Gav Thorpe: The Crown of the Conqueror

A group of warriors stood guard a short distance away, sheltering under a ragged awning. As Aghali walked away, the king turned to the men and called out.

"Send out the word to the camp. Find me someone that can write the words of the Askhans."

They signalled their compliance and Aegenuis returned to the hall to compose his letter to King Ullsaard of Greater Askhor, soon-to-be ruler of Salphoria.

Midsummer, 213th year of Askh

The mountains ahead were wreathed with clouds, though the sky above was clear and the sun scorching hot. To coldwards, on the edge of sight, more hills rose up, dark with trees. The tramp of thousands of feet brought up a great swathe of dust that swirled in light wind and settled on the armour of the legionnaires. At the front of the Askhan column, ahead of the worst of the cloud, Blackfang panted heavily as she padded alongside Ullsaard on her rein. He patted her flank out of reflex, pleased to be reunited. She was, he considered, more loyal than many he had once considered friend or ally.

The ground underfoot was baked hard, the sparse grass withered and brown. There were no roads and no rivers to follow, so the army marched straight to duskwards. Ahead, somewhere in the mountains, lay Carantathi, the seat of the Salphorian king, soon to be Ullsaard's second city.

Twenty days ago he had received Aegenuis's offer of peace. He had marched the next morning, and for twenty days not a single tribe had offered resistance to his advance. Companies were despatched as garrisons to the settlements they passed, while two of the eight legions that had set out had been sent to hotwards to deal with any chieftains that objected to the new state of affairs.

Ullsaard had been met by elders and war chiefs, and each had accepted him as their new king. In the last twenty days he had taken more ground than in the previous two years. There had been times when he had doubted he would achieve his goal; when he had been slipping into Ersua fearful of discovery; when Erlaan had led the Mekhani horde into Greater Askhor.

The king harboured no illusions that the future would be simple, but he could dream as such. He could enjoy the peace for a few years, at least. He had not had time to commemorate Jutaar's life properly, and there were many rifts with his family to seal. The taking of Carantathi would be symbolic, but there would be many Salphors who would continue to resist. The Brotherhood would have to extend their reach into these untamed lands and instil the ethos of Askh into the hearts and minds of the barbarians. The Mekhani were ever an issue to be dealt with, and in a few years he would bring them under the sway of his empire too.

Despite these things, perhaps even because of the challenges he still faced, Ullsaard was in a good mood. He had an army thirty thousand strong at his back and a land to conquer. After so many tribulations, he was pleased to be up against the simple obstacles of war. He had left behind the distractions of kinghood, the worries of family and the politics of home. Here he faced the trials of logistics and discipline, strategy and disposition; obstacles he greeted with the contentment of familiarity. The reassurance of routine coupled with the hundred details of each day served to steady Ullsaard. It was this life, not the blood and glory of battle, which held his heart, though he would never shirk from bloodshed.

It was an odd feeling, to be marching to victory knowing that no enemy army awaited him. It was a vindication of everything he had done, a bloodless end to his ambitions in Salphoria. He had some respect for Aegenuis. The Salphorian king had fought hard to keep his place, and Ullsaard would expect nothing less. He had also shown sense and humility to accept Ullsaard's inevitable triumph, and as much as his canny strategy, it was this that earned Aegenuis the Askhan ruler's good opinion.

There was no need to be vindictive about the war. Even Aegenuis's alliance with Anglhan was excusable; had not Ullsaard himself raised up the treacherous dog? Salphoria was too large to be governed by one man, but Ullsaard had decided that should Aegenuis wish it, he could stay on as ruler of a province in Carantathi. That would bring some problems, the king was sure, but it solved many others. Ullsaard was determined not to let the example of Anglhan poison his thoughts against the idea of the local chieftains retaining positions of power.

Salphoria was almost a second empire in itself, and so it was from Askhos's original plan that Ullsaard took his vision for these new lands. He would accept and legitimise those warlords who accepted him, and give them dominion over those tribes that resisted. Their fate would be inextricably linked to the fate of the empire, just as in those early years.

He heard footfalls hurrying up from behind and looked back to see Anasind marching briskly to join him. He slowed for a moment to allow the general to catch up. Anasind's expression showed urgency, excited not apprehensive.

"Some fresh news to break the monotony of the march?" said Ullsaard when Anasind came alongside.

"True enough," replied the general. "Our scouts report sighting a Salphorian force a few miles ahead. Five or six thousand, at least. They did not appear ready to lay down their weapons peacefully."

"What do you want to do about it?" said Ullsaard.

"I thought it might be nice to kill them," Anasind said with a grin. "A peaceful occupation is all well and good, but I would rather my men earned their pay with their spears now and then."

Ullsaard clapped a hand to his companion's shoulder and laughed.

"Give a man an army and he wants to fight everything he can," said the king. He saw disappointment in the general's eyes and laughed again. "I agree, but I'm coming with you. We'll split the column. The Thirteenth, Fifth and Seventh will come with us, the rest will press on to find and secure Carantathi. We'll chase down these Salphors and rejoin the main army in a few days' time."

"I shall prepare the orders immediately," said Anasind, filled with energy. "With your leave?"

Ullsaard waved him away with a smile. As Anasind hurried back towards the army, Ullsaard was pleased with his choice of general. He would probably need to appoint two or three more fairly soon, to keep the Salphors in order while the Brotherhood set about bringing them into the imperial way of life.

The prospect of battle quickened the king's heart. Chasing off a few defiant tribesmen might not be the height of glory, but it was a timely distraction from the long march. It would be good to fight with the Thirteenth again.

The moon had set and the army marched by starlight and lamplight. The barren stretch of land had given way to more fertile soil as it rose higher towards the hills. For two days and nights, Ullsaard's legions had pursued the Salphors, who had demonstrated their violent intent with several attacks, skirmishing with the kolubrid companies.

The air was warm and a stiff breeze rustled the long grass as Gelthius and his company followed the lantern carried at the head of the group. The uneven ground made it impossible to walk in step, and two days of forced march with no break had left the legionnaires tired, so that each stumbled and pressed on at his own pace.

Gelthius looked up at the spray of stars. He had never been this far dawnwards before, though he had heard tales of tribes living in the wooded hills. He had told the king what he knew of these lands, of the few scattered people living in the area. Ullsaard had thanked him for the information and sent him back to the company. There had been no change, and the army had continued after the enemy without pause.

"Fuck me, my feet are sore," said Loordin. "Feels like I've been marching my whole bloody life."