Valkyrie's Shadow

The Paladin of the Holy Kingdom, Part III: Act 4, Chapter 13

The Paladin of the Holy Kingdom, Part III: Act 4, Chapter 13

Chapter 13

“We’re not going to make it in time.”

“Carlos did offer to ride ahead and tie them up.”

There was a reason for Lugo to refuse that offer, though he wouldn’t give voice to it. Simply put, the ranchers were already at the point where they were willing to visit violence upon the royalists and they didn’t seem to appreciate the fact that their actions would affect the entire conservative faction. If the royalists bled here, then the entire Holy Kingdom would bleed next.

“The only way to tie up that many soldiers is with the threat of physical force,” Lugo said. “Our plan to leverage the authority of the Holy Order won’t work if fighting breaks out. Besides, Miss Baraja is on the wrong side of that army. We should confirm her safety before taking any actions that may put her at risk.”

That the Holy Order hadn’t come out was a bad sign. He couldn’t imagine them not noticing so many soldiers making their way through the city. Baraja should have had plenty of time to make her case before their arrival.

A few hundred metres from the coast, the Dancing Duchess was already anchored, but she hadn’t yet lowered any boats to send their reinforcements ashore. The royalist forces were advancing steadily up the beach, making better time than Lugo’s column which was still struggling through the mud a kilometre from the sea.

Technically, Lugo’s forces commanded a superior position. The royalists had given up the high ground in favour of preventing any landings. Additionally, fighting with one’s back to the sea might have been desirable for Merfolk, but not Humans.

Unfortunately, the tactical situation was more akin to a war game than a war. The probing raids and skirmishes that a Commander relied upon to discern an enemy’s strength were not an option when hostilities hadn’t been declared. Thus, the reasonable assumption would be that every unit on the field was of relatively uniform quality. If he were in the royalist Commander’s shoes, he would have decided that the conservative forces were desperate, delusional, or bluffing in the face of seven-to-one odds.

“We can still win,” Captain Guerrero said.

“I don’t doubt that we can,” Lugo said, “especially if those are just freshly conscripted reservists cobbled together into new companies. The problem is that, win or lose, engaging in hostilities carries a high risk of civil war. We are in no way ready for an open conflict and people across the country will suffer from the chaos that ensues.”

The Captain seemed to have no answer to that. As excellent as he might be on the battlefield, he was uneducated and inexperienced in more far-reaching matters.

“We don’t have many options,” Lugo admitted, “and none of them are ideal. In the royalists’ eyes, we are at a massive disadvantage and that perception can only be overturned if we demonstrate our prowess. Of course, doing that will start a civil conflict. The Dancing Duchess doesn’t look like she’s trying to land her forces, so we can assume an advantageous position while we wait for Miss Baraja to show up. I can use the opportunity to fish some information out of our opponents.”

“How?”

“By speaking with them,” Lugo replied. “They won’t attack anyone bearing a flag of parley.”

“What about callin’ ‘em out for a martial contest?” Captain Carlos asked.

Lugo shook his head.

“The Royal Army isn’t bound by chivalric traditions, but they’ll talk to us to deliver an ultimatum, at least.”

After the two Captains reluctantly agreed to his proposal, they positioned their forces above the beach where the royalists were guarding the shore. Sir Ibarra and Captain Carlos accompanied him as he rode to a spot two hundred metres from the Royal Army’s lines. Fifteen minutes passed before a set of riders rode out to meet him.

“Elano Horta,” he said in a low voice as the riders approached, “plus two Knights.”

“That guy any good?” Captain Carlos asked.

“I don’t believe he distinguished himself while he served in the army,” Lugo replied. “Nor does he have any other notable martial achievements. He was probably dispatched to Lloyds as an administrator back when it changed hands.”

“Then what the hell is he doing out here? Does that mean they have a joke of a Commander?”

“He’s probably coming out as a negotiator,” Lugo replied. “That allows them to hide who their Commander is so we can’t plan according to what we know of him.”

The banner of the Holy Kingdom waved in the ocean breeze as Lord Elano and his party closed the distance. Normally, such an image would command the attention and respect of all who saw it. Now, however, Lugo could only think that the flag of his kingdom was being sullied.

“Lord Lugo,” the somewhat effeminate man eased his mount to a halt opposite him, “fancy meeting you here.”

“My thoughts precisely, Lord Elano,” Lugo replied. “For what reason have you and the gentlemen over there come to greet us?”

“You and your forces are to stand down and submit themselves to justice.”

“Screw that,” Captain Carlos spat. “We already know what your ‘justice’ looks like.”

Lord Elano’s eyelid twitched at the coarse interruption, but he didn’t shift his gaze.

“Let’s be reasonable, Lord Lugo. We won’t allow your friends offshore to land and your three companies cannot hope to win against five thousand. There is no dishonour in sparing the lives of your men in the face of such impossible odds.”

“On what grounds do you impede us?” Lugo asked, “We don’t answer to House Horta. For that matter, what right do you have to field the Royal Army against us?”

“Shouldn’t it be obvious?”

“Humour me. Better yet, let’s hear it straight from your Commander.”

The waves washed over the shore as they patiently awaited Lord Elano’s response. He looked over his shoulder once before visibly firming up.

“This is not a negotiation, Lord Lugo. I’ve said what I came to say. You are free to make your choice, but I pray that you won’t force your men to a senseless death.”

Lord Elano wheeled his mount and galloped back to the Royal Army’s lines.

“Well, that was interesting,” Sir Ibarra said.

“Wasn’t it?” Lugo smiled slightly.

“Was a good way to waste a half hour,” Captain Carlos frowned at the receding nobleman’s back, “but, aside from that, it seemed pointless.”

Lugo scanned the Royal Army’s formations, but he couldn’t make out any individual details. They were arrayed to prevent the Dancing Duchess from landing any troops, which spoke volumes of how little of a threat they perceived Lugo’s forces to be. Once he committed the Royal Army’s positions and company composition to memory, he wheeled his mount back around and they returned to their lines at a leisurely pace.

“Lord Elano made a demand,” he said, “but provided no justification for it. He wouldn’t have hesitated to do so if the Royal Army was here to explicitly deal with us.”

“In other words,” Sir Ibarra said, “he was trying to bluff us into giving up.”

“He probably expected us to withdraw in the face of his show of force,” Lugo nodded. “I can imagine him easily convincing the army to array themselves against an ‘unknown threat’. Speaking of which, did he claim we only had three companies or was I hearing things?”

“Ah,” Captain Carlos said, “that’s ‘cause they can only see three companies.”

“What?”

“Can you see ‘em?”

With a furrow on his brow, Lugo sent his gaze to the gentle slopes along the shore. The lighting should have been good enough to clearly show their entire force, but he could only see the infantry at the core of the formation. His hand went to the spyglass in his right saddlebag, but he still couldn’t spot any of Carlos’ ranchers even with the device’s assistance.

“What in the world…”

Captain Carlos’ only response was an irreverent smirk.

It was only when they nearly reached their lines that some of the ranchers reappeared. They hadn’t moved at all from where they had been placed in the wings.

“Sir Ibarra,” Lugo said, “have you ever seen the like?”

“I can’t say I have, Lord Lugo.”

Ranchers were something like light cavalry and light cavalry was often employed as a fast scouting force, but he had never heard of the notion being conveyed so literally. Captain Guerrero came forward to meet them a few dozen metres from the front of the infantry line.

“So,” he said, “what’s the order?”

“It was more and less complicated than we thought,” Lugo replied. “The royalists refused to give any justification for the Royal Army’s presence.”

“Why?”

“Because they can’t,” Sir Ibarra told him. “They’ve gone as far as they can without knowingly doing anything illegal.”

“They’re not here for us?”

Lugo shook his head.

“They would have said so if they were. My guess is that they were on the way to the wall as per our original speculation. It was us breaking camp to rush after them that caused them to stop at Lloyds. From there, the royalists in the city probably fed their suspicions to the point where they were willing to get in our way.”

“Where does that leave us?” Captain Guerrero asked, “I have no issues with dispatching royalist forces, but now they’re using ignorant soldiers against us. Wasting our time and resources dealing with that only works to our true enemies’ advantage.”

“It’s yet another layer of the royalists’ strategy,” Lugo said. “They know that as well as we do. Even if they can’t get the army to fight, they can still effectively keep us in check with it. If we advance, the army will respond with force due to their preconceptions.”

Captain Guerrero turned his head to look up the coast. Two kilometres away, the walls of Lloyds rose above the countryside. Beyond them, the galleons could be seen manoeuvring in the port and soldiers continued to march in a long column out of the gate.

“The more I think about it,” the Captain said, “the more it seems they’re the ones buying time, not us.”

Lugo didn’t disagree. Lord Elano’s claim about his side’s numbers may have been accurate, but so many men still took time to disembark.

“Either way,” he said, “we have a third player on the field: the Royal Army. Both rationally and legally speaking, they have no cause to attack us unless we provoke them. Additionally, they shouldn’t be able to stay for long. Soldiers need to eat and, going by their numbers, those ships should only have supplies to last them the trip to the wall.”

“So,” Captain Carlos said, “if we leave, they leave?”

“That should be the case,” Lugo nodded. “The Dancing Duchess could meet us back at North Point to drop off our reinforcements.”

It seemed like the least volatile option. They could return once the army left and the royalists would no longer be so confident about stopping them. Then, the Holy Order could carry out its investigation without interference, present its findings to the Royal Court, and Lloyds Prefecture would fully return under the previous management. Dozens of conservative scions assigned to Lloyds Prefecture were still shocked and hurt over being dismissed from their posts and the reversal would vindicate them entirely.

“But what will the royalists do while we wait for the army to leave?” Captain Guerrero said. “They know we’re here and they also know we’re coming after them.”

“I don’t see what they can do,” Sir Ibarra said. “One or two days won’t erase the results of their actions. Their time is coming and they can do nothing about it.”

Lugo eyed the distant city again, trying to think of anything they might have overlooked. The problem was that the royalists had been doing unthinkable things since the end of the war.

“Things have been so irregular that we can’t make that assumption,” Lugo said. “But every other option available poses a much higher risk of turning this beach red with the blood of our people.”

“Back to eating crab, I suppose,” Captain Guerrero said.

“You may wanna hold onto that thought,” Captain Carlos pointed to the sea.

A single white sail appeared from the direction of Lloyds, heading along the coast in their direction. What appeared to be a fishing boat sailed quietly to the Dancing Duchess and disappeared behind the much larger vessel. It reappeared again fifteen minutes later, this time on a course to the beach.

“It’s Miss Baraja,” Captain Carlos said.

Lugo raised his spyglass. Sure enough, the Faceless One was standing on the bow of the ship beside her Bard. The only others present were some of the crew members of the vessel she had hired from Bast.

I still don’t get how he can see that far…

Baraja’s boat took a roundabout route to the shore, but the Royal Army didn’t move. Not that they would break formation for a single fishing boat with a few passengers.

“Should we send an escort to retrieve her?” Captain Guerrero asked.

“Not unless the royalists dispatch riders to intercept,” Lugo answered.

They probably wouldn’t, as sending anyone would place them at risk of being cut off from their allies by Lugo’s forces. The Royal Army’s broadly defensive mindset wouldn’t tolerate that possibility and the royalists wouldn’t be caught dead looking like they were scared enough of a fishing boat to send Knights after it.

As expected, Baraja disembarked without challenge and made her way over to them. She patted down her wind-tossed hair – which didn’t seem to improve anything – just before she stopped to speak.

“It looks like everyone made it,” she said.

“Indeed, Miss Baraja,” Lugo replied. “We were just discussing our options.”

“Oh?”

“The Royal Army shouldn’t remain here for long before they continue their journey to the wall,” Lugo told her. “We were going to withdraw to North Point and return once they left.”

“It won’t work,” Baraja said.

Lugo frowned down at the woman.

“Explain.”

“Every officer in that army is a royalist,” Baraja told him. “They won’t leave.”

Baraja’s two Captains turned to look at Lugo.

“I-Is something wrong?” Baraja asked.

“Nothin’,” Captain Carlos answered. “It just feels like our theory ‘bout what’s actually goin’ on changes about every three hours.”

“What about our original plan?” Lugo asked, “Were you able to present your offer to the Holy Order?”

“I was in the middle of doing that when the royalist galleons arrived in port. The Nobles in the city paralysed the Holy Order in a judicial quagmire.”

Lugo released a long sigh, eyeing the royalist lines balefully. The good thing about having robust judicial oversight was that large-scale corruption was very difficult to pull off. The downside was that same strength could become a weakness that bogged things down.

“That doesn’t mean their practical concerns simply vanish,” Sir Ibarra said. “Keeping thousands of men here indefinitely also means provisioning them indefinitely.”

“Yes, and that just makes it worse,” Baraja replied. “The harvest that’s supposed to feed Lloyds will be intercepted by the work camps and rerouted to the army.”

The Knight snorted at her assertion.

“I don’t see how they can justify that.”

“It only needs to be justified internally,” Baraja said. “The royalists in Lloyds are in league with the royalist army officers here, so the outcome simply becomes an abstract expense reported to Hoburns. A number with no explanation beyond being an operational necessity.”

“That’s…”

Nobles – or at least the Nobles that Lugo associated with – were thoroughly trained to be sensitive against that sort of abstraction and to investigate any suspect instances thoroughly to ensure the integrity of a fief’s operations. It was a boring, but necessary, part of their duties. He never imagined that the royalists would do the exact opposite and betray the trust of their tenants, vassals, and liege on such a grand scale.

Or was it because they never treated their assignments in the north as the same duty in the first place? In any case, the situation had become even more untenable.

“That’s certainly something we can’t allow to happen,” Lugo said. “But the usual procedure would be to report the breach of trust and those procedures are even now being tied up. If we force the issue, the royalists will likely respond with force so long as they believe in their numerical advantage.”

“About that,” Baraja looked down at the grass, “I think I can speak to them.”

“We did that just before you sailed out of Lloyds,” Lugo told her. “Their representative, Lord Elano of House Horta, was only interested in delivering the royalists’ ultimatum.”

“I don’t mean speaking to the royalists. I’m going to speak to the Royal Army. Since they came in on royalist ships, they should be from territories managed by the royalists. My words should get through to them.”

The Royal Army?

Her proposition was puzzling. Everyone knew that soldiers wouldn’t waver so long as their officers held firm. Did she mean to leverage her fame as a war hero to sway their loyalties? Or maybe she hoped that she had followers in the army’s ranks who would side with her.

Lugo was left with no further explanation as Baraja went to the left wing of their formation and borrowed a horse. She rode out onto the beach to address the royalists alone, bracing a flag of parley against her right stirrup. The soldiers assigned to hold the conservative forces in check didn’t visibly react to her appearance.

“Sons and daughters of Roble!”

He blinked as Baraja’s voice conveyed itself clearly from hundreds of metres away. Only the most experienced of the Royal Army’s Commanders and Generals had battlefield voices that carried so far.

“I come to you as our country teeters on the precipice of the abyss,” the Faceless One’s voice was grim. “Though the war is over and the demonic invaders defeated, a new evil has fallen upon our beloved home. It is an evil that is far worse than anything that has come before…for this evil is one being visited upon us by our very own people!”

Though the waves continued to crash upon the shore and the wind blew incessantly from the sea, the air seemed to stand still in the wake of her words.

“You know of what I speak,” Baraja said softly. “The burdens that only seem to grow heavier as time passes. The brighter days that never seem to come. The hope that turns to ashes as your families are ground to dust while struggling to survive! I’ve been there too. I was in the heart of it, ignorant of the truth; toiling away while trusting that doing my little part would help bring around the restoration of the Holy Kingdom. Trusting that everyone was working together to reclaim the lives we once had.

“But, now, I know better. For I know the truth! The shadow of injustice has fallen upon our homes. Our trust is being exploited to enrich the royalists and strengthen the fist crushing the heart of our country. We have become less than numbers on a ledger, sacrificed to build a future that will plunge our country into darkness for generations to come!

“Worst of all, the injustice of indifference has gripped our lives. Our people now turn a blind eye to the suffering of others. We’ve become too busy to care, trapped in hopeless days of toil. Day by day, the soul of our society is being slowly sundered and we have drifted apart; become strangers to one another. Or worse, enemies.

“We are being purposely driven into weakness – the sinful weakness that renders us helpless against injustice! And this…is intolerable.”

Baraja spread her arms wide to either side.

“Many have rejected the injustice of the royalists. They have been fighting against it from the start, though you may not have been aware. The people behind me are but a tiny fraction of those who have decided that enough is enough. They understand that weakness is a sin and have cultivated the strength to uphold their justice. Now, we will bring all of our strength to bear to eradicate the injustice entrenching itself in our home.

“Sons and daughters of Roble! The time has come for you to decide: will you walk with us on the path of justice, or will you forever be trapped in the cycle of sin?”

The Faceless One lowered her arms and wheeled her mount around. When she returned to her place in front of the conservative lines, she raised a fist into the air.

“Justice for Santiago!”

“Justice for Santiago!”

Lugo started as hundreds of voices instantly roared in reply.

“Justice for the North!”

“Justice for the North!”

“Justice for the Holy Kingdom!”

“Justice for the Holy Kingdom!”

“Advance!”

Wait, what?

The entire conservative force marched forward, and Lugo’s companies had little choice but to comply or risk breaking the formation. Sir Ibarra sent a confused look in his direction and Lugo shifted his mount closer to Baraja.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m doing what must be done, Lord Lugo,” the Faceless One replied.

“You didn’t say anything about attacking them like this!”

“It’s probably not as bad as you think,” Saye said from across Baraja.

This is already the worst-case scenario, how is it anything but bad?

Ahead of him, the Royal Army’s lines drew closer. There were only five hundred metres between them, so the soldiers positioned to block a landing force from the Dancing Duchess were rushing to reform their lines against the rapidly closing conservative formation. Shouts from the army’s officers sounded through the air as they struggled to maintain order in the ranks.

Alright, I’ll give her that, but this is still going to be a bloodbath…wait, what in the gods’ names is going on?

At four hundred metres, the chaos in the Royal Army’s lines was evident. At three hundred metres, gaping holes started to open in the formation as a flood of soldiers fled back toward Lloyds. The army officers were still shouting their orders, but their efforts were plainly in vain.

“Hold!”

Baraja’s voice rang over the battlefield. Their ranks halted two hundred metres from what remained of the army’s lines. Shields already raised to receive their foe, the troops exchanged confused glances.

“Captain Guerrero.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“What’s left should be royalists, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I see,” the woman took a deep breath and sighed. “It’s too bad it’s come to this.”

The Faceless One nodded to the Captain. The Captain raised his hand.

“Draw!”

“Draw!” Captain Carlos and a score of Sergeants repeated the order down the line.

Hundreds of bows and crossbows were raised against the royalist lines. Lugo gripped his reins, knowing he could do nothing to stop them.

Is this right? How can they harbour so much conviction that they’re willing to slaughter their own people?

“Loose!”

A storm of quarrels and arrows arced through the air, their bodkin points glinting in the moonlight. Lugo’s cheek twitched as the hail of iron scythed into the troops. Not even masterwork breastplates fashioned from tempered steel seemed to matter as armsman and Knight alike fell under the onslaught.

“Draw!” Captain Guerrero commanded.

“That’s good enough, Captain,” Baraja said.

“Stand down!”

In front of them, the royalist forces were already decimated. Lugo wasn’t sure how, but it seemed that Baraja’s men had successfully targeted the royalist officers even at their distance. What remained of the enemy ranks were already joining the flight to the gate.

“Captain Carlos,” Baraja said, “cast a net. Interdict the entire area around Lloyds. Track down anyone that’s escaped ahead of you.”

“You got it.”

“Lord Lugo.”

“Hm?”

“I believe your men are better suited than mine at processing captives.”

Lugo nodded.

“It shouldn’t be a problem. Ibarra, see to the royalist survivors.”

“Yes, Lord Lugo.”

He returned his gaze to Baraja. The woman looked more weary than anything else.

“If you’re trying to prevent word of the battle from spreading,” he told her, “you’ll have to take care of those galleons, as well.”

“Ah, about that,” Baraja said. “They’re already being taken care of.”

Confused, Lugo looked over at the city harbour. To his surprise, the Dancing Duchess was alongside one of the royalist galleons and rowboats littered the water.

“Is that why you stopped by our ship first?”

“The royalist soldiers were mostly out here facing us,” the Faceless One replied. “It seemed like a good idea to take their ships while they were away.”

Lugo snorted and shook his head. Tales from far-off lands always seemed to glorify taking the initiative, but, to the people of the Holy Kingdom, doing so seemed all but suicidal. Maybe there was some truth to the notion.

A great cheer arose from the walls of Lloyds when they approached the city gate at dawn. Outside of the walls, the work camps were surrounded by citizens armed with makeshift weaponry and it looked like the deserter soldiers were helping them out. Upon entering the city, Lugo looked around silently at the scenes surrounding him. Somehow, things were running in good order despite no notable attempts at overall coordination.

“I expected just a bit more chaos,” Lugo said.

“I guess my words reached them, after all,” Baraja said.

“You spoke to them while you were in the city?”

“Some of them, but what I meant was that what I said back on the beach was heard in the city. Saye said I should try to reach as far as possible with my voice, so I did.”

What did that even mean? Reaching the soldiers on both sides of the beach was an impressive feat, but being heard in a city two kilometres away was…

“Impossible,” the word fell out of Lugo’s mouth.

“Hey,” Saye stopped to talk to some people on the side of the street, “did you hear a speech just now?”

“I did,” one of the spectators nodded. “We all did. You’ve come to restore justice to the Holy Kingdom, right?”

Impossible.

It was something that one might find in a strange fantasy world, not reality.

They made their way to the city harbour amidst the cheers and well wishes of the cityfolk. There, a blonde-haired man with a dusky tan approached them and offered a salute.

“Miss Baraja,” he said. “We pulled it off.”

“Did anyone escape?” Baraja asked.

“No, Ma’am.”

Out on the water, the royalist and Royal Army ensigns had already been removed and four of the galleons were anchored in a line blocking the harbour. Lugo scanned the wharf for captives, but it looked like they had been stowed away elsewhere.

“Now that you’ve come so far,” Lugo asked, “what do you plan on doing?”

He feared to hear what Duke Debonei had to say about everything that had happened. The worst part about it all was how powerless Lugo had been as the representative of the conservative faction.

“This is what everyone wants, isn’t it?” Baraja said, “Justice for the Holy Kingdom.”

The Faceless One’s address and declaration echoed through his mind. He was beginning to think that her definition of justice was a very different one from his.