Daybreak Volume 4 Chapter 16 – Triangle Strategy

“Geoffroi?”

A ten-year-old Sylviane heard the muffled cry from within the sanctuary of her own room. She didn’t recognize the male voice. However, she did hear the subdued sound of knocking that came along with it.

Who would come knocking on the doors in the royal quarters? The child princess thought.

Only the palace servants and the Highland Guard would normally even have access to this hallway. But none of them would come here brazenly calling for the Emperor by his given name, nor to knock so loudly upon the bedroom doors.

The young crown princess put aside the heavy tome that she had been reading. It was yet another dry treatise on the laws and administration of Rhin-Lotharingie that her father had ordered her to learn. He had set a goal that demanded she remember at least a high level description of every major law of the Empire by the end of this year, at which point he would personally test her knowledge. And in the intervening months, her father had set aside two hours every Sunday to discuss with his heir apparent just what she had learned that week.

Sylviane had protested at first. Surely there were more interesting topics to begin her political education on than dusty old tomes? It then surprised her when her father recommended a book that came, of all places, from a renowned Tauheed jurist named Abu Zayd ar-Raḥman… she forgot the rest of the extremely long and foreign name. The Emperor had recited a passage from his book, where the scholar had argued that laws form the foundation of state and society which all other institutions and customs revolve around. Therefore, all rulers should conduct every action they take through the perspective of legal jurisdiction and lawmaking.

Yet, despite now knowing the importance of legal treatises, the child princess found her curiosity more compelling as she climbed out of bed. The young girl scampered over to the door of her room. She slowly, quietly turned the handle and opened the door, leaving just enough space for her to peek out with her curious gaze.

“Geoffroi!” Sylviane watched the interloper cry out alongside two more knocks on the thick mahogany wood. He then leaned his head against the door as his voice dropped to a more pleading tone. “Open up. Please.”

The unknown man had a lean build and was modest in height. He was richly dressed and bore the same plum-black hair that she and her father had. It was clear based on both his appearance and his conduct that he was a relative of the royal family. However, Sylviane was sure she had never met him in all her years growing up in the Oriflamme Palace.

Nevertheless, the door he was knocking on did not belong to the Emperor, but to Sylviane’s deceased mother. Over a year had passed since she, along with Sylviane’s two older brothers, had been killed by Mantis Blade assassins from the Holy Imperium. But her father insisted that everything in the room remained as it was, and he still vanished behind those doors once a week to grieve.

“Brother…”

The bedroom door partially opened to reveal the tall and broadly-shouldered Emperor standing inside. His lips were pursed and his eyes still carried a tinge of redness that hinted at tears.

He’s my Uncle Gabriel?

Sylviane almost gasped as she indeed remembered her mother and father bringing him up multiple times in conversations over the years. But it was never more than a mention, as every time the topic came up, her father’s mood immediately began to plummet.

“Geoffroi…” The uncle that Sylviane had never met until now looked up at the Emperor’s sullen expression. “You still… recognize me as your brother? After all the years that I’ve been missing, all the decades that I’ve ignored you?”

“Have I ever stopped inviting you to join us for…?” Her father asked before his question trailed off and his eyes widened slightly. “I forgot this past winter… I’m sorry. It’s been hard since…”

Geoffroi’s words abruptly stopped as though he couldn’t say it out loud. Instead, the Emperor could only glance back into the room of his late wife.

“And here I thought you had finally given up on me,” Gabriel answered wryly with an audible sigh of relief. “But that’s not your fault. It is mine. Had I been here these past few decades… Had I been there for you during the wars.”

“It doesn’t matter now. It’s all in the past.” Geoffroi said with a solemn expression before a trace smile entered his countenance. “You will always be my elder brother.” He declared as his blue-violet eyes glistened in the light. “And I will always be happy to see you back.”

For a moment, Sylviane watched as neither of the two men said anything. The shorter but older brother continued to look up into the eyes of his younger sibling. The child princess could not see the expression of her uncle. But the faint shaking that came from his thin shoulders showed that he was no less afflicted by emotions than her glassy-eyed father.

“I-I’m sorry.” Gabriel’s voice cracked as he finally replied in a somber and sincere apology. “For your loss… For not being here… For my absence these past four decades…

“I’m so sorry, Geoffroi.” He added after a moment of pause. “I wanted to stop by, to at least express my condolences for the passing of your wife. I know you loved her dearly, and I should have been here for you during the funeral.”

The young princess watched from a distance as tears flooded into her father’s turbulent, blue-violet gaze. He pushed open the door fully and emerged into the doorway in his full girth. His thick and muscular arms extended out to wrap themselves around the smaller man who stood just outside.

“It makes me happy to see you nevertheless.”

The Emperor laid his head against the brother whom he had long thought lost. Bittersweet joy overflowed from his closed eyes as he voiced the words that he had wanted to say for so long:

“Welcome back, brother.”

…

“Will you be staying this time?” Geoffroi asked an hour later as he sat with Gabriel inside a private sitting room at the end of the royal residence hall.

Just like when he was in the bedroom of his late wife, the Emperor had requested to be left alone by the palace guards. His bodyguard Lindsay and her royal armigers kept a watch from outside the royal chambers. The only one who stood in the hallway was the young princess Sylviane, who currently had her ear pressed against the thick mahogany wood of the door.

“Think you can let me?” Gabriel answered with a smile in his voice. Though before the Emperor could retort, he raised a finger to clarify:

“I’m not speaking from a personal perspective, Geoffroi, but one of national interest. Part of the reason I came back is because I heard you’ve been overworking yourself half to death over the past year. And that after losing a number of trusted advisers during the war, you need help in the territories more than ever.”

Sylviane heard an audible sigh from her father before he replied:

“That’s certainly true. Now that I’ve reclaimed all Lotharin lands in Belgae and pushed our borders right up to Cross Lake, I need someone in the east to help consolidate the new lands. General Mathias has agreed to take command of the strategic Lotharin river estuary as his new fief in retirement. I actually just promoted Macdonald to general to replace him. But you know as well as I do that Mathias thinks too differently from most people to be a good political leader.”

“‘Thinks too differently’ is an understatement,” Gabriel scoffed in response. “Haven’t you heard? Mathias has already named his new duchy ‘Baguette’. Ordered the local town to change its name and shape to match. That eccentric old man claimed that since his strip of land looks like a piece of long bread, why not just call it as such?”

A brief snorting sound came from the Emperor as he voiced in half-amusement and half-disbelief: “That man… I have no idea what’s going on in that head of his.

“Nevertheless, I trust Mathias to exert control over the estuary with a firm hand,” Sylviane’s father continued. “We may have failed to capture the trade hub at Nordkreuz during the past war, but we must ensure that naval command over Cross Lake remains in our grasp. Without it, our enemy can project power straight up the twin Lotharin Rivers and threaten the entirety of the Lotharin Heartlands.”

Pascal said much the same thing. Sylviane thought as she remembered how the energetic young scion of Nordkreuz showed her the threat that her father now spoke of on his family’s map table.

“Aren’t the Wickers our allies now though?” Gabriel then asked. “I’ve even heard that you’ve betrothed young Sylviane to the son of their Marshal.”

“I’ve been hoping to consult with you on that, actually,” Geoffroi replied with a wry chuckle. “After all, you are her Godfather.”

“Some Godfather I am, when I wasn’t even there to witness her baptism,” Gabriel countered in a miffed voice.

What is a ‘Godfather’ anyway? The young princess herself wondered as she stood listening in.

“I know why you did that Geoffroi — you wanted to show me that I would be welcomed if I ever came back.” The older brother then added. “But still… I wish you had picked someone more reliable for Sylviane, and not just used the position as political bait.”

“But you’re back now, aren’t you?” Geoffroi’s tone came across as though he was grinning.

“For all the good that I can do.” The older brother sighed as he retorted with sarcasm. “I can’t even be a good husband, let alone be a good godfather. Though, I guess I might as well uphold my responsibility as one and point out that this betrothal which you have arranged with the Wickers runs against our proud family tradition.” He added as his tone stiffened to criticism.

“You are sacrificing your daughter’s happiness on the altar of political agenda!”

“See, you can be a good godfather.” Geoffroi countered first with a pleased tone.

“Besides, Sylv is also keen on young Pascal. The two apparently became quite close friends during her year’s stay in Nordkreuz,” Geoffroi continued as his words took on a sense of irony, since everyone knew that she was actually held there as a political hostage. “I do plan on helping them hold onto that friendship as they grow. So at the very least, it’s not completely against our founder’s principles, nor must it sacrifice her happiness.”

Pascal is just a friend. Why do you have to say ‘close’? Sylviane retorted in her thoughts as she felt a strange heat rise up her cheeks.

She then had to chase away the nagging thought that outside of Pascal, Cecylia, Robert, and Mari, she really didn’t have any friends, close or otherwise.

“And as for Weichsel, they used to be allies of the Imps as well,” Geoffroi’s voice then drew Sylviane’s attention back inside the room. “Until we can solidify our alliance on something more meaningful than just a piece of parchment, I will continue to take action in the east to ward against their military. Nevertheless, General… Duke Mathias will never be anything more than a military leader. Though I guess that’s just as well, since the last thing I want to see is that corrupt and bloated Duke Hugh expand House La Tours’ influence north to dominate the Belgae region in addition to Rhétie.”

“I can make sure of that,” Gabriel responded. “Though it won’t be easy. The eastern lords have been crying foul towards your focus on prioritizing infrastructure development in the Lotharin Heartlands for years. To gather their support, I will have to take a stance in speaking out against you.”

“As long as you don’t seriously mean it and collude with my other opponents.” Geoffroi answered with a deep sigh. “Both Queen Katell of Avorica and King Elisedd of Ceredigion have been giving me enough headaches. The last thing I want to see is some Lotharin Triumvirate stand in opposition to the crown.”

“Geoffroi…” an armchair creaked as Sylviane’s uncle leaned forward to beseech his brother and liege. “I know you have no reason to trust me as I say this, not after all the years of my absence…”

Gabriel’s voice then came to an abrupt pause as Geoffroi interrupted him:

“I meant what I said, brother. What’s passed is past. No length of time is enough to bury our adolescence and youth spent growing up hand in hand. I will always look upon you as my dearest elder brother.”

A moment of silence passed inside the room where only two men sat.

Then, Sylviane heard Gabriel speak solemnly as he declared in a heartfelt oath:

“Then I promise you, here and now, that no matter what I say, no matter what I appear to do, I shall always stand with you, just as we once did as youths.”

 

—– * * * —–

 

In the end, your oath came to nothing but a fat lie to hide your knife behind.

Sylviane wiped the tears that pooled at the corner of her eyes as she woke up from her brief nap. She had dozed off in an armchair inside her ‘command cabin’, likely due to her troubled sleep last night. The Princess looked through the window to the setting sun outside which hinted no more than a half hour had passed. Her army had marched to within striking range of her uncle’s forces and was now building a fortified camp.

Her agents in Gabriel’s army had informed her that the false emperor had arrived in person this afternoon. This meant less than twenty-five kilopaces now separated her from the man who murdered her father in cold blood. The Princess had called a war council from her leading lords and generals. Nevertheless, she knew it would take some time for them to arrive as they had to get their respective forces settled in first. Therefore, she had asked Elspeth to guard the door while she took a brief respite.

Had it not been for your traitorous actions, uncle, I would never be stuck in the dilemma that I’m in now, Sylviane reflected on the question that she had been mulling over all day.

Henri’s offer of a matrilineal marriage had come as a bit of a surprise. After all, the Gaetane dynasty had turned down many offers of political union over the centuries and gained a reputation for it. Though it was possible that since Henri had never met her and Pascal, he had thought of her current betrothal as just another purely political relationship.

However, even from the perspective that Henri would be replacing one political union with another, the fact he was all too willing to ignore Sylviane’s precontract reveals his cutthroat approach towards politics. The young lord clearly didn’t care whether this was right or wrong in the laws of man or in the eyes of the Holy Father. All that mattered to him were his family’s best interests, which meant that he would just as eagerly turn against her should she fail to match the prospects that her traitorous uncle offered.

The thought of winning against both Gabriel’s and Henri’s forces was not impossible, but certainly improbable. Sylviane had arrived a full day before Henri’s Army of Rhétie would, which left a brief window of opportunity. However, the battle ahead would be gamble enough even without adding Henri’s forces to the opposition. The Princess badly needed some assurances that victory would favor her, and not merely pray upon landing another high roll of the dice as she had at Glywysing.

But to forfeit my marriage with Pascal? Sylviane frowned.

It would not only destroy her reputation as a trustworthy leader which she had cultivated over the past decade. It would also infuriate her Weichsen allies and guarantee that they would withdraw from the difficult war ahead. And worst of all, it would cast aside Pascal like a rag doll after it was for her sake that he became injured. Such a deed would shatter their decade-long friendship, leaving a scar in her soul that would be reopened every time she thought back to her childhood.

Yet, without a victory on the battlefield tomorrow, none of those would matter.

Sylviane knew that her fate in the politics of Rhin-Lotharingie would be decided by the outcome of the battle to come. If she was defeated, then even if she escaped, she would have lost her only foreseeable opportunity to retake the throne. The fresh invasions in the spring would only solidify Gabriel’s authority and force the lords that had sided with her to stand with him. Such an outcome would leave Sylviane with nothing — no power, no influence, not even her identity as a girl who had spent most of her life studying to become the crown princess.

If I lose, then what else is there for me?

Pascal had once joked after the Battle of Nordkreuz that she could just live as his wife. But Sylviane knew that she was too independent-minded to ever be satisfied with such a life. She wanted to live on her own, to push forward her aspirations for the Empire’s political reform, and not merely be a companion and ornament to her spouse…

A soft knock on the cherry-wood door roused the princess’ attention from her thoughts. The soft voice that followed came from Elspeth as she announced:

“Your Highness. Your council is ready.”

Might as well discuss battle plans first. Sylviane sighed in the empty room as she stood up and took a brief stretch.

The Princess pulled out her spellbook and opened straight to a page that held her most recent bookmark. She closed her eyes and channeled mana through her nerves in the same fashion that the Worldwalker Gwendolen had shown her weeks ago. Her spell was one of many fae sorceries that Gwendolen had rediscovered and modernized to cast using Aura Magic. The old queen had transferred dozens of them to her spellbook, which could easily take Sylviane years to learn and master –- though there was one that the Princess had recognized immediately as worth learning.

“Faerie’s Blessing: Gwenhidw’s Grace.”

Gwenhidw was one of the faerie queens who ruled the lands of Rhin-Lotharingie in ancient times. Known as the ‘White Enchantress’, the queen had a reputed ability to read the emotion of her court. The spell named after her used divination magic to enhance its caster’s subconscious to notice every minute detail from those whom she interacted face-to-face with — be it the slightest shift in mannerism due to interest and focus, or a subtle change through their skin pores’ chemistry from anxiety and nervousness.

And best of all, since the spell did not actually intrude upon a target’s mind, it was neither illegal nor could it be blocked by most defensive wards – not even a mage’s innate mana resistance.

The spell wasn’t entirely foolproof. After all, truly pathological liars could deceive without the slightest inkling of ill conscience and guilt. But for everyone else, it basically allowed Sylviane to read falsehoods, misdirection, and even concealment as though it came with a warning light.

Thank you, Gwendolen. The young faekissed smiled as she took a deep, calming breath and thought of her senior — the woman who had almost become her great-great-grandmother, and whose aid to the Princess’s journey literally made the queen her fairy godmother.

Then, after taking another moment to straighten her wardrobe, Sylviane put on a welcoming yet confident smile as she strode to the door and opened it.

“Your Majesty. Your Grace. My Ladies and Lords,” the Princess greeted King Alistair, Landgrave Pascal, the Oriflamme Paladin Vivienne, and the dozen or so commanders and nobles who waited outside.

“Please, come on in. We have much to discuss.”

…

“Our scouts report that the fortifications surrounding Gabriel’s army are formidable.” Sylviane watched as the recently promoted Colonel Lynette went over their enemies’ current position and status to the remainder of those assembled. “The triangular peninsula that juts out into Lake Alise is surrounded by water to its north and west. Four layers of ditches, ramparts, and walls guard the south and eastern approaches. The two inner layers wrap completely around to defend even the coast. And Gabriel has already moved in the majority of his army to garrison the defenses.

“Nearly his full host, according to our intelligence.” Major Hans Ostergalen added as he spoke for the information provided by Weichsel’s Black Eagles. “Gabriel left only a token force of roughly a thousand men to defend the capital. This means that his fortress on the peninsula is held by nearly 24,000 soldiers.”

Fortress… Sylviane scowled as Hans described the position in a manner that she had been avoiding. Just hearing the word made their task of taking it seem much more daunting.

“Bastions with interlocking shooting angles, protected by ravelins and hornworks and surrounded by ditches and palisades.” General Caradoc observed as he leaned over the three-dimensional map. “This is General Menno’s work, without a doubt.”

He then turned to the Princess with a severe gaze and slanted lips:

“Your Highness, I do not think that assaulting this camp is a battle that we can win.”

“Certainly not within a day or two before Henri’s army arrives.” Pascal nodded in agreement with displeasure. “The minor numerical advantage that we have pales in comparison to the force multiplier those earthworks offer Gabriel.”

“And not just that,” Caradoc added as his scowl grew. “We also lack siege equipment and artillery, which must be built from scratch to bombard and breach those defenses. Without at least a week of preparation, any assault against that position will be a bloodbath that will bleed our men white.”

“But we can’t simply wait for Gabriel and Henri’s armies to unite either!” One of the attending lords pointed out the obvious.

“Then, what do you all suggest?” The Princess asked in a seemingly calm and steady voice. But below, her hand gripped the map table in a squeeze so tight that her chuckles began to turn white.

Yet again, I allowed that murderous uncle of mine to be one step ahead!

Perhaps in hindsight, Sylviane wished she had dispatched several banners of rangers east to harass and disrupt Gabriel’s efforts in entrenching. Yet with every man needed during the Siege of Roazhon and her march into Ceredigion, she couldn’t imagine justifying such actions at the time. Then after the relief of Roazhon, the depleted banners were in desperate need of rest and reorganization.

“Why don’t we attack Henri first then?” The leader of the Weichsen contingent, Colonel Hammerstein, said plainly as he pointed at an armored figure on the map table that approached from the east.

“Indeed.” General Caradoc’s scowl transformed into a wolvish sneer as he returned a look of approval to his Weichsen counterpart. “The Army of Rhétie is not only a smaller force at only two-thirds of our strength. Their pre-war professionals had mostly been sent south to assist Marshal Cosette, which left this force to consist largely of militia and reservists. The young and clearly inexperienced Henri also pushed his men hard to march four hundred kilopaces in the past seven days. Even with Invigorate spells, his repeated and grueling forced marches have no doubt taken a toll upon his soldiers’ stamina and morale.”

“I must similarly agree,” Pascal nodded with pursed lips after Caradoc finished explaining. “Henri’s army has already exhausted itself and will require several days of rest to recuperate. Yet he is encamped only thirty-two kilopaces due east.”

Nevertheless, Sylviane could clearly read the reservations on his face as he worried about how such an attack would affect Kaede, who was still Henri’s prisoner.

Sir Reynaud did report that Henri’s soldiers were too exhausted to even properly pitch their tents. Sylviane thought.

“I propose that we detach our cavalry, chariots, and mount half our rangers to cover that distance at night and storm Henri’s camp before daybreak,” Caradoc then added. “With little rest to recover from their exhaustion, Henri’s army will likely shatter straight away. And if it doesn’t, we advance our main force towards him at daylight. With the excellent roads of the Imperial Highway, our foot soldiers can easily cover thirty kilopaces by mid-afternoon and rout Henri’s forces by dusk.”

Except that would also force Henri’s hand, Sylviane thought as she held back her urge to frown.

“And what if Gabriel’s army marches after us to intervene?” The lord who led the Avorican contingent asked with concern.

“I’m counting on it.” The General’s reply came in a low growl.

Caradoc’s cold gray eyes were ruthless beyond measure as he stared at the figure representing Gabriel’s forces. His savage grin and bloodthirsty glare made Sylviane’s hair stand up and reminded her of why he was called the ‘Dread Wolf’.

“That would indeed be the perfect outcome,” Pascal explained as a faint smile tugged even upon his lips. “Gabriel will be at least a half day behind us, as he has to extract his forces from those fortifications first. We can rout Henri’s army before turning all of our forces around to engage Gabriel. And he will be caught in the open without any of his advantages.”

“Defeat them in detail. I like it.” King Alistair concurred with a crafty smile on his face. Most of the lords in attendance also similarly nodded and expressed agreement.

Meanwhile, a slight frown entered the Princess’ brows as she considered how both Pascal and Alistair often favored pure military solutions while ignoring the political ramifications.

The problem was that she had been hoping to keep Henri’s army out of this battle altogether. Because even if she won against the Army of Rhétie, it would only be to the Empire’s detriment, as the casualties taken would no longer be able to contribute to the fighting come spring. Worse yet, confronting the Army of Rhétie would officially brand all of those men traitors, which might lead to lingering suspicions even after the battle that would reduce any future political support she might receive from them.

–- And that was assuming her soldiers didn’t kill them in large numbers once the fighting started, which would spurn their families with misdirected hate and vengeance.

Sylviane couldn’t help but remember Kaede’s speech before the Relief of Roazhon, when the Samaran girl reminded them all of who was it that truly benefits from provoking a cycle of violence and vengeance, which would only lead to an ever-growing list of enemies…

“If we could march our entire army towards Henri to lure Gabriel out of his cowardly shell, then I would rather not have to fight Henri’s army on the battlefield at all.” The Princess voiced her intent to her commanders. Yet most of them only turned towards her with an odd look.

Why do these military types only ever think in terms of friend or foe?

“Over the past week, my envoy to Lord Henri has continued her work even as his army marched upon the capital,” the Princess reasoned. “Since then, Henri has reached out to me to discuss possible terms, though we have not reached any agreement as of yet. Regardless, it seems to me that the young lord is no longer guaranteed to reinforce our enemies as Gabriel might still believe. And even if Henri doesn’t side with us, there is a strong possibility that he would simply stand back and watch while we fight Gabriel’s army.

“But if we were to attack him, it would only force Henri to choose Gabriel’s side,” Sylviane pointed out. “And even if we could swiftly defeat his army, the loss of 20,000 trained men, not to mention the discontent this would bring from the people of Rhétie, would be a heavy blow to the Empire’s total fighting strength.”

“Your Highness, I understand your noble desire to preserve the lives of your… of our countrymen,” General Caradoc responded before his voice took on an ominous tone. “But the only chance we have to draw Gabriel out of his camp is by marching east to attack his reinforcements. And by the time Gabriel sallies out of his fortifications, we will be positioned between his and Henri’s forces.”

The imposing commandant seized a telescopic rod from a nearby adjutant and pushed the chariot representing Sylviane’s army to the Imperial Highway. He then walked to another side of the table and pushed the shielded armiger that stood for Gabriel’s army out of his camp. The threat of Sylviane’s forces being sandwiched between the two other armies immediately became apparent. This was especially the case as the further east they marched, the denser the woods on both sides of the Imperial Highway grew, which in turn entrapped them between two armies and the forest.

“Under normal circumstances, positioning ourselves where we could be caught between two enemies is a death wish,” Caradoc warned in an ominous tone. “In our case, this gamble is only sensible because Henri’s exhausted troops present us with a window of opportunity for a quick and decisive victory. But if we turn around and attack Gabriel first, we are throwing away that opportunity to grind our teeth upon a stronger foe that is both better-rested and better-trained.”

I know that my proposition is risky, Sylviane acknowledged to herself. But…

The Princess felt a bit dejected that Caradoc, despite his fearsome reputation, turned out to be such a cautious commander. Though… she did sense from the subtle signs in his expression — from an almost imperceptible hesitation before he made his counterpoint, to the faint twitch of his lips as he said ‘normal circumstances’ — that something was also holding him back, some reason that she didn’t yet know.

Yet before she could even reply, it was Pascal who piled on against her with a shake of his head:

“I concur. This is far too risky. If we fail to achieve a breakthrough of Gabriel’s forces, then an attack by Henri against our rear, after our soldiers have become exhausted while his had time to rest, would utterly annihilate our forces.”

“And that’s an outcome that we simply cannot afford!” One of the Ceredigion lords stated, to the agreement of most of the war council.

Pascal you’re not helping…

Sylviane raised her eyes in a glare that she directed at him. However, her fiancé looked away as though studying the map yet again. A shadow of pain could be seen in his remaining good eye as the young lord clenched his right hand into a trembling fist atop the map table. The possibility of watching nearly thirty thousand allied soldiers cut down from a failed gamble did not at all seem acceptable to him.

His miscast at Glywysing is still bothering him.

The Princess couldn’t help but feel both sympathy and disappointment at the same time. Of course, she was empathetic towards Pascal’s apprehension, and had they been in a private setting she’d even try to comfort him. Nevertheless, her war council was anything but a private affair, and Sylviane badly needed support and backup to convince the reluctant General Caradoc.

Pascal had proposed many risky battle plans in the past — such as the daring air attack at Nordkreuz — precisely because he knew the strategic benefits were worth the risks. And at this moment, Sylviane wished that she still had the old him with her.

“If we fail?” The Princess challenged as she stared at Pascal before turning towards a frowning King Alistair. “Even with two Oriflammes to lead the charge?” Her piercing gaze then met General Caradoc’s and Colonel Hammerstein’s in turn as she added: “Even with your renowned chariot corps, with double Gabriel’s air cavalry, and with a third Paladin in support?”

“Battles are not won by numbers alone.” The hooded Vivienne spoke so quietly that it was almost a whisper.

“Exactly!” Sylviane nevertheless caught on as she smiled at the petite Winterborn. She then swept her eyes through the audience and declared with absolute determination: “As long as we can lure Gabriel out of his camp, our forces will break through his lines! The only question is how many hours it will take. And whether Henri might intervene before we succeed.”

“I agree with Her Highness,” said one of the Heartland lords who marched with General Macdonald’s old forces. “It may be a calculated risk, but it’s certainly one with good odds that’s worth taking!”

A faint nod of agreement came from King Alistair and several other lords as they began to sway toward her cause. Meanwhile, Colonel Hammerstein leered with a toothy grin as though he was more than willing to face such odds. The quiet Vivienne looked impassive, but Sylviane knew she could count on the girl’s support. Even Pascal frowned inwardly as he wore a scowl that realized the disappointment in her rebuke was directed towards him.

However, it was General Caradoc, the person whose support she needed the most, who refused to budge. And without him, she had little chance of swaying any of the Ceredigion lords who all looked to him.

“Your Highness’ courage is commendable. And had circumstances been different, I would gladly follow the light of your phoenix-fire into battle.” The commander of the Army of Ceredigion met the Princess’ gaze with equal challenge and respect. “But I have also sworn to my king that I will bring back the Army of Ceredigion in one piece. The Western front cannot afford to lose its only remaining army when the Caliphate’s new offensive arrives with spring.”

So that’s the real reason. Sylviane tried not to scowl as King Llywelyn’s ‘generous support’ had turned out to be a double-edged sword.

More than two-thirds of her army came from Ceredigion, whose soldiers nominally followed her but actually obeyed Caradoc. And if the General cannot be persuaded to wager the army on a battle of risky odds, then even attaining the support of every other lord present would not allow the Princess to fight her battle.

Never thought I’d miss having Edith’s recklessness around, Sylviane thought as she exhaled a soft sigh. It would have been so much easier to persuade the Crusader Saint to launch a frontal assault — if only Edith was willing to fight against fellow Trinitians.

“I understand your concerns, General,” the Princess began as she looked up and met Caradoc’s stern eyes with a sympathetic gaze. “But please, consider the state of the war from the Empire’s overall perspective. Both Garona and Avorica have already been battered by the Caliphate’s invasion thus far, and we have no choice but to destroy the Army of Belgae to end this civil war. The Empire will need as much support as it can muster once spring arrives. Yet every soldier of Rhétie whom we kill now is a family that would resent us more than the foreigners!

“Do you honestly not believe that this gamble, as risky as it might be, is not worth taking?” Sylviane stared into the General’s cold gray eyes as the emphasis in her voice escalated over time. “The more men we can secure for the Empire’s southern front, the more Rhin-Lotharingie can aid Ceredigion in the West. However, the reverse is also true — if Rhin-Lotharingie is beset and overwhelmed on all sides, then there is little help we can provide Ceredigion when the hour of need arrives!”

A faint twitch from the corner of Caradoc’s scowl revealed that at least a part of him did not wish to deny the Princess. Nevertheless, the stubborn general opened his lips to speak in opposition… only to be cut off by King Alistair before he could start.

“General Caradoc, I don’t think you have fully considered the repercussions of turning your back upon the Princess at this critical juncture,” the King said as his eyes sent a flash of warning. “We all know that the battle before us will decide the contested crown. We also know that Gabriel is not a man fit to rule the Burning Throne. Her Highness is wise and determined to fight this battle with the Empire’s long term interests in mind. Should your forces fail to lend their support and lead to her loss, I have no doubt that every history book in the Empire will record who is really responsible for the war’s eventual, unfavorable outcome.”

Sylviane knew Alistair had struck a low blow as the General’s eyes flared and hot air rushed from his nose. Caradoc had spent his entire life faithfully serving his kingdom’s long-term interests. Even when the previous king declared neutrality in the war, he had repeatedly argued for joining the conflict behind the Empire’s cause.

To be viewed as shortsighted and selfish now would tarnish his reputation for life in a manner that he might never be able to wash clean.

However, before Caradoc could decide on a renewed response, it was Pascal who returned from his thoughts first.

“IF Gabriel sallies out from his fortification. IF we can catch Gabriel in the open and rapidly break through his lines. IF Henri does not stab us in the back while we are preoccupied.” The young lord spoke in a low and dreary voice as he gestured at the map table where the Princess’ army would have to fight with its back exposed. Meanwhile, his other hand remained clenched in a fist as though he was trying to muster every bit of strength from within himself.

“I maintain that this battle plan is far too risky compared to the alternative of destroying Henri’s army first.” Pascal said before he met his betrothed’ eyes with a stony gaze.

Sylviane couldn’t help but feel her stomach turn as her irritation rose. Having Caradoc in opposition was already bad enough. But for the General to find an ally in her fiance simply made everything worse.

Yet, before she could interject from her opened lips, Pascal added:

“However, Sylv, you are also correct…”

I am? Sylviane felt taken aback as she had almost resigned herself to Pascal working against her.

“Military preferences must be placed as secondary beneath the context of long-term political needs,” the young lord declared. “To take the shortcut now might make our jobs easier against the immediate obstacle. But it would also borrow a costly debt from our future that may be too expensive to repay.”

The Princess could almost hear the unsaid words ‘that’s what my father taught me’, before Pascal turned his renewed determination towards Caradoc’s clouded gaze.

“The odds may not be as favorable, but the demand is logical and in the Empire’s best interests,” the young lord spoke. “Therefore, it is our duty as soldiers to carry them out, to find a way to achieve victory by our pain and blood, no matter what it takes. For the opposite can only be remembered as cowardice and our kind’s greatest sin.”

Pascal’s hand finally loosened as he pushed both palms down against the map table. He then swiveled back to face Sylviane with his single resolute gaze and nodded.

He came through for me after all. A thankful smile grew across the Princess’ lips as she nodded back. Meanwhile King Alistair moved up to behind him and patted the young man’s shoulders with respect:

“Spoken like a true warrior.”

All eyes then fell upon General Caradoc as he was the last figure who held out in the opposition camp. A stiff and uncomfortable silence gripped the room as everyone waited for the final judgment to fall.

“His Grace’s words do indeed ring true.” Caradoc exhaled moments later before he put on an odd smile. “It seems that I am the one who has forgotten what it truly means to be a soldier.”

It was as though the old wolf was admitting honorable defeat to a younger cub.

“Not at all,” the Princess replied with an appreciative smile. “You were arguing for the sake of your homeland. I can respect that.”

The general cracked a faint grin before nodding politely in return.

“Your Highness shall have your wish — we will march upon Henri’s camp tomorrow at dawn, not to engage directly, but to lure out Gabriel’s forces,” the General then declared without a shred of insincerity in his voice. “I shall take personal command at the front of the column to ensure that real fighting does not break out. Ceredigion’s chariots are adept at maintaining distance, and we will be sure to growl as fiercely as we can toward Henri’s forces without actually biting down.”

“With his men exhausted, I doubt that brat Henri will wish to be the first to attack,” Colonel Hammerstein pointed out. “Not unless he’s a complete idiot.”

“Quite the opposite,” Sylviane nodded in assurance. “Henri is quite calculating in choosing what favors him — and it is precisely that choice which I hope to exploit.” She added with a grin that never made it to her gaze.

“Then, assuming that Gabriel’s forces do sally from their fortifications,” Caradoc continued. “Our formation will then turn about face and march straight at him in reverse column order. Colonel Hammerstein will lead the Weichsen Knights Phantom, followed by Earl Hywel and the Ceredigion wyvern riders, in to engage Gabriel’s air cavalry and bombard his rearguard.”

“Colonel, Lord Hywel, your main focus should be to sow enough panic that it would be impossible for Gabriel’s forces to retreat through their own confused ranks,” Pascal then added.

“Easy.” Hammerstein nodded as a ferocious grin lit up his savage face.

“After that, His Majesty and Her Highness can lead the banners of our starting rearguard, and now vanguard, in a full-frontal attack,” Caradoc said next as he pressed the chariot model into the shielded armiger on the map. “This of course means that the Royal Guard of the Glens, along with the veterans of General Macdonald’s army, should be placed in the rear when we begin the march.”

“We should also leave some of Lady Lynette’s rangers in the rearguard, so they can begin skirmishing with Gabriel’s wings to tie them down,” Pascal suggested, to which Caradoc returned an approving nod.

The young lord then turned towards King Alistair, whom everyone already knew would be leading the first charge:

“Your Majesty, please remember that the more ferocious our assault against Gabriel is, the more an inexperienced commander like Henri will hesitate to intervene. Just as we must make Gabriel believe that we are attacking Henri to lure him out, we must also make Henri feel that it’s too dangerous to get involved.”

“Sounds reasonable.” Alistair nodded before turning to Sylviane. “I’ll lead the first charge to carve as deep as I can into those traitors’ ranks. We’ll be counting on Your Highness to lead the follow up.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t leave you hanging,” the Princess smiled as she jested in return.

“Just make sure you leave some traitors for us to kill.” One of the Heartland lords added with a malignant grin.

“It’s time for Gabriel to pay for his abuses while we were away from our homes!”

I’ll need to make sure this doesn’t get out of hand either. The Princess silently reminded herself even as she openly nodded to them. It was a balancing act that she had to play as she wanted her subordinates to be eager to fight, but not so overly eager that they don’t wind up massacring those who should have been spared.

“And I will bring the remainder of the Ceredigion chariots and cavalry to engage as soon as I can.” The General concluded, despite leaving out one crucial member of the war council’s ranks.

“Vivienne, because your music is extremely noticeable and could be perceived as the focus of our attack, I need to ask you to go with General Caradoc first to support his feint,” Sylviane requested. “Once Colonel Hammerstein and King Alistair successfully entangle Gabriel’s forces, we will then need you to relocate to support the new front in haste. That is unless Henri emerges from his camp to attack, in which case your music is our last option we have for slowing down his advance.”

“Of course.” The hooded girl responded with a brave nod and an uneasy gaze. It was a reminder to Sylviane that the mere presence of the wolvish general left the winterborn feeling anxious.

“I think that about wraps up the highlights of this battle plan,” Caradoc then declared before a scowl returned to his expression. “However, we should talk about what happens if Gabriel doesn’t take the bait…”

“If Gabriel does not emerge to join the battle,” Sylviane interjected, “then he clearly shows that he views Henri’s forces as nothing more than disposable fodder. And in that case…”

The Princess then lit a dangerous smile as she confidently declared:

“I will personally come to the front of Henri’s camp to reopen negotiations and make him recognize the facts.”

 

—– * * * —–

 

Later that night, Sylviane stood outside her cabin to gaze upon the clouded indigo ‘moon’ as she recollected the day’s events.

Pascal had ended up playing the secondary role after all, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying on his part. In fact, Sylviane had no doubt that his words to General Caradoc were the weight that finally tipped the scale, not to mention his own contributions to the battle plan.

Military preferences must be placed as secondary beneath the context of long-term political needs. Sylviane mulled over his decisive words with a smile. He could not have given me better advice.

Sure, if she accepted Henri’s offer and they worked together to lure Gabriel out, then she was virtually guaranteed a victory in the battle tomorrow. But the cost of such immediate gains in military power was a debt borrowed against her future long-term needs. She would have to cast aside her reputation, her allies, and even her own conscience to agree — all to take a ‘shortcut’, as Pascal called it, that she might never be able to forgive herself over.

And that I simply cannot do. The Princess decided as she clenched her fist.

“Your Highness,” Sylviane heard the approaching Lord Perceval greet with a courteous bow. The armiger she sent stood to his flank as the two met in the dim ‘moonlight’ beneath the clouds.

“Your Lordship, thank you for coming.” She smiled before she raised her casting glove.

“Telepathy.”

“<I need your help in sending a message to Lord Henri in person. Could you please cast a Farspeak spell to him and link in our telepathy?>”

“<Of course,>” Perceval answered as he immediately began to cast his spell. It took a minute before the connection opened with a soft chime.

“<Hello, my dear cousin Henri.>” Sylviane heard the young man speak nervously over their link. “<It’s been some years since we’ve last talked.>”

“<Cousin Perceval!>” Henri’s reply had none of Perceval’s jitters as he genuinely sounded ecstatic and warm. “<It’s been what — six, seven years? — since we last spoke? I heard you’ve not only become a royal chevalier, but were engaged recently too. Please have my deepest and most heartfelt congratulations!>”

“<Thank you, dear cousin.>” Perceval replied as he glanced towards Sylviane with a slightly awkward smile. “<I would love to catch up with you in the coming days ahead, as it’s been far too long since we’ve last met in person. However, I am also in service to Her Highness, Crown Princess Sylviane, the rightful heir to the Burning Throne. I hope we may stand as allies in the battles to come and not as foes.>”

“<I hope for that as well.>” Henri responded. “<Unfortunately, the decision is not mine to make.>”

He must know that I’m listening. Sylviane frowned as she felt the proverbial finger pointed at her.

“<In that case, I’d like to tell you that I’m actually here with Her Highness in person. The Princess has requested that I act as an intermediary so that she may speak with you.>” He then added before nodding at Sylviane.

“<My Lord Henri,>” the Princess greeted with due courtesy first.

“<Your Highness.>”

“<My Lord, as you might imagine, I am here to respond to your message from last night,>” Sylviane began. “<I must thank you, once again, for your generous proposal of marriage…>”

Perceval’s eyes grew to the size of saucers as the young man stared back at her. However, Sylviane never returned his look as she took a deep breath to settle her nerves before she crossed the line of no return.

“<However, after much consideration, I’m afraid I must reject your proposal. After all, I am already precontracted to Lord Pascal, sworn to be wed to him in the eyes of the Holy Father. Furthermore, my betrothal to him lies at the cornerstone of the Empire’s alliance with the Kingdom of Weichsel, whose forces I will need to rely on in the long war to come.>”

“<And that is why I suggested that our marriage contract may remain a secret until after the war,>” Henri interjected.

“<That may be so, My Lord. However, I cannot, and will not, in good conscience abuse the trust and goodwill of my allies.>” Sylviane stated plainly as she turned and looked upon Perceval with an appreciative smile. “<This goes doubly so for my companions and friends, whom I have relied upon so much for my successes thus far. It is to them that I owe my gratitude and trust, to see that they are honored in return for their deeds and sacrifices, and none more so than my betrothed.>”

The Princess’ smile turned bittersweet as she thought of everything Pascal had done for her in their journey thus far. He had lifted her out of her depression in Nordkreuz, before offering every asset his father passed down to help her retake her throne. He had stopped her mania-fueled tirade against Edith on that hill through the worst impropriety, yet he bore her anger and ingratitude almost without complaint in return. He then lifted her from depression a second time at Glywysing, and fought with her every step along the way as they faced near hopeless odds.

Sylviane remembered her shock that day at Glywysing when an earth splitting explosion consumed his entire flank. She recalled her horror at seeing his badly burnt body in the battle’s aftermath when the healers were convinced that he would not survive. She recollected her tears of joy and relief when she found out that thanks to Kaede, he would make it after all…

Yes, the Pascal that returned from the brink of death was different than before. Yes, he was no longer the same confident and energetic boy whom she had fallen in love with. Yet, today’s meeting also proved that deep down, he was still the same as before. Pascal was still the young man who bet everything to see her succeed her father’s throne, one whom she could rely on and trust with her life.

The last thing Sylviane could bear was to partake in a lie that would surely destroy him.

“<And that is my final decision, Lord Henri.>” The Princess declared with steel in her voice.

“<I will not simply use and abandon people as a means. For I would rather not be the monarch at all than to sell for my soul and conscience for a throne.>”

 

 

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