Fourth Vector Ch. 42

Emperor Regaulfus Avila of Swabia had seen better days. He was a filthy mess after having been dragged through the courtyard. His imperial robes were tattered in the places where they'd been dragged along the ground. His hair was more silver than Jack remembered but his face had lost none of the arrogance it had once possessed.

There was also a small gash just above his left eyebrow. Jack suspected that was what had knocked him unconscious earlier in the fight. At this point, Avila was still coming to, as evidenced by his slightly bewildered expression and the dampness of his upper body--a sure sign that someone had thrown water on him.

The servant that approached Jack seemed to be the one that was in charge of the entire palace. He walked right up to him without any fear or sign of reverence.

"Jack Kincardine, you may not remember me, but my name is Otto," said the man as he bowed his head slightly. "I am the personal body servant of Emperor Avila."

Hearing the name brought recognition to Jack. He did remember the unassuming servant from his time in Dagobern.

"Otto, are you surrendering the palace?" asked Jack. "Before I can engage in any negotiations, I need to know that your men have surrendered unconditionally."

Otto looked over at another man on the ground, someone who was clearly a general by the cut of his uniform. That general gave an affirmative nod to Otto, who then turned to face Jack.

"Yes, we surrender. On behalf of the Swabian Empire, we surrender to your forces."

A wave of relief went through Jack at the final realization that it was all over. Ever since he entered the West two years ago, his only real enemy had been the Swabians.

And now they were broken. The war was truly over.

"No! I will not surrender! I will not yield!"

No one was surprised when Avila shouted the outburst. In fact, most of Jack's entourage looked a little bewildered but Otto only shook his head while rolling his eyes.

"I present to you a prize for your taking of the city," said Otto quickly. "I have behind me Emperor Regaulfus Avila, and he's now yours to do with as you choose. He's a symbol of our intent not to resist you any further."

"Cowards!" yelled Avila. He pointed his finger to every Swabian in the group. "Cowards, the lot of you! Where is your fight? Where is your courage? Our enemy stands right in front of us! Will no one kill him? We cannot surrender to these Galician dogs!"

"Still just as charming as he used to be," said Jack with a chuckle. "We'll accept him into our custody."

With those words, Jack walked around Otto to come to stand directly in front of Avila. He looked down at the man who once held half the West in his grip, and now who was reduced to not even being master of his own fate.

"I'd say the circumstances of our meeting are a little different than last time, Avila," said Jack.

"Fuck you," snarled Avila as he tried to get to his feet. Seeing as Avila wasn't restrained in any way, Lindy approached Jack from behind, leveling his pistol directly at the Swabian Emperor's chest.

"One wrong move and it'll be your last," warned Lindy. "Give me a reason to shoot."

Avila's eyes drifted back and forth between Jack and Lindy but he seemed to regard Lindy's warning at that moment. His look of hatred centered on Jack once again.

"How could it come to this?" whispered Avila. "How could I lose to such filth? Your weakness disgusts me!"

Jack couldn't help but smirk. He raised his arms around him. "It seems all of my weakness just defeated your men. I'd hardly call it a weakness at this point."

Avila spat on the ground. "I'm not talking about your army! I'm talking about you! You didn't accept my offer for personal combat! What, are you not man enough to face me on your own?

"Only a fool would accept an offer like that," replied Jack briskly. "Why would I risk so much just to potentially lose it all in a one-on-one brawl with you?"

"Because it was the manly thing to do!" quipped Avila. "You stand before me as the conqueror of all yet you still don't have the balls to face me with a sword!"

Jack chuckled again. "I suppose I'll have to find a way to live with my cowardice from now on. Perhaps it's knowing that this war is now over that will make it better for me."

Avila shook his head. "I always knew you were weak. All of you Galicians. You think this is over now? No, it's just begun!"

Jack actually felt pity for the man. "It couldn't be more over now, Avila. The war is finished, and so are you."

Before Avila could say another word, there was a second car that arrived, causing all of them to pause. Inside that car were five people in total but only three of any consequence. Kat and Abigail were two of the most prominent, and they quickly made their way to Jack's side to witness the event.

The last one was the most contentious of the morning so far.

General Ferberg was escorted by two Galician guards but he was far from hostile to them. In fact, he quickly placed himself near Jack's side, and he gave an approving nod to Jack as he looked at the devastation around him.

"You traitor!" raged Avila as he tried to lunge at Ferberg. He was quickly restrained by several Galician soldiers and pushed back to his knees but he lost none of his anger. "You betrayed your own country!"

"Perhaps," offered Ferberg. "But I wouldn't be in this state had you not tried to bite off more than you could chew. I've found nothing but respect from the Galicians and I don't mind offering my services to them."

"Traitor!" raged Avila again. "How could you turn your back on your own country?"

Jack was well-placed to answer that question. "He's doing what he is now because he's found a better cause to serve," said Jack. "Blind allegiance to your own country can come back to destroy you. We must serve the causes that are near and dear to our hearts, those that create a passion within us. It's only through finding that passion that we can ever truly win."

The words were profound and a simple realization of the course of Jack's life over the past two years. He not only talked about them but he lived them as well, exchanging one homeland for another, and crafting that passion for doing the right thing.

If anything though, the words were lost on Avila, who was still frothing at the mouth. His rage for Ferberg seemed to dwarf anything he felt for Jack, and after several more curse-laden statements, Jack had had enough.

"Let's take him into custody for now," said Jack to Greg. "Avila can occupy a prison cell for all that he's done. I suppose once we get back to Galicia, we can make some long-term arrangements for him."

Jack turned his back since he was done with the interaction but the most interesting part of the morning was just about to happen. It all took place in a blink of an eye.

Avila, not content to let Ferberg get away with any kind of revenge, made a lunge at the waist of one of the Galician soldiers guarding him. He managed to put his hands on the soldier's hip pistol for a split-second, and his eyes of rage centered on Ferberg at that moment.

He would never get the chance to use it. Lindy was still watching him like a hawk, and the moment Avila's hands came anywhere close to using the pistol, he calmly fired two shots at the Swabian Emperor.

Those two shots entered Avila's torso. A look of profound agony appeared on his face at that moment, followed shortly by utter shock. The Swabian Emperor touched his chest as if to confirm that he'd really been shot, and when he saw his fingers stained with blood, he fell back against the ground and stopped breathing a moment later.

Emperor Regaulfus Avila of Swabia was dead.

The events happened so quickly that Jack needed a moment to process it. It was only as they stared at the body of the dead emperor that Jack realized his previous accommodations were no longer necessary.

"Find a grave to bury him," said Jack to one of the soldiers. "Put him in a mass grave with the bodies of his men. He may have been a bastard but we can at least allow him to be buried with the army he loved so much."

As was such, the body of Emperor Regaulfus Avila was buried with his men in a mass grave just outside the city. It was a fitting end to the emperor who valued the military above all else.

*****

With the death of Avila, any last bits of resistance in the city completely melted away. There was no one left on the palatial hill who had the will to fight, and just about every soldier left in the main part of Dagobern had already long since surrendered.

Amongst the captured at the top of the hill were two generals (one of whom, General Vukhoz, was the one that Otto silently conferred with before surrendering the palace), four colonels, and a host of other lower officers. Many of them had been veterans of campaigns that took them to Picardy, Apulia, and even Andalucia.

At the end, all of them suffered from not having any soldiers left to throw at their enemy. The entire country was out of manpower, and like the other devastated lands before them, the Swabians would need time to rebuild.

For now though, there remained the enormous task of putting Dagobern back together. Many of the ruins in the city were still smoldering from the naval bombardment the day before, and with the shooting finally over, the common citizens were now coming out of the woodwork to inspect the damage.

Like their soldiers, the citizens were gaunt and thin with hunger. Jack gave the order to put them on the same feeding program as he had with the Nax months earlier, hoping to bring them back from the brink of starvation without accidentally killing them withtoo much food.

As the citizens were attended to, the rest of the Allied Army rounded up what was left of the Swabian Army. Just about all of it was comprised of surrendered citizen-soldiers, with a few veterans left over to stiffen the ranks. They were moved to an open camp outside the city only briefly before Jack considered an early release for all of them as long as they left their rifles.

Swabia would need its citizenry to rebuild. As long as they weren't armed, Jack didn't care how that happened.

Next on the list was to get the word out about the final victory. Jack had dispatches sent to every single head of state who wasn't currently with them, alerting them of the news. He also borrowed Otto so that he could send the dispatches to those remaining Swabian lords, wanting them to know that there was no use in continuing to resist him.

Once those items were attended to, Jack pushed all the other work to the side so that he could rush to the field infirmary. It didn't take him long to figure out where he could find Art.

The old general was surrounded by three medics. Judging by the looks on their faces, there was no good news to be had.

Before Jack saw Art, he pulled one of the medics to the side.

"How bad is it?" Jack asked, nodding toward Art.

The medic shook his head. "It's really bad. He's bleeding out internally. So far, we haven't been able to stop the blood but if he continues losing it at this rate, he won't be long for this world."

Jack took a deep breath and nodded. "Can I talk with him?"

"Of course, Your Majesty."

Jack made his way to Art's bedside and gazed upon the victorious general. His midsection was a bloody mess, and at this moment, it was still being worked on by the medics. Art seemed to be barely conscious, and one of the aides looked to be giving him something in the way of a painkiller.

"Art, can you hear me?" asked Jack.

Art's head swiveled at the sound of the voice. His eyes blinked twice and he finally looked at Jack's face.

"Jack, is that you?"

Jack grabbed the older man's hand. "It's me, Art. You did real good today. Hell, you did great. You won the battle for us. You got to the top of the hill."

A small semblance of a smile appeared on his cracked lips. "I knew my boys could do it. They faced a lot out there but they're strong. So strong, Jack."

"So are you, Art. How's the pain? Are they keeping you comfortable?"

Art's head shook slightly. "Barely. It hurts real bad. But I'm not troubled, Jack. I'm not troubled."

Although Art didn't say it aloud, Jack knew why he wasn't troubled. He'd known his end was near, and if anything, Art had some measure of peace at finally coming to the end of his life.

"I'm proud of you, Art," said Jack, choking back the tears. "I've never met a finer leader of men in my life. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do without you now."

Art tried to wave his hand. "You'll be just fine without me. The war is over. You have good generals like Greg. You won't long miss me, I promise."

Jack smiled. "That's where you're wrong, old man."

Art's eyes centered on Jack. "Do you remember what we talked about long ago? Do you remember the cemetery outside of Kalmar?"

Jack nodded as he pictured the quiet cemetery on the outskirts of the Galician capital that contained the remains of Art's wife and son.

"I do, Art. I couldn't forget that if I tried."

Art swallowed visibly. "Please put me there? Put me with my family, Jack. Don't put me in the ground anywhere else."

Jack squeezed the older general's hand. "You have my word. I'll make sure you're buried next to your wife and your son. You can count on it, Art."

Relief flooded the man's face. All the anxieties of life fled in that moment. Art never looked more fully at peace.

"Thank you, Jack."

Nothing more needed to be said. About ten minutes later, Art lost consciousness from the loss of blood. For the rest of the day, his breathing was shallow and weak, and his skin color took on a deathly pallor.

Jack said his final goodbyes to the general that evening before bed after the medics told him that Art's chances of surviving the night were slim. During those goodbyes, Jack thanked him for everything, and he reiterated his promise to rejoin him with his family.

Jack didn't make it back to his command tent before he was stopped again by a runner from the infirmary. Art expired mere minutes after Jack left his bedside.

One of the greatest generals in Galician history was now just a memory.

*****

The death of Art Chapman had a profound effect on the rest of the army. What should have been a time of celebration was marred by the sorrow of his passing. Art was a beloved general amongst his men and his officers, and Jack noticed that the celebrations of the war's ending were more muted than they otherwise would have been.

It took more than a week to get the city under some semblance of control. Food was now flowing freely into the city and with the help of General Ferberg, the city was starting to resume a degree of normality.

Ferberg had been amongst the best of Jack's advisors when it came to rehabilitating the city. The man knew Dagobern inside and out, and it was his knowledge that helped make each task just a little easier.

For example, Ferberg knew the locations of every granary inside the city, and he directed which ones to use for feeding the hungry population, especially which ones would get the most (and the least) use by the level of local population. In such a way, Jack's food distribution was more successful than anyone imagined, and within a week of the battle, it could be said that no one was truly starving in Dagobern.

It was Ferberg's aid that aroused the suspicions of other members in Jack's entourage, and it was something that was bound to be addressed sooner rather than later.

That was why Jack wasn't surprised when Greg showed up at his tent that afternoon with concern written into his expression.

"What's bothering you, Greg?" asked Jack with a raised eyebrow. "I've known you long enough to know that something's wrong so you might as well come out and tell me."

Greg didn't answer right away. Instead, he sat down next to Jack and looked around as if he was trying to delay the inevitable.

Finally, he came out with it.

"Jack, I've always been honest with you," started Greg. "And there's something we need to talk about."

Jack assumed a wry smile. "Is Vera pregnant?" he joked.

Greg got the joke but his reaction was much more muted, which told Jack that this was more serious than he thought.

"Okay, no more jokes," said Jack. "Tell me."

"It's about Ferberg," began Greg. "I'm not liking his level of involvement with our forces."

Jack leaned back in his chair. "What part of his involvement are you not liking?"

"Honestly? All of it."

"Tell me why, Greg."

"It just doesn't feel right, Jack. What are we doing accepting 'help' from the enemy? Ever since we got here, the Swabians have been a thorn in our side. And this Ferberg has been as great an enemy as Avila has. I just don't like it that he's being used in any such capacity."

Jack nodded his head, listening to the entire statement. "What else would you have me do? Ferberg can be an asset to us, I'm convinced of that. He's shown no hostility to anyone here."

"Yet," finished Greg. "I'm sure that the typical Swabian aggressiveness will come out soon enough. Just have to give it time."

Jack smiled. "I think his Swabian aggressiveness is tempered a little bit. Would it surprise you to know that Ferberg is not totally Swabian? He's only half."

Greg raised an eyebrow. "What's the other half?"

"Apulian," replied Jack. "Now such public knowledge could have gotten him killed under Avila's Swabia, and that's despite his obvious talent on the battlefield but I have to believe that those Apulian genes are what's making him a halfway decent person."

"Halfway is still a far distance from full," muttered Greg.

"Greg, at the end of the day, I haven't seen any reason not to trust him yet," said Jack, standing up from his desk and moving to the other side. "There's a new task in front of all of us now. The war is over. Swabia is defeated. And now we have to achieve a lasting measure of peace for the West that's not going to boil over in war as soon as we leave. I'm going to rely on Ferberg to help me get there. He has the talent and the ability. And I really think he might be the key to leaving behind a stable Swabia."

Jack said nothing more after this, leaving the details of his plans from the conversation. The truth of the matter was that he was already envisioning a role for Ferberg in the post-Avila Swabia and what that would look like.

And if Greg was so opposed to getting Ferberg's nominal advice and support, he wasreally going to hate the rest of Jack's plans.

Greg grumbled under his breath. "I still don't like it, Jack."

"You don't have to," replied Jack quickly. "Just leave it to me. I can assure you that the second I get the whiff of anything resembling insubordination from Ferberg, he's gone. It's just that I keep giving the man a chance to prove himself to me, and he's doing that. I'm going to see how far this can go."

Greg didn't say anything to that, which made Jack walk behind his desk again and sit down. With the silence heavy in the room, Jack turned back to humor to break the tension.

"Besides, it's not like I'm giving Ferberg an army," joked Jack. "I may be unorthodox but I'm not stupid."

"It's not like we still don't have an open slot on our command team," muttered Greg. "We need to decide who's going to fill Art's spot."

Jack nodded as all signs of joking disappeared. "Personally, I was thinking that Lindy would be elevated in prominence. He's too recently promoted to take on command of the entire army but he shows incredible promise. There's no one that quite loves the army like he does."

"Lindy would be a good choice," replied Greg. "But we still need a senior general in charge."

"Why not you?" asked Jack. "Seriously? Art was nominally in total command and you were directly under him. You've proven yourself several times over. Why not you in total command of the Galician Army?"