Michael Sullivan - Nyphron rising

"It makes no sense from a military stand point, sire," Sir Ecton said. He was Alric's chief general and field commander, a large powerful man with a fiery disposition. Ecton was also Count Pickering's most accomplished vassal, and regarded by many as the best knight in Melengar. "I would venture it is political," he continued. "It has been my experience that the most foolish decisions in combat are the result of political choices made by those with little to no field experience."

Earl Kendell, a pot-bellied fussy man who always dressed in a bright green tunic, glared at Ecton. "Careful with your tongue and consider your company!"

Ecton rose to his feet. "I held my tongue, and what was the result?"

"Sir Ecton!" Alric shouted, but his voice sounded high-pitched and feminine. "I am well aware of your opinion of my decision to attack the imperial encampment."

"It was insanity to attempt an assault across a river without even the possibility to flank," Ecton shot back.

"Nevertheless, it was my decision." Alric squeezed his hands into fists. "I felt it was…necessary."

"Necessary? Necessary!" Ecton spat the word as if it were a vile thing in his mouth. He looked like he was about to speak again but Count Pickering rose to his feet and Sir Ecton sat down.

Arista had seen this before. Too often Ecton looked to Count Pickering before acting on an order Alric gave. He was not the only one. It was clear that although her brother was king, Alric failed to earn the respect of his nobles, his army, or his people.

"Perhaps Ecton is right," the young Marquis Wymar spoke up. "About it being political, I mean," he added hastily. "We all know what a pompous fool the Earl of Chadwick is. Isn't it possible the earl ordered Breckton to hold the final attack until Archibald could arrive? It would certainly raise his standing in the imperial court to claim he personally led the assault that conquered Melengar for the New Empire."

"That would explain the delay in the attack," Pickering replied in his fatherly tone that she knew Alric despised. "But our scouts are reporting that large numbers of men are pulling out, and by all accounts are heading south."

"A feint perhaps?" Alric asked.

Pickering shook his head. "As Sir Ecton pointed out, there would be no need."

Several of the other advisers nodded thoughtfully.

"Something must be going on for the empress to recall her troops like this," Pickering said.

"But what?" Alric asked to no one in particular. "I wish I knew what kind of person she was. It's impossible to guess the actions of a total stranger." He turned to his sister. "Arista, you met Modina-spent time with her in Dahlgren. What is she like? Do you have any idea what would cause her to pull the army back?"

A memory flashed in Arista's mind of her and a young girl trapped at the top of a tower. The princess was frozen in fear but Thrace rummaged through a pile of debris and human limbs looking for a weapon to fight an invincible beast. Was it bravery or was she too naive to understand the futility? "The girl I knew as Thrace was a sweet, innocent child who wanted only the love of her father. The church may have changed her name to Modina, but I can't imagine they changed her. She did not order this invasion. She wouldn't want to rule her tiny village, much less conquer the world." Arista shook her head. "She is not our enemy."

"A crown can change a person," Sir Ecton said while glaring at Alric.

Arista rose. "It is more likely we are dealing with the church and a council of conservative Imperialists. I highly doubt a child from rural Dunmore could influence the archaic attitudes and inflexible opinions of so many stubborn minds who would strive to resist, rather than work with, a new ruler," she said, glaring at Ecton. From over the knight's shoulder she saw Alric cringe.

The door to the hall opened and Julian, the elderly Lord Chamberlain, entered. With a sweeping bow he tapped his staff of office twice on the tiled floor. "The Royal Protector, Royce Melborn, Your Majesty."

"Show him in immediately."

"Don't get your hopes too high," Pickering said to his king. "They're spies, not miracle workers."

"I pay them enough for miracles. I don't think it unreasonable to get what I pay for."

Alric employed numerous informants and scouts, but none were as effective as Riyria. Arista herself originally hired Royce and Hadrian to kidnap her brother the night their father was assassinated. Since then, their services had proved invaluable.

Royce entered the banquet hall alone. The small man with dark hair and dark eyes always dressed in layers of black. He wore a knee-length tunic and a long flowing cloak and, as always, showed no visible weapons. It was unlawful to carry a blade in the presence of the king, but given he and Hadrian had twice saved Alric's life, Arista surmised the royal guards did not thoroughly search him. She was certain Royce carried his white-bladed dagger and regarded the law as merely a suggestion.

Royce bowed before the assembly.

"Well?" her brother asked a bit too loudly, too desperately. "Did you discover anything?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Royce replied, but his face remained so neutral that nothing more could be determined, for good or ill.

"Well, out with it. What did you find? Are they really leaving?"

"Sir Breckton has been ordered to withdraw all but a small containment force and march south immediately with the bulk of his army."

"So it really is true?" the Marquis Wymar said. "But why?"

"Yes, why?" Alric added.

"Because Rhenydd has been invaded by the Nationalists out of Delgos."

A look of surprise circulated the room.

"Degan Gaunt's rabble is invading Rhenydd?" Earl Kendell said in bewilderment.

"And doing quite well from the dispatch I read," Royce informed them. "Gaunt has led them up the coast, taking every village and town. He's managed to sack Kilnar and Vernes."

"He sacked Vernes?" Ecton asked shocked.

"That's a good-sized city," Wymar mentioned.

"It's also only a few miles from Ratibor," Pickering observed. "From there it's what-maybe a hard day's march to the imperial capital itself?"

"No wonder the Empire is recalling Breckton." Alric looked at the count. "What were you saying about miracles?"

"I can't believe you couldn't find anyone to ally with," Alric berated Arista as he collapsed on his throne. The two were alone in the reception hall, the most ornate room in the castle, which, along with the grand ballroom, banquet hall, and the foyer, were all that most people generally ever saw. Tolin the Great built the chamber to be intimidating. The three-story ceiling was an impressive sight and the observation balcony which circled the walls provided a magnificent view of the parquet floor inlaid with the royal falcon coat-of-arms. Double rows of twelve marble pillars formed a long gallery similar to that of a church, yet instead of an altar there was the dais. Built on seven pyramid-shaped steps sat the throne of Melengar-the only seat in the vast chamber. As children the throne had always appeared so impressive, but now with Alric slouched in it, Arista realized it was just a gaudy chair.

"I tried," she offered, sitting on the steps before the throne as she had once done with her father. "Everyone had already sworn allegiance to the New Empire." Arista gave her brother the demoralizing report on her last six months of failure.

"We're quite a pair, you and I. You've done little as ambassador and I nearly destroyed us with that attack across the river. Many of the nobles are being more vocal. Soon Pickering won't be able to control the likes of Ecton."

"I must admit I was shocked when I heard about your attack. What possessed you to do such a thing?" she asked.