Fourth Vector Ch. 48

Michael shook his head, despite the nerves. "It's the only chance we have. We need to do something different or else our group is going to run out of food back at the farm. These men have legitimate grievances against an emperor that has ignored them. Let's see if they're ready to take a second option."

Victor's face registered the apprehension but he spoke nothing else about it. He embraced his friend and patted his back heartily.

"Come back alive whatever you do," said Victor. "For all of us."

Michael nodded, a thin smile appearing on his lips. He knew that Victor meant one person in particular in the reference of "us."

That person was standing next to Victor. Sarah had tears in her eyes as she saw Michael off. The tension between them hadn't thawed at all, and despite Sarah blowing up on him and calling him a brute, the look in her eyes now said that she thought he was anything but.

Much to his surprise, Sarah rushed in and embraced him. Before he could even get any words out, she grabbed his neck and kissed him soundly.

Michael was most shocked by the kiss coming out of nowhere. It was made more embarrassing by the presence of the rest of the rebels around them, such a private display occurring within their sight.

Yet, Michael didn't have the heart to rebuke her. He knew what he was attempting to do was incredibly dangerous, and this could be the last time he ever saw Sarah again.

"Come back please," she whispered. "Come back to us."

Once again, the "us" was just a formality. Michael understood that Sarah really meant come back tome.

"I'll do my best," he replied softly. "I will."

With those final words, Michael separated from his band of rebels and approached the thick woods several yards away. He was very close to Belfort, and this stretch of woods would open up on the other side to the camp of the rebel regiments. Michael took nothing with him on the march up to the camp. His rifle was left with Victor as well as his sidearm. He had no backpack or other money with which to barter with.

If this was going to be successful, the men of these regiments had to see him as the message, not his possessions. They had to understand he wasn't a threat to them but rather, an unlikely ally.

As Michael stepped onto the main road, he noticed a guard station a hundred yards in front of him. He was familiar enough with the Javan Army to know that this guard station wasn't being attended to properly. The guard didn't have eyes on him, which was enough for Michael to know that discipline was lax. He expected as much from a group of rebels but it didn't exactly inspire him with any confidence that this plan was going to work.

"State your business," said the guard once Michael stopped close enough to him. The guard had his rifle sitting against the ground, quite out of reach. It was another breach in protocol, especially if Michael had unfriendly intentions. The guard would be dead before he even had a chance to grip his rifle.

When Michael didn't immediately answer, the guard looked over at him with scowl.

"State your business, I said!" he snapped. "Who the fuck are you?"

It was now or never. Michael took a deep breath.

"My name is Michael of the House of Bainbridge. I'm the great-nephew of Emperor Charles IX, and I present myself to you and your men as the rightful heir to the Javan Imperial throne that has been so usurped by Bancroft. I'd like to talk to your leaders."

The look on the guard's face could almost have been amusing if not for the tension. He went from anger to shock to confusion in the space of a few seconds. By the end, his mouth was hanging open, no doubt the fact that he never would have expected all of that from one man walking up to the camp.

Finally, the guard recovered. "W-wait here," he said, losing all of his prior confidence.

Michael put his hands behind his back and stood his ground as the guard rushed away from his post. He took that chance to look around the camp, seeing little of the discipline that typically described the Javan Army. Men were rowdy and loud, telling stories to each other and often in various states of improper military dress. Some of them even eyed him warily, as if he was a threat that would soon need to be neutralized.

Most telling was the human decoration that was hanging from a nearby tree. Several men, officers by the cut of their uniforms, were swarming with flies as their dead bodies swung with the breeze. Michael suspected they were the ones that wanted to stay loyal to Bancroft.

Out of nowhere, the guard reappeared. "Follow me," he said, regaining some of his confidence. Two other burly guards appeared out of nowhere and they fell in behind Michael as he was led through the camp. He was brought to a small, collapsible structure that at one time would have been the office of one of the higher commanders. Indeed, the inside featured a desk that had been completely cleared of papers, most of which were on the floor. The chair had been knocked over as well, resting against the floor.

Michael suspected that the former occupant of this officer was now hanging from the trees out front.

While he was looking at the mess of the room, the two guards behind him seized his body and quickly cuffed him.

"What are these for?" asked Michael once the cuffs were secure around his wrists.

"We know who you are," said the first guard. "Your reputation precedes you. We know how many Javan soldiers you've killed in the past six months. This is for everyone's protection."

Michael raised his chin. "I didn't come here to start trouble, only to talk with your leaders."

"We'll be the judge of that," replied the guard as he nodded to the other two men. They instructed Michael to take a seat (uprighting the chair in the process) before they stepped outside the room, leaving Michael to himself.

For a brief moment, Michael wondered if he made a mistake by coming here. Now that he was detained and at their mercy, the rebel leaders could do what they wished with him, even kill him without a second thought. Michael thought about seeing Sarah's face for the last time, and he was surprised by how pleasant the idea was.

Had he just made the worst mistake of his career?

Michael didn't have long to ponder his thoughts. The door to the room opened, and one of the burly guards let in two men. They were officers by the looks of them, and Michael guessed they were most likely majors by the stripes on their shoulders. More than likely, it was these two men that were the ringleaders of the mutiny.

The one on the right had a stoic face and salt-and-pepper hair. The one on the left had a wide face and a large nose. It was the one on the right, the most experienced of the two judging by the hair, that spoke first.

"You claim to be Michael Bainbridge, the heir to the Javan throne, do you not?" barked the man.

"That is correct," answered Michael. "My great-uncle was Charles IX. My cousin was Prince George."

The two men looked at each other before the one with the big nose started to speak. "How do we know you're really a Bainbridge? What if you're lying?"

"All you'd need to do to confirm my identity is take me to the imperial palace," answered Michael. "I know the entire support staff that works there. I've known them all my life. They can confirm my identity better than anyone."

"You can rest assured that we'll be doing that," replied Salt-and-pepper Hair. "Even if you are who you say you are, why should we not kill you right now? How many Javan soldiers have you killed in your lifetime?"

Michael shrugged. "More than I can count by now. My rebel group has become extremely good at killing Bancroft's men."

"Then why are you here," barked Big Nose. "Why are you still not in the sewers with the rest of your rebel rats?"

"I'm here because you can help me and I can help you," said Michael simply, causing the other two men to laugh.

"You look very helpful to us now wearing those handcuffs," snickered Big Nose.

Salt-and-pepper rolled his eyes. "Explain what you mean. How can you help us?"

Michael shrugged. "We're both rebels now, are we not? I'm wanted by Bancroft because I have a legitimate claim to the throne, and I've been killing his men without scruples. As dangerous as I am, you're in an even deadlier position than I am. You've not only mutinied against Bancroft but you've killed your commanding officers. If Bancroft gets a hold of you now, it's likely he'll put your entire regiment to death."

The two men looked at each other before looking back at Michael.

"If he catches us," said Big Nose smugly. "Bancroft is to the north of Belfort, going after Jack Easterbrook. There's a good chance he won't be victorious in battle. There's a good chance he'll be killed."

"And even if he is, there's the Tyroleans to consider," added Salt-and-pepper. "Bancroft could never make it back to Belfort to do anything about us."

"That's a big gamble you're taking," said Michael. "And even if you're right, and Bancroft is killed, what do you think will happen to you if Jack Easterbrook or Trevor Downing captures the city? Do you think they're going to care that you've deserted Bancroft's side? To them, you're still Javans. Rebel Javans to make things worse. They won't permit you to survive the war either way. Even if you're lucky enough that Bancroft is killed in the upcoming conflict, you still won't have much of a future."

The two men were getting angry now. Big Nose was flexing his hands as if he couldn't wait to wrap them around Michael's neck. Salt-and-pepper's nostrils were flaring. The situation was starting to degrade.

"And what good will you be to us then?" seethed Big Nose. "I'm not seeing any advantages for us in your proposal here, and certainly no reason for us to keep you alive."

"I can offer you the one thing you lack," said Michael confidently. "Legitimacy."

Salt-and-pepper looked confused. "Legitimacy? Explain."

"Up until this point, all you have is the fact that you're rebel regiments. You're disgruntled, rightfully so, but that doesn't give you anymore power than what you've seized for yourself. What you need is someone with that power to legitimize the actions that you've taken. You need someone new to fight for so you don't look like a bunch of traitorous dogs. I can give you that power. With Bancroft out of the city, I'm the next in line for the throne, a throne that he usurped. If you fight for me and declare your support for my rule, then all of a sudden you go from rebels to the first regiments that acknowledged the change in emperor. It could be very... lucrative for you."

"I can seize all the gold that I need," growled Big Nose. "I can hold this entire city for ransom for endless gold but what we really need is food. The granaries are empty. All of it has been disturbed by the war with the Tyroleans. That's why I say piss on gold. We want regular food."

"I'm in a position to give that to you," offered Michael. "Especially if you know where to look. I'm also willing to look past what you did to your former officers. I can justify what you did by calling them Bancroft loyalists that needed to be disposed of. In return, all I ask is for your loyalty to my cause. Help me take over the city from the other regiments and we can strike the first blow against Bancroft before Jack Easterbrook even lands."

There was silence after Michael spoke the words. So much silence that he wondered if he should keep talking. Both Big Nose and Salt-and-pepper were now whispering to themselves, something so inaudible that it couldn't be made out.

Before either of them had the chance to respond, the door to the outside was thrown open and one more man stepped in. Two things became apparent immediately by the entry of this third man.

The first thing was that he'd been listening outside to everything that had been said by Michael.

The second thing was that he was clearly the leader of all that was going on. He wore the same uniform as Big Nose and Salt-and-pepper, but they seemed to defer to him almost immediately by their changed body language.

The third man only had one question for Michael.

"How can we trust you?" he asked, staring down at the young heir. "We know who you are and what you've done. How can we trust your word?"

Michael shrugged. "I could ask you all the same thing. How am I going to be able to sleep at night wondering about your allegiance? The answer to that is that we have the same goal. We both want Java to return to how things used to be, right? To a time before Bancroft, before all the calamity of the wars. When food was regular and your lives weren't at risk every day, right?"

The third man nodded without saying anything else.

Michael continued. "That's what we both want. But your question was why do you think you can trust me? Because you've entrusted my family with the guardianship of the Javan state for centuries. I'm a Bainbridge. Ruling Java is in my veins. You all know who I am and you've seen what I can do. I've managed to turn Belfort on its head with a band of less than a hundred rebels. Imagine what I could do with your support."

"And you seriously think you can provide that?" asked the third man. "You think you can have success against Bancroft?"

Michael nodded his head confidently. "It's the only reason I'm here. We have more to gain by working together than separately. If you acknowledge my claim to the throne, I will restore your regiment in the eyes of Java and together, we'll return Java to her former glory."

The third man continued to stare at Michael for a moment before grabbing the other two and leading them out of the room. The door slammed shut, leaving Michael alone where he took a deep breath. At least he'd managed to say everything that he wanted to say. He was half-afraid that they might kill him before he could even make his offer. Not that he was out of the woods yet but at least he'd given them something to consider.

Yet it was hardly a comforting thought that he could end up swinging from the three like the other officers if they rejected his offer.

The men continued to deliberate amongst themselves for about ten minutes. At times, the argument became heated, and during one particularly loud moment, Michael could hear someone (most likely Big Nose) arguing that they should just kill Michael and forget about it.

Shortly after that happened, the door flew open and all three men reentered the room. They all wore solemn expressions on their faces (although Big Nose's expression seemed to be tinged with anger).

Nobody wanted to break the silence. Indeed, it wasn't broken until the third man walked forward to Michael's chair and removed the handcuffs from his wrists.

That was when something entirely dramatic happened next. While tossing the handcuffs on the floor, the third man assumed a position on his knees in front of Michael, followed in short order by Big Nose and Salt-and-pepper.

"We accept your proposal, Your Imperial Majesty," said the third man as his head remained bowed. "We will acknowledge your leadership as the new Javan Emperor. In return, we ask that you take upon our regiment as the first to give support to your new rule. If you will have us, we will support you willingly."

Michael felt all the tension fall off his shoulders. "From this day forward, your regiment will be granted a special place in reign as my first."

With their terms agreed to, all that remained to be done was to exchange a physical commitment of their spoken words. The third man pushed to his feet and extended his hand, which Michael took willingly.

"In that case, my name is Major Harry Bergman, and I've been the one in charge here. This man here is Major Paul Norris," said Harry, indicating the one that Michael had nicknamed Big Nose. "And this other man is Major Bryce Itaki. We are at your service from now on."

"How much pull do you men have with the other regiment?" asked Michael. "The 105th, your sister regiment that rebelled with you?"

"Enough pull to know that we can convince them to come over to us," replied Harry without any hesitation. "You will have the 104th and the 105th under your command by nightfall."

Michael couldn't hold back a smile. "Good. If that's the case, we'll have a secure position with which to take the rest of the city. There's still three other regiments guarding Belfort, correct?"

Harry nodded. "So far, those other three regiments have rebuked our offers to join with us. They haven't made any moves against us yet but I'm sure the knowledge of us declaring for your rule could spur them to action. We would need to move quickly to enlist their support or neutralize them."

"Then let's get a plan together to make it happen," said Michael. "The sooner that we can cut off Bancroft from Belfort, the sooner we can end this war. An emperor without a power base won't be long for this world."

Harry actually smiled. "Now that's something that sounds promising indeed."

News of Michael's ascension to the throne spread throughout the camp quickly. All three majors sent out word to the lower level officers of what was being gained by joining with Michael, so that the common soldiers were all joyous at the thought of gaining a new emperor.

That joy manifested itself by shouts and cheers as the night wore on. Mostly, it was the same cheer that happened every time a new emperor took the throne.

"Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor!"

In less than a year, Michael's world had been entirely turned upside down. From being the unwanted heir that everyone thought was simple to becoming the rebel leader turned emperor, he'd seen quite the change in fortunes. During that year, he'd experienced his highest highs and his lowest lows, and ironically enough, it was Victor that first commented on it when Michael invited him into the camp the next morning following the successful implementation of their plan.

"Well, Michael, I'd say you've really done it this time," said Victor, wearing a prominent grin as he looked at Michael.

Michael wore a matching grin. "Now we can take this war to the next level. Bancroft's days are truly numbered.

*****

One of the sweetest sights in the world was now in front of Jack's very eyes.

It wasn't the sight of his wives without a stitch of clothing on them, although such an image was incredibly sweet indeed.

No, this sight in front of him was of a different nature, one that spelled out the end to a journey that had taken six weeks from the time they left Quiller's Cove.

Just over the eastern horizon was a massive dark blob that stood out from the waters of the ocean in heavy contrast. Jack had been a naval officer for long enough that he knew instantly what that blob was.

It was land.

In front of him was the Javan continent. They'd made it safely across the ocean. Though there had been some casualties along the way, the ending was now in sight. In front of them was the Javan city of Lockhaven, the key port on the northwestern coast as well as being Jack's hometown.

In a short amount of time, the bulk of his army would unload in Lockhaven and then start the inevitable march south toward Belfort, where he hoped to work in concert with the Tyrolean Army to the southeast, catching Bancroft's forces in the middle.

If all went to plan, they would close the ring around him near Belfort and crush him totally. The Javan Empire would surrender, Bancroft would be dead, and every citizen in the Western alliance would get a chance to live a life of their choosing, free of foreign influence.

It would be a sweet future indeed.

However, the first step was getting the army into Lockhaven. Upon sighting the city, a search took place to determine if it held any Javan vessels of any consequence. That search ultimately found several smaller vessels, most of them destroyers that had been damaged in some way and were in various states of repair.