Fourth Vector Ch. 33

They are the furthest thing from modern camouflage that they could pick.

"I'm guessing these uniforms haven't changed in a few hundred years," noted Jack.

"No, no, they haven't," said Bill. "Probably from the last time the Samarans were actually at war. There's really been no need for them to have anything more modern, but the common soldiers I've seen before. They are appropriately dressed, I can assure you."

"That's a good thing because otherwise the Swabians would see us coming from a long way off," said Jack before looking back at the guard. They marched in good order over uneven ground, never breaking stride or losing their uniformity. They seemed to be in tighter formation than even his Javan marines, and that was really saying something. However, the color of their uniforms was still surprising to Jack. It wasn't until he looked up that he figured out why.

"The flag of Samara," said Jack as he pointed to it flapping in the wind. "That's where they get their colors from. The blue, orange, and white."

Bill made a distasteful face. "I guess there are less creative ways to pick a uniform but that is certainly one of the flashiest."

"At least it looks like they're well-disciplined. Without any wars to fight, they must spend all their time on the parade ground," noted Jack.

"Samaran soldiers are famous for their discipline, Jack. Remember, back hundreds of years ago, many countries used to hire Samaran mercenaries to fight their wars for them. With Samarans on your side, you would almost never lose a battle. It almost got to the point that even seeing Samarans across the field would be enough to make your side surrender."

"Did the Galicians ever use them?" asked Jack. "Did they ever serve any of the old kings?"

Bill shook his head. "Not so much. The Galician Army has almost always been a formidable unit. We really didn't have much of a need for mercenaries. You can also say that for the Swabians as well. They always preferred their own soldiers. But just about everyone else used them in some capacity. The Apulians, Picards, Carinthians used them sparingly and several units fought in the last Swabian War aligned with the Picards most prominently. Other than that, most Samarans went north to fight their wars."

"North?" asked Jack. "We don't hear a lot about the countries north of Samara very often."

"Nor will you. They are smaller countries for the most part, mostly dwarfed by the countries in the south. But Kish, which is right above Picardy, used Samaran mercenaries quite a lot. So did Malta, Edo, Porto, and Cervanos. When you're a small country, a well-led mercenary unit can be the difference between winning a war or losing it."

Jack's attention turned back to the soldiers who by this point were now facing down the opposite street. He watched them march away but in the interim, he tried to picture what a few thousand of their more modern counterparts would look like in his army. With that kind of discipline, it could only be a blessing to his cause.

Once they were gone, it was soon apparent there was only one thing left to see. The large Palace of the People was the center of power in Dobele and even all of Samara. It was perched on the highest hill in the city, visible to all outsiders as one of the highest points. What made the palace so unique was that it had three great domes that dominated the middle of the building as well as each end.

"Three domes are for each of the three individual tribes that united to form the Tribuneship," said Bill. "You'll notice many things in Samara seemed to come in threes. It's a very lucky number for their people."

Bill wasn't kidding. Everywhere that Jack looked, he seemed to find nothing but sets of threes. Every column was separated from the next one by a series of three windows. Three rows of the same color bricks were stacked before another three rows of another color. Even the entrance had three grand doors to the inside, decorating in such a way to catch the eye with their use of flashy colors that just happened to catch the sunlight.

The inside of the palace was even more opulent. The main receiving hall had three grand chandeliers that were placed in a row from the front doors until the hall split off into two sections, one going left and the other right.

It was clear to Jack that this receiving hall was just under the main dome as the space to the top of the ceiling seemed to go on forever. That space was decorated with an endless array of artwork showing different scenes from Samaran history. Despite not knowing much of the details, his eyes were able to follow the story as it wrapped around the dome, showcasing primitive times all the way until the unification of the country under the three original Tribunes.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" asked Bill from his side. "The Samarans were always a people that liked to tell their historical story. The artwork is rather grand."

"That it is," agreed Jack. "And I'm sure it took a lot of time to paint the entire dome."

"Seven years to be precise."

Both Jack and Bill looked over at Santino, their eyes wide in amazement at listening to the Apulian Director talk without prompting. Santino then made eye contact with Jack. "I've heard before that it took them seven years to get all the work right. Although you'd never know if it actually took that long or if they spent most of that time just deciding what to paint."

Jack gave a weary glance at Bill before looking at Santino. It appeared the Apulian Director had recovered from his earlier funk.

"In that case, I'd say the jury's still out," said Jack finally as he cracked a smile.

Santino nodded. "You should see my presidential manor in Marmora. It's decorated just as fabulously but without some of the more garish pieces that you'd see here."

"If we do what we came here to do, then maybe that might not be too far in the future," said Bill. "I wouldn't mind seeing Marmora again but I'd like there to be a lot less Swabians there when I go."

"Amen to that," said Jack. "So while we wait for the Tribunes, tell me a bit of what you know of them. Names and any personal history. I'd like to go into this as prepared as possible."

"I can probably tell you their names," said Bill. "But as for personal history, I'd be at a loss. Samaran Tribunes change every year so it's nearly impossible to keep up with all of them."

"I can fill in some of the personal history," interrupted Santino. "We keep track of the Tribunes when they're elected since they're our closest neighbor and all. I won't have all the details but I can tell you what I know."

"Very well then, let's start with the senior Tribune," started Bill. "That would be Anton Roosa, and he's the senior Tribune because he's from the largest and most important tribe. In theory, all the Tribunes are equal to each other but the senior Tribune's word can outweigh that of his counterparts."

"I've noticed the same thing too," added Santino. "It's a good thing to get the senior Tribune on your side because his yes will surmount the other's nos."

"What have you heard about him?" Jack asked Santino. "Easy to work with? Anything about his personality?"

"Just that he's ambitious but so are most politicians in republics," said Santino. "I do know that he's a widower. He was married at one time in his life but his wife died years ago. Supposedly, he's a greatly different man now than he was when he was married."

Jack pursed his lips. "That doesn't sound promising."

"Unless it was a bad marriage," said Bill. "In any event, we'll just have to wait and see what happens."

Jack nodded. "All right, what about the other two? What do we know?"

"The other two Tribunes are Bram Nourot and Hendrick Tysen," said Bill. "All I've heard about either one of them is that Tysen is quite young. He's apparently still in his thirties which is odd for being in that position of power."

Jack couldn't help but smirk. "What are you trying to say, Bill? I'm only thirty-six."

"True, but you weren't exactly elected to it," said Bill quickly. "An elected politician is generally on the older side, which makes it unique. I hope that's due to his skill at his job and hopefully not nepotism on someone else's part."

"I don't have much to add to that," said Santino. "I've heard Nourot is on the quiet side. Not that he's a mute but he won't add much to the conversation. The other two will do the talking for him."

"That's not entirely true, I'd say."

All three of them stopped talking to see two men approaching their direction. Their way of walking indicated that they were important, but so did their dress. They wore customary black suits but the most important part of their ensemble was an orange and white sash that was worn across the chest. It originated at the shoulder on one side and went downward to wrap around the waist on the other side of the body.

It was clear which one was the younger one from the start. Jack didn't have to guess which one was Hendrick Tysen, seeing a man who was similar in age, at least compared to his colleague. Hendrick had light brown hair that was cut close to the scalp. It came to a prominent widow's peak that was just above his forehead. His face was thin and angular, as was the rest of his body but at least his smile appeared to be somewhat genuine.

The other man Jack pegged as being either Bram or Anton due to his age. This particular tribune was of average weight and height but his skin was splotchy and red as if he was too fond of drinking. He wore a thin, lip-only smile, one that didn't carry a single genuine quality. It was too hard to get a read on him due to that smile, and Jack found himself concentrating on the younger man.

Hendrick Tysen looked at all three of them before shooting a casual glance at the other man. "Bram here isn't a mute although he's often mistaken as one. Usually that's just because he chooses his words very carefully. Wouldn't you say, Bram?"

The man now identified as Bram let out a soft grunt. "Very apt, Hendrick."

"On the other hand, most would say that I'm one that never knows when to stop talking," continued Hendrick as he then reached out his hand to Santino. "You need no introduction. Greetings to you, Director Santino Altieri. Welcome to Samara."

Santino took his hand and gave it a firm shake. "And you as well, Tribune Tysen." He repeated the same gesture to Bram before sweeping his hand aside to gesture at Jack and Bill. "May I introduce my colleagues?"

"Please do, as if our messenger was correct, you have most illustrious company," replied Hendrick as eyes locked on Jack.

Santino started with Bill. "This is Lord William Calland of Hemswell in Galicia."

"You can call me Bill like the others do," said Bill as they shook hands.

"I've heard of the old lion of Hemswell," said Hendrick. "But I never imagined I'd see him in our court."

Bill actually managed to look sour for a minute. "I'm notthat old."

Hendrick chuckled. "A joke, my friend."

"You'll find that he has many such jokes like that one," added Bram as he shook hands with Bill.

"Our last member is Jack Easterbrook," continued Santino as he gestured to Jack. "Jack is the heir of the Kincardine family of Galicia, which makes him the rightful king."

The room went quiet. Hendrick made a small noise by sucking air into his mouth while Bram's eyes narrowed as he studied Jack.

Jack didn't let the moment last very long before he reached out his hand.

"You'll have to forgive our shock," said Hendrick as he took the handshake. "The Galician King hasn't been uttered in the political realm for quite a long time. We were until the impression that he was--"

"Dead," finished Bram as he looked at Jack curiously. He then looked at Santino. "You're quite certain of his story? We don't have time for pretenders."

"If I may interrupt, he's exactly who he says he is," said Bill. "The Galician bond confirms it as well as the multiple attempts on his life by Regent Eric Rosdahl. This man is the Galician King."

"I can also attest to the matter," chimed Santino. "He's no pretender."

The two Tribunes shared another look. Hendrick shrugged his shoulders but then looked over at Jack. "Well then, you are most welcome in Samara. Forgive us for the poor reception, Your Majesty. It's been a long time since we hosted the Galician monarch."

"There's nothing to forgive, and I appreciate your hospitality," said Jack. "If I might add, the news of my heritage came on rather sudden as well. It was just as hard for me to swallow."

"Indeed, well perhaps you'll be able to tell us more about that," said Hendrick. "For now though, let us retire to more comfortable quarters for our discussion."

With that, the two Tribunes gestured to be followed. They were led deeper into the left wing corridor, only stopping just before they reached the dome that hung over the left side of the building. Jack entered a room made for audiences with the tribunes. There were three chairs sitting right next to each other on a raised dais. All three chairs were the same height as the others, but it became apparent once Hendrick and Bram sat down that someone was missing.

"Are we not going to meet with Tribune Anton Roosa?" asked Santino with a confused look on his face. "I notice his chair is empty."

"Tribune Roosa has been absent from Dobele for the past week," answered Hendrick. "We've gotten used to conducting business without him."

Bram added to the statement. "We trust that won't be an issue?"

Jack shook his head. "Not at all, as long as we can still discuss what we came here to discuss."

"You'll be permitted to discuss any matter with us," said Hendrick.

"Although, we would like the opportunity to ask you questions first," said Bram with a stern look to Hendrick. "Specifically regarding the nature of the war that so many nations find themselves embroiled in. It was my understanding that Marmora fell two weeks ago."

"Almost three now," said Santino. "But you're correct. The only free city left in Apulia is Arezzo."

"Curious then to find you here of all places," said Bram dryly.

For a brief moment, Jack caught Hendrick rolling his eyes at his colleague's statement. "I think what my fellow Tribune meant to say is that it's fortunate to still see the leader of Apulia in good condition. We feared for your safety after seeing Swabian aggression."

Bram turned to glare at Hendrick. "I know what I said."

There was an air of awkward tension in the room but surprisingly, it was Santino who decided to break it.

"We are fortunate that Apulia is still alive today," he started. "I owe much of that good fortune to Jack Easterbrook. It's only with Galician soldiers and ships that we're able to make a stand against the Swabian horde who is still trying to devour my country. Without his help, I fear I only might have made it to Samara as a refugee."

"We still have no shortage of refugees right now," said Hendrick. "It started last year with the war in Picardy but it's ramped up severely in the last two months from the wider war. I've even had Andalucian trawlers show up on Samaran shores--can you imagine the sight of it? Andalucians!"

"It's part of a coordinated effort on the part of the Swabians," said Jack. He watched as the eyes of both Tribunes fell on him. Hendrick's were eager for news from abroad while Bram seemed to still regard him with suspicion. "The Swabians are conquering every nation near them. My forces have stopped them in Apulia but we won't be able to hold on there forever."

"Your forces?" asked Bram coldly. "And how is it that you have forces of your own? I've received no news of the death of Eric Rosdahl. Is Galicia on the brink of civil war?"

Hendrick actually tilted his head to the side. "He raises a good point. Until today, no one knew who you were, Jack Easterbrook. Perhaps you'd be so kind as to share your story?"

"We already shared who he is," said Santino with minor frustration. He stopped speaking once Jack raised his hand.

"It's all right, Santino. It's a fair question. You ask me who I am because it's a shock to see someone claiming the Galician throne after all these centuries without. I can tell you my backstory and I'll keep it brief. I have Galician heritage but I wasn't raised in Galicia. I was raised across the ocean in the Javan Empire."

Hendrick raised an eyebrow. "I've heard that name before. I've also heard reports that some Javan naval commander was causing trouble in the wider world. Are you that man as well?"

Jack nodded. "That would be me. I had my own mission to explore this part of the world. It was only after I met a former Galician regent that I understood my roots were deeper than they appeared. It's what led me down this current path as well as to placing myself against the Swabians. Their aggression against their neighbors is one that I cannot tolerate and will do all that I can to stop with what forces I have at my disposal."

"Which explains why you feel so strongly about it, I assume?" asked Hendrick. "Your Galician heritage would always put you at odds with the Swabians."

"I give everyone the chance to be treated fairly, the same chance," said Jack. "Time and time again, the Swabians have shown that they can't be trusted and that they will take advantage of their neighbors for their own gain. I was firmly set against them before I even learned of my heritage."

"A pity then that you can't be more flexible," quipped Bram, earning another glare from Hendrick.

"I give no flexibility for those that won't give it to others," replied Jack. "That's why I've assembled a host of powers to combat Swabian aggression. From Carinthian and Picardy in the east to Galicia and Apulia in the west, we are united in the face of Swabian hostility."

"That's a powerful alliance," said Hendrick. "One that should be more than a match for Swabian power."

"If that's the case, then might I ask why you're here?" challenged Bram. "The last Swabian War saw just such an alliance fight all the way to the very gates of Dagobern and win. We don't just get two heads of state to visit Samara for small talk so I imagine this is about the war in some fashion. Why are you in Samara?"

"Our alliance now isn't as powerful as it was back then," said Jack. "The Swabians have been bleeding Picard and Carinthian forces for over a year now with no change. The Apulian Army is in shambles and I only have a small measure of Galician forces under my command. Our alliance looks powerful on paper but in practice, we fall short."

"A brave admission," quipped Bram.

"A truthful one," said Santino as he stepped forward to speak. "Jack is correct. The Apulian Army only exists today because Jack's forces were able to join with it and maintain the defense of Arezzo. Without him, I don't know what would have become of Apulia."

"Surely if you have enough men to defend the city, you have enough to fight with, right?" asked Hendrick. "What is the state of your forces?"

"We have but six thousand men to fend off an army that's nearly three times greater than ours," said Jack. "With Swabian reinforcements, our hold on Arezzo becomes less tenable by the day. What we need is more men."

Hendrick and Bram shared a look with each other before looking back at Jack. "Have you hired any mercenaries? We could put you in charge of private mercenary companies here in Samara if you have the right amount of money to offer them."

"We're rather short on money as it is," said Jack. "But I was hoping to get the bulk of the Samaran Army to come back to Apulia with us. I'd like you to join the war and fight the Swabians on our side."

The silence was deafening. Hendrick's eyes went to the floor and remained glued there. Bram was rude enough to start laughing to himself.

"I would think you need a history lesson, Jack. Samara doesn't go to war. Samara is a neutral and unaligned power," said Bram as his chuckle evolved into a smirk. "She doesn't get involved in the petty squabbles of her neighbors."