S. Turney - Interregnum

As they reached the door to the headquarters building, others appeared from side streets or other structures. Mercurias and Marco were already inside, along with Filus and Sarios. Darius nodded at them as they strode into the large meeting hall and took seats around the edge. As he leaned back and stretched his arms, he performed a quick head count. Clicking his tongue in irritation, he watched the door for a few moments as other officers and lords poured in and made their way to their places. Another quick glance confirmed that everyone was there. He stood.

“I know we weren’t expected back for a week yet, but circumstances have changed. I assume Lord Cirpi and his men arrived a day or two ago?” A number of nods and a murmur in the room confirmed the fact. “Very well, we’ve visited lord Sala and lord Silvas and both have agreed to pledge their armies to our cause, but only when we reach their estates. However,” he added, taking a deep breath, “the arrival of lord Pelian and his men at the Silvas estate has forced a change in plans.”

He gestured to the young lord and a rumble of greeting, mixed with some surprise at his age, rippled around the room. Darius tried not to smile as he noticed Kiva peering intently at the long-haired man seated next to the young lord, his face hidden in shadow. He had to get the important messages out before any further interruptions.

“A small party of Velutio’s men was perhaps an hour behind us in the foothills. They certainly didn’t follow us, and were making directly for Hadrus led by a Pelasian, so they know where we are. They carry a letter of terms from Velutio.”

Kiva grunted loudly, tearing his eyes away from the mysterious man. “’ Terms !’ I suppose they’ll be real favourable too. Perhaps he expects us to surrender before we even begin.”

Darius nodded. “Perhaps so, but terms have been sent and they will arrive under a truce, I presume. We’ll treat this as a parlay but unless he’s offering a surrender, which I find hard to imagine, we’re not accepting his terms. You see, our latest intelligence is that Velutio’s finished in the west and has turned his army this way. He believes we’re at Munda and, while we aren’t, it’s close enough that a conflict is now inevitable and getting close. If his army is on the march then he has no intention of honouring any terms, even if they are favourable. So,” he concluded, drawing another deep breath, “what I need to know is how soon we’ll be ready to march.”

Kiva leaned on the arm of his chair, glancing across at his Emperor.

“We’re as close as we’re going to get, I suppose. Unless we have a massive influx of recruits, we might as well make preparations.” He looked across at Sithis, who took up the thread.

“We’ve made progress with the training. I’d have liked another month before I’d confidently take them onto the field, but even the lowest man at Hadrus is stronger, better trained and in better spirits than any number of the untrained and conscripted men-at-arms in Velutio’s army will be. I’d happily accept odds of two to one given the respective qualities of the men.”

Athas rumbled deep in his throat. “It’ll take at least a couple of days if not more to have everything loaded and made ready for transport. There’s a lot of logistical problems regardless of how quickly the troops can be made ready. You can’t forget the train of support staff that’s going to have to travel with us.” He sighed. “And then there’s the siege engines. The engineers will have to start making ready straight away.”

“So,” Darius said with some satisfaction, “if we say four days for a safe margin, we should be ready to move?”

There was a murmur of assent. Mercurias, deep in thought, was muttering to himself.

“Something up, captain?” the Emperor queried.

The grizzled medic looked up. “No. I’ve just been working it out. If we can put together some protective cavalry squads we can move the support and engineer units out as they become ready and muster them in the valley below. That way they won’t block up the narrow mountain road and when the full army’s ready to march we should be able to make it down to the plain in reasonable order.” He looked across at Athas and Tythias questioningly.

“I worry about the safety of the wagons and engines if they move before the rest of us,” Athas grumbled. “I don’t like exposing our supply column to danger. If they should be attacked and destroyed then our campaign’s over before it begins.”

Tythias shook his head. “Velutio’s army’s got to still be weeks away. So long as we send strong enough mixed cavalry and infantry units down with them we can feel fairly secure and the sooner we get the heavy carts down onto the plain, the faster we’ll move when we get started. I think it’s a damn good idea.”

Kiva nodded. “Agreed. But I want Sithis and Tythias to put together the best units they can for the duty and you can both head down there with the first group to organise things as they arrive below.”

Darius stretched and smiled. “Good. That just about clarifies everything. Anybody have anything to ask?” He waited a few seconds in silence and then clasped his hands. “Now let’s go over to the gate and get ready to meet these ambassadors for the enemy. Senior staff only. The rest of you’ve got things to do.”

He stepped down from the raised floor that housed the senior staff’s seats and made for the door, others trailing behind him. The Emperor glanced behind him as he left and noticed once again Kiva staring at the long-haired man.

“You!” the general barked, pointing at the enigmatic newcomer. “You’re part of Pelian’s party, but why d’you hide your face from us?”

The scarred old soldier lifted his head. There was a wide grin on the disfigured face. Kiva stared at him, his eyebrows meeting as he frowned, trying to work out why the face was disturbingly familiar…

“Balo?”

Kiva’s head whipped round as Mercurias stopped on his way from the room. The medic’s mouth had fallen open as he stared at the man. Kiva turned his head once more and stared at the old man.

“ Balo ?” he echoed. He looked around him and saw Athas and Brendan standing across the room with their arms folded and smiles splitting their faces. Marco reappeared in the doorway and leaned around the jamb. “What did you say?” he demanded, and then his eyes too fell on the scarred man.

“It is!” exclaimed Mercurias as he crossed the room to where the man sat. “It damn well is! May the Gods pluck the eyes from my head.” He edged forward for a moment, and then jogged across the room to where the scarred old man finally stood up.

The rest of the Wolves, radiating wonder and disbelief, converged on Balo as he pulled his regimental flask from his tunic and took a swig from it, grinning widely.

“At least Mercurias recognises me!” the old scarred man laughed. “But then he’s not used to seeing ex patients standing up.”

“Balo?” demanded Kiva again. “But you’re dead!”

“Not so, captain.” He grinned. “I mean, general of course. I was for a while though.”

Athas and Brendan now joined them. “Maybe now you three are here he’ll tell us about it. He refused all the way here.”

“To be honest, you’ll all have a better recollection of it than me,” Balo said.

“Shit,” exclaimed Marco breathlessly. “We last saw you at Pelian’s estate. Of course.”

Kiva nodded. “Yes, but you went off into a building in one of your rages and we saw your head split open.”

“I got shot. You know how I used to react to things like that. I chased the little bastard archer back into the building, but his mate hit me with something and I went out like a light.”