From the Desk of Honor Raconteur
Arrows of Revolution sneak peek
This is an (unedited) first chapter of the last Kingmakers book. The book is due for publication early this summer of 2017.
“Which numbskull of an idiot called this meeting?” Edvard demanded. Or it would have been a demand if he hadn’t ended the question in a pained groan. He was hunched forward, head cradled in both hands with the air of a man that was certain if he let go, the supported appendage would fall right off.
He was not alone. In fact, most of the room was suffering from some sort of hangover and more than one bottle had been passed around, each of them offering the other some medication to help ease them through the morning. The Winter Ball last night had been high in fun and gaiety, even though there wasn’t the overabundance of food to be had, but the spirits might have flown a little too freely.
Riana had never had access to alcohol of any sort growing up. It wasn’t the sort of thing her father had encouraged, either. When living in a completely hostile environment as they had, it was necessary to keep their wits about them at all times. Broden had never developed the habit of drinking. Riana had never even been able to step into the pub at home without a riot starting and being in a room full of drunk men had been extremely dangerous for her to begin with. Last night was the first time she had been offered a glass.
And she hadn’t much cared for it.
It was sour and burned her throat. After that first sip, Riana had decided that alcohol must be an acquired taste, and she had no desire to acquire it.
Broden hadn’t drunk anything either, and so it was only the two archers that were perfectly clearheaded this morning.
Edvard tilted his head enough to glare at Broden. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
“It was no’,” Broden denied pleasantly.
“You and Riana are the only ones sober,” Edvard argued. “And why is that, anyway?”
“I like to remember when I have fun,” her father drawled.
Edvard snorted a laugh, which set his head to aching, and he groaned again. “If it wasn’t the two of you, then who was it?”
“Me.” Hendrix stepped into the room at a brisk stride, a rolled up map under his arm and a stack of what seemed to be reports under the other. He sat both down on the table with a thump loud enough to make people flinch. Looking about the table, he didn’t seem to have any pity for their plight. “I hope this is the last time people indulge like this until the war is actually won.”
“Right now I’m swearing I’ll never drink again,” Ash bemoaned against the table top. He had been sitting hunched with his forehead against the surface ever since obeying the summons to the king’s study.
“Belike they do no’ have enough wine to repeat the experience, lad,” Broden assured the frowning prince in good humor. “Do no’ fret about it much. Now, what be the meeting about?”
Hendrix spared another dark frown at the table as a whole. Riana had to admit the sight wasn’t one to imbue confidence. Edvard, Ashlynn, Ash and Tyrone were all very much the worse off for their partying of the night before. Tyrone refused to even look up or speak and with the way he sat in his chair, eyes closed, Riana couldn’t swear he wasn’t already back asleep. Even Troi, sitting next to her, looked a little pale and drawn and he wasn’t the sort to lose complete control of himself.
Master Gerard had been completely unavailable as he had over a dozen of his students to deal with, all of which somehow got into the alcohol last night, and were the worse off for it this morning.
Seeming to realize the situation wouldn’t improve itself until much later in the day, Hendrix cleared his throat and forged on regardless. “I want to hear the plan and use the winter months to start making preparations.”
Tyrone exhaled a sharp breath that sounded suspiciously like a snore and pried one eye open. “We have a plan?”
“Not one we can agree on,” Edvard denied, rubbing at his temples as if his headache was escalating, which it likely was. “Go back to sleep.”
Tyrone amiably let his eye fall closed and he sank a little further into his chair.
A tic started jumping near Hendrix’s eye. “You don’t have a plan? You formed a country without a plan on how to deal with Iysh?!”
“First of all,” Edvard started hotly, only to wince and subside into a volume that wouldn’t split his head open, “I did not plan to rebel against Iysh. Your stupid father forced my hand on that one. Second of all, people assumed that I was forming a country, and they flooded in before I could convince them otherwise. I was forced into making a country, it was not my intention. Third of all…” he trailed off, staring blearily at the ceiling. “Do I have a third point to make?”
“We don’t have an army?” Ash offered.
His brother gave him a thankful nod, carefully executed and with much support. “I’ll take that one, that’s a good third point. Hendrix, we’ve been going around in circles on this ever since day one. Iysh outnumbers us a hundred to one, at least, we’d be overwhelmed if they sent a true army against us instead of several battalions. I have no doubt that’s what your brother will spend the winter doing, is preparing that army. Aside from strengthening my defenses and doing what I can to weaken their troops, I frankly don’t know what to do.”
Hendrix gave him the most pensive study in return that Riana had ever seen a human being do. The prince seemed to be cataloguing every flaw, every virtue, weighing and shifting all that Edvard was. Even the hungover king seemed to realize that the scrutiny was leading up to something as he dared to lift his head, even dropping a hand, so that he could return Hendrix’s stare frankly.
What might have been a smile teased up the corners of Hendrix’s mouth. In a quiet tone, Hendrix stated, “You are a capable ruler, Edvard Knolton. If all kings were like you, I doubt we’d have much conflict in the world. But it doesn’t seem like you have much of a head for strategy.”
“I don’t,” Edvard responded, not a single feather ruffled at this frank appraisal. “I have good people under me that advise me on such matters. Now, Hendrix, I have a feeling that you wanted to see if your plan matched mine. Now that you know I don’t have one, why don’t you share yours?”
“You’re not much of a strategist,” Hendrix repeated, and this time the smile was obvious, “but you do read people well. You are correct, I wanted to see what your idea was first, and adjust mine to fit accordingly. You asked, when I first came, how I could help? I think the answer just became clear. I will be your strategist.”
Edvard spread his hand, a noncommittal gesture that inclined the person to believe he was amiable to the idea but not sold on it yet. “Tell me your plan.”
“You’re right, we can’t win a full frontal assault from Iysh. They’d overpower our defenses eventually and it will be a complete bloodbath when they do.” Hendrix leaned forward to roll out the map.
Riana half-stood from her chair to help catch the far edge and pull the fabric straight, which Hendrix thanked her for with a nod.
“Maddox is as straightforward as a bull,” Hendrix informed the table at large. “He’s a military man at heart, a glory-seeker, and it won’t occur to him to do anything but charge at our front gates with as strong of a force as he can muster in the next two months. The problem will be his younger twin, Eryx. The true strategist in my family is Eryx. He’s a genius at maneuvering things to go his way. I assure you, if he had been in charge of the first two assaults against you, we would not be having this conversation today.”
“Why wasn’t he?” Ashlynn asked, baffled. “If he’s that good.”
“My father strangely doesn’t trust his opinion. But then, Father has always seemed to hang all hopes on Maddox for some reason. Eryx gets very little chance to put in his opinion with Father, which has cost Iysh in the long run, as Maddox isn’t a very capable ruler. However, the one and only person that Maddox will always listen to is Eryx. And that is where our problem truly comes in. If Eryx gives Maddox a battle plan, a strategy on how to get around our defenses, then this battle might well become a retreat altogether.” Hendrix tapped the bottom part of Dahl’s territory with three fingers. “Ash, Ashlynn, talk to me about wards. Can we maintain a shield around both Estole’s and Dahl’s borders?”
“Not for long,” the twins denied in unison. Ashlynn gestured for Ash to go ahead, which he did. “I’m actually the one in charge of defenses, so I’ll answer this. We can for perhaps the space of an afternoon, yes, but it will exhaust the wizards to do it. Part of the challenge is the angles we’ll have to go around. A straight square, line, or ball is by far easier to erect and maintain because it’s a perfect shape. The more angles you add to that, the more complex the spell gets, and the harder to hold.”
Hendrix drew a line straight across Estole’s border and then carried through the lower third of Dahl’s territory. “A straight line like this, can you hold it?”
“Well, yes, but…” Ash trailed off with an uncertain look at Tyrone, who was sitting next to him.
Tyrone proved that he was not actually sleeping when he opened his mouth and said, “Mostly farmland in that area. Not many houses or people. If I need to, I can evacuate the area in a day and while it would be a loss, it won’t be one that impacts us too severely now that we have supplies coming from both Ganforth and Cloud’s Rest.”
Ashlynn leaned around her brother to demand, “Are you actually napping or not?”
“Light hurts my eyes,” Tyrone explained, not even trying to look. “If you’re asking, Hendrix, if I’m willing to sacrifice a third of my farmland in order to protect my people as a whole, then the answer is yes.”
Ash seemed a little unhappy with this answer but even he saw the necessity of it. “Then yes, a straight line like that would be much easier to hold. We could probably do it for about three days, but again, that would exhaust us and it would tie up every Wizard. We wouldn’t be available to fight.”
Hendrix let out a thoughtful humming noise. “Not the answer I hoped for, but the answer I did expect. We’ll talk more about this later. For now, let’s focus on the larger scheme of things. What we need to do is delay the army, divert them, and buy me time. Our endgame is this: if we can bankrupt Iysh then we give the people and the Court the final push it needs to realize that my father and oldest brother are terrible rulers. Once I have them thinking that, I can convince them to put me on the throne instead, overturn my father and his edicts.”
“Ye be that confident?” Riana marveled. He seemed so matter of fact about it that she almost bought that statement at face value.
“I’ve spent five years in the country,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “and I’ve heard every horror story that you can think of about what my family’s done to its own citizens. They always thank me, for being so different from them, and its made me believe that all my people are waiting for is a different choice. It’s clear to me that this country is teetering on the edge of a revolution—the reaction to Estole alone illustrates how ready people are to abandon Iysh. If I stood up, asked them if they would support me as king, I have no doubt that I would get a ‘yes.’”
“You would,” Troi seconded bluntly. “My spies tell me the same thing.”
“But can you just assume that and move forward?” Edvard wondered aloud, tone indicating he wasn’t expecting an answer immediately, it was more a rhetorical question.
Hendrix shook his head. “I wouldn’t dare gamble on that. Almost everyone out here knows me, but I want to visit them again, ask for their support.”
“You’d get it,” Troi assured him. He was braced against the table with both forearms as if sitting up straight was beyond him, but those grey eyes of his were calm and clear. “Every report I have says that the people prefer you over either of your brothers.”
“That’s not much of a compliment,” Hendrix sighed but his expression said he was thankful for Troi’s observation. “Considering what my brothers are like. But I think this is our only chance. We must find a way to get me on the throne, to divert the army long enough to do so, otherwise Estole and Dahl won’t have a prayer.”
Edvard sat up hopefully. “Does that mean we can finally use my idea?”
Everyone at the table growled at him.
Hendrix held up a hand and asked the excited king, “What idea?”
“I want to rob the treasury,” Edvard explained, happy that someone was listening to him after months of being ignored on this topic.
Hendrix stared thoughtfully at the ceiling for a moment, lips pursed and then nodded once, sharply. “I like it.”
Several people voiced protests, words overlapping each other so that they couldn’t be distinguished, but tone enough to carry their message through. Hendrix held up a hand to forestall this. “Wait, I don’t mean an actual robbery, where someone sneaks in and does the deed. The treasury is well guarded and has a vast quantity of money in it. It would be a behemoth task.”
Edvard actually started pouting. “But you just said—”
“I meant slowly,” Hendrix explained, “Well, not that slowly, but in increments. There’s several tactics I can think of that will manage it. Troi, as I’m not a master at espionage, tell me how many men does it take to track down one spy?”
“The general rule of thumb is, for every man that you have in the field, you must have seven that support him,” Troi responded. “This is true of military and espionage both. If it’s a particularly good spy, then it might take more than that.”
“Manpower,” Hendrix explained to the table generally, “is the most costly expense of any war. People require lodging, food, clothing, pay, and travel expenditures. The more men that we can force Iysh to employ into the field, the more it empties their coffers, and they don’t have a lot of money to spare right now as it is. Overa’s giving them trouble along the border, which is diverting some of the army and the budget toward the south end. We, of course, are demanding the bulk of the army and if I know Maddox, he’ll want his army equipped well to make this a quick, decisive victory. Troi, your job is to make them deploy as many spies as possible to track down yours, make them think they have a very large infestation in the country to root out.”
Troi looked sold on this idea, indeed downright gleeful of it, but he turned to his king for permission.
Edvard still seemed a little put out that he would not be allowed a grand raid into the Iysh treasury but nodded and gave a wave of the fingers. “You have permission to employ a few more. Keep within your budget restraints as much as possible.”
“Understood, sire. No worries, Prince Hendrix, I can do what you’re asking with ease. It will take a good month to set in place, however.”
“I didn’t expect anything different. The other thing that I want to do is to start some very costly rumors through you. Say, that we’ve hired a mercenary group from Overa and expect them to be here to supplement our own troops.”
The Master of Spies outright grinned at him. “A fine notion, Your Highness. Also, might I suggest that we make use of our pirate connections?”
Hendrix blinked, taken aback. “We have pirate connections?”
“Indeed we do.”
Leaning over the map, Hendrix traced the distance between Kemser and Estole’s border, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “If we could somehow force the army up, toward Senn, so that they have to re-supply there via the river…we could possibly have your pirate friends raid their supply ships before they exit the coast. It would cost Maddox dearly.”
Even Riana could see it. An army of that size could not possibly take enough provisions for a journey and then a battle. Even she and Ash, just two people, had to stop and buy food along their way, and they’d packed as much as they could before leaving Estole. Kremser wasn’t as far south as Honora, granted, but it was still a good two week journey for a body of men numbering in the thousands. Mayhap a bit longer than that. “Belike they will have to re-supply whether we force them northward or no’,” she ventured.
“Might be,” Hendrix admitted, still staring hard at the map. “It depends on how many troops Maddox will bring and how much of his supplies he will choose to ship. Troi, I need an answer that question.”
“Trust me, Your Highness, we all want an answer to that question. When I have it, you’ll be one of the first to know.”
Hendrix gave him a shrug and grimace, acknowledging that was a stupid order to have given, but glad that Troi had taken it in the spirit in which it had been meant. “I can’t make definite plans on some things until I know. But while we’re waiting, I’d like to get what we can started.”
Broden, ever sensible, cleared his throat and gave the young prince a meaningful look. “Ye might get better answers, lad, if ye fed people first. Breakfast can do wonders for a man’s brain, ye see.”
Hendrix blinked, as if food hadn’t even occurred to him, then twisted about to stare at the clock on the mantelpiece. “It is time for breakfast, isn’t it? Alright, let’s adjourn for now, meet back here in an hour.”
Everyone gave Broden grateful looks, all except for Riana, who knew very well that her father’s suggestion had not been given for anyone else’s benefit aside from his own. Broden Ravenscraft needed a very good reason to skip a meal and war was not a sufficient one to his mind.
He was not alone. In fact, most of the room was suffering from some sort of hangover and more than one bottle had been passed around, each of them offering the other some medication to help ease them through the morning. The Winter Ball last night had been high in fun and gaiety, even though there wasn’t the overabundance of food to be had, but the spirits might have flown a little too freely.
Riana had never had access to alcohol of any sort growing up. It wasn’t the sort of thing her father had encouraged, either. When living in a completely hostile environment as they had, it was necessary to keep their wits about them at all times. Broden had never developed the habit of drinking. Riana had never even been able to step into the pub at home without a riot starting and being in a room full of drunk men had been extremely dangerous for her to begin with. Last night was the first time she had been offered a glass.
And she hadn’t much cared for it.
It was sour and burned her throat. After that first sip, Riana had decided that alcohol must be an acquired taste, and she had no desire to acquire it.
Broden hadn’t drunk anything either, and so it was only the two archers that were perfectly clearheaded this morning.
Edvard tilted his head enough to glare at Broden. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
“It was no’,” Broden denied pleasantly.
“You and Riana are the only ones sober,” Edvard argued. “And why is that, anyway?”
“I like to remember when I have fun,” her father drawled.
Edvard snorted a laugh, which set his head to aching, and he groaned again. “If it wasn’t the two of you, then who was it?”
“Me.” Hendrix stepped into the room at a brisk stride, a rolled up map under his arm and a stack of what seemed to be reports under the other. He sat both down on the table with a thump loud enough to make people flinch. Looking about the table, he didn’t seem to have any pity for their plight. “I hope this is the last time people indulge like this until the war is actually won.”
“Right now I’m swearing I’ll never drink again,” Ash bemoaned against the table top. He had been sitting hunched with his forehead against the surface ever since obeying the summons to the king’s study.
“Belike they do no’ have enough wine to repeat the experience, lad,” Broden assured the frowning prince in good humor. “Do no’ fret about it much. Now, what be the meeting about?”
Hendrix spared another dark frown at the table as a whole. Riana had to admit the sight wasn’t one to imbue confidence. Edvard, Ashlynn, Ash and Tyrone were all very much the worse off for their partying of the night before. Tyrone refused to even look up or speak and with the way he sat in his chair, eyes closed, Riana couldn’t swear he wasn’t already back asleep. Even Troi, sitting next to her, looked a little pale and drawn and he wasn’t the sort to lose complete control of himself.
Master Gerard had been completely unavailable as he had over a dozen of his students to deal with, all of which somehow got into the alcohol last night, and were the worse off for it this morning.
Seeming to realize the situation wouldn’t improve itself until much later in the day, Hendrix cleared his throat and forged on regardless. “I want to hear the plan and use the winter months to start making preparations.”
Tyrone exhaled a sharp breath that sounded suspiciously like a snore and pried one eye open. “We have a plan?”
“Not one we can agree on,” Edvard denied, rubbing at his temples as if his headache was escalating, which it likely was. “Go back to sleep.”
Tyrone amiably let his eye fall closed and he sank a little further into his chair.
A tic started jumping near Hendrix’s eye. “You don’t have a plan? You formed a country without a plan on how to deal with Iysh?!”
“First of all,” Edvard started hotly, only to wince and subside into a volume that wouldn’t split his head open, “I did not plan to rebel against Iysh. Your stupid father forced my hand on that one. Second of all, people assumed that I was forming a country, and they flooded in before I could convince them otherwise. I was forced into making a country, it was not my intention. Third of all…” he trailed off, staring blearily at the ceiling. “Do I have a third point to make?”
“We don’t have an army?” Ash offered.
His brother gave him a thankful nod, carefully executed and with much support. “I’ll take that one, that’s a good third point. Hendrix, we’ve been going around in circles on this ever since day one. Iysh outnumbers us a hundred to one, at least, we’d be overwhelmed if they sent a true army against us instead of several battalions. I have no doubt that’s what your brother will spend the winter doing, is preparing that army. Aside from strengthening my defenses and doing what I can to weaken their troops, I frankly don’t know what to do.”
Hendrix gave him the most pensive study in return that Riana had ever seen a human being do. The prince seemed to be cataloguing every flaw, every virtue, weighing and shifting all that Edvard was. Even the hungover king seemed to realize that the scrutiny was leading up to something as he dared to lift his head, even dropping a hand, so that he could return Hendrix’s stare frankly.
What might have been a smile teased up the corners of Hendrix’s mouth. In a quiet tone, Hendrix stated, “You are a capable ruler, Edvard Knolton. If all kings were like you, I doubt we’d have much conflict in the world. But it doesn’t seem like you have much of a head for strategy.”
“I don’t,” Edvard responded, not a single feather ruffled at this frank appraisal. “I have good people under me that advise me on such matters. Now, Hendrix, I have a feeling that you wanted to see if your plan matched mine. Now that you know I don’t have one, why don’t you share yours?”
“You’re not much of a strategist,” Hendrix repeated, and this time the smile was obvious, “but you do read people well. You are correct, I wanted to see what your idea was first, and adjust mine to fit accordingly. You asked, when I first came, how I could help? I think the answer just became clear. I will be your strategist.”
Edvard spread his hand, a noncommittal gesture that inclined the person to believe he was amiable to the idea but not sold on it yet. “Tell me your plan.”
“You’re right, we can’t win a full frontal assault from Iysh. They’d overpower our defenses eventually and it will be a complete bloodbath when they do.” Hendrix leaned forward to roll out the map.
Riana half-stood from her chair to help catch the far edge and pull the fabric straight, which Hendrix thanked her for with a nod.
“Maddox is as straightforward as a bull,” Hendrix informed the table at large. “He’s a military man at heart, a glory-seeker, and it won’t occur to him to do anything but charge at our front gates with as strong of a force as he can muster in the next two months. The problem will be his younger twin, Eryx. The true strategist in my family is Eryx. He’s a genius at maneuvering things to go his way. I assure you, if he had been in charge of the first two assaults against you, we would not be having this conversation today.”
“Why wasn’t he?” Ashlynn asked, baffled. “If he’s that good.”
“My father strangely doesn’t trust his opinion. But then, Father has always seemed to hang all hopes on Maddox for some reason. Eryx gets very little chance to put in his opinion with Father, which has cost Iysh in the long run, as Maddox isn’t a very capable ruler. However, the one and only person that Maddox will always listen to is Eryx. And that is where our problem truly comes in. If Eryx gives Maddox a battle plan, a strategy on how to get around our defenses, then this battle might well become a retreat altogether.” Hendrix tapped the bottom part of Dahl’s territory with three fingers. “Ash, Ashlynn, talk to me about wards. Can we maintain a shield around both Estole’s and Dahl’s borders?”
“Not for long,” the twins denied in unison. Ashlynn gestured for Ash to go ahead, which he did. “I’m actually the one in charge of defenses, so I’ll answer this. We can for perhaps the space of an afternoon, yes, but it will exhaust the wizards to do it. Part of the challenge is the angles we’ll have to go around. A straight square, line, or ball is by far easier to erect and maintain because it’s a perfect shape. The more angles you add to that, the more complex the spell gets, and the harder to hold.”
Hendrix drew a line straight across Estole’s border and then carried through the lower third of Dahl’s territory. “A straight line like this, can you hold it?”
“Well, yes, but…” Ash trailed off with an uncertain look at Tyrone, who was sitting next to him.
Tyrone proved that he was not actually sleeping when he opened his mouth and said, “Mostly farmland in that area. Not many houses or people. If I need to, I can evacuate the area in a day and while it would be a loss, it won’t be one that impacts us too severely now that we have supplies coming from both Ganforth and Cloud’s Rest.”
Ashlynn leaned around her brother to demand, “Are you actually napping or not?”
“Light hurts my eyes,” Tyrone explained, not even trying to look. “If you’re asking, Hendrix, if I’m willing to sacrifice a third of my farmland in order to protect my people as a whole, then the answer is yes.”
Ash seemed a little unhappy with this answer but even he saw the necessity of it. “Then yes, a straight line like that would be much easier to hold. We could probably do it for about three days, but again, that would exhaust us and it would tie up every Wizard. We wouldn’t be available to fight.”
Hendrix let out a thoughtful humming noise. “Not the answer I hoped for, but the answer I did expect. We’ll talk more about this later. For now, let’s focus on the larger scheme of things. What we need to do is delay the army, divert them, and buy me time. Our endgame is this: if we can bankrupt Iysh then we give the people and the Court the final push it needs to realize that my father and oldest brother are terrible rulers. Once I have them thinking that, I can convince them to put me on the throne instead, overturn my father and his edicts.”
“Ye be that confident?” Riana marveled. He seemed so matter of fact about it that she almost bought that statement at face value.
“I’ve spent five years in the country,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “and I’ve heard every horror story that you can think of about what my family’s done to its own citizens. They always thank me, for being so different from them, and its made me believe that all my people are waiting for is a different choice. It’s clear to me that this country is teetering on the edge of a revolution—the reaction to Estole alone illustrates how ready people are to abandon Iysh. If I stood up, asked them if they would support me as king, I have no doubt that I would get a ‘yes.’”
“You would,” Troi seconded bluntly. “My spies tell me the same thing.”
“But can you just assume that and move forward?” Edvard wondered aloud, tone indicating he wasn’t expecting an answer immediately, it was more a rhetorical question.
Hendrix shook his head. “I wouldn’t dare gamble on that. Almost everyone out here knows me, but I want to visit them again, ask for their support.”
“You’d get it,” Troi assured him. He was braced against the table with both forearms as if sitting up straight was beyond him, but those grey eyes of his were calm and clear. “Every report I have says that the people prefer you over either of your brothers.”
“That’s not much of a compliment,” Hendrix sighed but his expression said he was thankful for Troi’s observation. “Considering what my brothers are like. But I think this is our only chance. We must find a way to get me on the throne, to divert the army long enough to do so, otherwise Estole and Dahl won’t have a prayer.”
Edvard sat up hopefully. “Does that mean we can finally use my idea?”
Everyone at the table growled at him.
Hendrix held up a hand and asked the excited king, “What idea?”
“I want to rob the treasury,” Edvard explained, happy that someone was listening to him after months of being ignored on this topic.
Hendrix stared thoughtfully at the ceiling for a moment, lips pursed and then nodded once, sharply. “I like it.”
Several people voiced protests, words overlapping each other so that they couldn’t be distinguished, but tone enough to carry their message through. Hendrix held up a hand to forestall this. “Wait, I don’t mean an actual robbery, where someone sneaks in and does the deed. The treasury is well guarded and has a vast quantity of money in it. It would be a behemoth task.”
Edvard actually started pouting. “But you just said—”
“I meant slowly,” Hendrix explained, “Well, not that slowly, but in increments. There’s several tactics I can think of that will manage it. Troi, as I’m not a master at espionage, tell me how many men does it take to track down one spy?”
“The general rule of thumb is, for every man that you have in the field, you must have seven that support him,” Troi responded. “This is true of military and espionage both. If it’s a particularly good spy, then it might take more than that.”
“Manpower,” Hendrix explained to the table generally, “is the most costly expense of any war. People require lodging, food, clothing, pay, and travel expenditures. The more men that we can force Iysh to employ into the field, the more it empties their coffers, and they don’t have a lot of money to spare right now as it is. Overa’s giving them trouble along the border, which is diverting some of the army and the budget toward the south end. We, of course, are demanding the bulk of the army and if I know Maddox, he’ll want his army equipped well to make this a quick, decisive victory. Troi, your job is to make them deploy as many spies as possible to track down yours, make them think they have a very large infestation in the country to root out.”
Troi looked sold on this idea, indeed downright gleeful of it, but he turned to his king for permission.
Edvard still seemed a little put out that he would not be allowed a grand raid into the Iysh treasury but nodded and gave a wave of the fingers. “You have permission to employ a few more. Keep within your budget restraints as much as possible.”
“Understood, sire. No worries, Prince Hendrix, I can do what you’re asking with ease. It will take a good month to set in place, however.”
“I didn’t expect anything different. The other thing that I want to do is to start some very costly rumors through you. Say, that we’ve hired a mercenary group from Overa and expect them to be here to supplement our own troops.”
The Master of Spies outright grinned at him. “A fine notion, Your Highness. Also, might I suggest that we make use of our pirate connections?”
Hendrix blinked, taken aback. “We have pirate connections?”
“Indeed we do.”
Leaning over the map, Hendrix traced the distance between Kemser and Estole’s border, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “If we could somehow force the army up, toward Senn, so that they have to re-supply there via the river…we could possibly have your pirate friends raid their supply ships before they exit the coast. It would cost Maddox dearly.”
Even Riana could see it. An army of that size could not possibly take enough provisions for a journey and then a battle. Even she and Ash, just two people, had to stop and buy food along their way, and they’d packed as much as they could before leaving Estole. Kremser wasn’t as far south as Honora, granted, but it was still a good two week journey for a body of men numbering in the thousands. Mayhap a bit longer than that. “Belike they will have to re-supply whether we force them northward or no’,” she ventured.
“Might be,” Hendrix admitted, still staring hard at the map. “It depends on how many troops Maddox will bring and how much of his supplies he will choose to ship. Troi, I need an answer that question.”
“Trust me, Your Highness, we all want an answer to that question. When I have it, you’ll be one of the first to know.”
Hendrix gave him a shrug and grimace, acknowledging that was a stupid order to have given, but glad that Troi had taken it in the spirit in which it had been meant. “I can’t make definite plans on some things until I know. But while we’re waiting, I’d like to get what we can started.”
Broden, ever sensible, cleared his throat and gave the young prince a meaningful look. “Ye might get better answers, lad, if ye fed people first. Breakfast can do wonders for a man’s brain, ye see.”
Hendrix blinked, as if food hadn’t even occurred to him, then twisted about to stare at the clock on the mantelpiece. “It is time for breakfast, isn’t it? Alright, let’s adjourn for now, meet back here in an hour.”
Everyone gave Broden grateful looks, all except for Riana, who knew very well that her father’s suggestion had not been given for anyone else’s benefit aside from his own. Broden Ravenscraft needed a very good reason to skip a meal and war was not a sufficient one to his mind.
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