Valkyrie's Shadow

Empire in Chains: Act 4, Chapter 13

Empire in Chains: Act 4, Chapter 13

Chapter 13

“So…let me get this straight. The day you meet, she invites you into her big warm tent, treats you to a hot, home-cooked meal and chats with you ‘till late. And then you go back to your own, cold-ass tent for the night.”

“Captain Germund was there, too.”

“Sure, let’s call that fair for now. You ride together with her for all of the next day, then she brings you along for a meeting you don’t have the rank for. And then you have a late dinner together and she chats away with you ‘till late again. After you get up in your own bed again, you come out and she’s there to meet you for breakfast with a smile.”

“I’m supposed to be her attaché.”

“Uh-huh. So now we’re freezing our asses off in this gods-forsaken field in the middle of winter and she invites you into her nice warm tent again and feeds you – without the cap’n this time. You stay up ‘till late with her and you still wake up in your own tent.”

Rangobart frowned at Harlow. Harlow returned his gaze with a cold, level stare.

“Coward.”

Harlow ducked away with a laugh as Rangobart reached out for him.

“She’s not some village girl,” Rangobart scowled. “She’s noble-born. Nobles always offer hospitality no matter how they feel about you.”

“I didn’t ever get none of that hospitality from you. Not that I wanna crawl into your tent.”

Rangobart turned and walked away with a sigh, heading over to a Faucet of Spring Water fastened to a nearby post. After rinsing his hands, he returned to a field on the Second Legion’s exercise grounds which had several sections marked out in chalk over the grass. On a platform overlooking one side of the field was Baroness Zahradnik, who was observing the Imperial Air Service’s drills with Wing Commander Burke.

As he came up the steps to join them, a flight of three Hippogriffs streaked by in a low pass. A punishing rain of arrows fell over a set of hay bales lined up erratically over the ground.

“So this is ‘strafing’.”

“Yes, my lady,” Wing Commander Burke nodded. “In terms of the Imperial Air Service’s roles, close air support is perhaps the most pivotal in our regular operations. Our Dragoons and War Wizards have the mobility and freedom to strike anywhere in a theatre as the situation demands.”

“It looks like they hit one out of three,” Lady Zahradnik said. “That’s very impressive. How long did your Dragoons take to achieve this degree of accuracy?”

“The flight did get about that many, but most of the ones that landed were likely from the formation’s Captain. From the time they enter service, it takes the average Dragoon upwards to five years of regular training to land one out of ten regular attacks from the height you just saw them loose their arrows at.”

“I assume that they employ Martial Arts to improve their chances.”

“If necessary. Regular volleys are fine for densely-packed groups – they’d wreak havoc against the pike formations of Re-Estize’s Royal Army, for example. When things get sparse…just one moment here…”

Wing Commander Burke turned his attention to another formation coming in to strafe the field. After a moment, the lead Hippogriff dove on its own. As the flight’s Captain sped by, every second bale was planted with one of his arrows. Lady Zahradnik nodded slightly.

“How do you deal with retaliation from the ground?” She asked.

“Potential threats are identified in advance,” the blue-haired man replied. “In times of war there’d always be plenty for us to do, so we can simply stay away and hit the enemy elsewhere. If we are ordered to attack a risky position, we try to gauge the enemy’s maximum effective range and attack from beyond it. Also, as with any vocation that employs bonded mounts, a Dragoon’s mount is much harder to deal with than a regular mount. They can take far more punishment and they’re devastating in a strike. Since we use Hippogriffs or Griffons, you can probably imagine the kind of mess that makes.”

“Do your War Wizards have similar riding skills as your Dragoons?”

“They don’t have bonded mounts or advanced cavalry training, so they can’t handle hard manoeuvring or any of the more interesting things that our Dragoons are capable of. If I were to put it nicely, they’re more a passenger than a rider. Some of them do learn how to better handle their mounts after years of service, but it isn’t necessary to perform their role.”

As he spoke, another flight dove from the heights. A wedge of three Hippogriffs swept over the field in advance of a fourth. At the lowest point in their pass, a bead of flame streaked down from the fourth Hippogriff. The Fireball exploded in the midst of a neat formation of metal posts.

“Something like that,” Wing Commander Burke smirked.

“That Wizard was more accurate than the Dragoons.”

“Magic’s funny like that. We Dragoons tend to think it’s unfair. Most spells have a fraction of a bow’s range, but magic doesn’t care about your airspeed or the wind or whatever. They point a finger and it goes where it goes. Some spells – like Magic Arrow – don’t even care about how dismal the caster’s aim is.”

The odour of charred grass drifted over the platform. Another flight made a pass, lighting the field aflame again.

“A Legion’s air wing seems an overwhelming advantage,” Lady Zahradnik said. “You can destroy supply lines, harass camps and formations, or even set towns and cities ablaze. Wars can be won without needing to face an enemy on the field.”

A chill travelled up Rangobart’s spine. It was a way of thinking that was not promoted in the Imperial Army; perhaps the first hint that Lady Zahradnik was not exactly the same as the martial Nobles of the Empire. Like Rangobart, the wing commander frowned.

“In theory, yes,” he said after several moments. “Deployed military assets are considered fair targets for the Imperial Air Service and the Imperial Army in general. It is against the army’s policy to strike directly at civilian targets and infrastructure. Also, while not a hard rule, we won’t engage forces that have lost their will to fight.”

“I can see the influence of Baharuth’s martial Nobility in these policies and attitudes.”

“Is it not the same for the nobility of Re-Estize?” Wing Commander Burke asked.

Lady Zahradnik looked out across the grounds where the Imperial Air Service continued their drills, then her gaze travelled to the pastoral vista beyond.

“In times of war,” she said, “ a Noble’s duty is to fight for land and liege. As warriors, they face other warriors in battle. Collateral damage from such contests must be kept to a minimum to honour their opponents who are similarly fulfilling their obligations. This respect is extended to the lands and peoples of their enemies: contests are held in the wilderness and in the wastelands. Sieges result in undesirable devastation and are preferably avoided. In the ideal situation, the outcomes of war are determined by the blade on the battlefield and settled with diplomacy.”

Rangobart relaxed as the words rolled smoothly off of her lips. The wing commander, too, seemed to lose his tension. It was the responsible way in which to wage war. Civilised men did not engage in unbridled savagery.

“That’s right, my lady,” Wing Commander Burke nodded.

“Then I will say that it is my assumption that the majority of Nobles in Re-Estize consider this the proper and honourable way to wage war. I cannot vouch for each one of them personally, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Also,” the Baroness added. “House Zahradnik does not fight this way.”

The chill returned. Wing Commander Burke placed his left hand on the railing as he turned to regard her with a furrowed brow.

“May I ask what you mean by this, my lady?”

“This is not out of any malignant intent,” the Baroness explained. “It is simply the product of generations of defence conducted against the tribes of the Abelion Wilderness. While we did receive assistance from the south on occasion, we did not have anything remotely resembling the Imperial Army. We were mere hundreds against tens of thousands in the unclaimed lands across the border.”

“W-what?” Rangobart’s eyes grew wide, “But how?”

“By not fighting in the manner previously described,” Lady Zahradnik smiled slightly. “Rangers are master skirmishers and my house excels at fighting in a fashion demanded by a century of protracted conflict. For me, I suppose it cannot be considered protracted: it is simply normal. I do not mean to say that we do not hold the same values, but our circumstances required a different approach to conflict.”

Rangobart couldn’t imagine what that would be like. The Imperial Army used small, mixed squads to patrol the borders in conjunction with support from the Imperial Air service. Threats too large for the patrols to handle were met with the appropriate force. Demihuman tribes were dealt with by some combination of companies, while divisions would handle mass migrations.

Tens of thousands of Demihumans was a force that required the mobilisation of multiple Legions. Fending them off with mere hundreds was a feat that beggared belief.

The wing commander’s reaction was veiled, though it betrayed no hint of incredulity. Perhaps he was calculating whether it could be done by employing the methods Lady Zahradnik had hinted at.

A set of winged shadows travelled over the field nearest to them. The Baroness turned her attention back to the drills just in time to see three Dragoons land in sequence on a strip of marked-out grass. Two landed within the bounds of two-metre-wide circles while the third had a foot out of his. The head of his spear sliced through the air as he cursed in frustration.

“It doesn’t look like they sustained any injuries from that,” Lady Zahradnik said. “Are they using some Skill or Martial Art to land safely from a height?”

“No, my lady,” Wing Commander Burke replied. “In theory, it’s possible for a warrior to prevent injury with the proper timing of Fortress, but it’s unnecessary for our Dragoons. The more experienced they are, the higher they can fall without injuring themselves. Landing where one intends to is another matter entirely, however. As with mounted archery, the attacker’s speed and heading, the wind, distance and the movements of the target all need to be factored in. Aerial insertions are one of the flashiest things our Dragoons can do but at the same time it requires a lot of training to pull off properly.”

“When does a flight employ this in practice?”

“It’s most effective when a few good men can make a big difference on the ground, which most often happens when regular patrols risk casualties against groups of Demihuman raiders or the occasional Magical Beast.”

“If a few combatants can make a significant difference,” Lady Zahradnik asked, “can’t a Dragoon land with their mount to add its combat power to the battle?”

The wing commander replied immediately as if the question was one he was well accustomed to answering.

“The answer is that seconds matter. To land, a mount has to slow down. A single flight usually supports several patrols over a wide area, so they’re positioned accordingly. Descending in such a way that the mount can land upon arrival slows our response enough that an entire patrol can be wiped out. It’s better to dive and maintain the speed that we gain to get Dragoons on the ground faster.”

“I see.”

“Also,” the wing commander added, “it’s not as if we don’t bring our mounts into a fight when needed. An aerial insertion usually comes in two parts: the Dragoon lands to join a fight, then the mount wheels around to shed velocity and hits the enemy in the flank. Demihumans usually scatter when they witness a half dozen of their allies get skewered and dismembered in a few seconds.”

Below them, the three Dragoons walked off of the field, settling down on a bench for a meal. They looked up towards the platform, and Lady Zahradnik smiled back at them.

“Thank you for your explanation, Wing Commander. I’ve long known about the existence of the Imperial Air Service, but its operations were always a mystery. Officer Roberbad.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“We should go and have lunch before we continue our inspection of the camp.”

“Of course,” Rangobart nodded.

He accompanied Lady Zahradnik back to her tent, where she bid him be seated at the table after he removed his coat and gloves. Once she laid out the dishes and utensils, she brought out one of her large magical containers, placing it between them. The cover was removed, revealing a large portion prepared in the city from the evening before the last. It was the same hearty meal that they had for the previous day’s dinner, which was nothing to complain about considering the alternative was camp food.

Upon starting their meal, Lady Zahradnik initiated one of the curious discussions that she always seemed to engage in.

“Some of the reactions that you and the Wing Commander displayed to my words brought to mind a question that I’ve had since meeting with General Kabein and his command staff.”

“What might that be, my lady?”

“Would you say that the members of the general staff are representative of what one might find in any Legion? Many of the men are martial Nobles hailing from cavalry traditions, while most of the others are civilians who rose to positions of command. Additionally, there was a member of the clergy from each division.”

“I believe that you would find that in every Legion’s general staff, yes.”

“Do you not think it’s imbalanced?” Lady Zahradnik asked, “If not for my having brought you along, there wasn’t a single mage there. My experience is that those from different vocations and walks of life can offer valuable perspectives that would otherwise not be considered. Mages appear to have integrated with the companies, but they do not have any representation in General Kabein’s command.”

He wasn’t sure what the point of that would be. The Commanders were there because they were Commanders. The clergy was present because they served not only as battlefield support but saw to the health and general well-being of their respective divisions. Mages did not serve any overarching roles in the Imperial Army.

“I am certain that the Commanders have a firm grasp on what their arcane casters are capable of.”

“Capable of…” the Baroness murmured. “A friend told me recently that the situation of mages in the Baharuth Empire could be compared to that of well-compensated tools. These words might have tinted my perception, but it does appear to be the case when it comes to those in the Empire’s service.”

The idea that mages were tools had a decidedly dulled effect on Rangobart. Never mind the government, the only reason he wasn’t cast out of his household as a spare was that he had the capacity for magic. Furthermore, all Noble scions were tools, so he wasn’t sure why Lady Zahradnik had made a point of anyone being treated like one.

“The martial Nobles that I know – no, most people who I am familiar with – believe that our society has roles that require filling and that it is society that determines the value of a person. To be frank, I am hard-pressed to find any faults with this rationale. If what one pursues or produces holds no value to anyone, then they have no livelihood. One either studies or works to build and maintain civilisation, or they have no place in it.”

“As a Noble,” Lady Zahradnik said, “I understand what that perspective is derived from and agree with it to an extent, but I also understand where it is lacking. I am not in any way attempting to undermine the authority of General Kabein, but the way his command is staffed means that certain things are appreciated more than others. I am not a mage, but, as a Ranger, I’ve already identified a multitude of issues with the way that the Imperial Army operates. The Empire, by extension, can be seen as having issues stemming from the same imbalance.”

“Could you provide me with an example of this ‘imbalance’, my lady?”

“Your stated position is that society determines the value of a person, but who is it that determines what is valuable? If we take General Kabein’s command staff as an example, does anyone that occupies an influential position within it qualify as an expert in arcane magic? Does anyone familiar with matters of the arcane contribute towards building a greater military culture that acts to support military mages in the same way that the Imperial Army reinforces the traditions of the Empire’s martial nobility? Or are mages simply convenient pieces of magical artillery? How long has this been the case?”

As far as he knew, it had always been the case. Regardless of whether it was Rangobart Roberbad or Fluder Paradyne, the military saw mages for the effects of the spells that they case. ‘Magical artillery’, as Lady Zahradnik bluntly termed it.

To the Imperial Army, the Imperial Magic Academy was an institution that produced more magical artillery and the Imperial Ministry of Magic was magical artillery to be used in case of emergencies. When it came to matters of culture, mages tended to mingle with other mages. With the army at large, interactions were company-level, at best.

In a word, mages lacked inertia. Arcane casters were rare, military mages were even more so and each company only had a handful at best. Mages with academic leanings tended to only care about the esteem of their peers. Though crucial to imperial society, mages existed in a ‘bubble’ that separated them from the rest of the imperial culture. There were simply not enough of them in the right positions to exert broad influence on the prevailing culture of the Empire or the Imperial Army.

Rangobart was fairly certain that he had heard something like this discussed before, but he wasn’t sure where it was from.

“You appear to be implying that the current state of affairs for military mages is untenable,” He asked. “Is there something you plan on doing about it?”

“Me?” Lady Zahradnik raised an eyebrow, “I am merely a liaison officer. My duty is to assist with the current operation while cultivating understanding between the Imperial Army and the Sorcerous Kingdom. It is not my place to dictate how the Imperial Army should be organising itself or shaping its culture – the most I can do is offer my observations when it comes to these matters.

“As I said to General Kabein and his command staff: true pride cannot be fashioned out of accomplishments that are not of one’s own legacy. These accomplishments are not simply military achievements, but everything that goes into forming the very essence of what the Baharuth Empire is and what it means to be one of its citizens.

“So the real question is, Officer Roberbad, what do you plan on doing about it?”

Rangobart stared silently at his half-finished meal. The Baroness was less than a year older than he was, yet she seemed to be in an entirely different place in life. She was driven by some force that Rangobart lacked; something beyond simply putting one foot before the other as he climbed the steps of his career. It made her both enchanting and intimidating at the same time: an elegant blade directed with purposeful intent.

The silence stretched on for several moments before he could manage an uncertain reply.

“I don’t know, my lady. My career has barely begun. Never mind anything that you spoke of, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be beyond what others expect of me.”

Across the table, Lady Zahradnik offered him a quiet smile.

“Then it sounds like you’re in precisely the right place to start.”