Fourth Vector Ch. 30

With that, Aedan stepped out of the room, leaving the three of them alone. Even with his departure, the tension was still thick in the room. Greg felt like every eye was still on him, and the anger got to him. He grabbed his helmet and tossed it across the room.

"Do we really have no other options?" asked Kat once the helmet stopped spinning on the floor. "I'm going to run interference with Aedan as much as possible but you know as well as I do that this can't stand for very long."

"Why don't we just apprehend the man?" asked Abigail, earning a shocked stare from Greg. "I'm serious! Let's lock up him and Buttface for good measure and take over their forces. That would solve our problem quite quickly."

"And in the process, we would all be called traitors and condemned to death," added Greg sourly. "We would never see Java again. While that may be fine for Jack with his royal heritage and for the both of you, I still have to go home someday. And I'd rather like to not get arrested and executed the minute I do!"

Both Abigail and Kat looked back at him sheepishly. In that moment, he regretted unloading on them. He knew their motivations, and right now, they differed slightly from his.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. "There was a better way to say that. I just couldn't find it."

"It's okay," said Abigail. "I understand what you're trying to say. And you're right. You're not the only one with family on Java. There's mine and even Jack's sister. Plus the families of all of our men. It's not an easy decision."

"No," agreed Greg. "But it's one that we have to figure out. We can't think about leaving Picardy right now on a rescue mission and leave them here with the viceroy. It's a destabilizing force that no one on Picardy needs right now."

Both women looked distraught about a postponement of the rescue mission.

"It might only be temporary," added Greg quickly. "But we need to figure out the viceroy situation first."

Kat pursed her lips. "Fine, but let's figure something out quickly."

Greg turned to look at Abigail. "Are you sure that the rest of the fleet would sail with theDestiny if you gave the command? Barnabas has absolutely no respect for you."

Abigail nodded slowly. "I believe they would. Many have communicated that same notion to me in private. I realize that words in private are different from public actions, but I think most of the task force is behind Jack."

"That helps things somewhat," said Greg. "If Barnabas can only control theCenturion, that takes some of the threat away. Although, the regiment of marines he has is formidable."

"It still seems our best option is running interference between the viceroy and Aedan for the time being," said Kat before thinking it over for a moment longer. "I don't suppose there's any chance they'll allow that new regiment to fight with the rest of the marines?"

Greg shook his head. "I'll ask but I can already hear the answer. Which is a shame. Veterans like the 6th Regiment would go a long way."

"In the meantime, let's work with the forces under our control," said Abigail. "That means the ships that would follow my leadership and the marines that would follow Greg's. If we have to divide this along lines, I want to know who would follow us. If the interference plan doesn't work, then we'll have the means to use plan B."

"What's plan B?" asked Kat.

Abigail shook her head. "We seize Buttface and Ferris and take theCenturion and the marines for ourselves. God help us if it comes to that."

*****

The Apulian invasion was going even better than planned.

Even Godric of Selz was surprised by how easily the Apulian islands were being conquered. He expected more resistance as they took over the southernmost Apulian island, but after taking Monticello, the Apulians on the island weren't keen to continue fighting. Since all that remained was to occupy the rest of the island, Selz left a token force of two regiments to complete the task and redirected the rest of his force to a more northwesterly course in order to take the next island.

They landed on an unoccupied beach on the southeast corner of the island without any incident. From there, the next obvious target was to take the city of Pescia, which was the second largest city in all of Apulia.

Like the first island, this one was full of farmland and vineyards, soft rolling hills and fertile fields as far as the eye could see. Selz could already see the windfall this would be to their finances once Swabian merchants rushed in to take advantage of the new territory.

For now though, he had to concentrate on taking the city of Pescia. His forces marched for five days until they reached the opposite coast, finding the broad plain that Pescia occupied. It was there that Godric found the first elements of a true Apulian army, mustering to protect their city from occupation.

If only it was a more impressive sight. Based upon their defensive network outside the city, Godric estimated they had no more than a few thousand men with which to offer battle. It was hardly enough to mount a serious challenge to his force of eighteen thousand professionals, and he looked forward to demonstrating that when the Pescians sent out an envoy to negotiate the matter that morning.

The envoy was typically Apulian in appearance with dark, curly hair and olive skin. He was thin and short, and Godric estimated he was no more than thirty years of age. His inexperience gave away the tenuous nature of their position, and Godric looked forward to toying with the man before the real battle commenced.

"My lord, the Apulians wish to negotiate," announced one of Godric's servants as the Apulian presented himself. They were near the middle of the battle lines, and the Apulian had a small token guard made up of twenty men. Godric couldn't bear the thought of calling them soldiers. None of them had much of a uniform nor did they have any semblance of unity.

These were farmers, not soldiers.

"And what do the Apulians wish to offer us?" asked a haughty Godric as he gave a condescending grin to the Apulian envoy.

The envoy stepped forward. "My name is Luigi Cardona," said the envoy with a nervous voice. He pointed back to the city. "I'm the mayor of Pescia, and those rights allow me to negotiate on the city's behalf."

"Tell me, Cardona," said Godric. "What do you wish to offer me so I don't sack your city? I hope you have more wine than the gods in order to turn my men away from attacking your city."

Cardona's expression turned to anger. "Your occupation of our lands is illegal. Apulia is not at war with anyone let alone Swabia. Your men need to remove themselves from our island and go back to your country."

Godric started to laugh. "I'm usually not one for jokes but that is a good one. How about we settle this without the armies? We can face each other in one-on-one combat? That way only the strongest can lay claim to Pescia. That seems fair, does it not? It is the law of nature after all—only the strongest will survive."

"Might does not make right," argued Cardona as he crossed his arms. "We have done nothing to earn the ire of the Swabian Empire. We have lived peacefully within our own borders. Your army is not only on our land illegally but it is—"

Godric interrupted him. "I care not two shits about the law nor what is illegal or not. My army is here, you fool. And they are hungry. For land, for wealth, and for women. Now speak quickly and tell me what you have to offer me. If the scales are heavy enough, I might just find another city to attack. Speak quickly before I lose my patience with you."

Cardona let out a small sigh before he gestured to the men behind him to come forth. They brought with them a small chest that was quickly set on the ground by Godric's feet. Cardona nodded his head, a signal to one of his men to open the chest.

It was full of gold—enough of it to catch the attention of every man there. Godric estimated it was probably worth about two years' full output from all of Selz. It was enough to make anyone rich beyond their wildest dreams.

"What I have here is the entire possession of gold from the city," said Cardona quietly. "With this, we hope to dissuade your army from attacking us. Leave Apulia forever with the gold, and we will consider this war over."

"This is quite a handful of coin," said Godric with total seriousness. "Your lands are wealthier than I'd imagined."

"We are a simple people with a simple pursuit," said Cardona. "We wish to live in peace and pursue our trades. Your army has robbed us of that pursuit and our wealth today but I will play the pragmatist. Take the gold and go back to Swabia. Avoid the war."

Godric stared at the gold for several moments before he made up his mind. He gestured to one of his men to retrieve it, bringing it to his side and snapping the lid shut. Godric's face twisted into a cunning grin once it was safely in his possession.

Cardona actually looked relieved. "Your army will leave as quickly as they can. Do not toil on our land any longer than you have to."

Godric started to laugh again. "Unfortunately for you, Cardona, we won't be doing that. You see, I rather like it here in Apulia. The weather agrees with me, and you've just proven that your land is richer than I believed. We won't be leaving, and I look forward to sleeping in warm quarters in Pescia tonight."

Cardona's expression turned to rage. "You can't do that! You've gone back on our bargain!"

"Alas, so I have," said Godric with carefully manufactured woe. "Shame on you for trusting a Swabian."

With that, Godric gave the symbol. It was a subtle one—something the Apulians would never have recognized but it was enough for the soldiers in his party to recognize its meaning. At once, all of their rifles raised and took aim.

The Apulians were slaughtered where they stood. All of them except the envoy were killed outright, phony soldiers that were killed by professionals in cold blood. It happened so fast that the envoy could only cower against the ground while his people were killed. After only seconds, he was the only Apulian left alive.

"You miserable barbarians," he yelled, his face and clothing covered with blood from the man that had been standing next to him. "Traitors and backstabbers, the lot of you! We will destroy you!"

Godric chuckled. "You will try but we shall have another, more likely outcome. Shoot him."

The envoy didn't move while one of Godric's men walked up. He put his sidearm at Cardona's temple and pulled the trigger.

The mayor of Pescia died in the golden fields right outside the city.

Satisfied with the result, Godric signaled his men. "Prepare for battle. Send your men forward and take that city for me. Kill anyone who gets in your way."

*****

The battle unfolded like anyone could have predicted. The ragged band of Apulian defenders proved to be no match for the professional soldiers of Godric's army. That became most apparent when it came to their tactics. They had no lack of spirit but there were no true soldiers among them to temper their enthusiasm. They rushed straight at Godric's wall of steel and were mowed down in droves.

At times, small groups of them would figure out it was better to remain hidden behind a defensive structure than face the Swabians head-on. They were the smart ones but they died all the same when their positions were flanked and taken from behind. By the end of the day, all organized resistance around the city of Pescia declined.

Godric's men were masters of all they could see.

That evening, the Lord of Selz took a lovely mansion for himself that looked out over the sea. It would serve as his personal quarters as long they were on the island. He sent two regiments to complete the rest of the subjugation of the island, but seeing as how two of the three main islands of Apulia were now conquered, he didn't anticipate any lingering resistance.

With Pescia and Monticello now under control, it was time to take the main Apulian island. That island was dominated by two large cities. Marmora—the ancient capital—was situated near the middle of the island while Arezzo, the third largest city, was situated on the northwestern peninsula. Godric planned to land the majority of his army near the middle and make an immediate march for Marmora. He planned to leave behind a regiment each on the two conquered islands, keeping his current strength of eighteen thousand for the final island.

After all, he had reports that the Apulians were mustering any man that could hold a rifle to come defend their capital city. Despite the numbers involved, he had little respect for them. The Apulians had only reconstituted their army in the previous months, and like the force that failed to defend Pescia, it lacked experience and equipment.

Before Godric could lay down for bed that night, he was brought two young Apulian women. No older than twenty, both women were beautiful, and he had no doubt that they were selected to fit his particular tastes.

"Welcome to my home, ladies," said Godric with a leering smile. He reached into his pants and fished out his cock, waving it in their direction. "Why don't you show this old man some of the famous Apulian hospitality?"

They had no choice but to obey.

*****

Dark clouds covered the island of Sorella this morning.

Heron wasn't sure if it was the midsummer gale that was blowing in from the west or whether it was a potent omen of ill things to come. The clouds were angry and thick, almost as if to signal to the inhabitants of the country that trouble was on its way.

Heron watched from the palace in the city as rain began to fall—so heavy that it blocked out most of the visibility beyond a hundred feet. He thought nothing of the rain. Powerful storms like this one blew in all the time.

What was most troublesome was the quiet. The city was like a ghost town lately. Many of the foreign merchants who'd come back after the civil war had departed once again, leaving only Sorellans on the island. That was another bad omen, a signal that trouble was brewing on the horizon.

Of course, any trouble could usually be linked to the Swabians. The war on Picardy still raged back and forth, and just recently, he'd heard that a Swabian army had made landfall in Apulia. These were truly dark days, and Heron worried for the safety of his people against a power that could devastate them quite easily.

With tension brewing in the world, Heron called for the mobilization of the Sorellan army. It had assembled outside the city—the battered veterans of the civil war once again ready to give their all for their country. Heron knew their hearts were true and their skills were second to none. The only thing that gave him pause was their numbers.

They were simply too few to resist anything that the Swabians might throw at them.

For that reason, they trained. They trained until one Sorellan was worth two or three other men, using any advantage they could muster to give them the best possible chance of survival. All the while they trained, reports came in of a Swabian fleet mustering across the ocean, where the lordship of Cormfeld was located. Heron didn't need to be told where that fleet was going.

It was obvious to him now that they would come to Sorella. He just didn't know when.

"You're quiet this morning, my love."

Heron turned to look at Melora who was leaning against the doorframe. She looked as lovely as ever in her soft yellow dress that hugged her magnificent figure. It was a figure he'd grown accustomed to seeing without clothing, and one that still brought him the same level of teenaged excitement.

"Just watching the rain," said Heron as he looked back out to the city. "I can't decide what's more ominous. The threat across the sea or this rain."

She approached him from behind and put her arms around his waist. "How can rain be ominous? Rain is rain."

"Rain can be a powerful omen," said Heron. "The first kings of Sorella knew that the gods try to talk to us via the weather. It's their best way of communication."

"And what did they say about rain?"

"To beware of it," muttered Heron. "In the same way the lack of rain leads to danger and famine, too much of it can wash away crops or cities. And right now, I'd say this rain is a sign of what's ahead of us. A power strong enough to wash away Sorella."

"Sorella won't be so easily moved," she reassured him. "You've done wonders with the army in the last couple weeks. Anything that's out there will have to reckon with your men first. I don't envy them for that task."

Heron sighed and slipped his hand out the window. He felt the rain on the back of it and watched as the beads cascaded along the skin.

Something was different about this day. He could feel it inside him as sure as he could feel the rain on his hand.

Melora squeezed him from behind gently. "Come eat something with me. I'm hungry and I want the pleasure of your company."

Heron nodded after a moment of silence. "I suppose I can eat as well. There's nothing else to do with such rain. Besides, I know we have some fresh fruit that's just arrived."

He put his hand in hers and they began the walk to the kitchen. Along the way, the rain began to lessen until it stopped completely, dropping the temperature several degrees with the loss of humidity. It was only once the two of them finished their meal that visitors arrived.

Heron watched as both Nikias and Elektra ran into the room, both of them equally breathless while being tailed by a third man who was obviously some kind of fisherman by his dress.

"Father, there are warships on the horizon!" said Elektra with considerable alarm.

Heron stood up almost instantly. "What warships? Who is on the horizon?"

"Swabians," replied Elektra as she gestured for the fisherman to step forward. "Go ahead, tell my father what you saw."

The fisherman moved forward and removed his hat, bowing his head. "Your Majesty, the princess speaks correctly. Earlier this day, I was out with my vessel off the coast like I do every day. I've been part of the picket forces that have guarded the city and kept a watch on any aggressive actions by outsiders. This morning, I had just pulled in my first net when I saw them. More warships than I've ever seen in one spot, Your Majesty!"

"He estimates at least twenty-five to thirty ships," added Nikias. "Enough ships that there didn't seem to be any end to them."

"You're certain of this?" asked Heron. "They weren't trading ships? They were warships?"

"I'm certain, Your Majesty," confirmed the fishermen. "I know what warships look like and these were definitely warships."

"Whose warships were they?" asked Heron. "Are you sure they were Swabian? Did you see flags?"

The fisherman shook his head. "Not before the rain started. Truthfully, I think it's the only reason I got away without being sighted. I put my boat on a course for the city right away and didn't look back but I figured there wouldn't be anyone else who would send a force of that size."

"An invasion force," said Nikias. "They could only mean to start that invasion that we've all feared."

"How far out were you?" asked Heron.

A map was retrieved and the fisherman outlined his position relative to the city. The most alarming part was how close the warships were to the capital. Only a few hours' notice was the only thing that kept the Swabians from achieving total surprise.

"We must get the forces ready," said Nikias. "The army needs to be alerted."

"Do it," said Heron. "Get the men into their defensive positions!"

The few hours of head start was crucial in making sure the army was put into their defensive positions to contest any landings by the Swabians. The navy would be of no help in that regard, with the two ironclad ships in Heron's fleet being no match for the more powerful Swabian vessels. Heron gave the order to have them scuttled at the entrance to the harbor in the hopes of denying its use to the Swabians.