness, you are Tristanian, and thus you tend to consider solutions on the basis of what can be accomplished through magic. I'm certain that with just the six hundred knights you have here, given enough time and supplies, they could root out the entire bandit tribe. But as I've said before, Germania lacks in mages, especially in comparison to Tristain, and so we must most often consider how to solve a problem such as this by the gun and sword. Usually that is sufficient, but in this type of terrain, where the bandits have entrenched themselves deep in the mountain's innumerable caves and crags, ten times their numbers could go in with the intent of driving them out and, though they might succeed, they would suffer catastrophic losses."
"Forgive me," Henrietta said, mollified. "You are right, of course. Still, I cannot help but to be shocked. Why are there so many of them? For what purpose have they gathered here in such numbers?"
"For the precise reason that the mountains are eminently defensible, I suppose." Lady Joanna shrugged. "Cowards and fools, the lot of them. They forget that there are no resources for them to take advantage of there, no gold or silver mines and little food and water. They've mostly survived thus far by raiding the surrounding lands, but over a dozen fortresses have been erected all around the mountain this past year, putting a stranglehold on their efforts. Sooner or later, they will either starve to death or surrender."
"'Sooner' is still too late for us." Henrietta made a frustrated sound. "What do you suggest we do?"
"Go north, to my home of Magdesburg," Lady Joanna said promptly. "My husband and I can loan you and your men some of our ships to fly to Vindobona."
"That cannot be done," Henrietta shook his head. "His Imperial Majesty specifically stipulated that we must travel to Vindobona by land, else we would already be there. He wants as many people as possible to know that we are truly set to marry. We would already be bending our agreement with him by taking a different route to the capital."
Lady Joanna clicked her tongue, and underneath her breath, so quietly that only Henrietta barely heard her speak, she said, "That man and his insufferable ego."
"Your Highness," Sir Marrok said. "I have an idea."
"Yes? What is it?"
"Way I see it, we need to get through the mountains, and these bandits are in our way, right?" Sir Marrok said. "If that's the case, the answer is simple. I'll take a few hundred of our knights and destroy them for you."
"Don't be ridiculous," Mazarin scoffed. "How long do you think that would take? It certainly wouldn't be an affair that could be solved in a few days."
"I must concur," Lady Joanna said. "Your Highness, if you cannot take the ships all the way to Vindobona, then perhaps just in part will be acceptable? We could fly over the mountains before landing in Wortemburg and continuing on from there."
"Would the Prince of Wortemburg permit that?"
"We would have to visit him and pay our respects, but I can think of no reason why not," Lady Joanna said. "He and my lord husband are already working closely together on this bandit issue, so I would imagine he'd be happy to oblige."
"Unless he's one of the conspirators after the princess's life," Mazarin commented.
Lady Joanna shot him a glare, but Henrietta didn't disagree. "It is a possibility," she said while looking apologetically at Lady Joanna. "What would you suggest we do then, Cardinal?"
"I would recommend that we accept Lady Joanna's offer, and follow her first suggestion," Mazarin answered promptly, surprising them all. "We ought to fly directly to Vindobona. With what dangers we might face by land, it is no choice at all."
"But the emperor..."
"Is unlikely to be so angry that he will break his engagement with you for that alone," Mazarin interjected, "especially once he hears our reasons why. We are not the only ones who stand to gain something from this marriage, and I doubt he is at all shortsighted enough to put the wand before the mage."
"Then it's settled," Henrietta nodded. "Let us make camp for the night here, and then head for Magdesburg tomorrow."
They all agreed and left her. Once the tents were set up and the cooking fires started, Henrietta retired to her own tent and laid down on her bed. It was a comfortable thing, but it struck Henrietta as something altogether too luxurious for travel. She sighed and rolled over onto her belly, burying her face into her pillow and feeling the warmth of her breath spreading across her face.
Bandits and traitors now, was it? Henrietta gave a muffled sigh. She did not like this country. It seemed that everywhere she went, there was someone or something waiting to kill her. She wanted to go back to Tristain, where she was safe, though even that was only a temporary term. Germania, Albion, Reconquista... I am not suited to rule in these chaotic times. I wonder if I am suited to rule at all.
She thought back to the days of her childhood, when she had hardly a care in the world. There was one event in particular that brought a smile to her face, even now when the shadow of death lingered over her like a reaper. It was when she and Louise were playing at pretend royal court. They had played this game many times before, and always Louise would seize the role of princess or queen for herself, leaving Henrietta to play the role of the knight. But it was different on that day. Tired of playing the subordinate, Henrietta declared that she would be playing the queen, to which Louise refused most strenuously. They got into their first argument, and then their first fight – a fistfight, at that.
Henrietta smiled fondly. What a sight we must have made. It was an unbecoming moment for the both of them, to be sure. The princess of Tristain and the daughter of the legendary Karin the Heavy Wind, battling it out like two commoners. In the end, however, justice prevailed. The false queen was overthrown and the true heir to the throne rose up to take her rightful place after emerging victorious in what they would later refer to as the Siege of Amiens (though it was neither a siege nor were they anywhere near the town of Amiens; they simply thought it sounded more impressive that way).
The deciding blow had been a punch straight into Louise's stomach, upon which she had begun crying. Seeing this, Henrietta had begun crying as well, though she could not quite remember why anymore. It might have been the realization that she had fought and hurt her dearest friend, or that she had begun to feel the pain of her own cuts and bruises as the adrenaline wore off, or perhaps it was something else entirely. Regardless, the noise attracted the attention of a few servants, who reported what had happened to the king and queen, who in turn left the punishment for the both of them up to Karin.
After that, they never fought again.
Ever.
Henrietta shuddered involuntarily, then rolled over on her back. It felt like she had been reminiscing for hours, though it could not have been more than a handful of minutes, and the nostalgia had done wonders in washing away her fears, or at least repressing it for the time being. Either way, the effect was the same. She sighed drowsily and slowly began to drift off into sleep.
If only it were always so, she thought sadly as her eyes closed, that it was the just who always won in real life.
That night, perhaps brought about by her reminiscing, she dreamed of the days of her childhood, and she dreamed of Louise Francoise.
"Life is strange," Antoine said as he bit into a tough, leathery strip of dried jerky and chewed on it. "Don't you think so, brother?"
Marrok glanced aside at the younger, sandy-haired man who sat not far from him by the same campfire, and grunted, "Dunno what you're talking about."
"The only reason why we're here is to get ourselves in a position close to the princess so that we can kill her for Reconquista," Antoine said, gesturing at him with half of his jerky strip. "And yet, by force of circumstance, now we must truly protect her instead of simply allowing her to die. Isn't that strange?"
"No," Marrok replied, glancing around. "Now shut the fuck up before everyone hears you."
Antoine fell silent, though not without shooting a surly, pouty look in his direction. Marrok didn't care. He grudgingly accepted the boy as the husband to his sister, but that was the extent of it. He may call him brother, but Marrok did not feel the same way about him. He thought of him in much the same way as he did a shit stain on his trousers, unwanted and uncomfortable, though Marrok supposed that the boy was nominally more useful than that. Even so, one of these days he might kill the boy, so vast was his irritation towards him. The temptation was there, and it was real.
You had to push him off onto me, didn't you, Wardes? Marrok thought. Couldn't keep him out of my hair for this already shitty job, could you? You and I are going to have words when I return, count on that.
What annoyed Marrok the most, however, was that Antoine was right. What had begun as an ordinary, boring escort duty had quickly spiraled out of his hands into something more. The fact that there was a Germanian plot against the princess's life was something none of them had predicted, and it was a great disturbance on their own plans.
They needed the princess to die for Reconquista to succeed, so ordinarily the fact that a completely unrelated party was willing to do their job for them would have been a godsend. Unfortunately, the remaining royalist forces of Albion were still stubbornly holding on to the last of their territory. So long as they continued to fight, Reconquista was in no position to take advantage of the chaos that would ensue from the loss of the heir to Tristain. In the worst case scenario, while Reconquista scrambled to muster a force to conquer Tristain, Germania or Gallia would swoop in first and seize the country. If they did, then that would immediately kill all of Reconquista's hopes for expansion.
The princess could not be permitted to die. Not yet.
But for Marrok, that reason was ancillary. It was the logic he expected Wardes to come up with. More important was that Henrietta had been promised to him. She was his. He glanced aside towards the princess's tent and licked his lips as he imagined her naked form. Those lithe arms, her long legs, that slender waist and pretty face and breasts. They were all his. She was owed to him, to do with as he pleased. To rip and tear as he desired. To see her tears flowing from those clear blue eyes as he hunted her down across an open field. To kill with his own two hands. She was his and his alone.
Marrok bared his teeth in a wide, hungry grin.
And I'll kill anyone who tries to take her from me.
The dust rose up high and thick behind Alex as he ran up the northern road out of Anhalt and into the principality of Hessan. The land here might have once been a forest, but untold years of deforestation had practically transformed it into a desert. The dirt road he was traveling on was not meant to support something as heavy and dense as he was at the speed he was running, which was in excess of two hundred miles per hour. He wasn't bothered by the damage he was causing, though. Or rather, he wasn't bothered to even think about it. His mind was elsewhere, focused only on that which mattered most with ice cold clarity.
Find Tobias. Find the ones who are responsible for the assassins. Kill them all.
It had been mere hours since he had left Ingemar's manor, and not once had he stopped to catch his breath. But after half an hour more of running, he slowed down at last, eventually coming to a stop. He frowned as he waited for the dust around him to settle, and sheltered his eyes from the bright sun with one hand. He hadn't stopped because he was tired. He stopped because, there in the distance, much further down the road, there was another cloud of dust. Something was coming this way.
Dust and distance made it difficult to see what that something was, so Alex switched to thermal vision in order to filter out all the visual obstructions. He could make out the shapes of men and horses galloping at top speed. One rider was in front, with around eight or nine more not far behind. When Alex saw that they held weapons in their hands, he realized that they were in pursuit. As they drew still closer, Alex was then able to make out the size of each of the riders, and saw that the one at their head was small enough to be a child.
By then they were near enough that Alex could turn off his thermal sight. Their horses were eating up the distance between them fast. The boy at the front glanced over his shoulder and made a panicked expression. The riders behind him were gaining. He looked up front again, and saw Alex. His mouth moved, but Alex couldn't hear what he was saying over the noise of the men's indistinct shouting and the horses' hoofbeats. Then again, he didn't need to hear to know what he was saying. It was obvious enough, given the circumstances.
Help me!
Alex clicked his tongue, briefly debating whether or not he ought to just step aside and not get involved. I don't have time for this. For every second that passed, it was that much more likely that another assassin would be sent after Henrietta. He was already anxious enough leaving her behind undefended, which was why he needed to quickly and permanently resolve the threat and return. Dammit. I'll do this fast.
He knelt down and drove his hand into the earth. After the boy passed a spot up ahead, Alex unleashed spears of hardened biomass from the ground. They tore into the horses' bellies and through the legs and groins of the riders, impaling them and raising them a dozen feet or more into the air. They screamed, produced crimson rain, and they died.
Alex retracted the groundspikes, letting the bodies fall to the ground unconsumed. He didn't care to know why they were chasing after the boy, nor did he want to waste precious time processing and internalizing their memories. He made to continue his sprint, when the boy wheeled around and stopped him.
"By the Founder," the boy said, astonished as he looked from Alex to the corpses and back again. His brows creased. "You are not human."
"You think?" Alex said sarcastically. "What gave it away?"
The boy flushed as he climbed off his horse. "Well, whatever or whoever you are, you have my gratitude. If not for you, I'd be dead."
Alex grunted. "Go home, kid. Get someplace safe."
The boy shook his head, grimacing. "You do not understand. I've just fled my home. These bandits raided my family's mansion and murdered my parents. I only narrowly managed to escape."
Despite his rush, Alex couldn't help but give the boy a once over. Underneath the dirt, sweat, and grime that coated him, Alex could see that his clothes were finely made. It was definitely not the type of clothes a simple peasant could afford.
"You a noble?" Alex asked.
"My father was a merchant of some wealth," the boy answered, "which was why the bandits marked us as their target; we were rich enough to be worth stealing from, but not enough to hire many guards."
"That's too bad."
"Will you help me?" the boy asked. "If you'll escort me to my uncle, I could reward you handsomely."
"Not interested," Alex said dismissively. "You'll have to make it on your own."
"Please, sir," the boy begged. "I haven't any food or water, and when the others learn of my survival, I fear they'll send more to finish the job. If it's a question of gold, my uncle will pay my weight in it."
"Unless you can tell me where to find Tobias," Alex said irritably, "I don't need anything from you or your uncle."
"Tobias?" The boy lit up and seized upon the name. "Do you mean that famous goldsmith in Gimsburg?"
Suddenly, Alex was no longer in quite the same rush as before. "That's the one. You know him?"
"Of course," the boy said proudly, puffing out his thin chest. "My father has done business with the man many a time. I've accompanied him on a few of these business trips before as well. My uncle, too, is one of his most frequent clients. This is perfect. If you take me to my uncle in Gimsburg, I'll make certain that he introduces you to Tobias."
Alex considered this offer for a moment. He had originally planned to just go to Gimsburg and consume someone the city was better off without and who might know where Tobias lived. But now he wondered if simply taking this boy to the city might be faster.
"What's your name?" Alex said at last.
"Alois," the boy replied respectfully. "And you, sir?"
"Alex Mercer." He sighed. "Fine, I'll take you to Gimsburg. But leave the horse behind."
The boy stared at him quizzically. "You mean for us to go by foot? I thought you were in a hurry."
"I am. The horse'll slow me down." Alex grabbed Alois and slung him over his shoulder, much to the boy's confusion. Alex glared at him, and growled, "I swear, if you throw up all over me, I'm going to drop you right there."