Oathbreaker: The Knight's Tale (5 page)

“Our plans are too close to fruition,” he said, “and I need your attention here.”

“But my father—”

“Your father was a pawn, in life and in death! They’re using him to distract you when I need you most, and if you pursue your revenge now, then everything we have done here will be for nothing. I ask you to reconsider.”

“The blood of my family has been spilled. I
will
have my revenge.”

“Then you will choose between the command of my armies and your revenge. I will not order your obedience in this.”

Thirty-five years have passed since then, and I still have not had revenge. By the time we had taken the throne and gained the obedience of the knights, our energies were expended on keeping the Empire together and building a coalition of the Houses against the rioting populace, who had seen the chaos and feared for the safety of the Empire. I could not set aside my duty, and still cannot. Even now, when I believe that my silence serves no purpose, I will not take the risk of tearing our fragile alliances apart and turning to mob rule.

It is now nine in the evening. The sun has left the sky, and the storm has opened over the city.

Swiftly, then, swiftly! I have little more time to dote on the past.

In the many years I have had the honor and the privilege of serving under His Majesty Fannon IV, I have watched the fortunes of the Empire increase. Yet even as the surface of the Imperial painting grew in luster, so did the canvas underneath it rot, falling apart under the pressing weight of time and the teeth of countless vermin, teeming with corruption and spite. The Empire is strong from without, but from within it awaits the slightest push to start it crumbling.

The signs were there. What began as a proud land so many hundreds of years ago, rising from the chaos of the Great Uprising on the back of King Martyn the Strong, has lost its way, become adrift in the endless plots of the minor lords and nobles who scheme in Terona. Each High House maneuvers against the others. Each pursues its own vendettas at the cost of the Empire, each with its own vision of Martyn’s dream, each doing its level best to play kingmaker, and now I cannot think of anything that might hold them together. Except perhaps the traitors’ plot—but I shudder to think of what they intend should they succeed.

How did I first become aware of the traitors? In the easiest way possible: they approached me. It wasn’t anything as simple as asking me to betray His Majesty, but to my eye, it may as well have been.

It was a night about a week ago when they approached me. I was in the court, mingling among the courtiers with the three trusted lieutenants I mentioned previously: William “Wet” M'Cray of House Cronen, the son of the man who had died in the Utland Uprising, was the first. He was a tall, slim, and nervous man, but his mind was keen and fast, and with a rapier I knew none better among mortal men. The second was Ilocehr Hargrave, a captain lately of House Bhumar, a dark-skinned man of wild impetuosity, generosity of spirit, and a fierce grasp of small squad tactics. He was also, it was rumored, seeking the hand of Sofia DeTrellzi, and this led to no end of hardship for him among his peers. The third was Nansa Westkitt, who had been third in line to inherit the power of the Westkitts when the matriarch passed away, but this peaceable young woman had discovered a talent for supply that outshone the appeals of Father Church, and she renounced her family's calling for ours. All of them noble-born, and all of them well equipped to help me find the mood among the powerful.

This was our most hated duty: courtier work, necessary to find out what they wanted from us. Would they be seeking to expand the frontier skirmishes, or were they content with the progress of our many tiny flares of fighting? Did they seek intensification or a withdrawal based on the success or failure of their business dealings? Would we be drawn into another Siullan conflict to fortify the coffers of the wealthy? My staff and I did not like to be caught unaware of such things, and the spy network I had built was not experienced enough to deal with the many wiles of the court. As I excused myself from the company of the Dowager Duchess of Garand, I found young Viscount DeBow at my elbow. He was a slim fellow, blond, short, favoring clothing of plain browns. He was also a member of the Vukovi, which, to my knowledge, required none of the military’s services at this time.

“Your Excellency,” he said, “may I have a moment of your time?”

“Of course, Viscount.” I bowed. “How may I serve you?” He engaged me immediately in a conversation of little import, gossip and the like. I thought at first that he was attempting to gain a favor for a relative in the military, or that he had suggestions as to the deployment of troops in some skirmish or another. I paid him rote responses and took little heed of his prattle until he said, “General Glasyin, do you love the Empire?”

I gave him my full attention. A small smile danced behind his lips. I replied evenly, “I would give my life for it.” He bowed and excused himself. As he left, I replayed the conversation quickly through my mind. Was he a spy from some cabal? Had my enemies on the council convinced Fannon that I required a loyalty check? Had I said or done anything that might throw my love of and duty to the land into doubt, even after all these years? What about my service to the king? I have been in the Imperial court for decades now, and this callow youth had just warned me I was being watched. But under whose direction? I could go to no one if I wanted to see how this played out. If I wished to expose potential corruption, I could not speak to the king’s advisors, for that would reveal my loyalties immediately. I resolved to be more careful with my words in the future, that I might discover the truth. I said nothing to my men, which I bitterly regret now.

I did not have long to wait. Within a few days, at another gathering in the court in which the courtiers discussed the wildfire uprisings and the small peasant revolts, the Baroness of Imlay, a vassal of House Deng, caught me alone as I filled my drink. I thought she might wish to talk about this “self-rule” that some of the western teachers and ecclesiasts were preaching, but instead she engaged me in a meaningless conversation on military history, focusing mainly on our victories and the glories our armies and diplomats had won. As she spoke, I began to get the uncomfortable sense that while these might be her words, the sentiment in her speech had been planted in order to draw me out. When she began to contrast the Empire of old with the Empire of the modern day and spoke of decay and rebirth, I knew for certain.

“Baroness, do you suggest that our Empire has stagnated, that we are past the ability to reach for glory?”

“No, General, but I do suggest that, just as a man weakens if he does not constantly exercise himself, so too could the body politic lose strength if it remains inert. As this body loses strength, its enemies must see its enervation as opportunity.”

“So instead of saying we are past the point of no return,” I replied, “you suggest that we waste away through lack of ambition.”

“I do,” she said, “and in the end, apathy leads to death. We must surely do something. Would you not agree that weakness left untreated leads to death?”

“I cannot disagree.”

“And therefore, as with the body, the Empire must again exercise itself if it is not to fall prey to debilitating illness?”

“I concede the point.”

“Then all that is required of us is to begin the process of motion. And where else does this process begin in the body but in the brain?”

“And you suggest that we motivate the brain to begin the exercise anew?” I said. “Surely you understand that the king is not eager to embark on any new ventures, not with his new child consuming his attention, nor with the tax situation being what it is. Indeed, I see this time as one of great precariousness. It is our duty to tread carefully so as to prevent utter chaos.”

“It is a time to walk carefully, or a time to act decisively. Glasyin, you have seen many of these moments in your life as a leader. You must know when it is time to act.”

“I would first hear your proposal. Grand rhetoric is useful for stirring to action, but carefully planned deeds direct the unformed into a useful shape.”

“What makes you think that I have a proposal?” she said.

“It would be a pity,” I replied, “if this were simply idle talk. Indeed, if this
were
simply idle talk, it might be construed as treason.”

She studied my face carefully. “Thank you for your words and your time, General. I hope to speak to you again soon.”

“I hope to understand your position on the subject more deeply,” I said, and sketched a bow. When I straightened, she had moved into the crowd in the shadows under the high, vaulted ceiling.

So. It was a plot, then, a plot aimed at the very heart of the Empire. And clearly they had the tacit support of at least two High Houses, or were making an effort to appear as if they did. By approaching me, they had as much as said that they thought my duty to the Empire was greater than my loyalty to the king—and they clearly thought that I was the sort of man who would agree to that.

I resolved to give the matter some thought and to appear in the company of the courtiers until the conspirators made the next move. I told no one of my suspicions. I could not show my hand until I knew where I stood. In truth, I was greatly troubled. Was the Empire’s claim on me greater than my friendship with the king? I could not answer that question. It nagged at me.

These questions were put to me the next night, as I passed quietly along the fringes of the Autumnal Ball, held under the balmy moonlight in the winter-tinted breeze. It was likely to be one of the last good nights of the summer before the fall storms hit. Torches flickered in the gardens, and a calmer yellow light flowed over the king and queen on their dais, pouring from the Archmagus’s glass globe. Revelry and merriment in the throng, plotting and whispers among the dark, assignations and threats, promises and betrayals—all the usual despicable entertainment of the court. I, of course, stuck to the shadows, fending off requests to dance with a slight smile and a gesture toward my leg: I had bandaged it earlier in the night to provide myself with an excuse to keep from dancing, and I was careful to favor it visibly.

This caution, however, was not enough to protect me from the worst injury I have received in all my time in the Imperial armies. Worse still, this injury came from one of my most trusted friends.

As I chatted amiably with Captain Hargrave, one of the king’s pages found me and bade me follow her. She led me to the king’s pavilion, and I entered. He sat alone, stretched out on a comfortable couch, his once-muscled frame now given way to fat. A glass of wine sat near to hand, and the remains of his dinner lay strewn on the small table in front of him. I bowed deeply; though we had been friends for decades, he was still my king.

“Your Majesty.”

“Forgive me if I don’t get up,” he said. “Please, have a seat, have a seat.”

I took a small chair, facing him. He swallowed some wine and began to tear my heart to pieces.

“We have had many years together, have we not, Glasyin? I remember best the times before the coronation. Fewer cares then, eh? Still all the interminable business of learning to be king and leading the country and so forth, but—bah. I dwell too much in the past these days, and it worries me. And that’s what I wanted to speak to you about.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow you.”

“My faculties are slipping, General. My mind is not what it once was. Nor, I should add, is my body. I’ve lost much of my grace with my lack of activity.” He belched. “Pardon me. I have worked long for the Empire, and I think I have done a passable job of keeping it together. We have built it well toward the future, you and I, and I think it time we began passing the work of maintaining it to a younger generation.”

“Your Majesty, I—”

He interrupted me with a curt wave of his hand. “You are no longer a young man either, Glasyin. You have served with distinction and honor these many years, and our armies are in the best shape they have ever been, I believe. This is due to your leadership and your innovations. However, it is time for you to step aside and allow new vision to guide our forces.”

“Your Majesty—”

“Your pension is assured, of course, and I have signed an order granting you and your heirs land in perpetuity in honor of the service you have performed for this Empire.”

“Your Majesty!”

He looked me in the eye, then, and I saw some of his old fire. “General, your time is through. You are an excellent leader of men, but you are not well loved in the court. I need a commander who is equally adept at the tactics of the court as the strategy of the battlefield. To that end, I have appointed Count-General Beremany as the new leader of our forces, effective immediately.”

“Your Majesty, he is a capable leader and brilliant strategist, but I do not believe he has the necessary understanding of the common soldier to—”

“What does the common soldier matter?”

“A great deal, your Majesty,” I replied hotly, “if you hope to win battles!”

“Then I’m sure Beremany will learn to understand them better.”

“I’m sure he’ll be another butcher like Hawkins.”

“Are you questioning my order, General?”

“Of course not, your Majesty, but—”

“Then I suggest you shut your mouth.”

I did. An attendant came and whispered in the king’s ear.

He closed his eyes. “I respect you a great deal, Glasyin, more than you imagine. I have relied on you for years to guide me true. I do not do this lightly. There are political matters at stake as well. None of our enemies can mount a credible threat to us at this point. If I thought otherwise, this would be a much harder decision. As it is, our greatest threats come from within the Empire. Do not imagine I have not felt the strain of keeping it together. The appointment of Beremany will appease a certain faction, and when the tension has eased, I will allow you to name his successor. Five to ten years should be enough.”

I swallowed. “Your Majesty, may I address my troops?”