Chapter 5: Trust and Caution

Written by @Blazinghand and edited by @swwu

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Siwen III

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Ioseph I

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Spoiler: rolls Siwen speaks to the Lord-Commander:

Siwen Solanzin’s Diplomacy (Hard, +2 Magic): 19 - 4 + 2 = 17

3d6 = 6, Success by 9



Esfand I

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Spoiler: Rolls Esfand Teinos’ Melee (Hard): 17 - 4 = 13

3d6 = 9, Success by 4



Enemy Melee (Moderate): 14

3d6 = 12, Success by 2

Spoiler: Rolls Esfand Teinos’ Melee (Moderate): 17

3d6 = 11, Success by 6



Enemy Melee (Easy): 12 + 4 = 16

3d6 = 13, Success by 3



Hoshfarn II

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With her eyes closed, Siwen found it even easier to speak with The Spirit she had consulted so often in the past few months. The Spirit had gradually gotten better at communication, and so had she. She found she was able to shape her thoughts in such a way as to send them to The Spirit like speech, without having to speak out loud or mutter to herself. This was an invaluable skill, since a ruler muttering to herself constantly in the throne room is unlikely to inspire confidence in her followers. Silent communication was possible with her eyes open, but more difficult.[And you’re sure?] she asked again. She worded her question carefully. If her suspicions were right, she would need to step lightly to draw out the secret. [You’ve told me before your communication and scrying abilities are limited in areas that are not both technically and actually in the territory of the Aveirian Empire. I don’t want to antagonize them unless we know that Hoshfarn is in position to cross.][I am certain,] intoned The Spirit’s voice that only Siwen could hear. [Your general has claimed the camp on the eastern shore of the Istrasius River in your name, legally and effectively incorporating it into your realm. I have full influence there. Even now, he approaches the Halani Tower from the east under a flag of parley.][Do you expect he’ll succeed?][It seems unlikely,] asked The Spirit. [They did not open their gates for Karian Varman, Lord Bishop of the Shadow March, when he had four thousand men and a complete encirclement. Why should they do so for the lowborn Hoshfarn “Ironhand,” general or no? We must remind them of their cowardice.][And you think they’ll listen to me,] she thought. This wasn’t working. She needed to return back to the topic of the restrictions without arousing suspicion.[At least, it’s reasonable to expect that you’ll remind them of their shame. After all—][Yes, yes,] she interrupted. [I’m keenly aware that we’re fighting their battle for them, and that they are the sort who might respond to an appeal to honor. I’m still surprised you were able to identify that Raymond yet commands the Order.][It was not easy,] replied The Spirit. Was that smugness in its voice? [Many restrictions were placed on my by the wise Arch-Magister Ioannas Langyr. You know, of course, of my inability to speak to most mortals. Another such binding was a imitation on the reach of my magic based on the legal and effective borders of the realm.]The Spirit sent her several flashes of images. She saw the land, the river, her men, and the tower stretched out all together below her. The terrain beneath her appeared like what one might see leaning off one of Dehnak’s cliffs looking at the lowlands. The view was breathtaking, and also incredibly valuable to anyone who would command an army on this field.she wondered.[Ita limitation, but no more?] asked Siwen casually. She tried hard not to shake. [You’ve found a way around it?][Not quite. I can’t project magical effects outside our borders. However, should I launch a boulder, it will fly true even after it passes beyond my control. By the same note, I can create a scrying sensor and levitate it high into the sky to peer down on our enemies. A simple solution, for one such as myself.]Siwen’s blood ran cold. It was true. It was true, and so they were all doomed. The Spirit’s magic seemed limitless, at times. It had suggested freezing an entire river to allow her army to cross; it had raised battlements and dug ditches in the blink of an eye. It was getting stronger, better at using its magic. Siwen had noted The Spirit’s gradual increase in creativity and intelligence over the course of the past few months. Whereas in the past it had difficulty formulating long conversations or understanding the specifics of complex social interactions, it now could express smugness, amusement, and even triumph. It was even working around the restrictions its maker built into it.She wondered.She couldn’t afford to seem frightened, now. Not in front of her councilors, and certainly not in front of The Spirit. After a moment’s pause, she gathered herself together and opened her eyes.[Very well,] she thought, [guide me to where you will project my voice. I will treat with these cowardly zealots, and convince them to open the gates.]Siwen regarded the councilors gathered around her. It appeared that silence had fallen during her conversation with The Spirit. How long had it taken? The mercenary captain Ormgeir was shifting uncomfortably, tugging at his gray beard. He shot her an unreadable look before turning back to standing guard. Felipe almost rose, looking dismayed, but she put her hand on his shoulder, stilling him with a touch.She addressed her councilors. “Thank you for your advice. We will retake this camp, then rally our reserves. I will speak with the Order of the Tower and Flame and demand they let our army on the east bank through their gates. If this fails, and our force in the field falters, we will reinforce the right flank.”As her advisors chorused “yes, Your Grace,” she followed the path lit with lights only she could see, and turned her mind to the problem only she could know. The Spirit grew more powerful and clever with each passing day. It was a boon, but also a curse; a powerful warhorse was a mighty asset in a tourney or battle, but such horses were known to buck their riders and injure them badly.How much longer could she keep The Spirit under control? Siwen wouldn’t have a chance of winning this war without the supernatural weapon, she knew. She’d have to make her move after her victory was assured. And yet, even if she did want to kill The Spirit, doing so was beyond her abilities. It was not a human with blood, to let or muscles to sever. It drank no drinks to poison and had no bones to grow weary with age. it was a spirit without flesh and blood, uncuttable by any sword, beyond the reach all the weapons of man.she thought.The rain came down, first drop by drop, then more regularly. The air was alive with the sound and smell of water that poured down to soak the land. The drops became sheets, then torrents, as lightning flashed across the skies and thunder boomed overhead. The smell of mud, grass, and wind—this was what rain smelled like, as long as Ioseph had lived. Nearly two decades spent in comfort at the capital, Holy City Zastan, and now he was riding a smelly horse across an ugly bridge to an uglier tower alongside the ugliest man, inside and out, that he’d ever met—Hoshfarn Ironhand.He was hardly being unfair, either. No matter how you approached it, Hoshfarn Ironhand was one ugly son of a dog. His eyes were narrow and beady, couched in rough, blocky cheeks and a brow like stone battlements, complete with crenellations. His nose jutted at a harsh angle where it had been broken and re-set. The trimmed beard Hoshfarn wore failed to cover the ugly scar that ran from just under his ear to his collarbone. With half of his left ear missing, Ioseph wished he would at least have the decency to keep his hair long, but Hoshfarn Ironhand was “too good for pretty boy bullshit like that.”The man could burn in all four hells for all Ioseph liked him, but he had to admit: Hoshfarn was a good leader. Even worse, he was a good general, having led dozens of campaigns to success for this Queen and the last. “Indispensable,” that was how Siwen described Hoshfarn once in private. That was why she kept him around; he couldn’t be replaced. Ioseph knew it. They all knew it. If the grizzled old veteran was just a bit more likeable, he might have been made Marshall, too. After all, who else was there to be Marshall? Kurush was good, Kurush was likeable in his own way, but Kurush was no Hoshfarn. Ioseph was not a good choice, either. He knew himself well; he hadn’t the taste for battle, not truly. And Barxu, brave though he was, had neither the experience nor the temperament.Ioseph thought.He was jolted out of his thoughts as the drawbridge crashed down, completing the crossing. Out came two men bearing the banner of the Order of the Tower and Flame. They trotted their horses out, and Ioannas quickly recognized the lead rider. Lord Commander Raymond Falk Idri was dressed for battle, his surcoat pressed wet against his armor in the rain. They rode to within ten, feet before coming to a halt.Raymond and Hoshfarn locked gazes, each waiting for the other to speak. Raymond broke first.“Well?” he asked.“You know why we’re here, Falk Idri,” said Hoshfarn over the wind. We seek passage across your bridge. We come to break the siege placed on you by the false Empress, Leila Roshandade.”“The Order of the Tower and Flame takes no part in the wars of—”“Oh, can it already,” snapped Hoshfarn. “You came out to talk with us, so you must want something. What is it?”Raymond cast his gaze over the army mounted up just across the river. “When this war is over, when the faithful finally cease fighting the faithful, there will be punishment for those who served the loser, and rewards for those who served the victor. When that time comes, the Order of the Tower and Flame would have clemency for its neutrality in this war, and direct vassalage to the crown. Our holdings along the banks of the upper Istrasius would remain in our hands, and we will send our taxes to Zastan rather than Alonia.”“Neutrality?” asked Hosfarn. “You’re not joining us in this attack, to lift the siege oncastle?”Raymond didn’t react to the question. He grimly kept his eyes on the Silver Company, formed up on the east bank of the Istrasius. Finally, he spoke.“The Order of the Tower and Flame strenuously objects to the presence of infidels and blasphemers in Argonath. Nonetheless, for the first time in our long and ancient history, we will give aid to heathens. In normal times, any true worshipper of the Aveirian gods would kill these men you lead, Hoshfarn. This time, once and only, an exception will be made. Do not make me regret it.”He turned and stalked back into the tower, and the gate stayed open behind him.Esfand Teinos was in top form, and nobody could deny it. Certainly, one had to be in top form to even be a lance-general on Queen Siwen’s command staff. This was true for any of Calderus’ soldiers, but this was doubly true for a woman. Whereas a man might get away with physical incompetence—Kurush came immediately to mind—Esfand had to prove that she had the brawn to match her brains. She couldn’t simply be brave, like Barxu, or experienced, like Hoshfarn. She had to be strong, strong enough that nobody could even dream of questioning her. This was what was required of a woman in the army; to be strong. And so she was; as far as she knew, she was the strongest person in the world.So when the armored man in front of her caught her blow cleanly on his shield without buckling his knees or slipping and falling in the slurry of dust, grass, mud, blood, and rain that was the ground, she was surprised. And when he forced her to bring her shield around to block a hefty blow, she was surprised. She stepped back, assessing the knight in front of her. Who was it that could take a blow like that and give one as good? Her blood sang in excitement at the thought of a real challenge. That level of physical strength was not common.Whoever he was, he wasn’t looking for a fight. He tried to back away, turning one way, then another, but saw no escape that did not turn his back on her. After a moment’s hesitation, he began to close with her again. They circled each other, each seeking an opening. His tabard was yellow and red, but the sigil was blocked by mud and grime, slicked wet with what was likely a fall from his horse. Esfand saw no openings in his guard, so she decided to make one.Esfand shifted her stance, then slid her foot to the right, dropping the tip of her sword into a lower, inferior guard, imitating as best she could an actual loss of footing. In the mud pit that the field of battle had become, such a thing was not so unlikely. The knight took the bait, lunging forward and bringing his blade down in an overhead cut. With one step, he brought the blade forward, and with a second step, down, flying through the air like lightning.Against an opponent who had lost footing, this would be an excellent move, likely to strike true or cause them to lose their unsteady footing. Esfand’s footing was steady, though, and she stepped forward and brought her blade up, pushing his out of the way with a careful parry. She took a second step, moving past him, and pulled her blade back over her shoulder, catching his inevitable second attack against her supposedly undefended back. She then twisted, drawing his sword downwards and to the right, and slashed him across the chest.It was welcome victory in the glorious rush of battle.The knight merely staggered back as the normally-fatal blow was absorbed by his mail, but lost his footing and fell supine. The shock of landing in his heavy armor dazed him for a moment, but a moment was all Esfand needed. She slashed her blade down on his hand, and though it clattered against his gauntlet without cutting through the metal armor, he lost hold of his sword. Now, all she needed was to gather together a few men-at-arms to stab at him until one got through his armor and actually wound—Esfand grunted as she lurched forward, feeling a sharp pain in her left shoulder blade. Someone had stuck her from behind with a heavy weapon with enough force to knock her down. It was possible they had pierced her banded armor, wounding her, but it was not possible to tell in combat. She flexed and unflexed her left hand as she turned, and it responded.she commanded.She brought her muddy-wet blade up in front of her and regarded her adversaries. Two men-at-arms stood before her, one with a poleaxe and one with a spear. It was really astonishing how many of the men she had killed today were well-armed and armored. Whereas she was leading a group largely comprising barely-trained peasant levies, these men were clearly seasoned fighters. How Lord Bishop Varman managed to put together such a force in the center without making his flanks completely ineffective was beyond her understanding.“Protect Lord Varman!” shouted the spearman with the poleaxe. The man-at-arms with the polaxe nodded and began lifting the downed knight off the ground.Esfand didn’t have much time to think about it; she found herself dealing with the spearman’s repeated attacks. He knew what he was doing. Each cut or thrust was carefully aimed to prevent her from advancing. Instead of extending for a powerful blow, the spearman focused on leaving no opening in his defense. Any attempt to parry or cut the spear was met with a quick retraction and another cut from another angle. Though he’d never land a blow like this, the spearman would be difficult to push back. A clever approach, she thought. Not clever enough, though.Once again, Esfand had to create an opening for herself. The next time the spear came, she tensed up and stepped into the blow, letting it glance against her side. Her armor held, and she took two quick steps forward, coming inside the reach of her sword. The spearman, to his credit, reacted well; he quickly pulled his weapon back, grabbing it at the top of the haft to fight at close quarters. A spear made a fair enough sword this way, but Esfand was simply stronger and better armored than he was. Taking a blow on her shield, she pushed aside his weapon and stabbed him in the gut, piercing his leather armor.As the man fell to the ground, she turned to the remaining man-at-arms, who had just finished dragging Lord Bishop Karian Varman to his feet. Varman was leaning heavily on the man; the fall must have hit him harder than she thought, or perhaps he was already wounded. The man-at-arms, seeing her approach, raised his hand and said something, but his voice was lost in the din of battle and rush of blood and clarity that Esfand always felt at times like this. With a careful stroke of her blade, so too was his life.Varman fell to the ground and groaned in agony. He showed his empty hands to Esfand.“I surrender,” he said. “I yield!”She stepped forward, the blood and mud and rain running down her blade, her heart singing with victory.“I surrender!” he shouted. “Please! Please, I surrender! I’m Karian Varmon! I’m a valuable hostage!”The woman brought her blade up. Though her helm obscured her figures, she smiled anyways, a wide smile. She was shaking with laughter. After a moment, the laughter stopped.“What does it feel like?” she asked. “Killing a Lord, I mean. I’ve always wanted to know. They say we’re special, people like you and I. We’re not lowborn. We were born to rule. We are descended, many of us, from the gods themselves. Have you ever killed a god, Varman?”“I—what?”After a long moment, she lowered her blade. “Stop pissing yourself, Lord Bishop. I accept your surrender.”When the cavalry poured in, encircling, routing, and slaughtering the rest of the rebel army, she was laughing and smiling. The stories would say she was overjoyed to have captured such a capable strategist and valuable hostage. The stories would say she was a noble knight in shining armor who fought for a noble queen. The stories told would make a glorious, clean victory out of this muddy shithole of a fight. But Esfand Teinos knew in her heart that these stories would only desublimate the glory of combat, that the filth and blood and death were already beautiful, as beautiful as guts spilling from a man stabbed, as beautiful as a mountain of corpses, as beautiful as a hundred men cut down in a storm of rage and hatred.As beautiful as death.The command staff was smaller, now. Mano was gone, taken by an arrow in the Battle of the Flaming Fields. Barxu had died to Varman’s magical device at the battle today. They’d lost nearly 1,700 men when Barxu’s flank was vaporized, and though the rebel army was broken, morale was low. A victory rarely had losses like this. By the four hells, ararely had losses like this. They’d brought 6,500 men to this battle and would leave with 4,000 men if they were lucky. Despite Kurush’s assurances that the rebels lost more men, the royal army simply couldn’t afford another defeat like this.Hoshfarn frowned. “Unknown unknowns” his ass! They needed to know more about that heat bomb, and they needed that knowledge fast. Forming a war strategy would be impossible without it. Turning the idea over in his head, Hoshfarn could already feel the edges of it. Whatever the weapon was, it wasn’t easy to reuse or move. If it could be used multiple times, it would have been used multiple times. If it was easy to move, they’d have used it to take out more of the royal army and less of the rebel army, rather than activating it while their own men were in its range.“We need more information about the weapon,” Hoshfarn said. “We can’t make a plan without it.”“Why can’t we ask Varman again?” countered Esfand. “I know he’s not talking now, but some time with the royal torturers will get him going.”Hoshfarn blanched, but kept his temper in check. “You can’t do that to him. He surrendered, and we accepted his surrender. He’s Lord Bishop of the Shadow March, and has served well in years past.”“In years past, perhaps,” mumbled Kurush around a piece of cheese-covered bread that he was struggling to fit in his mouth. “Now, he is an enemy of the Queen.”Hoshfarn turned to the rotund general, snarling. “You will not torture him. Not on my watch.”Kurush blinked, before licking his fingers carefully, scowling at the elder general. “One,” he said, lifting one greasy finger into the air and waving it at the Queen “you don’t give me commands, General. She does.”“Two,” he added, extending a second cheesy finger alongside the first, “I didn’t say we should torture him. I’m just saying he’s an enemy of Her Majesty, which he most certainly is.”“Three,” Kurush finished, unfolding his thumb and letting a crumb of bread fall to the table, “We don’t need to use only sticks. Our fine farm of royal decrees has many carrots. We can offer him clemency, or perhaps some sort of title or reward for his information and his fealty.”“One does not bargain for loyalty,” spat out Hoshfarn. “Fealty is not a hunk of cheese to be traded in the market square, or a goblet of wine to be sampled and rejected. All we have that separates us from the savages beyond our borders in every direction is our honor. I will not see it trampled on.”“No one’s trampling on anything,” said Kurush. “You seem opposed to punishing him. I simply mean to point out an alternative route.”“Do we also need to deal with the Order of the Tower and Flame?” asked Ioseph, his voice small in the large tent. “They claim they will not join us.”“Their holy vows forbid it,” said Felipe. “They fight only infidels.”“They had a murderous glint to their eyes watching Ormgeir’s men pass through their castle,” added Hoshfarn. “Even if they wanted to help, I doubt they would be willing to do so alongside the Silver Company. Also, we have granted them clemency. We certainly could not force their cooperation. It is more important to focus on where we will travel next.”He gestured to the map in front of him. “Alonia Castle is to our south along the Istrasius river. Duchess Elnazoveth has kept carefully neutral in this conflict. She has sent no soldiers afield, though her vassals have supported both the usurper and Queen Siwen. The difficulty in besieging her castle is well-known. Like the Halani Tower, it lies next to the Istrasius and therefore requires two forces to invest it fully, lest they lower their drawbridge to cross the natural moat it forms. Given her neutrality, we might conceivably pass her by.”Kurush snorted. “And if she decides neutrality is no longer the fashion?”“Then we face the same problem we face with any castle,” replied Hoshfarn. “it must be taken or contained before we press on, lest they harry our supply lines. Still, she had every reason she needed to bow before the usurper, and she did not. Unlike our friends in the Order, she did not defy them on religious grounds. By law, she is Queen Siwen’s vassal, not Leila’s. Perhaps we might yet find an ally there.”“We should send an emissary,” suggested Ioseph. “Instead of waiting to regroup and marching south with the whole army, I could ride south with a few knights and speak with her. As the Queen’s kin, I can speak on her behalf and negotiate Elnazoveth’s fealty.”Kurush almost dropped his wine cup in surprise. “Huh, what do you know? Kid actually had a decent idea.”“Almost,” countered Felipe. “If we do send an emissary, which I am not convinced is the best strategy, it should be me. As the King-Consort, I have more authority to negotiate on Siwen’s behalf. Since I am not her kin, I would not make a valuable hostage.”“I would not send you away, husband,” said Siwen. “Your place is by my side.”Felipe chuckled. “Yes, yes it is. And yet, I find that sending Ioseph, your kin and a general both, is too much a risk. Danush is too valuable as Arch-magister. If it is not you and the whole army, it should be me. I do not command armies; I give no strategic advice; I cast no wizardly spells. I can be spared.”“King-Consort Felipe, if I may add something,” ventured Esfand. At Felipe’s nod, she continued. “Most of our soldiers are drawn from the Sandy March. They follow the Queen’s banner, yes, but they are also here following you, brother of their lord and well-loved noble. In these times when the army is rallying, your presence will give the men heart, and your absence might create worry where there need be none.”Hoshfarn grimaced and rubbed his forehead. “Why can’t these things ever be simple?”As you listen in on this discussion of strategy, you realize that you have the Queen’s ear directly. You feel unknowable processes within you driving you, urging you to give advice and guide her in a way to bring victory and glory to The Aveirian Empire. The battle went well, after the heat bomb; the enemy routed and your army is reunited. However, the army is disorganized and still mustering after the brutal battle, and will need time before it can march again. An official headcount needs to be taken, men need to be fed, and wounds need to be treated.In the meantime, the command staff faces two major issues: investigating Varman’s knowledge of the heat bomb, and Duchess Sharast Elnazoveth at Alonia Castle.Also, you will need to figure out how to spend your time during the muster and the march.4 monthsWhat to do with Lord Bishop Karian Varman?[ ] Varman will be a valuable hostage, and that is enough. His refusal to share information is unfortunate, but will not be addressed at this time.[ ] Torture Varman for anything he might know. Do everything needed to get information about the heat bomb.[ ] Offer Varman something in return for his compliance. Clemency, titles, a fief for his son—every man has a price-[ ] Write in offering.[ ] Other (write in)How should the army proceed?[ ] Ignore Alonia Castle and head northeast along Queen’s Corridor to the capital.[ ] Send a royal emissary to Alonia Castle to get the allegiance of Duchess Elnazoveth-[ ] Ioseph-[ ] Felipe-[ ] Other (write in)[ ] Travel to the castle with the army after it musters to besiege it or negotiate.[ ] Other (write in)What will the spirit spend its attention on during the campaign?[ ] Intelligence gathering: scrying where possible around the army and in the territories under the queen’s control.[ ] Magical experimentation: learning to use its powers to get particular magic effects in a reliable way.[ ] Stewardship and logistics: the baggage trains, shipping, and payments of the realm need management to prevent losses.[ ] Diplomacy and politics: the queen is surrounded by self-serving vassals and allies, and will need well-researched advice to navigate her court’s politics.[ ] Tactics and management: the army will need help coordinating and battling their enemies with the fewest losses possible.[ ] Other (write in)