John Carr - Kalvan Kingmaker

The herald of Nestros, King of Rathon and self-proclaimed High King of the Trygath, rode forward. His mounted escort rode forward on either side of him, fifty big men on beer-wagon sized-destriers. By the customs of the Trygath, heralds went guarded until they were actually in the presence of the men they were sent to parlay with. Also by custom, the horsemen rode with their visors up and their swords held upright by the blades, as proof of peaceful intent.

Kalvan studied the guards as they rode up the slope toward him. They reminded him more than a little of the Royal Lancers of Hos-Harphax, swathed from head to foot in armor about as useful as cheesecloth in keeping out a musket bullet or a chunk of case shot.

Except that this was the Trygath, where in nine years out of ten the only fireseed available was what neighboring Eastern Princes were willing to sell illegally, risking both shortages and Styphon's Ban. Against other armored knights or lightly armored nomads, riding around looking like a blacksmith's version of a lobster made a certain amount of sense.

This had already started to change, with the emerging trade of Hostigos Unconsecrated (plus a little Styphon's Best on the side) for horses, mead, and furs. It was about to change more, but not quickly or easily. Military technology was generally about as slow to change as priestly ritual. So for now, the Trygathi fully armored men-at-arms had a few more days in the sun.

The herald signaled; the Rathoni guardsmen reined in, leaving him to mount the slope alone. At a nod from Captain-General Harmakros, Aspasthar rode out, his first sword reversed in his hand and the sun shining on his first suit of armor, emblazoned with the Great King's keystone.

"Who comes to the host of Great King Kalvan of Hos-Hostigos?" Aspasthar's voice was high-pitched but steady.

"Baron Thestros of Rathon, herald and envoy of High King Nestros." The herald took another look at the Royal Page. "Does the Great King lack men, that he has me greeted by a beardless boy?"

"Had he thought you saw wisdom in a beard, my lord, the Great King would have sent you a he-goat!"

In the ensuing silence, Kalvan and Harmakros exchanged eloquent looks. Kalvan's said, If the boy's tongue has run away with him and we have a fight, he is going to get the flat of my saber across his backside.

Harmakros' reply was, Don't worry. The boy knows what he is doing.

The herald was the first to break the silence, with a roar of laughter. Seeing themselves given permission, the Rathoni Royal Guard also broke into laughter. Then everyone was hooting and guffawing, and Harmakros was riding forward to clap Aspasthar on the shoulder so hard the boy nearly fell out of his saddle.

At last silence returned, except for a distant rumble of thunder. Baron Thestros wiped his face with a yellow-gloved hand.

"Well-spoken, lad. You do honor to your sire, your king and your realm. But I think there must be a person of more rank than you, in a host as large as this. Might I seek the honor of speech with he who holds the most rank among you? Captain-General Harmakros, I believe?"

Harmakros nodded. "At your service. But I am not highest among those present." He turned in the saddle. "Your Majesty?"

Kalvan urged his horse forward, letting his cloak flow back from his shoulders. Baron Thestros did a good imitation of a man whose eyes are about to pop from his head. Then he swung himself swiftly if not gracefully from the saddle and went down on one knee.

"Your Majesty! In the name of High King Nestros, greetings!"

"Surely you have more than greetings to bring, since you have four thousand cavalry at your summons. Your King has a name for wisdom, and would not send such a host with a message a beardless boy could bring."

The imitation of eye-popping was even better this time; Kalvan let it go on until he was sure the herald needed reassurance.

"No. I have no demonic arts, only good scouts. They saw your men yesterday and rode swiftly to bring word to me. I came up, that there might be no misunderstandings about why the men of Hos-Hostigos and its allies have come to the Trygath."

"I believe Your Majesty. But then, pray tell what is the reason for such a host being upon the domain of King Nestros? He wishes peace with all who wish it with him, but those who wish peace seldom come with twenty thousand armed retainers!"

"Your scouts are not inferior to mine," Kalvan said with a grin. That was a remarkable accurate count of the Hostigi who'd crossed into the Trygath. Another ten to twelve thousand were strung out all the way across Kyblos, ready to either join the main body or cover its withdrawal. Kalvan had hoped for a greater feudal levy from Kyblos, but many of the southern barons had not responded to Prince Tythanes' request for men-and probably wouldn't at anything less than sword point. He understood their hearts-along with their soldiers-were with their homes, but at some point Kalvan would have to find a fit punishment for their willful neglect of feudal duty and custom. Or risk wholesale desertion by his barons' levy every time the Styphoni armies threatened, which would be disastrous.

"I thank Your Majesty. But-forgive me for being inopportune, but I have only the cause of peace at heart. I ask once more, why are you in my King's realm?"

That was a bit of exaggeration, thought Kalvan, since Nestros' sovereignty was only recognized by four of the Trygath's nine 'legitimate' kings and princes and, in fact, two of them, Ragnar andThul, were subjects of King Theovacar of Greffscharr. Diplomacy, however, was the order of the day. "We do not come in search of peace."

Kalvan could have sworn he heard the thud of the baron's jaw hitting the ground. Quickly he added, "We come to wage war on the horde from the Sastragath and the Great Plains, enemies common to all of us."

The herald shook his head. "King Nestros has taken counsel with his princes and lords, and he has devised ways of meeting the nomad host. It insults him to think that he must wait upon Eastern realms for defense of his own."

"I am sure that the true gods fight for King Nestros, and his Princes and people likewise," Kalvan said. "Yet is it not true that the nomad horde counts more fighting men than the Trygath and Hos-Hostigos combined?" Three times, Kalvan thought, if the estimate of a hundred and fifty thousand on the way northeast was correct.

"Is it not also true, that during the last moon, riders of the horde reached the Lower Saltless Sea, sowing death with every step their horses took? They did not return, but would it not have been better that they not even start?"

Kalvan wanted to meet the local magnate who'd caught the raiders on their way back from the shores of Lake Erie.

King Crython of Ragnar had outthought as well as outfought the raiders, by all reports; that kind of man would make almost as good an ally as King Nestros. But first, King Nestros would have to refuse the alliance before Kalvan could safely seek allies among his princes and nobles.

"Indeed," the herald said, "and no such raids will come again this season.

"Is this certain? Certainly they will cease after the valiant men-at-arms and footmen of King Nestros have broken the strength of the horde. But Nestros will do this only if he gathers all his strength under his own hand. Who will be left to defend the lands of those who march against the horde, against handfuls of raiders and outlaws?"

Kalvan had pitched his voice loud enough to be heard by the Royal Guardsmen. All of them would be nobles or sons of nobles; all must share the fear of what would happen to their lands at the hands of nomad outriders and bandits.

"Your Majesty, do you swear you can prevent this if King Nestros and you become friends?"

"We are not enemies even now, nor shall we be. What you mean is, if we become allies. I only say this. If we become allies, there will be twenty-five thousand Hostigi, perhaps more, to strengthen your King."