Monurbis
Von
Eisen didn’t talk to Balliwick for the three days that it took to march on to
Monurbis. It was just outside that mountain town, at the bottom of the pass
between Visneoria and Tlaxaca, that he finally got up the courage to speak to
him. He wanted to clear the air before they started the siege of the city.
The Baron walked into Balliwick’s tent with
an armed guard. They stood in the tent’s entrance, alert and menacing.
‘I am very concerned about your behaviour,
Lord Balliwick’
Balliwick looked shocked. His eyes were wide
and his mouth drooped. It was an expert performance.
‘What on earth do you mean, my lord?’ he
said, in a devastated voice.
‘Your behaviour in Ortia,’ explained von
Eisen, ‘it was insubordinate to both the Emperor and to me’
‘Not intentionally, my Lord, I promise you.
My dedication to your cause is total’
Von Eisen thought about this. He realised
that it was time to consider their aims and objectives more fully.
‘What
is that cause, in your view?’
‘It’s your cause, my lord – I am dedicated to
the reconquest of Eddorre and your assumption of the throne of that realm…’
Von Eisen nodded, but he was still feeling
uncertain.
‘You mean, in conjunction with the Emperor,
of course…’
Balliwick looked grave and sad, as if he were
mourning some death or great loss. He looked at von Eisen as if in sympathy.
‘I’m afraid that we may have to proceed
without the Emperor’s explicit blessings, my Lord – there is no indication that
he will come here soon…’
‘That may be so’ murnured von Eisen
tentatively, as if trying to convince himself that this was acceptable
behaviour, ‘but your actions in Ortia, a city which is indubitably in the
Emperor’s ambit… was overenthusiastic, bordering on reckless. I fear that you
risked striking at the heart of our relationship with the Imperium’
Balliwick bowed his head down low, as if his
commander’s words were physically burdening him.
‘I must have misunderstood – I thought that
the position of Ortia within the empire was similar to that of Amansk – that
they had, de facto, succeeded from,
or at least suspended, their imperial affiliations and so were to be treated more as
rebels or Imperial apostates, and so we should deal with them as such. I was
clearly mistaken and I should have consulted far more intensively with you
before issuing any orders’
He bowed even lower and then, straightening,
he looked at von Eisen with eyes wet with something – it might have been tears.
‘I can only apologise profusely and assure
you that I will await your delegated orders before pursuing any course of
executive action…’
Von Eisen felt even more uneasy, but he did
wonder if there was some truth in what his advisor was saying. Ortia was
isolated and they had had no contact with Visnea in a long time. In addition,
they had a female proconsul, which, if not specifically excluded by law, might
well be attributed to a slipping of imperial values in the city. He still
thought that the conflict had been appalling, but he was willing, reluctantly,
to give Balliwick the benefit of the doubt.
‘I am very pleased to hear that’ responded
von Eisen, ‘I value you above all others as an advisor and a mentor, but I think, perhaps, it would be
best to relieve you temporarily of any position in the military structure. In
every other respect things will be exactly as before – we will share the
victories as they accumulate. It is clear to me now that I perhaps
overestimated your experience in a general melee and I can only assume that you
momentarily lost your head in the heat of battle…’
Balliwick’s face remained unchanged – it was
still repentant and upset, but his hands at his sides pumped themselves into
fists, as if preparing for a sparring match. Von Eisen didn’t see this at all.
‘You are right, my Lord, I was slightly
overcome by the tension in the battle, but it was predominantly because I
desired to see you sitting on the Proconsul’s throne and claiming the decadent
city for your own’
Von Eisen stood tall and strong, as if
embodying the perfect posture of the warrior king, while Balliwick continued to
cower slightly, wringing his hands. Anyone watching them would mistake this
scene for the perfect example of the feudal order of the world, but, of course,
they would be completely mistaken.
The Baron put his hand on Balliwick’s
shoulder. The grandmaster’s voice was calm and full of love, and he imagined
how well he would be able to rule over an entire kingdom of worthy but flawed
subjects. Once again he imagined the coronation on the plateau of the volcano,
and smiled.
‘Go now, my dear friend’ he ordered, ‘we
shall prepare to reconquer our first Tlaxacan city! All hail the Emperor!’
Balliwick bowed once more and breathed
deeply, but he said nothing. The Baron swept out of the tent, with all the
confidence of a mad man with paper wings about to jump over a precipice.
***
The
knights advanced slowly up the road, wondering what they would find in
Monurbis. Von Eisen had worked on the principle that the mountain city would be
still guarded by some small remnant of Whitecloak’s army. Either way, his plan
relied on a rapid capture of the city and good supply lines behind him. Neither
of those things was yet certain.
The
Khagr pass, which cut through the mountains that ran north-south to the east of
Ortia, was steep and narrow and the soldiers felt uneasily like they were being
watched from above. Some of them even thought
that they saw kinaam, the horrid
slaves of the Tlaxacans, on the cliff tops, dressed in green, observing their
every move. Fear spread that the city would be full of enemies and that they
would be repulsed. The Baron had to urge them on with repeated assurances of
the weakness of their foes.
They struggled on to within an hour or so of
the city. They could see it clearly now, high on a flat rock, and apparently
unassailable. There was a long steep path that led from the main road to the
city gates: this was never intended to be anything but a strongpoint. They
advanced up it very slowly, expecting to be attacked at any time. However, to
their amazement, the gates were open and the city deserted. At first they
thought that this was a trick, and so the grandmaster sent a team of pioneers
to check the defences. Eventually they came back and reported that, yes indeed,
the city was completely empty and open. However, nailed to the front gate of
the citadel was a letter.
They gave the letter to von Eisen who opened
it with some trepidation. It was written in Visneorian
Greetings,
Knights of the Crimson Flame,
We
salute you and acknowledge your feats of arms and your brave hearts.
However,
we give notice that you are entering an Imperial City, over which you have no
legal rights. We, the rightful rulers and citizens of Monurbis and the Mountain
Places, have, using our particular skill in the turning aside of evil, ensured
that the city has been cleared for your use as a temporary resting place for
your activities. We are agreed that your occupation of the city is superior to
a Tlaxacan presence.
Note,
though, that this occupation can only be provisional until the Emperor confirms
or denies it. We consider that you are holding it in trust for him and that his
word must eventually be law.
Please
accept our apologies for not meeting you in person. We are a peaceable and
timid people; perhaps too timid to crave a meeting with such powerful warriors.
However, we are always willing to act in support of the Emperor and his legal
agents.
We
remain, your friends and comrades,
Proconsul
Bellis of Monurbis
&
Euphorbia
of the Mountain Places, his deputy
Once
von Eisen had read the note he took it to Balliwick. They were still on the
main road below the city. The Ethian read it, stopped for a second and stared at
the grandmaster.
‘Is this some sort of strange joke, my Lord?’
Von Eisen looked at the letter again – it was
written in perfect Visneorian but in an old, rather crabbed hand.
‘I have no idea. It could be a trick, could
it? We should have asked Proconsul Marthian about this…’
‘Too late for that now’ said Balliwick, ‘it’s
probably the work of some mad elf with delusions of grandeur’
Von Eisen looked up at the silent city above
him. There was no sign of life at all, not even a wisp of smoke from the
chimneys that grew out of the tops of the dark buildings.
‘Why is there no-one there, though?’ he
asked, shivering, despite himself.
‘Who cares’ said Balliwick, ‘it’s ours for
the taking and we should thank anyone who is so kind as to empty a city and
leave it for our enjoyment’
Von Eisen frowned.
‘I don’t like this’ he said, ‘it would be
better to win the city by force of arms. I feel that too much remains
unresolved’
The
Baron inspected his troops and then gave them their orders to occupy the city. None of them were particularly happy to
undertake the task.
They entered the gates with considerable
caution and found no enemies within. It was then the rumours began to grow
among them of the army of ghosts, of the green ghosts that had driven out the
Tlaxacans. And after they had established their barracks and armouries in the
dark Tlaxacan stronghold many of them were kept awake at night by their
memories of the spindly creatures that they thought they had seen in heights.
Those that eventually found sleep dreamed of the same creatures, their piercing
green eyes staring down at them, whispering to them that they should put down
their swords and go home.
