James Lowder - Crusade

"You are going to have to decide what to do with the prisoners soon, Your Highness," Farl said. "It looks as if the barbarians won't attack, at least not in the next few days. Still. . "

The black general let his words trail off, but Brunthar Elventree picked up on the thought immediately. "What if the Tuigan do attack again? What if they're only biding their time?"

Frowning deeply, Alusair shook her head. "That's not the question, General Elventree. It seems clear that we've broken the barbarian army." She looked out over the collection of prisoners. "But we still need to decide their fate."

Farl sighed. "Many of the Tuigan caught in the trap gave up, but they weren't seriously wounded. They know the khahan is dead, so they have no reason to fight."

"Kill them," Vrakk growled, drawing his sword. "No prisoners."

Without pause, Brunthar added his support to that idea. The dalesman leaned toward the king. "I'll take a group of archers out to dispatch the scum," he murmured. "They're just using up our supplies now."

Azoun hobbled to his chair and sank into it. He steepled his fingers and bowed his head in thought. "What do the rest of you think?" he asked after a moment.

"We cannot kill prisoners who ask for mercy," Farl replied. "We would hope the Tuigan might offer the same mercy to any westerners they captured."

"They attacked us," Brunthar interrupted, as if his point were relevant. "Besides, we are talking about barbarians, not westerners. These are the people who killed an envoy because he wouldn't drink sour milk. These are the warriors we came to Thesk to stop."

After shuffling a few paces in the mud and stroking his beard, Vangerdahast turned to the king. "If we keep these men as prisoners, we'll have to set up a camp for them behind our lines." The wizard paused and looked at the western fortifications. "Do you think our troops will want to share their supplies with men who, only this morning, were intent on killing us all?"

Azoun looked up sharply. "What about you, Allie? What do you think?"

The princess wanted to give her opinion, but she realized that her father probably already knew what she would say. Instead, she held her gauntleted hands before her and shook her head. "No, Father. My counsel, the opinions of your generals, they don't matter now. This is a decision for you alone to make."

The king stifled a bitter laugh, for he recognized how much Alusair wished to make this a test. Once, Azoun would not have even hesitated in his judgment. In the days when he'd ridden with the King's Men, he had meted out justice according to the sentence of his own pure heart. His position as monarch had changed that, and both the king and the princess recognized that fact. The concessions given to Zhentil Keep so that they would join the crusade were only the latest in a long string of petty wrongs done for "reasons of state."

"I know that look, Azoun," Vangerdahast said, shaking a finger at the king. "If you let these barbarians live, they'll only burden the army. And if the Tuigan do attack again, the prisoners might break free, might cost the lives of your own countrymen … or your daughter's life, perhaps."

Of course, Vangy is right, Azoun decided. He always is, in matters of logic and in all things political.

But never in matters of the heart.

The king stood. "Allie, tell the clerics to continue to care for the prisoners and give shelter to them." Vrakk growled, and both Vangerdahast and Brunthar gaped in surprise.

"This is madness," Brunthar shouted. "In the Dales we'd never even consider letting our enemies-"

Vrakk thrust a meaty, gray-haired hand over the general's mouth. "Beware, dale-man." He released the startled human, then pounded his leather-armored chest. "In Dales we might be enemy. Zhentish kill for less insult than you ready to say."

The orcish commander narrowed his eyes and studied the king. "I follow, Ak-soon," he said, showing his yellowed teeth, "'cause you may send more men to Lord Cyric this way. He no care if they be Tuigan or not." That said, he stomped off, presumably to rejoin his countrymen.

The outburst had silenced Brunthar, but not Vangerdahast. The old wizard moved close to the king and pushed his face forward until it rested only inches from Azoun's. "This is war. You've no time to play paladin now." When the king didn't respond, the mage looked away. "I knew it would come to this. Don't even try to make me understand."

"I won't," the king said softly. He shrugged in response to the astonished look that comment drew from his old teacher. "I really don't think you'd understand the reasons, Vangy. It has to do with the things the good man must uphold, not logic, not political necessity."

Alusair walked to her father's side. "Shall I help gather supplies for the prisoners?"

"Please. And take General Bloodaxe with you," the king replied. He faced the infantry commander. "I'm sure you'll be able to gather the items needed to care for the prisoners, Farl. Your men should be glad to donate much. After all, they came to fight for a good cause, didn't they?"

The infantry commander gave the king a wry smile. "I've heard that," the general said. With a brief bow, both Farl and Alusair made their way into the ranks.

"I want the men to know that the Tuigan prisoners are being protected by my orders," Azoun said to Brunthar. "I think it would be wise if you told your men that." He paused, then added, "Unless the barbarians pick up weapons or attempt to harm someone, they are safe. Do you understand?"

Without a word or a bow, Brunthar spun on his heels and stomped off.

"This may cost you everything," Vangerdahast hissed after a moment. "The men won't like this one bit. They might even revolt."

"No, Vangy, they won't," Azoun said evenly. "Most of the soldiers are here to protect Faerun, to fight for the cause I put before them four months ago in the Royal Gardens." He gestured at the western troops, still arrayed in battle formation. "They trust me to lead them in a good cause. They may not see the reasons why I tell them to let the prisoners live, but they trust me. They'll follow my orders."

Azoun stood and placed a hand on his old friend's shoulder. "I've paid a great deal for this crusade. If I would have stopped those rumors about my 'glorious escape from the Tuigan,' the nobles wouldn't have charged in the first battle. I'll always have Harcourt's death on my conscience because of that, and the gods only know what Zhentil Keep will do with the time I've granted them for free reign in Darkhold." He swept his hand through the air, as if dismissing the guilt that plagued him. "Until now, I've committed sins only by allowing evil to occur. I will not kill the prisoners, though not because all the codes of war say it's wrong. No, because my heart says it's wrong, and my heart holds the most important code of all."

Vangerdahast studied the king's face for an instant. The monarch the wizard saw standing defiantly before him looked the same as the one who had started the crusade. And though the gray-shot brown beard and wrinkled brow were familiar, a long-absent spark shone in Azoun's dark eyes. With a start, Vangerdahast realized that he hadn't seen that fire in many years, not since the king was a young, idealistic cavalier.

Sunlight slanted in through the single window of the ruined farmhouse and poured through the gaping holes in its thatched roof. The light revealed the dust and ash that danced about the room, but Thom Reaverson didn't notice it. The bard sat bathed in sunlight, bent over a makeshift desk. He squinted at the parchment and continued to write.

Some of the troops were unhappy with the king's decision to let the prisoners live, but apart from grumbling around the campfires, there was little negative reaction. A majority of the army simply took Azoun's word that keeping the defeated Tuigan alive was the course for good men. Luckily the prisoners themselves proved to be no trouble, and Azoun freed most of them in the first tenday after the battle.