Fourth Vector Ch. 29

Avila nodded. "In no way did I expect you to capture him. I thought I'd given you a dead man's errand." Avila started to laugh and put his hand around the back of Adalbert's neck. "I fully expected to kill you the next time I saw you!"

The color drained from Adalbert's face and his neutral look became one of fear.

"But you surprised me," continued Avila before he put a soft pat on the man's shoulders. "And for that, I believe you should be rewarded."

Adalbert still looked suspicious. "What kind of reward? I thought I had one already."

"No, no, no," said Avila with a laugh. "Wine and whores are a temporary reward. You should have a greater one for the task you've done for me. You've stopped the only man who could potentially bugger my plans. For that, I'm envisioning something much bigger."

"Like what?"

Avila became serious. "For one, you know that I can't be both Lord of Cormfeld and Swabian emperor at the same time, correct? I can only be one or the other which means my lordship is currently open. Now, I've thought long and hard about what to do with my open seat. Should I give it to one of my loyal deputies like Otto for a job well done? What about one of my friends? Who should I give this most important posting to?"

Avila made a mocking show of thinking through the question before he had a miraculous idea. "But then it came to me. I should give my old seat to someone who's truly earned it—my dear cousin Adalbert."

Adalbert's eyes went wide and he swallowed heavily. "Cormfeld to me? You mean that truly?"

"I do, Adalbert, and here's why. I want someone I can trust on the seat of the largest lordship in Swabia. Someone that I know will always do my bidding. And what better person than family?" Avila pulled him close. "After all, you've shown to me that you've inherited some portion of our prestigious bloodline. I know you can do something when you put your mind to it. So why don't you show me what you can do as the new lord of Cormfeld?"

Adalbert looked like he was about to shit himself. "My dear cousin, I am honored beyond belief."

Avila patted his shoulder. "I know you are, dear cousin. But there remains one more task for you. One of utmost importance. No doubt you've noticed that the only war assignment that wasn't given to another lord was that of Picardy?"

Adalbert nodded. "That one went to General Ferberg."

"No, that one will be going to you," corrected Avila. "General Ferberg will be there to ensure you don't screw it up."

Adalbert gulped again. "You want me to go back to Picardy? Again? After what happened last time?"

"Yes, I do, Adalbert," said Avila firmly. "You've made up for your past mistakes, have you not? And with Ferberg's leadership to keep you in line, I have no doubt that you'll have victory there."

"It's just a lot to take in," said Adalbert. "I assumed I would just be heading directly to Cormfeld to stay there as the new lord."

Avila chuckled. "What fun is that, dear cousin? We're Swabians after all. If we're not fighting, we're not living. You will go back to Picardy and finish the job you've started."

"What about Magda Bulow?" asked Adalbert. "What shall be her fate? Are we to relieve her?"

Avila made a clicking sound with his mouth. "Magda has disappointed me. I'm afraid the so-called Butcher of Blenheim hasn't lived up to her lore. I expected her to complete the job of conquering the country in due time however she's been stuck outside of Daban for months. Recently, her forces have been pushed back yet again, and I've become convinced that she's lost her nerve. She will be subordinate to yourself and General Ferberg. Do with her as you wish but she will no longer be in charge of the Picardy operation upon your arrival."

Avila watched as the nervousness in Adalbert's eyes disappeared completely. His lips twitched into a cruel smile, made all the more menacing by his thin mustache. "I'm sure I can find several uses for Magda."

"I have no doubt about that," said Avila. "I want you to make me proud, dear cousin. I want you to put your failures firmly in the past and take up the mantle of greatness that is the lordship of Cormfeld. If used correctly, it can be the springboard to greater power and prestige. I want you to show me that you're the man for the job. That you have enough of my blood in you to be the lord that Cormfeld needs."

"I will do all that I can, dear cousin," promised Adalbert.

Avila reached around and patted the man's cheek. "You had better. Now go on. Catch up to Ferberg and let him know the news. You will depart tomorrow for Cormfeld and help him organize his forces. You will then complete the subjugation of Picardy and after that, Carinthia. I can tolerate no more mistakes on Picardy, so I want whatever tactical plan that you and Ferberg come up with to be a good one. I want this war over quickly. Are we clear, Adalbert?"

"Perfectly clear," replied the younger man.

*****

As always, it was incredibly hot in the Ruthenian capital city of Merv. Summertime was the worst. There were many who said that the city was spit out from the desert surrounding the nearby landscape, and that seemed to be an apt metaphor on a day like today.

No matter how early the Ruthenian foreign minister, Alexander Krupin, got to work, he could never quite beat the stifling heat. It wasn't that he was complaining. Most Ruthenians learned to deal with the climate from a young age, rarely mentioning it unless the weather took a turn for the extreme. But right now, it was certainly extreme for early summer. It was hotter than any time in recent memory, and Krupin was already sweating from the moment he left his house.

While a good portion of that could be blamed on the heat, there was another factor as well that led to his nervous disposition. The Ruthenian emperor had called a meeting with Krupin this morning which could only be interpreted as likely bad news.

For one, Emperor Pavel usually preferred to do his business late at night, reserving the daylight hours for things that didn't interest him or for matters that needed to be dealt with swiftly. Krupin highly suspected this meeting would be more like the latter instead of the former.

After all, things hadn't been going well for the Ruthenian war effort. Their navy, which had seen such success in the beginning of the war, was now starting to take losses. Many of those losses were unreplaceable for several years due to the nature of those warships. What was worse was that the Javans seemed to be honing in on Ruthenia. A large Javan fleet was operating offshore and attacking anything in proximity to it, hardly allowing anything to leave home waters.

That would have been a lot more of a problem if the Ruthenian army hadn't set sail a week ago to reinforce the Occitanians. The army was being sent to Occitania to stiffen their fighting ability and keep the Javans pinned down in the north. As long as the Occitanians and their mighty navy were kept in the game, the war could be won.

Although at this point, even Krupin had to admit that much of the strategic balance of the war was starting to favor the Javans. They'd managed to land their army on Occitanian soil and were at this very moment getting ever closer to the second city of Occitania, Chambery, which was the main headquarters of their fleet. If Chambery fell, the Occitanian navy would be in a bad shape, but it would also mean that there was nothing between the marauding Javans and the Occitanian capital city of Montauban.

The entire situation was tenuous but that was often the case during war. Krupin believed he would have to defend his position for bringing Ruthenia into the war and for convincing the emperor that the conflict could still be won.

To that, he was going to dedicate all of his oratory prowess to keep the emperor from seeking a secondary solution to the issue. He needed all the luck he could get.

Krupin arrived at the palace about ten minutes before he was supposed to meet with Pavel. He was quickly shown into the emperor's personal quarters, finding the man already eating his morning meal. Based upon his narrow and dark eyes, Krupin suspected that Pavel had once again been up the entire night.

"Are you hungry, Krupin?" asked the emperor once he'd walked into the room. Pavel waved a thick breakfast sausage around with his fork.

"I ate before I came over, Your Majesty," said Krupin while bowing his head. "Please excuse me."

Pavel shrugged and gestured for Krupin to sit down beside him. The emperor didn't speak for another five minutes until he finished his meal, which did nothing for Krupin's nerves. The situation was already tense enough without Pavel leading him on by saying nothing.

"I'm disappointed with you, Krupin," said the emperor finally once he wiped his mouth. "I'm told we are losing a steady amount of ships to the Javans."

"Small losses, Your Majesty," said Krupin. "And bound to happen. You can't win a war without a few casualties."

"A few casualties were expected," interrupted Pavel. "But this last engagement saw the destruction of three cruisers and a battleship. Those are serious losses, not easily replaced. You know that we're already facing material shortages across the entire country. I can't even begin to think about new ship replacement at this time so we need to stop losing ships, Krupin."

"Understood, Your Majesty," said Krupin. "But I do firmly believe things are about to turn in this war. Our army will be unloading in Occitania shortly and once we combine forces, we'll be more than a match for the Javans."

Pavel gave him a serious look. "It better. This war seems to be more precarious than you initially led me to believe. I don't like surprises, Krupin, and so far, I'm not seeing many advantages for our side."

"The advantages at the beginning of the conflict are the same that we have today," argued Krupin. "Yes, we've seen some losses but I believe the tide will turn. The Javans' situation is more dire than it appears. They won't be able to sustain a two-front war for very long. All we need is one strategic defeat on land and sea, and I believe the Javans will sue for peace."

"And if we don't get those victories, then what?" asked Pavel. "You will have another Javan invasion on your hand once the Occitanians are finished with. And this time, you'll only have half the army to withstand that storm."

Krupin swallowed heavily. "If it truly comes to that, then the goal will be to hold their armies in Occitania for as long as possible while we rebuild our forces. Like I've said previously, our main strategy needs to be winning in Occitania. We can win this war without it coming to Ruthenian soil."

"If the war comes to Ruthenian soil, then we've already lost," said Pavel while waving his hand. "That cannot come to pass but you've also admitted another point that I'd like to expand on—keeping the war outside our borders. Not just in Occitania but in Java as well."

Krupin nodded. "You're referring to Tyrol, correct?"

"Of course. Tell me about the operation there. How has that gold been spent? I haven't gotten an update on Tyrol in some time. Are the Javans being tied down? Are we getting a return on our investment?"

"Absolutely, sire. My men in Tyrol tell me that our gold has been dispersed well to the local rebel leaders and the conflict there is escalating. What used to be local revolts and largely a guerrilla conflict is now coalescing into a larger war. My sources tell me the Javan forces there are getting mauled, requiring ever larger formations to maintain their hold on the battered mountain country. At this point, they haven't been able to respond to the Tyrolean attacks, which is excellent for our position."

"Good, now that is promising news," said Pavel. "But it's not enough. We need to keep funneling money to them."

Krupin blinked. "Sire, I've spent all the coin that you've given to me. It's still giving us a return at the current moment but for further results, I'd need more gold."

"And you shall have it," said Pavel. "As much as you need. I don't care how far into debt this conflict takes us. If we don't defeat the Javans now, we never will. I will spend us into the poorhouse in order to kill off as many of those arrogant bastards as I can."

"How soon can I get my hands on more gold then?" asked Krupin. "Every little bit will help."

"Immediately," answered the emperor. "We'll repeat the same process as last time. Tell these men of yours in Tyrol to unleash hell. We need to keep as many Javan forces pinned down as we can. Otherwise, I fear we will run out of time."

"Understood, sire. I will get to it right away," said Krupin as he moved to stand. He was brought to a halt when the emperor raised his hand.

"Wait a moment, Krupin," said Pavel while giving his minister a firm glare. "I've not been impressed with your handling of this war so far. You have a small window to turn the tide of this war. I will make sure you have all the resources you need but you need to start delivering results. We need no more defeats. From here on out, it's only victories. Am I understood?"

"Perfectly," answered Krupin. "My plan will bear fruit soon. I can promise you that."

"I'm glad that we understand each other," said Pavel. "Make the Javans pay."

"They will, sire. They will."

*****

"Good morning, Captain Smart. What brings you back to base today?" asked the marine lieutenant at the guard shack that managed the main entrance to the base.

Roland Smart put his identification tag back in his pocket. "Official business with the colonel. Is he still in the central building?"

The lieutenant nodded his head. "He sure is. Go on through and good luck in the meeting."

Roland nodded and stepped through the barrier, already knowing why the lieutenant wished him good luck. Anyone brought back from the field for a personal meeting with the colonel of the entire regiment would usually need it. This was not going to be a social call.

Truthfully, Roland wasn't surprised to receive the summons. After all, his company was in bad shape after the recent actions in Tyrol. One platoon had been a total loss—the one that had been stationed in Amboy—while the other two had been mauled severely. Out of a starting count of nearly a hundred fighting men, he was now down to just over forty effectives.

No doubt it was going to call into question his job performance with such losses in a short amount of time. Especially when it came to Colonel Peterson, who was notorious for being an officer that operated by the book. His reputation marked him as one that most others should avoid whenever necessary.

If there was anything saving him, it was that he wasn't the only officer to suffer such grievous losses. The revolt in Tyrol seemed to be growing more severe by the day. Some of Roland's fellow officers were in an even worse position, which was hard to believe.

All of it seemed to point to another escalation of the growing conflict. Roland didn't doubt that this pacification campaign was failing, and only cold hard force would stop the Tyroleans. That force would have to be as brutal as possible in order to stop the generational wars that kept affecting the region. What he longed to do was be part of a physical army that laid waste to the land of Tyrol that killed off all the men and sold off all the women and children as slaves. Only then could there be peace in the beleaguered country.

For now though, Roland was more concerned with keeping his command and not suffering the wrath of the colonel. He still had some time before his meeting with the officer so he took off toward the officer barracks on the south side of the base. This particular base was sized to handle the entire regiment but with three of the five battalions in the regiment currently in the field, it meant that it wasn't hard to find who he was looking for.

He found the skinny captain after only a brief search. Captain Mark Eaton was the same age as Roland, and the two men had struck up a friendship after being assigned to the regiment a few years ago. While Roland had been assigned to the 2nd Battalion, Eaton was assigned to the 3rd. Besides the 5th Battalion, the 3rd was the only other one not deployed deeper inside Tyrol at the present time.

"Well, well, well, I was wondering when I would be seeing your face again," greeted Mark as Roland stopped beside the door. "Or should I say if."

Roland came inside and shook the other man's hand. "How is it here, Mark? Staying out of trouble?"

"As much trouble as I can while being locked inside base still," said Mark with a disgusted look. "The news from the major is that our battalion might get some action soon. I'd say bring it on. It's better than sitting around here with our thumbs up our asses."

"You might want to think twice about going out there," warned Roland. "The Tyroleans are savages. My company is mauled to hell and back, and I've overheard quite a few officers that are trying to get transfers out of Tyrol."

"Transferred out of Tyrol," repeated Mark with a snort. "Those bastards should do well to remember that they're marines. We're not supposed to have good assignments. They send us in when the army can't even handle their shit."

"Apparently many of them think they'll be better off in Occitania," said Roland. "I've heard a marine regiment has crossed over to operate with the army."

"Good luck to them and I hope they brought their cool weather clothing. They'll need it up there."

Roland raised an eyebrow. "In summertime?"

Mark waved his hand. "You know what I mean. I'd rather be down here fighting in good weather than freezing my ass off in the north."

Roland shrugged. "Dead is dead no matter if you're warm or cold. One way or another, you'll eventually be stiff."

"So why let the weather aid that process at all?" asked Mark as he smacked the back of his hand against Roland's stomach. "Anyway, how is it really out there? With all the action you must be seeing, I'm sure you've been able to fuck up those backward mountain shits."

"We do when they stand and fight," said Roland. "But they don't do that too often. They prefer to ambush or attack you at night. They use the terrain to their advantage so a good portion of the time they're gone before you even knew they were there. Devils, I tell you."

Mark scoffed. "They won't be able to do that forever. The word I'm hearing is that more regiments are coming south. As soon as they're here, we'll be moving out in force. Then woe to the Tyroleans. They'll never be able to withstand that much firepower."

"I hope we get to it sooner rather than later," said Roland. "I might not have much of a company by the time they decide to get moving."

"Speaking of which, why are you here? Is your battalion coming in from the field?"

"No, the colonel wanted to see me."

Mark's eyes went wide. "Who did you piss off?"

"No one from what I can tell, but I think that's not the factor here. I think he's going to have something to say about the losses my unit has taken."

"You think you're getting axed?" asked Mark.

Roland winced. Getting axed was officer-speak for getting demoted or removed from command. Either option was viable in this situation.

"I don't know," admitted Roland. "I'd rather go back with more units and demolish everything in Tyrol that I can get my hands on. Burn the whole country to the ground."

"Now that sounds like some fun," said Mark. "Don't forget about the women though. Those backcountry broads are good fucks. Wild in the sack and you're liable to wake up in the morning with some pain, but its good sex nonetheless."

Roland elbowed the other man in the ribs. "That's assuming she came to your bed willingly. Knowing you, that's not always as likely."

"What can I say?" asked Mark with a lecherous smile. "I like when they struggle a bit."