John Carr - Kalvan Kingmaker

While mercenary captains were not renowned for their longevity, a significant number were known to live to that ripe old age where both their battle prowess and their wits began to decline. When they reached the age of retirement, there were few houses or cities that welcomed them, as more than one captain had been known to come out of retirement when it suited his purse rather than his ruler. It would be no bad thing-even for a footloose man of the sword, like himself-to have even a minor place in the royal family of Hos-Zygros. Especially, in a kingdom where the Great King had out-lived his two sons and his only grandson was in frail health. Dare he dream…?

Of course, he dared! It was the destiny Phidestros had always dreamed of. No, he would not retire to some backwoods village in his dotage! He would rise as high as his ambition, or fill some anonymous grave. It was time to play the dutiful son to his flint-hearted sire. Maybe one day he would rise above even his father's ambitions; the father who had abandoned him to a commoner's life. One day there would come a day of reckoning, when all past debts would be settled. Phidestros, for one, would enjoy each payment-small and large. Would he ever!

"Yes, father, I will answer those questions I can. Though no man may see into another's heart, even when he has peered into his eyes."

"You have actually seen this Kalvan up close!"

The hook was set. "Truly, I was as close to Great King Kalvan as the curtain you stood behind." He pointed to the curtain, which appeared to be blood red in the flickering candlelight. "The tide of battle thrust us together on the fields of Phyrax, for a moment, then tore us asunder as the tides of the ocean.

"I saw a man, like other men; but touched by the gods. His eyes burn from a deep inner fire and his laugh is a terrible thing to hear. Still, while a great leader of men and blessed by the gods; he is still a man-like you or me. Not a demi-god as the priests of Dralm would make him, or a demon as the Styphon's priests decry. A man who could be a good friend, or a terrible enemy."

"What of the demon spawned gifts he has brought with him?"

Phidestros slowly brought forth his rapier and demonstrated its point. "This is one of Kalvan's 'gifts.' A sword that not only cuts, but thrusts too. A simple idea, you could say, but one no other man thought to do it. Yes, it makes this sword far more dangerous to my enemies. I say, if this is demon magic-give me more! Like his fireseed that burns smoother and with more blast than Styphon's Best."

Duke Eudocles nodded sagely. "We have tried his new formula here in Hos-Zygros and found it superior to Styphon's Best in all ways."

"He has brought other gifts as well: a special harness that allows him to haul demi-cannon by a team of horses. Cannons that can be taken anywhere on the field and removed in a half-candle. And a musket that shoots as far as a bird can fly, with great accuracy."

"Even here we have heard of these rifles, but, until now, I had dismissed them as priest blather."

"I have been on the receiving end of their fire and seen them punch through good proof armor from more than a thousand rods and still knock a man off his horse. I could storm Regwarn itself, with the Iron Band and two hundred of these muskets that Kalvan calls rifles."

His father and Sestembar quickly looked at each other. "Could you bring us one of these rifles!" the Duke asked.

If I could lay my hands upon such a rifle, I would have little need for you, dear father. "I heard a rumor, your Grace-"

"Call me Father."

Phidestros nodded, moving his head down toward his chest, so that the Duke wouldn't catch the unbidden smile that played upon his lips. "I have heard that Grand Master Soton had such a rifle and hid it among the gold and silver in the Holy Host's pay chests. I have never seen one close, only at the receiving end, when a company of Kalvan's Mounted Riflemen ambushed us at Chothros Heights. I lost many good soldiers that afternoon."

"If one should fall into your hands, my son, remember your father well. The reward will be far richer than you can imagine."

Phidestros nodded dutifully. He then went on to tell them about his experiences against the army of Hostigos and the many new things he had observed while fighting Kalvan. They seemed particularly interested in how Kalvan had confiscated the gold from Styphon's temples. He finished up with a detailed description of the political situation that Kalvan's victories had created within Hos-Harphax.

When Phidestros was finished, the Duke said, "We have learned a good deal from your answers, my son. I thank you for your forthrightness."

"As I must thank you for yours, father, sir," Phidestros answered with an ironic smile.

Count Sestembar, his face red, started to rise with his hand reaching for his sword hilt, but the Duke pushed him back down.

"The weight of office is indeed heavy, my son, as I pray you might learn some day."

His father had just taken the pot and raised it. Phidestros had to nod in admiration. What new plans brewed in that crafty old skull, and what was his part in them?

"Now, I want your words on a most important matter of policy. How, in your considered opinion, should Hos-Zygros bend before the growing winds of war? As you might surmise, we have no desire to wear Styphon's yoke, or Kalvan's, either. Should we bow toward the Usurper, or Styphon's House?"

Amazing, a bastard helping formulate the grand strategy of a Great Kingdom! Who would have believed it, not me, thought Phidestros. Still, this was treacherous ground indeed; he would have to answer most cautiously. "Both have great need of Zygrosi blood and treasure and will use them to the last drop of blood and piece of gold.

"King Kalvan is perhaps the greatest general in the history of the Five Kingdoms. He also has weapons of war at his hand that no man has seen before or can truly judge. Yet, he is only one man and Hos-Hostigos is a small Great Kingdom adrift in a sea of enemies. Nor can he depend upon his captains, as himself; thus we learned from the Battle of Tenabra, where First Prince Ptosphes suffered a grave defeat.

"True, Styphon's House has been wounded, but the Temple has many followers and more gold than a company of troops could count in three lifetimes. Hos-Zygros indeed walks a perilous path between these two giants and must walk with care. Yet, if one of these towers must fall; it will surely be Kalvan."

"Then you suggest we support Styphon's House in the coming wars?" The Duke looked as if he were swallowing rattlesnake venom.

"No. I suggest nothing. Even if Kalvan topples, Styphon's House will be the shorter and will never be as it was. I council neutrality for the land of my birth, but armed and prepared neutrality. Support Kalvan with secret gold and Styphon's House with words and promises of soldiers. But give nothing without receiving. Work one against the other and you may stay free of either harness."

"Weighty advice, my son. Well worth consideration. I see now you could have been a courtier as well as a soldier. I will take your words to the proper ears. Now, it is time for us to part. I trust I will see you in good health on your next visit. I will sacrifice to Galzar for your success."

"Thank you, my father," Phidestros answered. The Grand Duke turned and was gone in a swirl of curtains and bows before the words were completely out of his mouth. Phidestros felt as if he'd just watched a street corner gramarye.

His father was not a man to be underestimated, and certainly not the man he'd imagined as his father these many years ago. He was much more and less, too. However, it had been twelve winters since he'd entertained any serious thoughts on the subject. No, this father was not the father of anyone's dreams. He could prove a useful ladder, but only for so long as one kept in mind the rungs could fall from beneath one's feet at the first shake, or misstep.