Chapter Five: Divide and Conquer
I
The Command Room at Windsome Castle
Colonel Vollmer Gangrett was killed in battle!
As soon as the awful news arrived, Guyel wasted no time in heading to the command room.
“My lady, I have news of the utmost urgency.”
“From that agonized look on your face, I think I can make a pretty good guess as to what it is...” said Rosenmarie. “But go ahead. Make it quick, though.” She glared harder at the piles of paper covering her desk, and Guyel noticed she had faint dark circles under her eyes. She must have stayed up all night. He scowled at the attendant who stood by in a corner of the room. They looked nervously at their feet.
“Stop scowling at my attendant,” said Rosenmarie. “I’m the one pushing to get things done. Now what do you have to tell me?”
“Yes, my lady,” Guyel began. “Colonel Vollmer engaged a force from the Seventh Legion at the Amalheim Plains. He died a hero’s death at the hands of the monster. In addition, twenty-five hundred soldiers were killed—a devastating loss.” He took the report from under his arm and held it out to Rosenmarie. She took it carelessly, skimming the contents before tossing it onto her desk.
“That damn monster. First it drove off the Swarans at Fort Peshitta, now it killed Vollmer. Can you believe it, Guyel? Our Man-Butcher went and got himself butchered,” she snickered.
“My lady!” Guyel protested. “This is hardly a joking matter! The Swarans are of no importance, of course, but Vollmer was not an easy man to beat!”
According to the report, Vollmer’s death had been drawn out and humiliating. The monster, in an appropriately monstrous fashion, had cut off all four of his limbs before stabbing him through the heart. Guyel didn’t have the stomach to joke about it like Rosenmarie. He was sure Vollmer’s death would be felt all throughout the Crimson Knights, if not more widely through the imperial army as a whole.
“Don’t be so touchy,” Rosenmarie said. “We talked about this. I’ll just have to kill the monster myself.” Her eyes shifted away from Guyel and to the person who accompanied him. “Who’s this?”
Beside Guyel, there stood a man dressed all in black—it was Arvin.
“Forgive me for not introducing him sooner, my lady. This is Lieutenant Arvin, a shimmer. He has come bearing a message for you from the monster.”
“From the monster? That should be good,” said Rosenmarie, beckoning Arvin forward. “Go on, then.”
Arvin obliged, taking a step forward. “Yes, ser. This is the message, exactly as it was relayed to me: ‘I’m coming to kill you, so you’d better keep your neck squeaky clean until I get there.’”
“Wha—?!” Guyel cried out, shocked beyond words. Arvin had given him no clues as to what the message contained, insisting that it was intended for Rosenmarie.
So that’s why he was so adamant. He thought if I knew, I’d stop it before it reached Rosenmarie. As a shimmer, he couldn’t let that happen, of course, but that doesn’t make me like it any better.
He looked daggers at the man, but Arvin acted like he hadn’t noticed. With trepidation, Guyel then turned to look at Rosenmarie. Her whole body was trembling.
“My lady...?” he began.
“Ha ha ha ha ha ha!” Rosenmarie cackled, beating her fist on the table. What Guyel had thought was rage was in fact uncontrollable laughter. “Coming to kill me, is she? Better ‘keep my neck squeaky clean’? Oh, that’s good. I love it!” The attendant gazed at her with terror in their eyes. It was unnerving, Guyel had to agree.
“Lady Rosenmarie,” Arvin said after a moment. “May I offer you one piece of advice?” Despite Rosenmarie’s eccentric behavior, his expression hadn’t shifted at all.
“Don’t get cocky just because you’re a shimmer, Lieutenant,” Guyel barked. “You have disrespected the general.”
The shimmers existed outside the standard chain of command in the imperial army, and so even though Guyel outranked Arvin, he couldn’t give him a direct order. That was also why he hadn’t been able to get him to shed any light on this message from the monster. He could offer little more than a stern talking-to.
Rosenmarie kept chuckling as she spoke. “Oh, whatever. What’s this advice then? I’m listening.” She laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them, smiling broadly.
“Very well, ser,” Arvin said. “This monster cut four of my highly trained operatives to pieces in an instant. The only reason I’m standing here before you now is because she chose to let me go. I strongly recommend that you proceed with caution.”
Rosenmarie regarded him with faint surprise.
“She’s even got a shimmer nervous? First Vollmer’s death, then this—now I’m really interested.”
“You may of course be interested, my lady, but—” Rosenmarie held up a hand, and Arvin stopped.
“That’s enough. Your advice as a shimmer is gratefully received,” she said.
When it came to shimmers, people tended to focus on their top-rate intelligence training and unfailing martial ability. Guyel, however, judged their true value to be in their exceptional analytical skills, backed up by a wealth of experience. Rosenmarie knew that too; that was why she hadn’t flatly refused the shimmer’s advice.
There was a pause, then Arvin said, “Pardon my frankness, my lady. I will take my leave of you here.” He turned and exited the command room. Guyel heard the sound of the latch click as he turned back to Rosenmarie.
“How are we going to deal with them?” he asked.
“Where are they?”
“As we expected, the Seventh Legion has made the Emaleid Citadel its base. I imagine the main force will join them, given time.”
“All right...” said Rosenmarie. “Just keep an eye on them for now.” She closed her eyes and sank back into her chair.
“You only wish us to watch them, my lady?” Guyel asked. His words carried the unsaid question, We’re not sending another force after them?
On one hand, he knew full well that sending in another army would be a wasted effort, and he didn’t condone the tragic loss of more soldiers. On the other, he’d just heard Rosenmarie herself say the monster had her interest, which meant he didn’t have many options if he was going to keep Rosenmarie from going on a rampage.
“That’s right. The Seventh Legion can’t retake the north without going through the Crimson Knights. They’ll have to come to me eventually, whether they like it or not,” she replied, then opened her eyes again and smiled. As he looked at her, Guyel couldn’t help the anxiety that swelled in his heart.
The Command Station at the Emaleid Citadel
Two weeks after the Independent Cavalry Regiment arrived at the Emaleid Citadel, Paul joined them with a force of twenty-five thousand soldiers. Their messengers informed him of the battle with the Crimson Knights, and he called Osmund to the command station without taking even a moment to rest.
“...and then, Major General Osmund, you engaged the enemy without waiting for the Independent Cavalry Regiment?”
“Yes, ser. I believed that if we waited, it would affect morale...”
“You fool!” bellowed Paul, his voice like a thunderclap. Not just Osmund, but almost every other officer crowded in the command tent cowered before him. The only exception was Otto, who stood at Paul’s side, collected as ever.
What a mess, Paul thought. He could see the logic in Osmund’s excuse. After the cruel murder of his scouts followed by the display of bodies for all to see, to do nothing would undoubtedly have impacted morale. If Osmund had thought things through, however, he would have realized that it was a trap to lure him out. It was impossible to overlook the rashness of his actions. There was little doubt in Paul’s mind that if Olivia and the Independent Cavalry Regiment had not made it in time, Osmund’s regiment would have been wiped out. They might have won in the end, but his army wasn’t so forgiving as to excuse everything else because of that. Osmund had thrown away around half his force—fifteen hundred soldiers—for nothing. It was a heavy blow to the Seventh Legion on the eve of the greater battle that was coming. They would face an army led by the fearsome Crimson Knights. It was unavoidable if they were to retake the north. Until that day, Paul could not condone any needless losses. Numbers were power. The size of their force alone could turn the tide of the whole battle.
“Were you so desperate for glory and advancement?” Paul demanded. Osmund gaped at him.
“N-No, ser!” he cried, his eyes flicking nervously about. “I only wanted to protect the city, I—!”
Paul cut him off. “Enough pathetic excuses. You call yourself a general? Whatever it was, you’ll be answering for the deaths of half your soldiers”
“Yes, ser. I’m sorry, ser...”
“I’ll deal with you later. Return to your quarters and await further orders.”
“Yes, ser.”
Osmund left, his shoulders slumped. Paul spared him only a glance before sinking deeply into his chair and pulling out a cigarette.
“He’s a good soldier when he can keep his head...” he said, exhaling a mouthful of smoke as he spoke. Otto smiled thinly.
“I think Major General Osmund was getting impatient,” he said.
“Ah, advancement... How he could think this was the time...”
“I don’t disagree, my lord, but coming on the heels of our own promotions, I do not think he will find us convincing on the subject,” Otto said. Paul had to admit there was some truth in that. Not enough, however, for him to forgive a man who’d led half an army to their deaths chasing his own glory. Osmund said he’d struck first to protect the city. That in itself was not necessarily a bad move. In Osmund’s position, he might have thought the same. Riding out without a thought for what came after and playing right into the enemy’s plan, on the other hand...it was utter foolishness. Selim, who had pushed back against Osmund to the last, had grasped the situation far more clearly. If nothing else, Osmund’s days as general were over.
“This really is a mess,” he growled. As he tried to work out how to deal with Osmund, they heard the sound of skipping footsteps, perfectly rhythmical and growing nearer.
“It appears the problem child has arrived,” said Otto, looking at the grandfather clock then to the door.
“Problem? What problem? You know, I’ve always thought you’re too hard on Major Olivia, Otto.”
“That is only because you spoil her, my lord!” Otto snapped back, a vein bulging in his forehead as he rounded on Paul, who shrank back. There was an enthusiastic rapping on the door, followed by a voice like a bell.
“Major Olivia, reporting on time!”
“Enter,” said Otto coldly. The door burst open, and there stood Olivia, her pocket watch clasped tightly in her hand. The deep blue base tone of her uniform only further highlighted the beauty of her shining silver hair and perfectly formed features. It had been a month since Paul had seen her last, but she appeared to be in as good spirits as ever.
“Welcome,” said Paul.
“It’s wonderful to see you again, General Paul!” Olivia said happily. “And, um, nice to see you too, Colonel Otto.”
“You don’t sound as though you mean it when it comes to me, Major,” said Otto.
“That’s just your imagination, ser!” Olivia said. She gave a toothy grin in response to Otto’s cold glare. Paul smiled fondly at both of them, then brought them back to the issue at hand.
“Major Olivia, first let me say that you did a splendid job. Allow me to thank you again. It’s thanks to your efforts that Osmund’s regiment escaped total annihilation.”
“Yes, ser! Your praise is appreciated, sir!”
“Good, good. Now, tell me,” Paul went on. “What was it like fighting the Crimson Knights? Lieutenant Claudia has already given me her report, but I’d like to hear your thoughts directly.”
“My impression, you mean?” asked Olivia. She put a finger to her cheek and frowned, her mouth tightening. In the report Claudia had given Paul, she concluded that the Crimson Knights were just as powerful as the rumors suggested. They would be in for a rude awakening if they tried to fight them like any other enemy. He waited for Olivia’s reply, thoughts turning over in his mind.
“Well, they were really well trained,” she said eventually. “I thought all the individual soldiers were exceptional warriors. When it comes to overall power, they’ve got us beat, ser.”
“Thank you, Major...” sighed Paul. “Not an enemy to be trifled with, then.”
If a soldier as extraordinary as Olivia judged it so, he thought, it had to be true. It was an unwritten rule of war that when facing a superior force, you beat them with numbers. Unfortunately, the Seventh Legion had neither the superior force nor the greater numbers at the moment.
“Don’t worry, though, General Paul. Everything’s going to be fine,” said Olivia, smiling.
“Hm? Mind explaining yourself?” he said. Whatever basis Olivia had for making such reassurances, it was lost on him.
“I’m going to kill the enemy commander,” she replied cheerfully. “I had a ra—I mean, a shimmer—send her a message for me. If you take out the commander, even the strongest army will break. So everything is going to be fine.” She brimmed with confidence as she spoke, and Paul had to smile. After she’d taken out the enemy commander at Ilys so flawlessly, it was the most reassuring thing she could have said. Olivia had become totally indispensable to the Seventh Legion. He still got the odd pang of guilt over sending a sweet young girl into battle, but he told himself that sometimes you had to act in the name of the greater good. He meant at the very least to do everything he could for the girl in the meantime.
“Is that right?” Paul chuckled. “I can just leave things to you again this time?”
“Yep, no proble—um, I mean, of course, ser!” she replied enthusiastically.
“On that note, do you mind if I ask the major a question?” Otto asked. Paul smiled, and nodded to give his permission.
“Major, I hear that in the desert town of Sephin you encountered a shimmer. The northern division of the imperial army—-let’s call them the northern army. Can you confirm that the northern army has made the Seventh Legion’s defeat their objective?”
“Yes, ser. I heard it directly from the shimmer himself, so I think it’s safe to say it’s accurate. Which means Ashton’s hunch was right,” Olivia said, adding quietly, “The tactician knew best.”
Otto frowned. He doubted Paul wanted to be reminded how he had passed over Ashton back at the war council. If he was being honest, Otto hadn’t imagined that Ashton possessed such deductive powers. He would have to improve his evaluation of the boy yet again.
“The thing I don’t follow is this,” Paul said. “Are the imperials really so upset because we took Fort Caspar? I can’t work out what their commanders are thinking.”
The Seventh Legion had succeeded in retaking Fort Caspar and ousting the imperial army from southern Fernest. In the end, however, their triumph had won them no more than that. Kier Fortress remained under imperial control, which meant the empire still held Fernest in its grasp. In other words, little had changed in the overall shape of the war. That left the question—why was the northern army so fixated on the Seventh Legion? Paul couldn’t think of anything.
“It’s hard to imagine that the loss of Fort Caspar was so serious a blow to the imperial army,” said Otto, thinking along the same lines. “The only other possibility...” He paused, his sharp gaze drifting for a moment. “...is a personal grudge, don’t you think, ser? If we killed someone dear to their commander, for example.”
“A personal grudge...” Paul echoed, trying to think through this unexpected theory. “A personal grudge...” Privately, he struggled to accept it. This was the commander of the northern army—would a person in such a position really use their army to settle personal grievances? From the way Otto kept rubbing his chin, Paul had the impression that he himself was skeptical of the idea. Paul crushed the remains of his cigarette in the ashtray, and pulled another from his breast pocket.
“Oh, well. Thinking in circles won’t bring us any closer to an answer. Right now, all we can say for certain is that the northern army has its sights set on the Seventh Legion,” he said. The fact that the Crimson Knights, known for their overwhelming strength, had only sent a regiment-sized force meant that this had been reconnaissance-in-force rather than a serious attack. It made sense that the real attack could follow at any time. With that in mind, Paul thought it prudent to decide their strategy going forward.
“As you say, my lord,” said Otto. “I’ll see to it that we are ready to meet them when the time comes.”
“Thank you, Otto,” said Paul. “Now, Major Olivia.”
“Yes, ser!”
“You will continue to be central to our strategy. And I remember what you said earlier—-don’t let me down.”
“Yes, ser! You can count on me, ser!” said Olivia, with a smart salute. Her eyes burned with a determination Paul wasn’t used to, and it made him inexplicably uneasy.
What’s gotten into her today? She’s all fired up for some reason... he thought. She hasn’t even asked me for cake. He looked at Otto, and saw the other man regarding Olivia with a searching expression. Otto clearly found it strange as well. Paul decided that if her fighting spirit was running high, that could only be a good thing, even if he didn’t understand why.
“That’s all,” he said. “You’re dismissed, Major.”
“Yes, ser! Thank you, ser!” Olivia left as instructed, muttering incomprehensibly as she exited the room. Paul strained to hear, and just made out something about a “Mr. Fish Face” and a library. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
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