Fourth Vector Ch. 42

It was a decidedly pessimistic outlook for those that served the man who would have been the conqueror of the entire West. A year ago, Emperor Avila stood as the most powerful man in the hemisphere--a man with the command of the largest army and a powerful navy.

Now, that army was entirely broken. It was made up of those too old or too fragile for real battle. The navy wasn't any better. Despite them being relatively intact, they refused to follow orders. They would not come to Dagobern's rescue.

The rapidly rising star of Regaulfus Avila had finally plateaued just before going into free fall.

It was a cruel reminder of just how fickle nature could be, and as long as Otto lived, he would not forget the lesson of those that rose too quickly.

"Otto, fetch me another servant," snapped Avila, bringing Otto back to reality. "And make sure this one can fight. I'm tired of fighting these kitchen boys who have clearly never held a sword in their lives. Find me someone good!"

"At once, Your Imperial Majesty," replied Otto as he turned toward the door. Otto never got the chance to leave though. The door opened suddenly, and General Vukhoz soon entered the room, begging an audience with the Emperor.

Otto actually felt bad for Vukhoz. In ordinary times, Vukhoz would never be the type of general in charge of any actual fighting. He was a desk general at best--the kind that should never have seen any actual fighting but instead coordinated events from afar. Compared to General Ferberg, Vukhoz wasn't even capable of riding the more famous general's coattails.

And yet, Vukhoz now found himself in command of what was left of the Swabian Army. It was a task that was clearly above him, but the man did the best he could. Otto suspected he might have been more capable at his job if Avila would just see sense about their damning position.

"Ah, my good general," said Avila as he laid his sword down and strode over to Vukhoz's position. "What's the good news? Have we defeated the Galicians yet?"

Otto resisted the urge to roll his eyes. There would be no defeat of the Galicians now but Avila seemed to be losing his grasp on reality by the day.

Thankfully, Vukhoz didn't show his annoyance on his face either.

"No, Your Imperial Majesty," replied the general. "The city is barely holding on. My units are hunkered down in order to withstand the bombardment but my fear is that when the bombardment finally stops, they'll be in no condition to hold back the invaders. I'm not sure how much time we have left."

Vukhoz's words were blunt but honest. It was a truthful appraisal of their fortunes as silently acknowledged by just about everyone in the room.

Almost everyone.

"Bah, your talk of defeat irritates me, General," said Avila dismissively. "But it's no matter now. The final victory in this fight is not going to be won by the soldiers but by their emperor. So tell me, has there been any word back from that Galician dog Jack Kincardine? Will he accept my challenge to fight one-on-one for the fate of our empires?"

Vukhoz gulped visibly and then shook his head. "No word yet, Your Imperial Majesty."

There was no surprise there. No man in his right mind would risk so much on so little. Otto thought it was a fool's request to even ask in the first place. It could only have been made from a man losing his grasp on reality, and yet Avila still clung to the idea like it would save them from total calamity.

"I want to know as soon as word arrives back," said Avila. "Unless he's not man enough to fight me. That wouldn't surprise me. The only true warriors left in the world are Swabian! How could he hope to stand against a great swordsman like myself?"

Avila didn't wait for an answer. He grabbed the pommel of his sword and brought it over his head only to send it crushing down a moment later.

The demonstration would have been more impressive if it wasn't born out of delusion.

"What about the city though, Sire?" pressed Vukhoz. "What are we to do when the fighting begins?"

"We will fight back with everything we have, of course," replied Avila nonchalantly. "And we will win. I have no doubt about this. If, for some reason Kincardine won't fight me, then my city will throw out the invaders and kill them all."

By this point, Vukhoz had reached the end of his patience. His eyes settled on Otto, and despite not saying a word, it was clear he needed help.

They all needed a little help at this point.

"Sire, but what about--"

"Enough of this," snapped Avila. "I must train! I need to be ready for when the fight comes! Otto, I'm still waiting on the next servant by the way!"

"Coming at once, Sire," replied Otto as he gestured to Vukhoz to follow him. They left Avila still practicing his thrusts as the door shut firmly behind them. Vukhoz trained his eyes on Otto and folded his arms across his chest.

"He slides further and further into delusion," said Vukhoz quietly. "Doesn't he know this fight he's training for will never come?"

"No, he really doesn't know that," said Otto honestly. "And nor will he ever acknowledge that you have the best chance at defending the city, not him."

"But I need his authorization for all my defensive plans," whined Vukhoz. "If he's stuck in there playing swordsmen, we'll crumble the moment the enemy starts their attack."

"Then do what you think is necessary now to protect the city," replied Otto offhandedly.

Vukhoz snorted. "Is that right? On whose authority?"

Otto shrugged. "On mine as the voice of Emperor Regaulfus Avila. We can clearly see the Emperor is not in the right state of mind right now, correct?"

"To say the least," mumbled Vukhoz.

"In that case, we need to be honest about our prospects," continued Otto. "You have the best chance at defending the city and keeping the Galicians at bay. All I'm asking of you is that you take it. Do what's necessary. Avila wouldn't hinder you."

"That's an easy thing for you to say," grumbled Vukhoz. "Your neck isn't on the line if word gets back to him of what I'm doing."

"My neck is just as much on the line if I become the next one to use as target practice," said Otto, yanking his finger back toward the room. "We are all living on borrowed time right now. Do what you think is necessary. Defend the city. I will take care of Avila."

Vukhoz appraised him for several moments before he dared offer a response. "You have a lot of pluck for someone that's only a servant. Not many would take such a risk in their own hands."

Otto let out a crushing sigh. "What other hope do we have? In twenty-four hours, we could all be dead. I'd rather go out knowing I did all that I could to defend my city instead of rolling over and dying with the Emperor."

Vukhoz actually smiled. "I think we might actually understand each other then."

Otto's response was muffled by another explosion, which made it necessary to repeat it.

"Go now, quickly! Defend what's left of Dagobern!"

*****

Jade was late again for her shift.

Michael watched the clock on the wall tick fifteen minutes past her starting time. Any other time, he would have been worried, since she was usually very punctual.

Now though? This was the third time this week she was late.

Michael knew the real reason why. It hadn't yet been a full week since the event that he hated to even think about. Frankly, time seemed to have slowed down ever since, rendering each day into a slow ordeal that was composed of anxiety, anger, and bits of regret.

Mostly, Michael just wanted to comfort Jade. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and let her know that everything was going to be okay.

He also wanted to stab Bancroft with any blunt instrument he could find, ending that old bastard's life for the way he attempted to steal Jade's innocence.

And yet, he could do neither of the two.

Jade was completely closed off to him. Not just him but everyone it seemed, but it was especially hurtful that she didn't even want to be comforted by him. Jade had even told him that she loved him, so why couldn't he comfort her in her time of maximum need?

Something inside Jade died that evening after the rape. The spark inside her, the brilliance that underlined her entire personality, fizzled and seemed to be extinguished for all time. It left a hollow shell of a person in return.

Michael's initial thoughts that time would help to heal the wound soon seemed to be a little naive. Something inside Jade was broken and he didn't even know where to begin to attempt to put the pieces back together.

In fact, he had little hope that tonight's attempt would work either.

That was put to the test when Jade arrived at the palace twenty minutes late for her shift. Michael stood near the door of the servant's quarters clutching a plate of two pieces of strawberry pie--the same they'd once enjoyed at the beginning of their relationship. Michael knew that food was one of the ways to her heart and hopefully it could kick-start the beginning of a recovery for Jade.

It did no such thing.

"Jade, you're here," said Michael with his best smile. "I missed you. Care for a bite before you start your shift? Just got this pie from Artemis and it's definitely fresh."

Jade took one look at Michael and then one look at the pie. Her eyes showed no spark of life. She could only shake her head.

"No, Michael," she replied, pushing past him while moving to begin her shift.

Something about her dismissive attitude broke his heart. As much as he tried to remind himself that this was Bancroft's fault, it was hard not to see Jade's attitude as a reflection of what she thought about their relationship--namely, that it was all but over.

She just needs more time to heal, thought Michael.This too will pass.

It hardly made a difference but Michael noticed she was short with just about everyone. It definitely wasn't related to just him but Jade seemed to carry over her attitude toward the other servants as well.

It was a small thing, but Michael thought it was a promising sign that perhaps their relationship could still recover from this.

For now though, Michael had to ditch the pie. He was certainly not going to eat it on his own without Jade, and the best course now seemed to be to return it to the kitchens.

His friend, Artemis, saw the crestfallen expression on Michael's face as he placed the pie back in the refrigerators.

"I take it your plan was a no-go?" asked Artemis, well-aware of Michael's intentions from the start. "And your lady friend wasn't hungry?"

Michael nodded his head. "It would appear to be that way. Nothing I seem to do gets her attention anymore."

Artemis stopped what he was doing and made his way closer to Michael. He put his hands on the young man's shoulder. "Maybe she just wasn't hungry, Michael. You don't need to make it this hard on yourself."

Even though both men knew this went beyond the fact that Jade could simply not be hungry, Michael still appreciated the sentiment.

"I just want things to go back to the way they were," said Michael quietly. "And I want to kill that bastard for what he did to her."

"You best keep your voice down," warned Artemis. "If the wrong person heard you say that, it could be a whole world of trouble for you."

"I almost don't care anymore," replied Michael. "I would welcome the chance to prove myself against him."

"Think rationally, Michael. There will be no proving yourself against the Emperor. He's always going to get what he wants at your expense and you'd be wise to recognize that. You won't be getting one over on him anytime soon."

As much as Michael hated to hear it, he had to admit that Artemis was correct. How was he, a mere servant in the palace, meant to get back at the most powerful man in the world? Any scenarios where this could be accomplished were laughable at best and downright impossible at worst.

Michael felt truly stuck. Even more so, he felt like he could do nothing to help Jade, who was at this very minute having to attend to Bancroft's every need.

That was when Michael had an idea.

"I know how to make it better," he said suddenly. "I know what I can do to help her heal."

Artemis raised an eyebrow. "And that would be?"

"Her shift!" said Michael. "If I can get her off of having to serve Bancroft, she'll feel better. I can't imagine she wants to spend any more time in the same room with that animal, especially with what he did to her. If I can get her reassigned to another part of the palace far away from him, it would definitely help her get back to normal."

Artemis pursed his lips in thought. "I guess it couldn't hurt but the girl is still going to need time, my young friend. Even if you're successful, don't you think that Bancroft is just going to put her back on her usual shift when he feels like it?"

Michael had no time to reply to that. His feet were already moving away from the kitchen and he gave a half-hearted wave back to Artemis as he made his way to the shift manager's office a short distance away.

The shift manager was a middle-aged woman who was rail thin and had a hollow look in the eyes. She'd been with the palace staff for decades, and it was this experience that eventually led her to becoming manager.

"Yes, Michael?" she asked, seeing him burst into her office with much excitement. "What can I do for you?"

"I need your help, Shelly," said Michael. "I need you to help me get someone's shift changed."

Shelly didn't bat an eyelash at Michael's words or behavior. She was one of the few that knew he was far more competent than he let on. Shelly also knew he could only be asking for one reason.

"Is this about that girl I've seen you cavorting around with?" asked Shelly. "The pretty one?"

"Jade? Yes, her," replied Michael. "I need to get her off of the Emperor's personal detail."

Shelly let out a low whistle. "Oh boy, the Emperor is not going to like that. He requests her personally most of the time."

"I just need it done, Shelly," said Michael. "Listen, you know what happened to Jade, right?"

Shelly assumed a sour expression and nodded her head. By this point, just about every servant in the palace knew about Bancroft's rape of Jade.

"That's why I need to get her changed," explained Michael. "I need Jade to be able to heal, and that's never going to happen if she spends every night attending to that monster."

Shelly started to tap her chin as she thought about it. "Michael, you're aware you could get us both in a lot of trouble for this, aren't you? The Emperor is not going to take this lightly, and if he finds out about your role in getting her reassigned, he's going to come after you. Or maybe even me."

"That's my problem, not yours," said Michael. "If anyone asks, you had nothing to do with this. You can tell them I threatened you to make this happen."

Shelly gave him an amused look but said nothing. Michael knew why. Most of them knew that Michael wasn't one to harm a fly let alone anyone else. The thought of violence against anyone else was simply inconceivable.

"Shelly, whatever you can do is appreciated," said Michael in a lower tone. "I know what you're up against but please think about Jade and what she went through. She can't be near him anymore. It's only going to get worse if that happens and she's suffered enough. Please, Shelly, help me out with this?"

Shelly took a deep breath and finally agreed. "Fine. But I'm going to log this as a clerical error just in case the Emperor starts sniffing around. I'll reassign her to cleaning detail in the north wing. That's just about as far away as I can get her."

Michael reached forward and grabbed Shelly's hand, shaking it wildly. "Thank you, Shelly! I truly appreciate this more than you know!"

She smiled at him. "You really care about her, don't you, Michael?"

The excitement left his eyes. "I really do, Shelly. And I'm going to make this right one day. The first step is helping Jade, but I will make sure that justice is had in the end."

Shelly's smile left as well, replaced by something resembling fear. "Don't say such things, Michael," she said, sounding similar to what Artemis had said. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I do know," Michael promised. "And if I have anything to say about it, I'm going to bring the perpetrator of this crime to justice. I can promise you that."

Shelly didn't say another word but by that point, Michael had what he needed anyway. He left her to continue her work, thankful in the knowledge that he could at least get Jade away from Bancroft starting now. As long as she could heal, maybe they could rekindle what they had.

He also meant every word he said to Shelly about Bancroft getting his comeuppance. Until his last breath, Michael vowed that he would do whatever was necessary to get back at the Emperor.

No one was going to be allowed to hurt Jade without consequences.

*****

Nothing was looking good.

After a full evening of settling his men into their last defensive positions in the Wilds, Trevor was exhausted. All he wanted to do was to kick off his boots and get some sleep but those creature comforts wouldn't be coming anytime soon.

Instead, Trevor splashed a little water on his face as he tried to steady his hands. They had an awful shake to them today that just wouldn't go away no matter what he did. Inwardly, Trevor wondered if it was a sign the end was near.

When he looked at their situation, it was hard not to think that defeat was imminent.

Trevor's army was starving and lacking in supplies, morale, and just about every other factor that made an army deadly. They'd been outmatched, outgunned, and now outmaneuvered into a dreadful stretch of land that no one wanted to be on in the first place.

And tomorrow, Trevor was quite sure they were going to meet their ends at the hands of a superior Javan force.

Yet, as much as he was thinking about defeat, he couldn't let it show on his face or in his actions. The men still looked to him to be the heart and soul of the army, and they would lose what little chances they had at survival tomorrow if they saw him surrender.

No, he had to keep it together for one more fight. What was more was that he had to convince the men to continue to fight it out for one more battle.

After leaving his tent, that was exactly what Trevor was determined to do. One thing going for them was their position. They occupied the highest ground available in this stretch of the Wilds, and this particular stretch of ground was contained within a bulge created by a meandering stream that soon cut eastwards to dump into the ocean a good fifty miles away.

If there was any place to make a last stand, this was it.

And if there was one last thing he had to do, it was to make them believe that they could stand up to the Javan Army tomorrow.

"There's a lot that can happen tomorrow that we won't be able to stop," said one private, out of a group of about eight, as Trevor talked with them that night. "They've been kicking our asses ever since we left Tyrol."

"So it's about time the shoe was on the other foot, isn't it?" asked Trevor, earning a round of muttering from the men. "The Javans need to understand that just because we're down doesn't mean that we're out. We have a lot of fight left in us and I believe that we have more heart in all of you than we have in the entirety of Java."

"Heart doesn't win battles though," added a quiet freckle-faced private. "Numbers seem to do that a lot in battle."

"Numbers don't always win battles," corrected Trevor. "There's plenty of fights we've won where we've been outnumbered and outgunned. This one is no different."

"General, I don't mean to doubt you but it just seems like the odds aren't in our favor in this fight," replied the first private. "We're starving. I haven't had a decent pair of boots since we left Worchester and I'm one of the better off men. How are we going to win against a force much greater than ours that's probably all sitting around the campfire right now eating a hearty meal? How do we win in that scenario?"