The Jongurian Mission (8 page)

“If the government offices are all closed, then what are we doing here?” Bryn asked.

“Well, the offices may be closed, but that does
n’t mean that people aren’t still at work,” Halam said, pointing to the many windows with lights shining brightly inside. “I’ve a mind that my colleague Rodden is one of those people.”

Halam tied Juniper to a post and began to walk toward the building.
They made their way around to a small alley toward the back where a wooden staircase led to a large oak door set into the stone of the second floor. Halam pulled a ring of keys from his breast pocket, fitting one into the keyhole, and with an audible ‘click,’ pushed the door open.

Inside was what looked to be a large library room.
Shelves of books lined the walls, with binders full of papers crowding amongst them for space. Papers were stacked upon the large wooden tables set in the middle of the room, illuminated by a single large lamp glowing off to one side of the room. Chairs were set into the table, but most were pulled out and had stacks of papers sitting on them as well.

“I see the secretary is still out sick,” Halam said as he headed toward a door at the back of the room.
Bryn followed, trying to look at the papers and books which lay open around him. Tables of figures stared back at him, and he caught some titles such as “Tillata River Run-off Totals” and “Grain Output of the Northeast Quadrant for years 710 to 713.”

Halam pushed open the door
and went through without pause. Inside were two large desks and an equal amount of papers piled just as high as in the other room. Books lay open and scattered on the desks, chairs, and floor, with few actually still on the shelves. A large lamp stood to the side of the room near the window, illuminating the whole room. It was nearly the same as the other room, except a man sat at one of the desks, his back hunched over a ledger, his hand moving furiously along the paper, pausing only to dip it into the inkwell at his right. He made no move to stop as Halam and Bryn entered the room and shut the door behind them, instead raising his left arm to point at the desk next to him.

“The reports on the harvests of the last three years compared to those in Fallownia are ready and on the desk there,” he said, waving his fingers up and down as he pointed.
“You’ll find them all accurate and complete, and ready for official stamping.”

“Well it’s about blasted time, I should say, they should have been ready and on my desk a fortnight ago
!” Halam said in a stern voice.

The man’s rapid writing came to a furious stop, and Bryn was certain he
’d ruined the page he was working on. He turned his body to the side and peered over his shoulder at them. Seeing Halam, the uncertain look vanished and a wide smile broke out on his face.

“Halam,” he cried, rising from his chair and moving over toward them, “welcome back.”
He clasped Halam’s hand tightly and gave him a few slaps on the back.

“Well, burning the midnight oil, I see, eh Rodden?
Halam laughed, slapping the man on the back as well.”

“You know how it is these days, Halam, with the council set to meet, they need all kinds of information to keep their clerks busy, figuring this and counting that, not that we haven’t done it all for them countless times already, mind you.”

Rodden was a tall man, taller than Halam by a hand or more when he was standing tall and straight, as he was now, a great change from the initial sight of him stooped over his desk. His hair was blonde but going to grey and cut very short, so that it stood up strait on top of his head. His arms and legs were long and wiry and he was also very thin, possessing none of the muscles of Halam, nor the large belly. He was dressed in a tight-fitting brown linen doublet with long sleeves, and matching leggings.

He smiled at Halam, and then seemed to notice
that he wasn’t alone. “And this must be your nephew from Eston,” he said, looking Bryn up and down. “Pleasure to meet you, son,” he said, offering his hand, “my name’s Rodden Stor, trade official for his majesty’s royal court in Culdovia.”

Bryn took Rodden’s hand, surprised at the strength behind it.
“Hello sir, good to meet you as well.”

“I trust your ride from Eston was well and uneventful,” he asked Bryn.

“Yes sir, it was.”

“And am I correct in guessing that this is your first time
in Plowdon?”

“Why, yes sir, it is at that.”

“And how do you like our fair city, may I ask?”

“I like it just fine, sir, that is, from what I’ve seen of it so far.
Uncle Halam and I went through the gate and then came straight here, so I haven’t seen much…at least, I don’t think so,” Bryn said, looking up at his uncle uncertainly.

“No, Bryn’s not seen much yet, and I don’t suspect he’ll have much chance to see anymore,” Halam told Rodden.
“I’m intent on gathering up the needed materials and heading south on the King’s Road to Baden as soon as possible.”

“Well, that shouldn’t be too difficult,” Rodden said, “I’ve been working each night since you left to get all the harvest reports since the war together properly, and was just finishing up on the last few years as you two came in.
I suspect that the task will be completed by tomorrow morning.”

“Aye, that is good to hear,” Halam smiled, relief showing on his face.

“And what are your plans for the evening,” Rodden enquired.

“It’s been a long two days of riding, and I think that Bryn and I
’ll get to bed early tonight, hopefully set out before the sun is too high tomorrow.”

“That should
n’t be a problem, I’ll continue my work tonight,” Rodden said, putting his hands on their backs and escorting them toward the door, “just check back tomorrow morning and I think you can be on your way.”

“Aye, thank you Rodden, we’ll see you on the morrow then.
Goodnight.”

“And goodnight to you as well,” he said as Halam and Bryn walked out the office and back through the book-filled room to the outer door.
They walked back out into the night and headed toward the main square.

“We’ll go to my rooms now, Bryn,” Halam said.
“They’re not much, but it’ll sure be nice to get off the ground for a change.”

“Yes sir,” Bryn said as he untied Juniper from the post and climbed on , his eyes
already growing heavy as they once again joined the bustling avenues of the city.

FIVE

The sun was shining brightly through the narrow windows when Bryn
awoke the next morning. Glancing around at the small room which served as Halam’s living quarters in a house off the government district, Bryn realized he was alone. He figured his uncle must have gotten an early start so as to ensure all was ready for their journey later in the day.

He got up and stretched, looking around the room.
It was a single room, with two windows, one opposite the heavy door, another on the wall next to it. A single large bed crowded up against most of one wall, and bookshelves filled to capacity occupied another. A makeshift cot was set up on the floor against the bookshelves, which was where Bryn had fallen asleep.

They
’d come to the room after having a small meal in one of the local taverns close to Halam’s office. The serving woman had known Halam by name, and they’d joked quite a bit while Bryn looked at all the interesting people who filled the common room. Most had looked to be officials or merchants of some sort or another, judging by their fine clothes and the snatches of conversation he’d been able to overhear. They’d been served roasted mutton with dark bread and had washed it down with a tankard of even darker ale. Halam didn’t talk much except to say that he’d go to a few different offices early in the morning to ensure they were prepared with all they needed for the council in Baden. The council was to meet in a week’s time, so they didn’t have to rush down the King’s Road, which he thought would be good for Bryn, giving him a chance to see his country at a leisurely pace.

By the time they
’d arrived at Halam’s room Bryn was so exhausted from the long day on horseback and the sights of the city, not to mention the ale, that he was asleep on the cot before Halam had even had a chance to close the door.

Bryn headed to the small washstand and threw cold water on his face to wipe the sleep from his eyes.
He ate the last of his small apples from his travel pack as he browsed the books lining the shelves. More government reports on agriculture, mostly, but a few book on the history of Adjuria as well. Bryn pulled down a book dealing with the aftermath of the East-West War, as the war with Jonguria was called, and the Adjurian Civil War which followed. He began to read the last few chapters.

The war with Jonguria had dragged on longer than anyone had anticipated
, the book said,
and the ranks of the army and navy had grown thin. Peasants with no previous military experience were called up to fight, forcing them to leave their homes and families to an uncertain future. Nobles began to question the king’s strategy at court. It was clear when the stalemate developed that the current strategy had failed. The king was unwilling to admit this and argued that the fight must continue, as he was very militarily-minded, having grown up in Mercentia and been trained as a soldier. He could not understand why his armies were unable to defeat the Jongurians, and believed that if only more troops were thrown at the enemy, victory would come.

The king was persuaded to keep these views by his councilors, many of whom cared only for the trappings of power and were unconcerned with the heavy losses among the citizenry.
A small group of Regidian advisors viewed the growing discontent over the war among the citizenry as a chance to secure more power for themselves.

Regidia sought out the same supporters she had when the succession crisis and previous
Civil War had erupted fifty years earlier. Promising favor and royal positions of power to high-ranking nobles, Regidia enticed the provinces of Equinia, Allidia, Hotham, and Oschem to join in the intrigues, and a coup was set into motion. The provinces of Fallownia and Shefflin could not be persuaded to go along with Regidia, seeing their agricultural and mining interests too important to jeopardize, while Mercentia was not even considered in the proposal as the current royal line hailed from there.

The conspiring nobles waited for the right opportunity to act, viewing a large military failure on the battlefield to be the propitious moment.
For this reason, pressure was put on the king to stage a massive military strike to end the stalemate. It did not matter to the conspiring nobles whether Adjuria won the war or not; indeed, it would be far easier to establish a new royal line if Jongurian interests did not have to be dealt with, as they would were the Adjurians to be the victors.

The king was pushed into a risky military move, called the ‘
Breakout,’ which entailed a joint strike against the city of Waigo from two fronts simultaneously. The ‘Breakout,’ however, proved a massive failure, and the nobles acted swiftly. With peasants on the point of rebellion because of further increases in conscription to keep the war effort going, peace was called for throughout the land, a call which the nobles encouraged. However, peace was not enough. The nobles wanted more: a complete change of the royal line. The Regidians were the main voice in this chorus, seeing themselves as the beneficiaries of such a change. The court was split upon this, however, and it looked as though the current king would continue to rule after the peace negotiations concluded with Jonguria.

Seeing their well-laid plans going by the wayside, the Regidians knew that the time for drastic measures had arrived.
They would dispose the king themselves. An assassin was dispatched into the royal palace dressed as a Jongurian soldier. Equipped with a Jongurian-made crossbow with a Jongurian poison on the tip of the bolt, the assassin, with the aid of the Regidians, gained entry into the king’s chambers and shot the king in the chest, escaping undetected. The poison was an unnecessary measure: the bolt killed the king instantly.

The king’s assassination was set to renew the war, but the now Regidian-controlled court called for a cooling of tempers, and an end to hostilities.
They made the claim that evidence indicated it was not in fact a Jongurian soldier who killed the king, but a Shefflin mercenary, an accusation made because of the province’s refusal to go along with the Regidian intrigues. Most people did not believe this, but it was still enough to put doubt into many minds. After ten years of war draining the country of men and resources, everyone was ready for peace and the dubious claim was accepted so that the war might end.

The Regidians pressed their claims to the throne, but it was agreed by a majority of the provinces that the current royal line would continue to rule.
This meant that the king’s ten-year old son would assume the throne, to be overseen by a regent until coming of age. The Regidians would have none of this, and called for a nullification of the rights of succession, the devastating war the main reason for their arguments against the royal line. With the assistance of the conspiring provinces, the Regidians rode into Culdovia with a sizeable army and forcibly took the new king prisoner, putting one of their own on the throne, Grandon Fray. There were few able to contest this. Many of the other provinces, remembering the devastating failure of the ‘Breakout’ agreed with the Regidians’ argument about the unfitness of the royal family. Also, the Adjurian army and navy were still in the process of extricating themselves from Jonguria, and could do little to dispute this latest move. The only token resistance came from Mercentia, which sent all the soldiers it could to Culdovia, but it was no match for the army the Regidians had been building in secret for many years in anticipation of this moment. The new king, Grandon Fray, established their court, and things looked to be well for a time. The majority of the army and navy was disbanded and began to head toward their various provinces.