226
It took less than fifteen days to reach the southern edge of Yotengar. With the days lengthening, the distance they could cover before nightfall had increased considerably.
Guiding his mount carefully along the steep mountain path, Varkas caught sight of a military camp nestled between the valleys and pulled back on the reins.
At the foot of a gentle downward slope stood a long barricade of high timber palisades and watchtowers. As he rode closer, sentries rushed to haul the heavy wooden gates aside to clear a path.
“Welcome back, Your Grace!”
The soldiers stationed beside the checkpoint straightened their spears as one, snapping to attention. Riding past them, Varkas cast a slow, measured gaze over the crowded expanse of tents and asked, “Has anything happened while I was away?”
“That is…”
The sentry hesitated, unable to answer straight away. Varkas’s eyes narrowed as he handed his reins off to a groom.
“Was there trouble?”
“A messenger from the Northern Union arrived at dawn, Your Grace.”
A young staff officer wearing a surcoat emblazoned with the crest of House Shearkan stepped forward, speaking in place of the tongue-tied soldier.
“We have not been given the particulars yet, but it is clear something grave has occurred. The council convened this morning and has yet to adjourn.”
Varkas’s brow furrowed.
If a cornered Heimdal had finally launched a full-scale assault, it would be a simple matter of moving rear support up to the front lines. That the council was dragging on so long meant something far more tangled had arisen.
“I will go directly to the command tent. See to the return procedures.”
Leaving brief word for Beirof, who had entered the camp behind him, Varkas cut straight through the grounds toward the great pavilion where the banners of the great houses stood.
Just then, an angry shout rose from within. The words were lost in the ambient din of the camp, but there was no mistaking the raw venom in the air.
Swallowing a low sigh, he shoved the tent flap aside and stepped in.
“What is all this commotion?”
“Your Grace!”
Daren sprang to his feet the moment he saw him, relief washing across his face.
“When did you return? We thought you would remain in Kalmor for several more weeks—”
“I have only just arrived.”
Varkas cut off Daren’s rambling with a flat look and swept his eyes over the council chamber.
Representatives of the great houses, high-ranking officers of the Imperial Army, and a young man who looked to be a Northern noble sat gathered around a long table.
Recognizing the scion of House Bluestone, Varkas tightened his gaze.
Sedric, was it? Marked by the pale skin common to the North and dark crimson eyes, the young man glared up at him, barely containing his fury.
“You have arrived at the perfect time. I was just wondering what Your Grace might make of this absurdity.”
“Mind your tongue! You speak to the ruler of the East!”
An Eastern horseman seated across the table snapped in outrage.
Varkas held up a hand to quiet him, then walked over to take his place at the head of the table as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Tell me what occurred.”
“We are told His Highness the Crown Prince broke off the engagement of his own accord,” Daren answered before the smoldering Sedric Bluestone could speak.
His tone grew grim.
“And without a word, marched the Imperial Army straight into the Yotengar mountains.”
“The Northern Union agreed to spearhead the subjugation of the rebels solely on the promise that our standing with the imperial family would be restored.”
Before Varkas could even absorb the startling news, Sedric Bluestone pressed in, his voice knife-sharp.
“Yet the imperial family has played us for fools and spat on our house. Tell me, Your Grace. Do you honestly expect us to crawl before the throne after such a disgrace?”
“Direct your grievances elsewhere. This state of affairs was brought on entirely by the Crown Prince acting on his own whim; it is no failure of the Duke of Shearkan.”
A noble who had been sitting in silence cut in, his voice measured and deep. It was the commander of the army dispatched from the South.
With his hands resting clasped on the table, he continued quietly.
“What matters now is how we choose to respond.”
“The Northern Union has no intention of leading the charge,” the young Northern lord declared flatly.
“We will not pull our forces out immediately, but we will certainly not stand at the vanguard of the campaign as we promised.”
“The Northern Union carries the original sin of raising arms against the imperial family. Would it not be in your best interest to put down Heimdal if only to wash clean that stain?”
“That debt was settled in full today,” the young man snarled, his jaw tight.
“An indelible shame has been stamped onto our house! My sister was left standing alone before the altar while hundreds of nobles looked on, and the name Bluestone has been dragged through the mud for the entire empire to mock!”
“Enough of your whining.”
Pressing a finger to his temple, Varkas fixed the young lord with a frigid stare.
“This is no place to air your family’s petty grudges. You sit in the council of the Imperial Union Army. If you have nothing to offer that befits your station, hold your tongue.”
The young noble’s face went scarlet in an instant.
Varkas rose slowly from his seat.
“I understand how things stand. Leave a bare-minimum garrison to hold the camp; the rest of the army marches for the pass into Yotengar at once.”
“To what end do we march?”
A middle-aged knight who had kept his silence until then finally spoke. He was the commander of the army dispatched from the West.
“Do you mean to pull His Highness back, or to reinforce him and strike at Heimdal?”
“That will depend on what we find,” Varkas answered coolly.
“If we can reach him before the fighting begins in earnest, I will drag him back by the scruff of his neck and shove him before that altar myself.”
Not a single soul objected to the insolence of the remark. Seeing that his temper had plunged past freezing, several nobles swallowed hard.
Taking in their stiff expressions, Varkas added in a voice like ice, “Should the worst come to pass, however… I will be forced to choose between the two.”
“Choose between…”
“Between the Crown Prince and the empire. I will make my decision then.”
A stunned, suffocating silence dropped over the tent at the treasonous words. Leaving them paralyzed in its wake, Varkas swept out of the pavilion and barked orders to the officers outside.
“Prepare to march at once! Not a moment’s delay!”
At the head of the Imperial Union Army, Varkas drove hard to the north.
The imperial elite force led by the Crown Prince would have pushed through the gorge by now, penetrating deep into the heart of Yotengar to stand before the rebels’ stronghold.
To have any hope of catching them, they had to strip their ranks to the absolute essentials and push their pace to the limit.
Varkas split his force, sending an advance vanguard ahead while the main body trailed closely behind in disciplined intervals.
How many hours had they ridden like that? The moment Varkas spotted an army deployed across a wide, open basin, he raised a hand to halt the surging ranks behind him.
Through the falling gloom of dusk, the standards of the Imperial Army fluttered in the mountain wind.
“It seems we’ve caught up!”
Edric Luvon, riding just behind, breathed a soft sigh of relief. Yet Varkas could not share it. Even from this distance, the sheer reduction in the size of the imperial elite force was painfully obvious.
“It looks like what we feared has already come to pass.”
Beirof let out a low groan beside him.
END