Travis Starnes
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An Ending of Oaths - Chapter 12
🕑 Added 2024-10-14 01:00:03 +0000 UTCKenna, River Mark, Sidor
Aldric fastened the final clasp on his travel bag, having the feeling as if he was forgetting something he had every time he had to leave home.
He should have done this already. Things had been spiraling out of control for a month, ever since the stupid execution of Thurston. He’d tried to talk Garris down. He’d tried to talk Edmund down. Both were stubborn, refusing to give up any face, of being seen to back down.
Garris was determined he’d only accept the abdication of Serwyn and a new ruler installed by the council of Nobles. Something that Aldric didn’t like and Edmund would rather see the kingdom burned to the ground rather than support.
Edmund was determined he only accept Garris’s attaining, and the attaining of all of the other barons who stood with him during his declaration and joined his revolution after.
Revolution. Not much of a revolution. So far nothing had happened. Just talk and declarations. A lot of chest thumping.
He hoped they’d be able to keep it at that. But someone had to blink first, and Garris had taken a dangerous step. If Garris backed down before his brother, Edmund would march in and have him thrown in chains. Maybe have his head dropped next to Thurston’s.
He had been trying to nudge Edmund that way in their correspondence, but his brother was refusing to budge, or even see reason.
“So it’s true,” Alyssa said behind me, worry in her voice. “You’re planning to leave the city.”
“I have no choice. Things are getting out of hand. I need to do something before the entire kingdom dissolves into chaos.”
“Do you really think you can talk sense into Edmund?”
“I have to believe it’s not too late. I can get Garris to back down if the crown makes some concessions. If I can talk sense into my brother, make him see reason, I might be able to get both sides to step back from the brink.”
“Reason?” Alyssa interrupted. “You’re still holding onto the idea that Edmund can be reasoned with? He had to know it would come to this. He knew how Garris would respond, as did everyone with half a mind for politics. And yet he didn’t let it stop him from taking Thurston.”
“Maybe he did. Probably he did. But I have to try.”
“I know you feel like you do but … he has always hated you and with how quickly things are coming apart, I worry what he might do.”
“Hate is a strong word, Alyssa. We’ve had our differences, but…”
“But nothing. Aldric, you know what your brother is and know he’s always had problems with you. Don’t let your stubborn pride cause you to do something foolish,” She pleaded. “Think of some other way. I don’t care what, send someone in your stead, send a letter, arrange a meeting somewhere safer, but please, don’t go to Starhaven. If you do, I fear you will never come back.”
Aldric could see the fear in her eyes. Closer to terror. She believed this with every part of her being, that much was certain. And maybe she had a point.
This had been too bold of a move for Edmund. She’d said he must have seen it coming, but if he had, he would have found another way to deal with it. Edmund wasn’t one for open confrontation.
No, a better explanation was that his brother felt forced into doing it. He must be seeing threats everywhere for him to be pushed that far. Which would make him unpredictable, enough maybe to do something truly stupid.
No, maybe Starhaven wasn’t the best idea.
“Very well,” he said, having thought it through while looking into his wife’s face, remembering what he had to lose. “I won’t go to Starhaven.
Relief washed over Alyssa’s face. “Do you know what you might do instead?”
“Yes. I’ll send Edmund a request for a peace summit, somewhere neutral, closer to our own lands where I’m not at a disadvantage. Where I’m safe. Will that satisfy you?”
Alyssa nodded, a small smile finally replacing the frown.
“Yes,” she said, embracing him tightly. “Thank you for listening to me.”
Aldric returned the embrace, kissing her gently.
Now he had to hope that Edmund still retained enough sense to meet him.
***
Valemonde, Lynese
Isolde had been waiting half the day, pacing in the courtyard just outside the hallway that led to her father’s audience chamber. She was nervous. She’d known she was treading a fine line with treason, and her father would have almost certainly not approved, but she also knew that if they continued on as they had, it would mean the end of her people.
Finally, the last audience of the day left, looking annoyed and frightened, which meant they had not gotten what they wanted. Probably more food. That’s all anyone was thinking about these days. Even here in the palace, they’d had to go on strict rations, although still much better than those given to the average man or woman in the capital.
Her father was still in his throne at the end of the long audience chamber, looking tired and weak. As much as she hated her father sometimes, it still pained her to see him like this, slumped down in his chair, a sickly pallor replacing his once ruddy complexion across his now slightly loose hanging skin.
“What is it, Isolde?” He said when he noticed her, not even bothering to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “I tire of your constant prattling.”
She knew she irked him. It wasn’t intentional, but she always believed in speaking her mind, even when others found it uncomfortable.
“Father, I don’t mean to trouble you, but I’m deeply concerned for our people. I’ve taken a tour of the city and the people are starving.”
“Thank you for your keen insight into my empire. I promise you, I have noticed.”
“I know. I wasn’t trying to say you hadn’t. I was just … I have a plan that could end this siege. It’s not ideal, but it is better than dying, shriveled and starving.”
“And what could you possibly suggest that my advisors and generals haven’t already considered?”
“I’ve been in contact with the commander of the Sidorian army,” Isolde said, standing tall, keeping her back straight for the anger she knew was coming.
Her father did not disappoint, jumping to his feet, his torpor forgotten.
“You’ve done what?”
“I know you disapprove, but something must be done. Surely even you can see that we’re losing this war. The Sidorians need only wait for starvation to claim us all. They’ll simply walk in and take the city from our corpses. You were too proud to negotiate a way out of this, so I did it myself.”
“Do you know why I haven’t negotiated? Because what’s the point. While I’m happy to see you’ve finally begun to pay attention to strategy enough to understand the Sidorian position, you seem to have missed the lesson from it. If all the Sidorians have to do is wait us out and if we don’t have the men gathered to break their siege, then what do we have to negotiate with short of giving them my kingdom to command and my head to put on the block?”
“But Father…” Isolde began.
“No! You’ve overstepped, Isolde, and accomplished nothing for your insolence.”
“I have not accomplished nothing, father. The Sidorians offered terms that do not include handing over our empire or your head. I have spent time with their commander while I was held prisoner. I found him to be an honorable man. He desires peace just as I do. All he wants to do is to return home. Which is why e has agreed to terms that would allow the Sidorians to leave us be, while yu remain on your throne.”
It was clear from Baudric’s expression that he had not expected that to be her answer.
He sat back in his throne, but more engaged now, staring at her hard as he said, “And what does this reasonable Sidorian want in return? I will not rule as their puppet, a vassal of the Sidorians.”
“They do not ask for you to be a vassal. The empire would remain, free to determine its own future and rule as we always have. They ask only three things. First, that you agree to no longer meddle in their affairs within their sphere of influence, including Alchmara.”
Her father chuckled darkly and said, “As much as it pains me to limit myself, I think I can agree to that, if it means keeping my head.”
Isolde frowned. “You know I can hear your mockery.”
“What is this honorable commander’s next request?” Baudric asked, waving off her comment.
“The second request is a payment of reparations to cover the expenses incurred in the war.”
“How much?” he snapped, his laughter gone now that the demand covered something he actually cared about.
Money.
“I cannot say definitively yet,” Isolde admitted carefully, “but it will be worth paying if it means preserving your empire.”
“Not if it is enough to bring down my empire,” he muttered.
“Grumbling will get us nowhere, father. I am confident that he will be reasonable.”
He said something else she could not make out, but he did not argue.
“And what is the third?”
Isolde hesitated for a moment before revealing the last term. “They want all of Rendalia Province.”
Baudric shot up from his seat again, the anger returning. “What?!”
“Father…” Isolde said.
“Do not try and tell me how I should react! That is absurd!”
“I was going to say do not reject it outright. At least consider the offer. It is a steep price, I know, but they know you too well, father. They know you will not remain uninvolved for long. They believe this demand will ensure your compliance. Losing Rendalia would be painful, yes, but losing your entire empire would be far worse. We lost more trade when we lost Talabot and control of the Lysmir River, and we lost more farmland when they took control of the Lynesian plains. You have made me study our empire for my whole life, and in all that time it has been made clear that Rendalia is of only some importance, and mostly in countering the Sidorians. It is too close to the Leviathan Straits for commerce, it has good farmland but not as good as in the south, it is cut off by the Dead Man’s Hills, and it has only some farmland. If they asked for the land they now sit on, that would be a blow to the future of our empire. I do not think Rendalia is as extreme.”
Her father glared at her fiercely, but he did not shout or insult. She could see him weighing her words and what was offered. He knew the position as well as anyone else in the city, and how close they were to losing everything.
“You yourself just pointed out what we could lose if they take the city with you in it,” she said. “There was something about your head on a block.”
He still didn’t respond. She could see him working it over, still thinking. Whether that was a good sign or a bad one, she didn’t know. Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer and opened her mouth to speak, but he raised his hand, stopping her.
After what felt like an eternity, he looked back to her and said, “I’m surprised at you, daughter. It seems you have taken more of my lectures to heart than I gave you credit for.”
“Does this mean you will consider the deal?”
“Perhaps. I must think on it,” he replied slowly. “But I am considering it.”
“Then—”
“No. I appreciate you starting something I could not, but for the negotiations to work, I must speak with the Sidorian commander myself. You are to cease all dealings behind my back.”
“But Father—”
“I said no. I’m not angry at you,” he said, cutting her off once more. “You have done surprisingly well navigating this. However, there is a chance we can reduce the pain of this and get out with our empire intact, but it will be delicate and require careful handling.”
Isolde hesitated before responding. “If you assure me that you will end this war soon and work towards peace, then I will allow you to manage these negotiations.”
She knew she was pushing the line with that, but she worried her father was just stalling her and still had no intention of following through. Her father again surprised her when, instead of getting angry at her insolence as he normally did, he let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head slightly.
“How agreeable of you. But do not worry. You were right, we cannot let this siege continue indefinitely. So no, I am not going to ruin your good work. You can rest easy on that.”
Isolde felt relief wash over her at the prospect of her father finally taking action; perhaps there was still hope for their people after all.
“Thank you,” she said quietly but sincerely.
“I am happy I have managed to rise to your high standards for once,” she said, still with the light tone. “Now go. I need to get my ministers together and discuss this. Don’t worry. Things will work out, my daughter.”
Isolde did something she rarely did for her father. She bowed. It was shallow and not what she normally got from his retainers, but from her, it might as well have been a genuflection. With that, Isolde turned on her heel and left the chamber, allowing herself a moment of quiet triumph as she stepped into the corridor beyond.
That had gone better than she could have possibly imagined.
***
Starhaven, Sidor
“We cannot in good conscience support the bill of attainder against the rebelling barons. Such an action would only serve to further fracture our already divided kingdom,” one of the representatives to the Council of Commoners said. “We must seek unity, not division. The councilors of Shadowhold and River Mark cannot and will not be able to support this resolution.”
Edmund frowned as the man went on, explaining what he thought the crown could do to repair the breach with the rebellious barons, most of which involved the crown making concessions.
Of course, that was what they would suggest.
Commoners would never understand what was needed to run a kingdom. He had managed to keep the commoners under control, mostly, by blocking all of the insane proposals they put forward, but maddeningly they were able to block everything coming out of the Nobles Council as well.
The only good thing to come out of this revolt by the barons was that most of the difficult barons had stopped representing their people in the council, so there were no more surprise attacks by treacherous barons letting one of the commoners’ proposals through. Unfortunately, it was also showing the cracks in the nobility more than Edmund would have liked.
It was no surprise that the barons who had openly declared against the crown had run from the capital. Had they or any of their representatives stayed, they would have faced the crown’s justice, and they knew it.
No, the real concern was that almost double that number of barons had left the capital, or pulled their representatives to it. While they had not publicly backed Sinclair’s revolt, pulling their representatives suggested they did not believe their people were safe in Starhaven.
Considering what Serwyn had done, he was not even sure he blamed them.
While it was partially understandable that some barons would be nervous, he could not help but notice that part of that withdrawal included every single baron from the River Mark. None of them were counted among the members of the rebellion, but it was still telling. As was his brother’s constant nattering about mending fences with Sinclair, bending to his demands.
He sounded more like the peasants in this room than a duke of the realm. He may not be part of Garris’s faction, but he was giving their complaints air. Feeding them.
A shrill voice interrupted Edmund’s thoughts and the speaker’s droning discourse.
“This farce is over. None of you have any place telling nobles, let alone the king, how Sidor should be governed. You are nothing but upstarts and malcontents.”
“You Majesty. We are simply doing our duty as …”
“Shut up,” Serwyn screamed, jumping up from his seat, causing the speaker to take several stumbling steps backward.
The other councilors shifted uneasily in their seats, clearly nervous at the king’s sudden outburst.
“It is clear you have been supporting the rebel barons. This is treason, and it is clear that my last message on the cost of treason was not delivered, so I will have to do it again. As of today, this council is dissolved. Guards, arrest these traitors.”
Edmund watched in stunned silence as chaos erupted in the council chamber. Guards burst through the chamber’s doors, clearly already pre-stationed for this exact moment.
They fanned out through the room, grabbing men from their seats and binding their hands. Two of the guards grabbed the man on the speaker’s platform and threw him hard on the ground before falling on top of him, pulling his arms hard behind his back.
“You cannot do this!” one of the representatives from Shadowhold yelled. “We have rights!”
A guard silenced him with a backhanded blow across the face. Blood sprayed from the man’s split lip as he crumpled to the ground. A few tried to fight back and were slashed down for their insolence. Several of the quicker-witted councilors made a dash for the main doors. They did not make it far. Guards intercepted them, skewering them, leaving their bodies lying on the well-polished marble floors.
One particularly large representative managed to bowl over his would-be captor and kept running. He almost made it to the large double doors and freedom when one of the guards lifted a crossbow and loosened a bolt. It struck the fleeing man between the shoulder blades. He stumbled forward a few more steps before collapsing face-first just over the threshold.
The sight of their colleague’s death seemed to break the will of the remaining councilors. Those who had not already been restrained sank to their knees, hands raised in surrender.
“What are you doing?” Edmund said, grabbing Serwyn’s arm and pulling him back.
Serwyn yanked his arm free and wheeled on Edmund.
“I’m doing what you never could, uncle. I’m taking control of my kingdom,” he snarled. “Always, you preached caution and compromise. Look where that’s gotten us. Rebellion in the provinces, a fractured nobility, and these commoner swine thinking they can dictate terms to their king.”
Serwyn stepped closer to Edmund, into his personal space, inches from his face. “You will either help me bring these people to heel... or you can join them.”
Edmund swallowed hard. He could see that Serwyn meant it.
