THE PRINCE OF WAR

  The winds blew cold on the battlefield. Twenty men had already died from the cold, and disease had overtaken their camp. Al himself was still suffering from the symptoms of the autumn fever that took him almost all the way to a deathbed. He could at least walk and ride now, even if it was with a walking stick present. Each step he took sent a heavy jolt of pain through his entire body.

  The command tent was basically unguarded, and only had about ten guards on the hundred square feet, if you included the Lords inside it.

  “Your highness,” the guard on the tent opening said as he bowed. Alzugar responded with a nod and a courteous smile-that was taught to him since he was a child.

  The inside was not that luxurious either, especially compared to Velmyrian camps and tents. Even the ones half burnt and looted.

  Lord Alfred, Lord Aethelred, and Lord Rudol were present inside, wrapped in golden cloaks and a red sash thrown over their right shoulders, clasped with a purple dyed button.

  “My Prince,” Lord Rudol greeted him in a deep tone. “I am truly grateful that you have recovered well.” His voice sounded unusually thick. Or maybe it was just his sickness affecting his hearing.

  “Thank you, My lord,” he answered in a raspy voice. “I hear you led our men to victory at the Greywater Watch. Is that true?”

  “It is, My Prince.” Lord Rudol said with a sly smile, he truly loves to take credit for everything. “My soldiers stormed the walls in less than a month with the courage of a thousand lions.”

  “Good.” Al was finding it hard to speak properly, his throat still hurt and he had been coughing all that morning. “How far deep are we into their territory?”

  “We drove three miles through after Castle Grey fell,” Lord Alfred was quick to respond. “My own men have diverted and taken Castle Dale, and are besieging Fort Tartar.”

  “I sent a hundred knights to take control of Olar’s Bridge, and Castle Aegon.” Lord Aethelred was the last to speak, yet he seemed to have had the most success. “We encountered little pushback, and I personally took Castle Grim and took Lord Edmin as a prisoner.”

  The words caught Al’s ear. “Lord Edmin?”

  “Yes, My Prince.”

  “Where is he?” Lord Edmin was the first step of Al’s revenge. Lord Edmin’s surrender took ten thousand men away from Velmyria, and gave Al’s army ten thousand new recruits and slaves. “I want to see him.”

  “He is at Castle Grim itself, My Prince,” Lord Aethelred said, “He promises to gather us a thousand knights to fight and eight thousand infantry. I let him rule from the dungeons.”

  “I want him brought here.” Al spoke gritting through his teeth. “I want him humiliated and I want Syr Edward given Castle Grim. I want him to pay for his crimes.”

  “Of course, My Prince,” Lord Aethelred’s voice was sly and slick. “I only let him live until he gives us the troops, after that I will gladly hand him over to you, My Prince.”

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  “Of course,” Alzugar grumbled. He looked over the great map that was unfurled over the great table in the middle of the tent. “Where’s the Seventh Custodiaus Legion?"

  “At Castle Horn, Sar Sartem has taken his army to winter at his Castle.”

  “Can we siege it?” Alzugar asked, staring at the little token representing the Seventh Custodiaus Legion.

  “We can siege it, My Prince, but…” Lord Aethelred began but could not finish the words.

  “It would cost thousands of our own lives and there is only a small chance that we could even breach the walls,” Lord Alfred finished his sentence. “Especially under Sartem.”

  Alzugar coughed hard to unblock his throat. “And what exactly do you suggest we do?”

  “We wait him out,” Lord Rudol butted in, “He can winter behind walls but come spring he will begin a march, and then we chase him through Velmyria.”

  “And if he decides to turn and fight?” Lord Aethelred asked, and Al nodded. He was the only one of the three Lords here who actually fought the great Knight in battle.

  “If he turns, we ram into him and put his head on a spike.” Lord Alfred said in a prideful tone.

  “Lord Aethelred’s right.” Alzugar limped closer to the table. “If he decides to turn, he can fight his way through us.” He moved the tokens on the board to the river maiden. “After he leaves Castle Horn, he’ll be reinforced with at least a hundred swords. Then, he’ll out number us two-to-one, and he has the home advantage.”

  “We’ve won those odds before.” Lord Rudol’s face was covered with a sly smile. “It is our entire reputation of winning against our numbering odds and pulling through.”

  “Not against Sartem we haven’t.”

  “What is so great about him that separates him from any other Velmyrian general or knight we have faced?”

  Oh how green of you, Lord Rudol…yet Al had to answer, so he did-with a sly smile, “He knows me, My lord. He knows how I fight and my strategies. It’s like facing the Emperor himself in battle.”

  “Sar Sartem’s a brute, the only reason he wins battles is ‘cause he has that damn warhammer.” Lord Rudol’s words weren’t honestly that false, that was the biggest reason for the general’s rise into fame.

  “The man might be a brute but he has a fucking brain.” Lord Aethelred said, hunched over the table. “He managed to pull his Highness into a trap at the Crasse.”

  “We know. It was a trap, and it was while he was still sick.”

  ` “I made the plan before I was sick, my lord.” Al’s voice was laced thick with sliminess. “Enough about Sar Sartem.” Al truly was bored of the topic, and he also did not want his lord bannermen fighting, especially during winter. “What about Army Shore? Have we taken anything?”

  “Umm, yes, My Prince,” Lord Rudol said after a bit of thinking. “I believe syr Tarquin took Fort Darry last week after siege.”

  “Good,” Al said with a true smile. “Tell syr Tarq that I thank him.”

  “Will do, My Prince,” Lord Alfred said bowing. “I will tell the Scribe at once,” he said, and then he left.

  “Anything else, my lords?”

  “Yes, My Prince,” Lord Aethelred said. “There is news from spies that the Emperor has announced that he will sail to Vallaros, and ride north to drive north through Obar’s wall.”

  “Have they?” Al turned back to the table, and focused in, “He will sail to Vallaros?”

  “Apparently so, My Prince.”

  “Well then, get me my Spymaster.”