Chris Northern - The Last King's Amulet

“Give answer, man!” Kerral was just as clearly serious.

The newcomer didn't waste effort on bravado. Though I was pretending not to notice I could clearly see him eye the weapons and the men clinically. This was a man who had seen naked steel before and was not automatically intimidated by it. I re-interpreted his first reaction, he had paled in anger as some men are made flush by it. His sudden stillness had not been fear but preparation. By his hairstyle and dress he was a freedman, a former slave who had earned or bought his freedom. He answered Pakat but was more clearly addressing me. “I have messages and gifts for the commander. My name is Sapphire.”

I acknowledge that I had heard this and by gesture let it be known that Sapphire was to be passed into my presence. I'd guessed already who had sent him and, from the bundled goods on the pack horse, what he brought. A few moments later he rode by my side and held out a scroll for me. “A letter from your father,” he informed me.

I had already guessed as much and decided on my response. I took the letter and tucked it under my thigh. “Travel with my slave, I'll write a reply tonight and you can return with it.”

A cloud passed briefly over his expression and was gone instantly. He bowed in the saddle and dropped back out of sight. When I was sure he was gone I turned in my saddle and gave a nod of approval to both Kerral and Pakat, then broke the seal and read the letter.

Get this man safely to Gerria. Don't sell my armor. If you do I'll disown you and let your brother-in-law do what he wants. Come back with money. Destroy this.

I set my stone to it, found the tug of the stone in my mind and pushed in the way I had been taught. The paper charred and burst into flame moments later, all of it in one. I let it go and it rose out of my hand before disintegrating into charred particles and drifting as black dust on the breeze. It was a little theatrical but suited my mood. Not a word of greeting or good wishes. Get this man to Gerria. Why? Not a word of explanation. Don't sell the armor. Can't say I hadn't earned that but I was going to war. Why would I? Come back with money. With your shield or on it. Sod you. Destroy this. Why? What was this man Sapphire up to that even the fact I was supposed to get him onto Gerrian soil in one piece had to be secret? Well, I had plenty of time to pump him for information. In any case, I'd certainly have him watched.

It was a few minutes later that it started bothering me that the whole thing wasn't very subtle. Did my father think I was stupid or such a lush that I just wouldn't be interested? Surely the best way to get someone there was just attach him to the baggage train as a drover or some such. Have the son-of-a-bitch enlist. Why have him travel with the army at all? It was a pretty safe road from the city to Gerria. Our lands, the provinces of Lirria and Muria which had been ours for centuries, the client kingdom of Wherrel, then the client Gerrian tribe of the Geduri and you were there. He could have traveled alone much faster, changing horses every ten miles. Pushing hard he could have made it in mere days. The more I worried at it the more weird it seemed and the more determined I became to have the bastard watched and find out what he was up to.

There is no ill wind, as the saying has it, that blows no good. Personally I kind of doubt that is true but in this case it was, not that I was sure that Sapphire was in fact an ill wind. If Sapphire could ride to Gerria in a few days, then so could anyone. I had been thinking in terms of recruiting along the way but, of course, I could send someone ahead to recruit near the border. It would give my agent time to knock a unit into shape, something that could not be done on route. Not that I wanted new recruits, as I couldn't afford to equip more than a very few men; they would have to be either landowners who had, as law decreed, armor and weapons, or veterans of one war or another who had run out of money and needed another stint. Veterans generally kept their equipment, especially on or near the frontiers where they might be needed at the drop of a hat. It was, I decided, the way forward. Now, who to send?

“You want me to what?”

I'd called Sheo to my tent as soon possible after the army had camped.

“Think it through, Sheo. Who else can I send? I need Kerral with me since I made him first centurion. The other four are good men but I haven't known them long. And, as a bonus you can take the two hundred I owe you.”

He frowned at my levity.

“I've never recruited.”

“Figure it out. How hard can it be? Get as many as you can get. A cohort would be perfect if you can get so many. Get them in shape and ready by the time we arrive. Take only landowners or veterans. No nobles.” I kept overriding him with instructions. “Better for us if they are all veterans. One year or the duration of this campaign only. The usual pay, small advances on signing up, and the usual shares of the booty. You'll have to assign centurions but make sure they know I'll be changing things. And get a banner made, you know what to put on it.”

He stopped trying to protest and started nodding at each point. “I'll prep a roadside fort. Will I have enough money to keep them fed and watered until you arrive?”

“Good question,” I raised my voice. “Meran!

My ugly slave was inside the tent in seconds and I gave him a smile. I was feeling generous.

“How much money in the war chest?”

“Twelve thousand four hundred and seventy silver.”

I nodded thanks. Plenty. “Get me some maps of Gerria and the surrounding areas.”

As soon as he was gone I started doing math out loud. “A silver will feed a man for a week so six hundred times four is two thousand four hundred, say three thousand to allow for delays. Six hundred silver for recruiting fees. Your expenses the same, so another twelve hundred. So four thousand two hundred. Round that up to five thousand for unforeseen problems. Sound okay to you?”

“Alone on the road with five thousand silver?”

He had a point. It could all go horribly wrong. The roadwardens kept the roads free of bandits and thieves. Free trade is the lifeblood of the city. Trade is money and money is power. “Ride fast.”

“What's in it for me?”

I grinned. Greed. Damn but I loved the honest avarice of our class, of our people. “Best you be my second in command with an appropriate share of the booty.”

He gave a nod of agreement. “See you in three weeks.”

“With luck. You'll hear rumor of our coming. Watch the locals, there may be spies. Keep them out of the camp. Careful who you buy food from.”

“Sumto, I know as much about warfare as you do.”

“Probably more,” I agreed cheerfully. That was a lie, or half-truth at best. He had some practical experience, but I did not doubt I had more knowledge. I had read everything on the subject, and thought about it.

“I also know the law as well as you do. You have no imperium.”

I shrugged it off. “Technically we are all kings, my friend.”

“Don't joke.”

Technically we were in an interregnum as someone on the council of patrons would always veto anyone who was proposed to become king. The title held no power or prestige and it was to avoid the stigma attached to the title that friends or allies vetoed the nomination. It had been going on a goof few years. Without a king the few duties of the title devolved, in fact the title itself, devolved upon every nobleman of the city. King for a day or a bit of a king every day, and the king could raise an army if he wanted to. Actually a bodyguard but in the numbers I was thinking that would do.

“I am of age and from a patronial family as old as the city. Technically I'm right and you know it. So the council might not agree and might prosecute…”