Cardonaccum, The beauty of a thistle. Options

[haute ecole rider]

A/N: Hello all. This is a story I began writing for NaNoWriMo in 2011. Now that Julian has finished telling her story, Cora is impatient to take her turn. So without further ado, I will allow her to introduce herself and begin her story. Hopefully it won't be as long in the telling as Julian's. It is not as epic, nor does it have sweeping consequences, but as I see it, without Cora we would not have Julian's story at all.

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Chapter One

“Milady!” The lean form darted through the tall panels, the storm following hard on his heels. The doorkeepers struggled to close the doors against the pelting rain. For a moment, I could not see the courier’s face against the lightning flashes that limned his figure.

Finally he halted before me, bedraggled and breathless. Rain dripped from his sodden clothes, and plastered his black hair to his forehead. As my vision readjusted to the torches that lit the main hall of the donjon, I could recognize the young man. I stepped away from my comfortable chair and nodded at Jannet, who turned and disappeared in the direction of the kitchens.

“Please sit down, Tavish,” I took the courier’s cloak and removed it from his shoulders. He reached for it reflexively, but I shook my head at him as Siné took the fabric from me and draped it near the fire to dry. I led him to my chair. He resisted briefly, but exhaustion enforced my quiet command, and he fell onto the soft cushion with a groan.

“I h- have n- news,” he met my gaze as I picked up the wine flagon and poured the mulled liquid into my goblet. I handed it to him with forced calmness. Around us gathered the thistlemen who had remained behind to defend the donjon, and those of our crofters who sought refuge from the oncoming winter in our snug shelter.

“I’m sure you do,” I answered quietly, gesturing for him to drink. “But partake of the wine first. You are shivering so much all of us can hear your teeth chattering!”

Jannet returned with more of the heated wine and warm blankets. She set the flagon down on the warming table beside the fire and turned to wrap the dry wool around Tavish’s shaking shoulders. He gulped at the goblet gratefully and snuggled deeper into the blankets before speaking again.

“Milord is at the Bluestone Tower,” the courier cradled the wine in both hands, seeking to warm his fingers against its heat. “The Colovian forces are there.”

“Who arrived first?” Robert Whitearm, the burly castellan, shouldered his way through the growing crowd to take his place at my right shoulder.

“Milord did,” Tavish responded. “But before he could take the high ground across the river, the Legions arrived. They possess the bluffs.”

I could see the dismay in Robert’s stony face as he absorbed the implications. From my own studies in milord’s library, I understood that Wallace had just lost the first battle. It would be far more difficult to take on the foe from downhill.

“How many are there?” Robert continued his line of questioning after a moment. Tavish met his gaze unhappily.

“There were three thousand there when I left,” he muttered into his wine. “Five cohorts worth. With more on the way.”

“Damnation!” Robert’s barely suppressed explosion lifted his heavy mustache away from his lips. I shook my head warningly at him. He fell silent, grumbling to himself like a cranky bear roused too early from his winter sleep.

“How are milord’s men?” I turned back to Tavish. He smiled bravely at me.

“They are in good spirits, m’lady,” he lifted the goblet at me. “The stores are full with provisions and arms, and their blades are keen.”

“Does milord require anything from us?” He shook my head at my question.

“M’lord asks that you see to the donjon.” His gaze shifted to Robert. “keep the men alert, and the crofters safe. Winter comes, and promises to be harsh this year.”

“Thank you, Tavish,” I murmured, then turned to Robert. “Please send the patrol out one more time, to try and bring in the rest of the crofters. Things will be very hard for them this winter.”

“You know how they don’t want to leave their livestock,” Robert began. I drew myself up to my fullest height, though the top of my head still fell short of his broad shoulders.

“Then we must find room for all their livestock within the bailey,” I answered. “With so many men away, it’s the only way to keep them safe with the limited manpower we have.”

“Yes, m’lady,” Robert inclined his head in gruff acquiescence. He turned and stalked through the throng, shouting over their gathered heads for his lieutenant. I searched the surrounding faces. A lean man with a hatchet face stepped forward and bowed to me.

“Niall,” I said to the steward, “please see Tavish settled into the thistlemen’s dormitory. Get those wet clothes off of him before he catches bloodlung. And feed him something hot and filling before he falls asleep.”

“As you will, milady,” Niall inclined his upper body again and motioned for Tavish to follow him.

“No,” Tavish rose unsteadily to his feet. “I have a message for m’lady’s ears only.” He turned to me. “Please let me say it before you send me away.”

“Then we will go to milord’s study,” I turned toward the stair set into the wall at the north side of the donjon. “Niall, Jannet, with us please.” I caught the breath of protest the young courier drew and shook my head at him. “Come,” I waved him ahead. He moved forward and fell in behind me obediently.

Wallace’s study sat on the second floor, at the south wall of the donjon. When we reached the entrance, I waved Tavish through, and paused in the doorway. “Niall, Jannet, wait out here. I’ll not keep you long.” They nodded their acquiescence and I closed the door before them.

In the center of the book lined room, Tavish turned uneasily toward me. “This is a message from milord,” he spoke quietly. I stepped forward so we were mere inches apart.

“Tell me.” I said softly.

“Milord says to make the donjon ready to receive wounded,” Tavish’s blue eyes grew unfocused as he recalled Wallace’s exact words. “He expects massive casualties at the blades of the Legions.”

“Does he still expect to defeat the Colovians?” I asked. Tavish looked down at me. Not quite as tall as Sir Robert, he still had height on me, as did most of the residents of Cardonaccum. “Tell me the truth,” I demanded softly.

“Yes, m’lady,” Tavish answered. “Though Sir Laird and Sir Rodric do not agree. Sir Broc sides with milord.”

Of course he would. I kept my initial response silent. “How soon?”

“As soon as their General brings up the rest of his Legions,” Tavish responded. “Milord expects tomorrow or the day after.”

So soon? I hid my dismay and nodded thoughtfully. “Anything else, Tavish?”

“That is all,” the courier ducked his head and swayed slightly. “Milord said you would understand.”

“Thank you, Tavish,” I returned to the corridor door and opened it. “Niall will see you settled for the night. Sleep well.”

“Milady,” Tavish bowed deeply to me. For a breath’s space I feared that he would pitch forward onto his face, but he recovered his balance and shuffled to the door and the waiting steward beyond. After the young man departed, I crossed the corridor to the sleeping quarters I shared with Wallace. Jannet followed me into the sitting room and closed the door behind her.

“I will make it an early night,” I said, turning for the connecting door that led to my sleeping room. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

Jannet banked the sitting-room fire and tidied up the reading table while I changed into my nightdress. She peeked into the sleeping room as I pulled the bedcovers back. “Will milady be needing anything else?”

I shook my head at the older woman. “No, thanks very much. Sleep well, Jannet.”

“You as well, milady.” She closed the door after her, and I listened to her footfalls as she crossed the sitting room to her sleeping alcove at the opposite side.

I slipped into the bed and drew up the thick pelts over my lap. Leaning back against the stead, I picked up the book resting on my nightstand. One of Wallace’s volumes, it detailed the attempts of King Vrage of Skyrim to free the Bretons of High Rock from their supposed enslavement. As I opened it to the place marked by a dark green ribbon, something landed on my feet. I looked up as the big black-striped brown moggy padded along my legs to settle beside my right hip. She curled up contentedly and began purring squeakily.

I smiled at her attitude and reached my hand down to stroke the soft fur of her back. The purring rose to thunderous proportions, and she adjusted her position slightly for better gratification. “Cinnie, let me read a bit,” I whispered to the cat. Then I returned to the book. Crossing the River Bjoulsae. I had read it once before, when I married Wallace ten years ago. I had found it difficult to understand then. Not so much now, thanks to my husband’s guidance.

“What are you doing here, Cora?” Wallace’s gentle voice reached me from the doorway of his study. I jumped guiltily and clutched the heavy book to my bosom, afraid of dropping it. The sun shone warm on my back as I turned away from the window to face him. Instead of the wrath I expected to see, his weathered face held only surprise.

“I- I was c- curious,” I stammered, bowing my head in shame. “Forgive me, milord.” I moved to return the book to its place among its brethren on one of the library shelves. In a long stride Wallace placed his sword hand on my wrist, the calluses of its palm hard against my skin.

He plucked the book from my hands and glanced at the cover. “Crossing the River Bjoulsae?” He turned to me. “Look at me, Cora.” Hesitantly I obeyed, looking up into his lean visage. “Why are you reading a military history book? My first wife’s romances are over there.” He gestured to the opposite side of the room. I flinched at the reminder of my predecessor.

“Th- they’re n- not in- interesting.” I managed to get the words out. His grey brows rose, startled.

“Not interesting?” he repeated disbelievingly. “And this is?” He hefted the thick volume and regarded me thoughtfully. Silently I nodded. “Do you understand any of it?”

I had to shake my head. “I- it’s not e- easy, milord.”

He touched my lips. “It’s just the two of us, Cora. You don’t need to address me so formally.”

Again I lowered my eyes. “Yes, mi - Wallace.”

My husband set the book back on the shelf with greater ease than I had in obtaining it from its high perch. “Come, sit down a moment, Cora.” He drew me to one of a pair of leather upholstered chairs placed near the fireplace. “Why do you want to learn military history and tactics?”

I looked up at him as I took the indicated chair. He met my gaze when he had seated himself in the twin. When I didn’t answer, his brows rose. I found myself still fascinated by them. Wonderfully expressive they were, as were his stormy grey eyes. For all that he was so much older than me, by a good thirty years, Wallace was still clean-jointed, still limber and trim after years of fighting and training. Once again I saw the sadness in his gaze, the sadness that never left. Once again I renewed my private vow to dispel that private grief.

“When I sit with you and your men at dinner,” I made myself speak slowly. I didn’t stammer, and felt proud. “I want to be able to understand your conversation.”

He leaned back, his eyes steady on me. “Really? Even when their wives discuss things with you?”

I shook my head. “Talk of spinning and dyeing wool, of crocheting, of pickling and salting food for the winter doesn’t interest me.”

“They should,” he shook a callused finger chidingly at me. “The work of women are just as important as that of men. More so, even. For without their hard work, we’d be too hungry and too cold to fight!”

“And without men who know how to fight, there’d be no women to feed and clothe them!” I countered with some heat before I caught myself. My eyes sought the fire. “I’m sorry, mil - Wallace.”

“Don’t be,” Wallace’s tone turned gentle again. “Cora, are you truly interested in our conversations over dinner?”

I peeked warily at him. Unlike my guardian, who had scorned and ridiculed my interest in military tactics, Wallace seemed genuinely accepting. I nodded.

“Very well,” he set his hands on the arms of his chair. The leather-covered wood frame creaked as he pushed himself to his feet. “Then it would be wise to begin with this,” he moved back to his collection of military books and ran his finger along their spines. Finding the one he sought, he pulled it out. “This book is the first book I ever read. It will explain the basics you need to understand everything else, including Bjoulsae.” He tapped my ambitious selection with a knuckle, then returned to the hearth with the slimmer volume. “Start with this one, and work your way up to that one. We’ll talk about it some more after you finish reading it. Understood?”

I looked at the cover of the book he handed me. Art of War. Breathlessly, I looked up at him. He smiled, that sadness not quite disappearing, and waited for my answer. “Yes, I understand, Wallace,” I managed to whisper. He touched my cheek with his fingertips before turning and leaving me alone in his study.

“Yes, I understand, Wallace,” I whispered as my eyes refocused on the book in my lap. Cinnie picked her head up at the sound of my voice and yawned, before shifting back into sleep.

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Jul 1 2013, 03:03 AM

[haute ecole rider]

@jackcloudy: You're right, the besieged won't have access to their resources outside the castle. That is part of the reason Lady Cora decided to go see General Talos. She is concerned about having enough supplies to get through the upcoming winter, let alone a siege on top of it. She can't be certain that General Talos has not solved his logistics problem.

@Sage Rose: I rather suspected that you would enjoy the little story behind Lady Cora's barefootedness. It is something unique to this protagonist, and something that I feel rather balances the fact that she is a Breton, which tend to be rather overpowered magically in the game (as I'm discovering with my latest PC).

@BamBam: Thanks for the nit - I went back and fixed it. Of course, I have to make Wallace pretty darn cool in his own right, otherwise Lady Cora would be too easily overwhelmed by the awesomeness that is THE ONE AND ONLY DRAGONBORN OF THE NORTH!!!

@Acadian: I figured it was time we saw the sort of dreams General Talos keeps appearing in. Of course, I kept thinking of Emperor Uriel's line 450 years later . . . "You, I've seen you in my dreams . . ."! Cats are fun to write as they are independent creatures and do as they please. Most of the time they please to behave as the Cheshire Cat and disappear/reappear at their own whim. Yes, big comfort indeed!

ghastley: You make a good point about Lady Cora wanting to show that she is undaunted by General Talos. I rather suspect her choice to go alone to Talos's camp is a mild affliction of one-upmanship - she has more guts to show up by herself, without even the skeleton escort Talos took with him to Cardonaccum. Yes, we need more Cinnie!

@Grits: One of the most frustrating things about posting things on this forum is that it forces you to present the story in bite-sized pieces, rather than as a full seven-course meal. (Can you tell I'm trying to figure out what to make for dinner tonight??).

The story so far: Sir Laird and his retinue has fled Cardonaccum, with the shield Cirsium and the Pillsbury Priest in tow. Unfortunately, we know of his death at the hands of the Legion troops in the dean below the castle. What we do not yet know is the fate of Lady Edine, her sons, or Onchu. Lady Cora has made her decision regarding General Talos's proposal and has set off before dawn to seek him out.

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Chapter Fourteen

My feet followed an unseen path through the brambles that cloaked the foothills. The sky beyond the Wrothgarians began to lighten when I heard a rustling off to one side. I stopped and froze in place, turning my head left then right to locate the sounds. Almost immediately the noise stopped. Too big to be a deer. Can’t be bear, they’ve already gone to ground for the winter. Could I have already reached Talos’s outposts?

When the silence persisted, I continued forward, holding my cloak closely around me to avoid entanglement in the thickets. A few strides later the rustling sounded again, this time in front of me. Once more I stopped and peered ahead through the gnarled branches. A dark form appeared before me, broad-shouldered and bulky. With a soft susurrus of mail, the stranger pushed the brambles aside. I held my ground and waited.

He looked down at me silently, then his hands shifted. A greenish glow followed a snapping sound, and a globe of light took shape in his cupped palm. He held it up so its light fell on me. “Let me see your face.”

My hands shook with more than the cold as I obeyed his command. His eyes widened as he took in my appearance. I knew he had seen the green mote in my left eye. I had inherited the dark brown eyes with ice-green flecks from my father, even though I had not inherited his magical ability. While both of his eyes had several such marks, I only possess the one in my left eye. But it was my trait, the one feature people recognized me by.

“What brings you here, Lady Cora of Cardonaccum?” the soldier asked.

I swallowed some moisture back into my mouth. “I seek General Talos,” I answered. For once my stutter remained mute in spite of my anxiety and fear.

He considered me a moment more, then dispelled the light with a toss of his hand. More magicka sparkled from his hand, winding in thin trails through the branches to either side of us. Then he stepped back and motioned for me to follow him.

He’s a ranger, I realized suddenly. Talos must have forest rangers as outposts here. Makes sense - they can communicate without sounds. That white magicka - that was his way of signaling the other sentries. Wonder what his orders were? Hold the line? I shook myself and concentrated on keeping up with his longer strides over the rough ground.

Before long we reached a small stream, flat stones protruding above the chuckling water. Beyond, the brambles had been cleared away, and neat groups of tents clustered together around campfires.

The ranger stepped onto the stones, then paused in the center of the watercourse and extended his hand back to me. Silently I declined his offer of help and made my way easily across the stones, ice already forming on some of them.

The camp was mostly quiet, with very few men patrolling between the tents. Those that saw us eyed me speculatively, but did not detain or question my escort. Finally we reached a cluster of four larger tents, each with a brace of guards before its entrance. A burly man, a sergeant by the white scarf around his right arm, rose from his seat beside the fire, setting aside his whittling stick and sheathing his dagger. “Hullo, Lucius. Who’s that?”

“Lady Cardonaccum,” the ranger answered. “She is looking for the General.”

“Is she alone?” The sergeant did not spare me a glance. I stepped forward.

“Yes, I am.” This time the sergeant did look at me. His gaze traveled over me from head to hem and back again, lingering on the hilt of Thistlethorn visible above my left shoulder.

“You’ll have to give me that weapon,” he held his hand out decisively.

“No, I will not,” I answered. Somehow I managed not to quail at the look in his face. This is a man who seldom hears ‘no.’ “I will not go before General Talos unarmed.”

His eyes narrowed, and the sergeant took a step toward me. Lucius stopped him with an arm across his chest. “Look at her, man,” he said softly. “That claymore’s as big as she is. Do you honestly think she can do harm with it?”

“She’s a Witch,” the sergeant growled. “And Witches can do things mere mortals can’t!”

“I wish that were true,” I drew his attention back to me. “But I h- have no magic.” I waved my hands around the tents. “And I’m outnumbered. There’s no harm I c- can do to General Talos or any of you.”

“I don’t believe that!” the sergeant growled, but he fell back to the fire.

“Where is the General?” Lucius asked.

“Asleep,” the sergeant responded, jerking his thumb at the smallest tent. “He was up late, and I ain’t waking him for this Witch!”

Lucius shot him a glare, then turned and walked to the indicated shelter. The sergeant did not take his eyes off of me, and his hand dropped to the hilt of his sword. I remained where Lucius had left me and folded my hands in front of me, my eyes downcast.

“General?” Lucius’s voice reached me. “Lady Cardonaccum’s here.”

I could hear the startled response from within, but I couldn’t make out the muttering that followed. Lucius responded with a “Yes, sir,” and turned back to me. “The General will be out shortly.”

“Thank you, sir,” I murmured, not moving otherwise.

The tent flap snapped back, and General Talos stepped out. Even in a dark doublet and leather greaves, he still conveyed an imposing presence. He moved to stand beside the sergeant, a few paces away. “Lady Cardonaccum,” he said. “I rather like the sound of that.”

I lifted my head and met his gaze. “It is what your man Lucius has chosen to c- call me, General.”

“And you came seeking me?” Talos continued. His gaze moved around the tents. “I’m sorry that I can’t offer you hospitality to match yours.”

“I do not r- require hospitality, General,” I answered.

Talos’s brows rose. “Then what do you require, Lady Cora?”

Slowly I let my breath out, then inhaled the cold air deeply. “Respect.”

His head reared back slightly. “Of course, Lady,” he answered coolly. “Let’s get out of this infernal wind. I don’t know how you can stand out here in bare feet.” He returned to his tent and lifted the flap for me.

Slowly, giving the baleful sergeant a wide berth, I walked to the tent and peered inside. Small. A table, a chair, and a cot. And a groundsheet. I met Talos’s gaze. “Since you know s- so much about me, General, you will understand if I r- refuse to step inside your tent.”

His mouth twitched, and he glanced within his shelter. His gaze moved from the thick woolen floor to the trailing hem of my skirts. “Of course.” He lowered the flap and pointed out the larger tent to the left. “Then let’s use that one. It’s where I meet with my staff.” He turned to Lucius. “Thank you for escorting the Lady. You may return to your post.”

“Yes, General,” Lucius saluted him with a fist slammed on his mailed chest. He faded back into the night as I followed Talos to the staff tent. Inside, braziers lit a long table surrounded by chairs. Rushes covered the dirt that floored the shelter. Neatly rolled scrolls in a stack rested in a tray at one end of the table.

“Do you approve, Lady Cora?” Talos asked. I nodded and stepped inside. He dropped the flap and secured it against the wind, then gestured me toward a nearby chair near one of the braziers. I seated myself, silently grateful for the warmth emanating from the shallow bowl. Talos moved to a sideboard, where a samovar crouched among small pewter cups. He filled two of them and returned. I looked up as he set one on the table before me. Talos took the chair next to mine and turned it to face me, then sipped at his cup as he sat down.

I regarded the cup he had given me. The steaming fluid was dark colored and aromatic.

“Do you think I would be foolish enough to poison you, Lady Cora?” Talos asked when I glanced at him. “I’m certain you left orders with your man Robert at Cardonaccum. Orders that would be costly for me or my men.”

Cautiously I picked up the mug and swirled the fluid within. The aroma was new - warm, rich and - slightly burnt? Its heat warmed my cold fingers.

“Have you ever had klah?” Talos’s gaze was steady when I looked back at him. I shook my head. “It’s like a Stamina potion - it wakes you up and gives you energy. Some people are addicted to the taste, others detest it. I’m curious to see which camp you fall into, Lady Cora.”

I cupped both hands around the klah and sipped warily at it. At first I could only taste hot, but as I held it in my mouth, additional depth of flavor developed. Dark, almost burnt. A little acidic. Bitter, like strong tea, but not as astringent. And the aftertaste is interesting. I looked up to see Talos watching me intently. Carefully I set the cup back on the table. “It’s intriguing,” I said finally. “And something I could become accustomed to.”

His mouth twitched in that curious manner, but Talos hid his expression behind his mug as he drank the klah a little more heartily. “It’s from Valenwood,” he said. “They’ve begun exporting it to the Colovian Estates.”

I found myself taking another sip of the klah. This time, I kept it cradled in my hands, welcoming its warmth.

“Well, Lady Cora,” Talos set his cup on the table with a decisive click. “What did you come here for?”

“What happened to the knight’s party your men s- stopped on the road yesterday afternoon?”

His brows lifted. “Sir Laird? He’s dead,” he rose and moved to the stack of scrolls. He selected one and unrolled it partway. “Yes, along with about half of his men. One got away, on the wife’s palfrey. The horse was injured, and last seen running back to Cardonaccum.” He looked at me with a question in his eyes.

“The horse is fine,” I answered. “The rider died shortly after he arrived.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Talos shook his head. “If only Sir Laird had surrendered when my sentries stopped him.”

“You said h- half of his men were killed?” I asked. “But only one made it back to us. Where are the rest?”

Talos returned to his chair and sat down. “I thought Sir Laird betrayed you?”

I looked down at the klah. “Where are the other men? And his wife? His sons?”

Talos leaned back and rested his right elbow on the table. He rubbed at his beard, his eyes on me thoughtful. “Why does it matter to you?” His fingers waved briefly before returning to his jawline. “Oh, that’s right, that was half your fighting force Sir Laird took out of Cardonaccum. Do you want them back?”

“They’re alive?” I held his gaze and waited.

“For the most part,” he answered, taking another draught of the klah. “The oldest son died with his father, the other two and his wife are prisoners, along with the surviving men-at-arms.” He leaned forward, his right hand dangling off the edge of the table. “Do you want them back?”

Do I? They betrayed me. What if Edine and her sons feel the same way about me as Sir Laird did? Would I want a nest of vipers back in my donjon? “I’d like to speak to Edine first,” I said finally. “And see the men. Though their knight betrayed me, I’m still responsible for them.”

“If I give them back to you, what shall you give me in return?” Talos asked.

I regarded the klah, then took another sip while considering my words. He waited patiently as I took my time. “Do you remember what you said to me yesterday?” I said finally.

“Very well,” he answered. “What about it?”

“I’ve given your words a great deal of th- thought, and -“ I paused. Once I say it, there’s no going back. I won’t be able to avoid the man of my nightmares anymore. But even if it kills me, so long as it keeps the folk of Cardonaccum safe, I have to do it. “I’ll do it. I’ll be your ally, so long as you support me as Lord of C- Cardonaccum.”

“Then let’s do it,” Talos rose and gathered parchment together. “Let’s draw up this damned truce.” He stopped and looked at me. “Are you certain you want Laird’s people back?”

“Not if they’re of the same mind as he was,” I answered. “In that case, I’m content to let you deal with them as you see fit. I have enough to worry about with Sir Broc.”

Talos’s response was noncommittal. He pulled the chair up to the table and began writing. “Here’s the outline of what I was thinking,” he said as he scribbled swiftly. I envied him his ease with the quill. “I declare you the rightful Lord of Cardonaccum. So far as local issues go, you have the sole authority. Neither I nor my representative will tell you how to run your holding. If anyone challenges your right to hold the seat of Cardonaccum, my men will augment yours and defend your position. Lieutenant Titus Alorius will report directly to you, and only to you. I will be the only one to hold the authority to supersede your orders to the good Lieutenant. In return, you will place outposts at the western end of An Sloc to monitor movements of Bretons and Orcs in the Wrothgarians. Any untoward activity will be immediately reported to me. You will also provide complete logistical support to my men at the same caliber and quality as received by your own men.” The quill paused as he glanced at me. “All right so far?”

Momentarily stunned by the swiftness of Talos’s actions, I nodded silently.

“Now the contingencies. If Lieutenant Alorius should disagree with your decisions, he is to advise you accordingly and -“ he caught my gaze again, “- with full respect. Both of you will be expected to resolve any such situations in a manner equally satisfactory to both of you. If such a compromise is not possible, then Lieutenant Alorius must report to me, and likewise you must send me a written report stating your side of the issue.” The quill continued scribbling as he fell silent. After a few moments, he continued, “If he should die while in your service, you are to immediately notify me and request a replacement liaison if you wish to keep the legionaries. This truce is terminated if you decide not to keep the legionaries, if you die without a successor nominated by yourself, or if I die.” He met my gaze. “It is considered null and void if I should fail to support you in your right to rule Cardonaccum, also if you fail to uphold your vigilance of An Sloc. It can also be terminated by mutual agreement between you and I. Fair enough?”

I held out my hand for the parchments. “May I, General?”

He set the quill down and handed me the contract. While I read it carefully, he returned to the samovar with his cup and refilled it. He was back in his chair waiting patiently when I finally looked up from the truce.

“One thing,” I began. “How do I know that you aren’t posting Lieutenant Alorius at C- Cardonaccum with the implicit purpose of gathering intelligence?”

“That would be his primary duty, of course,” Talos’s gaze on me was unflinching. “I require intelligence of movements in An Sloc, in the holdings surrounding you, and of any news from the Western Reaches.”

“And C- Cardonaccum,” I added.

“Of course,” he agreed. “It’s natural for me to be concerned how my newest ally is doing.”

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Sep 29 2013, 06:59 PM