Travis Starnes
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An Ending of Oaths - Chapter 4
🕑 Added 2024-08-31 15:00:05 +0000 UTCStarhaven, Sidor
“… purpose of which is to bolster our own tax levies for support of our ongoing and successful war against the Lynesians, while punishing the increasing levels of purifier goods coming in on Inos flagged ships,” Baron Stonehill said. “For too long, we have turned a blind eye to their filth coming onto our shores and tainting the very memory of the ancients upon whose shoulders we stand. I say no more. True, we have a treaty with the Inosians, precluding more direct handling of the problem, but they are a nation of merchants and schemers. To hurt them isn’t in the battlefield, but the coin purse.”
Most members of the Nobles Council applauded, as was right to do any time the kingdom of Thay was mentioned, or at least their vile religion. Edmund couldn’t help but notice some of the lords whose lands sat along the eastern edge of the Duchy of Shadowhold refrained from joining the applause. While the taxes were a pittance really, and wouldn’t affect the overall cost of trade in the kingdom, they were the closest to the small island kingdom of Inos, and the ones who would be most affected by the increased levies.
Inos was, in all effect, the only foreign trading power available to those ports, since the only other nation on that side of Sidor was the Alchmara, who were under a trade blockade by royal decree ever since they became the flashpoint for the war with Lynese. The Frozen north passage, the maw or the pirate-infested waters south of Thay were the only options for ships to get to the other great powers.
Those facts were what led the merchants of Inos to secretly ignore the rulings of the Acolytes forbidding trade with Thay. Punishing dealing with anyone suspected of trading in heretical goods would all but shut down trade, at least for the time being for those harbors.
That would, of course, mean the actual tax revenues pushed by the new levies would be minimal while angering what few allies they had in Inos, but it would also weaken the coastal barons in Shadowhold and even those in Kingshold and RiverMark that traded across the iron straits, all of whom tended to be among the more radical and difficult baronies. And the ones most likely to have supported the recent peasants revolt.
Serwyn was getting more difficult by the day, and the only way to appease him was to reverse the concessions they’d been forced to at the end of the revolt, and the first step to do that was to weaken the baronies most likely to support a second such attempt.
“An excellent plan, my lord,” Edmund said from the throne, sitting in his nephew’s stead. “Both honorable and righteous, which is seldom done in tandem, at least where governance is concerned. Now, if there is no other business, I would like to …”
“My lord.” Baron Thurston of Lindenwood said, standing up. “I believe there is one more item we must address.”
Edmund frowned. Thurston’s barony was almost certainly one of the ones that harbored rebels, regardless of the man’s denials. Which meant nothing this man could offer would be helpful.
“Yes, Lord Lindenwood?”
“There are resolutions put forward by the Council of Commoners I believe, that we have yet to discuss.”
“You are correct, there are,” Edmund said. “We’re still in the process of reviewing those proposals to ensure they’re properly presented to this body.”
“With all due respect, Your Grace, I don’t believe that meets the requirements set forth in the agreement that created the council; an agreement this very body approved. It clearly states that any proposal from the Council of Commoners must come directly to us, not be ‘looked at’ by the crown.”
Edmund frowned, and then deeper as he saw several of the other nobles in the hall shaking their heads in agreement.
“Baron Thurston,” he said, trying desperately to keep his annoyance under control. “Surely you understand the need for proper vetting. Laws are complicated business and as … well-intentioned, as the Council of Commoners is, they have only had one formal meeting and cannot be expected to have absorbed the intricacies of good governance. Which is why it is best that anything they pass, for now, is checked for viability before bringing it before you. The crown understands your time is valuable, after all.”
“I would think this is the best body to determine if something is good governance, unless you are suggesting we do not understand their ‘intricacies’ enough to do the job?”
“I am, of course, not suggesting that,” Edmund said and waved for one of the clerks assigned to the council meetings. “Have my scribe bring the recommendations submitted by the Council of Commoners.”
The man nodded and rushed out of the chamber. Thankfully, Edmund hadn’t rashly thrown the documents in the trash where they belong, mostly because he didn’t want to ignore the chance that one of the peasants might get clever and do an end run around him. Which is clearly what they had done.
He had not briefed the council on the commoners’ proposals, so the fact that they even knew about them said that one of them had informed their allies in the nobles of the existence of the proposals.
A few minutes later, Orlan came into the chambers, hurrying to the dais, where he handed off several sheafs of paper.
“As I hope you will see, as well-intentioned as these proposals are, there are many glaring issues with them. The first proposal is to open up an investigation into how each of you run your holdings, with their own investigators, who would make recommendations as to how best alter your ability to govern your subjects.”
Edmund had picked that one first because he knew it would upset a fair number of the nobles and would balance things in his favor for the second proposal. As expected, a ripple of conversation passed across the assembled men, the general temper of which was somewhere between shock and outrage.
Even those he thought had some sense of obligation to the commoners seemed less than pleased with the idea of being investigated by him.
When no one stood up to offer comment right away, Edmund said, “I believe it’s clear this proposal is not ready to be ruled on by this council and shows how unprepared the commoners are for their duty. The king, however, takes his agreement seriously, and we will work with them to better understand the needs of our kingdom. So I again thank you for…”
“I’m sorry, your grace, but you said first proposal. I believe that means there might have been more?” Thurston pressed.
Edmund had never liked the man, but he was becoming a serious annoyance.
“There are, but as I said, this is a clear example that their proposals are not ready to be presented. Unless anyone in this body wants to take up the motion?”
“It is still our right to hear them though, your grace,” Thurston said.
“The second, and only other proposal, is to reduce the grain tithe from one fourth annual allotment to one sixth. We all understand these increased tithes are both temporary and necessary for the upkeep of our armies in Lynese. We are at war and the treasury is strained as it is. Every coin collected from these tithes goes to ensure our armies are fed, clothed, and armed. A reduction in the tithe would be a reckless gamble with the kingdom’s future.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Garris Sinclair said. “But none of the proceeds from the sale of these tithes has yet gone toward the armies. In fact, I believe that all supply shipments to our men in Lynese have ceased, and they have been forced to supply themselves from whatever they could liberate from the enemy.”
“While it has been a long time since we’ve found a serious overseas war, I’m sure none of you forget what the oceans are like during maw season. Trade stops for a reason, my lords.”
“But the supplies stopped before winter started, your grace,” Sinclair said. “And I’m told the armies were instructed that no supplies could be expected the following year of the campaign either.”
“I know of no notice that has gone out to that effect,” Edmund said.
“So are you saying now that, without a doubt, all of the funds from this additional, temporary, tithe will be going to the armies?” Thurston asked.
“That is a question for the clerks, but I can assure you we will do everything in our power to supply them. Logistics, as you know, are a complicated thing.”
“My question is, why is this necessary at all?” Sinclair asked. “Gavric didn’t need such burdensome taxes to maintain his armies.”
Edmund barely kept the words he wanted to say from coming out of his mouth. Edmund had lived under his fool older brother’s shadow for his entire life, he’d hoped that once the idiot got himself killed, he wouldn’t have to be compared to Gavric and his success any longer. For a long moment, he was silent, unable to trust his own voice.
Thurston seized on the moment, “I believe they have a legitimate grievance. I know the people in my barony struggle under these taxes, families going hungry, starving. I, of course, want to see our army properly supplied, but I too have heard that the crown stopped all supplies to Lynese months before winter began. I call for a vote to accept the removal of the temporary tax, returning the tithe to a sixth of the annual harvest until such time as the crown can show that we have heard wrong, and the proper funds have been allocated to the armies. If that happens, I believe this body, along with the Council of Commoners, should then have the chance to restore some or all of the temporary tithe through the end of the war.”
“I second the motion,” Sinclair said before Edmund could respond.
Edmund looked to his allies, some of whom began arguing against the resolution, but too few of them did. Most of the barons seemed to agree with Thurston, even some of the men Edmund would have suspected would continue to support him. The vote, when it came, landed in the wrong direction. It was far from a landslide, but it was a large enough margin it was clear what the decision of the nobles was.
The lords all looked to him after the clerk called out the final tally. Edmund had two choices, he could invalidate the vote or accept it. While his knee-jerk reaction was to just declare the vote improper and hope this didn’t happen again, he worried what reaction that would cause. So far, the nobles had not outright pushed back against the prerogatives of the crown, but it wasn’t out of the bounds of possibility that they would.
For now, he would have to swallow it.
“The crown, of course, accepts the will of the council. The grain tithe shall be reduced from one-fourth to one-sixth. I believe this closes out all business for this session of the council, and we stand adjourned.”
Edmund rapped twice on the arm of the throne, signaling the end of the council before they could do anything else to upset anything else. Without waiting for their response, he stood and walked out of the hall, leaving the rest to the clerks to finish.
***
Cestralion, Aurorin Province, Lynese
It had taken almost two weeks to get everything settled in Talabot. The enemy had put up a strong defense and left much of the city damaged, and then there had been the attempt by the returning forces to retake the city when they realized Sir Alistair’s move was a feint, after the Sidorian knight had slipped out of their grasp and back across the Lysamir.
It had been too late for them. They’d sallied out in a hurry with limited supplies and were unable to keep up the protracted siege they would have needed to retake the city. Instead, they attempted two assaults on the walls, again unequipped for the task, getting beaten back bloodily each time, before giving up and retreating south. William sent scouts to track them and ensure it wasn’t a ruse before pulling out the majority of the army he’d brought to the city and marching it back to Cestralion.
Had the enemy been smart, they would have hid out, maybe in the Avan forests, until William’s men were in the open and vulnerable, but they didn’t. It wouldn’t have mattered much, since William was having them watched closely, but it would have gotten them more than the long, contrived retreat to Valemonde far to the south.
William now had other things to worry about. Talabot was just a sideshow to secure his flank for the run up to the real prize, Valemonde and the end of the war. William entered the spacious room in Cestralion Keep that Pembroke had commandeered as his office and war room, with maps, reports, and various artifacts of military planning adorning the walls and tables. Pembroke was inside, reading over correspondence and checking them against maps when William walked in.
The duke gave, what for him, was a beaming smile and said, “Your Highness, welcome back! Congratulations on the stunning victory. It seems you proved my worries wrong once again.”
“Thank you, Lord Pembroke, but the men did the real work. I am happy it succeeded since now it means we can get operations fully underway and get this war started properly.”
Pembroke gestured to the chairs by the hearth. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”
As they sat, William said, “Now that our flank and rear are secured, it’s time to move on the capital. Their armies are on the run and we have the momentum, but we must strike now, while the odds still favor us. Lynesian reinforcements are still far to the southwest, but winter is drawing to a close and the maw along with it, which means soon those reinforcements will be returning to defend their emperor.”
“I understand your eagerness, William, but I’m not sure I agree with it. There’s still snow on the ground and the attack on Talabot already cost us a fair number of supplies and injured men. Foraging will be all but impossible until the snows melt all the way and pushing our luck now could lead us into disaster. I don’t know if we are in the place to sustain that level of campaigning.”
“What are our other options? Sit here and let the Lynese rebuild? Every day we delay gives them time to muster more conscripts, bring home experienced men from fighting the maw, and a chance to further fortify their cities. We need to keep the pressure on, not wait until they’re ready to counterattack.”
“Patience, William,” Pembroke advised. “I know it feels like the moment is slipping away, but not all battles are won through immediate action. We’ve secured Talabot, let’s ensure our hold on it before we move forward. The men are weary, and the supplies are dwindling. We need to consolidate, to plan our next move with care. Spring will bring new opportunities, with the rivers thawed and the maw closed, a chance to bring in trade from Werne, if not home. Rushing now could cost us everything we’ve gained.”
“I know you’re said that, but …”
Pembroke gently held up a hand, stopping him. “William, experienced commanders understand the value of positioning and timing. While the Lynesians will grow stronger, they’ve been significantly weakened by recent losses. Their resources and manpower aren’t limitless. In all likelihood, we stand to strengthen our position faster than them. A well-timed strike later could be more effective.”
William didn’t answer right away. His instincts were pushing him, telling him to keep up the pressure, but that could also be Gavric in his conscious. His uncle had always been a believer in aggressiveness, but even he had mentioned to William that blind aggressiveness, as an answer to any problem, will ultimately lead to failure. Pembroke was saying much the same now, and Aldric had made a point of it to listen to his advisors, especially Pembroke, before he’d left. The Baron had been at war longer than William had been alive and didn’t retain his status and position by losing often.
He turned and looked over the large map of the region, thinking about what he knew about Lynese, its capital and its leaders. What his teachers had told him. What little Gavric had told him. What Aldric had told him. Most importantly though, what he’d seen and experienced since being on the continent and learning more about them.
Just as he spoke to his fighting men, William often spent time talking to Lynesian soldiers in hospital tents or recovering. Many would not talk to him, but some would, especially when they learned he wasn’t grilling them for information on their comrades or how to injure more of their countrymen. Men in captivity got bored, and would often take any chance to alleviate that.
Just offering a salve, even temporary, for that would often entice them to give up much more information than they otherwise would under even the harshest torture. If purely by accident.
Some of that information, which had seemed inconsequential at the time, began to push its way forward in William’s mind as a plan started to form.
“So not a full out push for the capital, but sitting on our laurels seems like a poor idea as well. The men are in good spirits and motivated, and I want to use that. What if we compromise?”
“What type of compromise?”
“There’s a town at the Southern tip of the Avan Forest called Soriveau. It’s home to Emperor Baudric’s palace retreat, along with homes for many of the empire’s elite, and is right next to his favorite hunting grounds. If we take it, we could provoke Baudric into fighting where we want him, instead of attacking him outright. He’d focus on reclaiming it rather than reinforcing other areas.”
“Interesting, but risky,” Pembroke said. “A town so far forward could leave us overextended and vulnerable. Without sufficient support, it could become isolated and difficult to defend if they took control of the surrounding countryside and isolated the village, which is possible no matter how well we defend the village itself. As I pointed out, we don’t have the men or supplies to extend our control over a large area. We’d risk a significant loss.”
“If this was another town, that might be true, but it’s not. This is his pride and joy. Some people say he loves this town more than the capital, and this palace more than any other. He built it for his late wife, who loved nature and despised living in the capital. For the people he counts on to rule his subjects, for his vassals, this is seen almost as more of the seat of power in the country than any other, and being allowed to live there is a sign that you are, in fact, among the most important in the empire. Baudric’s vanity is well-known and losing control of this village would hit him more than losing Rendallia or Talabot or any of the other places we’ve taken. It will be guaranteed to take over his complete focus and attention, and Baudric is many things, but he never commanded men in the field. You’ve seen the military maneuvers he’s been personally involved with so far. They were tricks, smoke and mirrors, impressive on paper but ultimately doomed to failure.
“And if he decides to bring his full might against us?”
“The town is fortified, mostly to protect its valuables from opportunists and raiders. The defenses aren’t much, at least how they’ve been described to me, and if the emperor decided to bring his full might against us, then yes, he would be able to dislodge us, but he doesn’t have his full might. He’s already lost too many men and his conscription is slowed, or at least that’s what his own people say. And he’s got the capital to think about. He’s vain, but he isn’t stupid. He won’t put Valemonde in danger to rescue a retreat. He also has to keep other areas covered. He has to make sure we don’t break into the rest of the Lynesian plains to ensure he can get crops in the ground and keep his people fed, which means more places he has to keep men. He has enough that it works on the defensive, but I don’t think he’s going to be able to get together the manpower and resources necessary for a full-on assault. That being said, we can do a few things to guarantee our position like taking some of the towns to the east and west of the retreat as well as those to the north of them, securing our rear areas. If he brings enough men, we will be able to support the city.”
“And if he attacks those first, clearing the way for his real assault.”
“I don’t think he will. I think he’ll be too focused on the real prize. If he does, then we have time to pull back and let him have his home back. They will be an alarm, of sorts.”
Pembroke also did not answer right away, which William appreciated. Instead of dismissing him outright or simply telling William his way was correct, he was considering. William knew his worth, but many, if not most, of the well-placed noble men tended to look down on someone William’s age, discounting him.
Some didn’t, it was true. Aldric seemed to see his value. Eskild. A few others. It had taken time, but Pembroke had started to come through as well. It helped that William had proved himself right time and time again, and had successes, but he knew that wasn’t always enough. He only had to look to his adopted father to see that.
“For something you just thought up, that is well reasoned.”
“Thank you.”
“As you said yourself, however, when speaking of Baldric’s faults, a good idea for a plan is not the same as good planning or execution of the plan. I’m not saying I disagree with you, or that we shouldn’t do it. I think it has merit if the facts play out, but I’d want it well scouted and the pieces in position before we do this.”
“What do you suggest?” William asked.
“Well, for starters …”
