Fourth Vector Ch. 29

Most importantly though, Apulia was the largest country that could act as a buffer area between Swabia and Galicia, and that's why Eric initially took it off the table. He wasn't as stupid as many of his lords supposed. He knew the Swabians had an appetite for territory that might someday turn on Galicia herself. That's why Eric wanted the Apulians there as a buffer.

But even now, he was willing to risk such a plan just for the chance to get his hands on Easterbrook.

"Apulia is a tempting proposition," said Avila after he thought it over for a few moments. "One that would change a few strategic plans if it were truly on the table."

"Indeed, I know how much you've had your eye on Apulia," said Eric.

"And it's worth making the offer just for Easterbrook?" asked Avila. "What am I missing? Why is this man worth an entire country?"

"Because his death at my hands would be one of life's greatest pleasures," said Eric quite honestly. "I'm more than willing to make a deal to get what I want. The question is—are you?"

Avila thought that over for a moment. "If you can honestly offer me Apulia, then I will consider releasing him to your custody. Will you run into any problems with your own countrymen? Is it something you're sure you can offer me?"

Eric nodded. "I've gone a long way in crushing dissent in my more thickheaded lords. Those that are left are loyal and won't say a word. If they do, I'll have them arrested, stripped of their titles, and then executed."

"So say I let you have him," said Avila. "On one condition though. He still takes part in my coronation ceremony this week as a defeated enemy. He'll be paraded through Dagobern as the condemned man he is. I will not bend on that part."

"Nor would I ask you to bend on that," said Eric. "He can take part in the coronation and then he can leave with us for the journey back to Galicia. That would be fine."

Avila reached up to rub his chin again. "Easterbrook for Apulia. That is very tempting. My forces can strike out in almost every direction. A year from now, Swabia will be the largest empire that the West has ever seen. And you and I will be the masters of all."

Eric managed a smile. "It's all there for the taking. You just need to reach out your hand and grab it for yourself. If you agree to my terms."

Eric thought he had him at that point. It was clear that Avila was leaning in his direction. Eric had no doubt that the emperor was already envisioning himself walking through the conquered streets of Marmora as a victor.

That's why Eric was confused by what the emperor did next.

"I'd like to take the night to think on this," said Avila after a moment of silence. "Your proposition is certainly interesting but I want to look at this from every angle. You'll allow me that time, won't you?"

Eric pursed his lips. "Certainly," he said in a disappointed tone. "When will you have an answer for me?"

"I will have one for you in the morning," replied Avila. "And should I agree to release him, we can work on a time frame to do so."

An answer in the morning isn't too long to wait, thought Eric.After all, it could have been much worse. He could have said no right from the start.

The regent raised his wine glass in a mock toast. "To tomorrow then. And the remade world that we shall create together."

Avila grinned and raised his glass.

Tomorrow, I will get my answer, thought Eric as he took another long drink of wine.

*****

Long after dinner, Avila convened a late night meeting with those around him that he trusted the most. In order to fully consider the Galician proposition, he wanted the opinions of those that helped him win the throne.

Present in his war room were the lords Godric of Selz and Clovis of Lindau, the two men whose support proved to be crucial in his move against Aurelius. Godric was standing, his body hunched over the central map of the Swabia. Clovis, the softer of the two, was seated with his legs crossed while awaiting the start of the meeting.

The only other participant in the room was General Ferberg. He tinkered with a trinket in his hand while waiting somewhat impatiently.

"Thank you all for coming on short notice," said Avila as he walked into the room. He received the customary greetings from each other three men until they resumed their previous spots.

"Have you received interesting news from the Galicians, sire?" asked Godric with a curious look.

Avila nodded. "Very interesting news. I've been offered a tempting trade, and I'm inclined to accept it. Here's the situation."

Avila spent the next five minutes detailing how they would exchange Jack Easterbrook for permission to attack Apulia without any Galician dissent. He talked about the likely fate of Easterbrook in Galicia as well as what the addition of Apulia to the empire would mean for all of them.

"I don't have to tell you how tempting Apulia would be," said Avila with a noticeable glint in his eyes. "Swabia would dominate all the trade routes in the West. Our coffers would be permanently stuffed with gold. We would be able to finance any operation that we wish by having the Apulian jewel as part of our empire. All we have to do is release Easterbrook to their custody, where a certain death awaits him anyway. Very tempting indeed."

Ferberg was the first to speak up. "If that's the trade they've proposed, then what are we waiting for? They want one man who's as good as dead anyway and in exchange, we get Apulia? What is there to debate? We can have him put on the Galician ship at first light and then begin the planning of the Apulian operation."

Godric nodded his head firmly, making his gray hair bounce in the process. "I have to agree with Ferberg. We all know what a tempting target the Apulians make. They're not only weak but wealthy. It's the equivalent of a crippled lord walking the streets at night. Why shouldn't he be attacked and have his wealth taken?"

"Apulia would accelerate my timetable quite nicely," said Avila. "With the Picardy operation all but wrapped up, there won't be any more sources of significant resistance. Carinthia will crumble once Picardy falls. Andalucia and Sorella are tiny countries, not capable of armed resistance for too long. With Galician authorization to take Apulia, the Swabian flag will rule over half the landmass of the West. The only parts remaining will be divided up between the Galicians on one side and the smaller countries of the north, starting with the Samarans. They'll be easy to gobble up."

"It makes me uneasy though," said Clovis of Lindau, the lord of the only island that had once been a Galician province. "I've had experience dealing with these people. Galicians are crafty, and they almost always have something up their sleeve. This deal seems too slanted in our direction. What makes one man's life worth all of Apulia?"

"That is one thing I'm having trouble with as well," admitted Avila. "This Easterbrook figure is a troublemaker, no doubt about it. He's caused considerable setbacks for my plans. But why is he worth a country?"

"Did the regent give you any explanation for that?" asked Godric.

"None that I couldn't figure out on my own," said Avila with a shake of the head. "It's obvious that Easterbrook is Galician himself. Rosdahl claims he wants to punish his own countryman, which I can understand. But it still leaves me feeling unsatisfied. I believe we're missing something."

"One man's life can't be worth Apulia," repeated Clovis. "He must be more important than we realize."

"That's beyond obvious, Clovis. I believe he might be used as a lure to bring in Rosdahl's deposed cousin," said Avila firmly. "We know how long he's been searching for her. As long as she lives, she's a threat to his rule. If he can use Easterbrook as bait to finally capture her, it could be worth letting Apulia go."

That potential reason had only just occurred to Avila right before he called the council. It seemed to have the most weight behind it and would be a better explanation than Rosdahl wanting to be the executioner for another Galician.

Clovis bowed his head, seeming to accept that as a possible excuse. It was obvious that a blatant disagreement with Avila was not in his best interest.

"If I might speak up, why does it matter who this man is or what he's worth?" asked Ferberg. "He's going to die anyway. Does it matter not if he dies in Swabia or Galicia? One way gets us nothing. Another way gets us all of Apulia, something that's been off the table for us since the partnership with Eric Rosdahl began. Dead is dead, I say. Let's get something out of it."

"Even though I don't trust the Galicians, Ferberg has a point," said Clovis. "If this man is going to die one way or another, what difference does it make to us?"

"My worry is not so much about Easterbrook dying but what kind of prize might we be giving up," said Avila. "What are we missing?"

"If that's the case, then let's add some weight to the balance scales," said Godric as he put his finger on the map of the West. It landed on the country of Samara, the northern neighbor of Apulia.

"Tell Rosdahl to throw Samara into the mix as well, sire," explained Godric. "Not only does it sit on the other side of the Slot from Apulia, it receives a good bit of trade from its location next to them. If the Galicians want Easterbrook so bad, then they should be prepared to give up Samara as well."

"That would prove my point though," said Avila. "If they give in and give up Samara too, then it's no greater proof that there is more than meets the eye to Easterbrook. In essence, it'll be admission that he's worth two countries and not just one. It would make me even more suspicious about the man."

Ferberg shrugged. "It will matter not to us in the long run. Dead is dead, remember? My feeling on the matter is that, yes, he's probably worth more than what we're seeing. Maybe Rosdahl knows something we don't. That doesn't matter. Give him what he wants, and let's get another country in the mix. The Samarans won't be able to stand on their own without any allies."

Godric nodded to that. "He's right about that. The Samarans would crumble easily. But more to Ferberg's point, we seem to have the trump card right now and that's Easterbrook. Just how badly does Rosdahl want him? If he'll agree to Apuliaand Samara, then we get what we want. Control over most of the West and Easterbrook is dead. Not to mention, Rosdahl is satisfied and will stay out of her way. I don't see how we don't agree to this."

Avila thought it over for a few minutes before he responded. "I will request to put Samara on the table as well and ensure that he agrees to it. If we're right about this, he'll agree to hand over those two countries for Easterbrook and Swabia will become all the more powerful."

"And if he agrees, my men will be ready to march as soon as you give the word," promised Ferberg.

Avila nodded. "This will be a pivotal moment when it's finalized. Not only do I love the chance to get one over on the Galicians, but now we can truly accelerate my plans and eliminate the rest of our opposition. Swabian greatness will know no bounds!"

*****

"Fuck you, you Javan shit-stain!"

"Get this Tyrolean rebel out of my fucking sight!"

"I'll show you who's a fucking rebel!"

Dustin arrived only in the nick of time. Alongside two other officers and three other enlisted men, he'd managed to separate the two marines who'd been on the ground exchanging blows between each other.

"Cut this the fuck out right now!" demanded Dustin, his voice and rank loud enough to make all the other men freeze. "I will not tolerate any more fighting in my ranks! Both of you are on latrine duty for the next two weeks! Now get the fuck out of here! If I see any more fighting between Javans and Tyroleans, I'm going to pistol-whip the next offenders myself!"

That seemed to do the trick, although both of the men who'd just been fighting still managed to cast dirty looks at one another before separating. As quickly as the whole spectacle had started, it was over just as fast.

Dustin sighed once all the men had walked away and kicked one of the men's helmets that was resting just a little too close to his foot.

It was the third skirmish this week that he'd busted up between his men. Each time was the same story. The Tyrolean contingent of the marines would get into it with the Javans, almost always escalating to a physical fight. The tension between the two groups was strong. Ever since news of the rebellion arrived, the Tyroleans had taken on a suspicious view of their Javan counterparts but lately it was starting to reach a boiling point.

It was now affecting unit cohesion. He could tolerate good-natured ribbing or even the occasional fight or two but this kind of action threatened their position on Picardy. It could be fairly said that the presence of the marines was the only reason the Swabians hadn't taken the whole island. If they lose their cohesion, it would put their stake in Picardy, as well as their lives, at serious risk.

It had also started to become a bone of contention between him and Greg, a factor that he hadn't expected either. When he went to report the fight to his senior officer, Greg had nearly bit his head off with the need to get their house in order.

"We can't let this continue whatsoever," said Greg firmly. "The Tyroleans need to be brought back under control. I realize that tension between the two groups is thick but we're fighting a war in Picardy, not Java. If we don't work together, we could all die a thousand miles away from home!"

"In most cases, it's the Javans that are taunting the Tyroleans," said Dustin. "This isn't about the Tyrolean marines just acting up. They have a right to be pissed about their situation."

"Then get to the bottom of the issue and fix it," said Greg. "I don't care what you need to do but this needs to end right away."

That conversation had ended with almost as much tension as the actual fight.

Personally, Dustin was conflicted and he could tell that Greg sensed it as well. While he was overcome with his love for the marines and fighting this war that had brought so much purpose to their lives, he was also still Tyrolean. He could understand the pleas of both sides, and he'd never felt more split in his loyalty, especially when the news came in about his own hometown, Amboy, being in the middle of the fighting.

As split as he was, he knew he had an oath to obey first and foremost, the one where he swore allegiance to the Javan Empire and to his comrades to always loyally serve them. It was the oath that meant the most to him, even if he still had doubts about the power he was fighting for.

Since that oath meant everything to him, and since there'd been some thick tension between himself and Greg, he woke up that next morning determined to talk to his senior officer.

Dustin was up before the sun as usual, and he put his uniform on with only the dim light of his quarters to guide his hand. He probably could have done it in total darkness, and quite often, he'd had no other choice.

At least it was good to be back in their old barracks once more. Ever since the last battle with the Swabians, the enemy had been thrown out of the city and back to their original lines just outside the capital from the fall. It allowed the allies to reoccupy their former positions, and in many cases, see the mess that had been left behind by the retreating Swabians.

While most of the city was nothing but rubble, there were some opportunities to rebuild. In the marines' case, it allowed them the reuse of their old barracks, as well as the old airfield just on the outskirts of the city. That in itself was a massive upgrade from the shanty airfield that had been developed from the dirt and muck next to the harbor. This one had the proper facilities for airplane storage, as well as having a maintained strip that was easier for landing.

That was Dustin's ultimate destination that morning, but before he could leave the barracks, he stopped by Greg's office.

Despite the early hour, he knew Greg would be out of bed and working already. That's why he wasn't surprised to see the man already hunched over his desk and using a simple desk light to work from.

"Now what are you doing in my office this early?" asked Greg, showing just a hint of a smile as he looked up from the order he was writing. It wasn't hard to tell that despite the smile, Greg was more stressed than usual.

"I have to get over to the airfield this morning for another reconnaissance flight," said Dustin as he sat down. "Someone's got to keep an eye on those Swabian bastards and see what they're up to."

Greg looked at his watch. "You usually don't take off this early. Are you going to practice taking off in the dark or something?"

Dustin shook his head. "Not exactly. Actually, I was hoping to talk to you before I went over."

Greg put his pen down and leaned back in his chair. "What did you want to talk about? If you're looking for action, I can't exactly make the Swabians attack. You're just going to have to wait until they're ready."

Dustin chuckled and sat down in front of Greg's desk. "In all honesty, I wanted to talk about the situation at home a little," continued Dustin as his tone turned more serious. "About Tyrol. About the Tyrolean marines."

"About Tyrol," repeated Greg while clearing his throat. "Okay, I'm all ears. Talk to me about it."

Dustin struggled to choose his next words, knowing how crucial it was to say the right thing.

"I know we're struggling to keep the lid on this dissension that's building up between the Tyroleans and the Javans in the force," said Dustin, choosing not to sugarcoat his words. "Many of them are grumbling. A few of them are pissed to keep fighting for a power that puts down their own people. Fights are breaking out more frequently and you can't walk around the enlisted men anymore without feeling their tension."

Greg nodded but said nothing in response.

"Truthfully, it makes me a little conflicted," admitted Dustin. "I know we talked before when we got the first news of the rebellion but now that it's in open warfare, I feel that it's getting harder to keep the Tyroleans in our command motivated to fight."

"Is that what you're here to tell me?" asked Greg. "That you can't maintain their will to fight for us?"

Dustin took a deep breath and then shook his head. "No, they'll fight. I'll make sure of that. But the reason I'm here is to let you know that you have my loyalty. I firmly believe that the Tyroleans here will follow my lead. If I continue to fight, so will they. If I sit it out in protest, I think you'll see more trouble here. I'm loyal to you and Jack though. I don't think the Tyroleans are wrong in their feelings but this isn't the battle we need to fight right now. Picardy is that battle. No matter my feelings toward Java, I'll always be loyal to you."

"I appreciate that," said Greg with a half-smile. "But what are your feelings toward Java?"

"I don't think that should be repeated here," said Dustin with a chuckle. "But you can probably imagine. But I do think that what we're doing here is bigger than Java. That makes this decision easier to make. I'll keep a lid on the Tyrolean dissension here. I'll talk to the men—both Tyrolean and Javan. Both sides need to remember what we're actually fighting for out here but they will know it by the time I'm done with them. You have my word on that."

Greg let out a sigh of relief. "I'll be honest with you, that takes a big load off my shoulders. I want to apologize for our conversation the other day as well. You can say that I've been a little more stressed about it than usual. The situation hasn't given me a warm feeling about it, and my worst fear is this force falling apart due to infighting."