Fourth Vector Ch. 49

In fact, Jack knew that Kat was going to be very upset with this decision, similar to how Abigail had been a few days ago, when she reboarded theDestiny and separated from him. Both of his wives knew the cost that this last battle could demand, and they were anxious about being away from him if the ultimate price needed to be paid.

While Abigail might be a little relieved with him being back with the fleet, Kat would not be happy with him not being on land with the army.

Still, it was a cost that needed to be paid, and both women understood the larger demands of duty. At least, he hoped they still understood.

Greg and Ambros were the first to arrive, both of their feet caked in mud up to the ankle. Like the true professionals they were, neither were surprised when Jack informed them of his decision.

"I was surprised that you were still with the army in general when the Javan fleet is still out there," said Greg with a wry grin. "I thought you'd have left us ages ago."

"I thought about it but I had a feeling I was needed here on the continent," said Jack as his tone changed. "But after what I saw yesterday, I'd say you two have a handle on what's going on. I entrust the army into your hands, and I know you'll do what's best for it."

Ambros shared a look with Greg before looking back at Jack. "You can count on us, Jack. We won't let you down."

Jack could only grin in response. To have these two men in front of him now was unthinkable more than a year ago. The fact that he was entrusting the largest army ever assembled in Western history to a Javan and a Swabian was something that would have been inconceivable just a short time ago. It was also due to the fact that he trusted both of them implicitly that he was willing to let go.

Unfortunately for Jack, telling Greg and Ambros was the easy part. The hard part came when Kat entered the tent with tears already in her eyes.

"You're leaving," she said, her statement sounding more like an accusation than a question.

Jack gave her a confused look. "How did you know?"

Kat crossed her arms and moved closer to him. "I just had a feeling. It's true, isn't it?"

Jack nodded. "I just heard from Russ. The Javan fleet is close enough that a major battle will unfold shortly at sea. I told him that I was going to join him."

Kat nodded but kept her eyes trained to the flow. A tear fell down one cheek followed by the other shortly after. "Do you think this... could be the one? The battle that we don't know..."

She couldn't even bring herself to finish the sentence, even though Jack knew what she was going to say. He went to her, enfolding her in his arms.

"I don't know," he muttered softly. "It could be, it could not. All I know is that I belong with that fleet. If they're going to fight, I'm going to fight too."

"You could always stay here with the army though," she said, her eyes pleading with him. "The army needs you too."

"The army will be just fine with Greg and Ambros," said Jack as his voice started to fail. What he said next was the hardest thing he had to say. "And with you here too."

Kat's eyes locked on him. "You don't want me coming with you?"

Jack swallowed the lump in his throat. "It's not that I don't want you. It's just that if you're right about this next battle, if something happens to me, then I want you in a safe location. I want you far away."

"But you'll be with Abigail," she argued.

Jack let out a small, comforting smile. "And she had the same thing to say when I stayed with the army. It's too much that I have to risk you, but I won't risk both of you at the same time. Abigail and I will be perfectly safe on theDestiny, just as you and I were perfectly safe with the army."

Kat clutched him tighter. "I just don't like it, Jack. Something about this doesn't feel right to me. Of all the battles that we've fought, there's something in the pit of my stomach that's telling me not to let you go. That something is so clearly wrong."

Jack understood the feeling well. Ever since they left Quiller's Cove, the threat of danger was real and ever present. The prophecy was always looming in the back of his mind, a reminder that no matter how good things could be going, it could turn at any time.

"I know you don't like it," said Jack softly. "I don't like it either. But it's what we need to do. It's what we've been working toward all this time. We can't let up now, not with the ending in sight."

"What if it's an ending that I don't want?" whispered Kat before pulling back to look at him. "What if I fear the ending more than I do the war?"

There was no way that he could miss the hidden meaning behind her words. Even warfare was preferable to losing him. That's what Kat was trying to say.

Jack took a deep breath and kissed her forehead. "No matter what happens, I'll always come back to you."

Her eyes searched his. "You promise?"

"I promise."

*****

A few hundred miles to the south, the city of Belfort was still divided into two opposing camps.

On Michael's side of the city were the two regiments that he'd talked over to his side a week before, and together they controlled most of the southern and eastern portions of the city, including the imperial palace.

Yet even after a week of skirmishing, they were no closer to getting anywhere with the remaining three regiments of the city garrison, who controlled the other half of the city. Michael had hoped that the fighting that broke out in the city would convince the men on the other side that they didn't want to fight their own but that didn't seem to be the case. The relatively young and untrained soldiers of the garrison were just as likely to brawl with their own family as they were with other Javans, making that course untenable.

As it so happened, Michael decided to gamble. He had an envoy walk over to that side of the city while carrying a white flag for safe passage. With the envoy was a message inviting the commander of the three regiments to meet with Michael, and to settle this confrontation before it spiraled even further out of control. Michael wasn't sure if this commander would take his invitation to meet but to his surprise, his envoy reappeared unscathed and with a message from the commander that a meeting could be had.

That was why Michael found himself in neutral territory this morning, close to the Belfort central square that made up the heart of the city. He was flanked by a heavy security detail of the men of the 104th Regiment just in case this enemy commander had any tricks up his sleeve. Also with him was Victor, who was taking to his new role as second man to the throne with equal parts of competence and intelligence.

"He's late," said Victor after a cursory glance at his watch. "The least this commander could have done was show up on time."

"Patience, Victor," cautioned Michael. "It's only been a few minutes. Let's not get started on the wrong foot with this man. If we can get him to our side, we will save a lot of time and blood."

Victor's mouth moved from side to side as if he couldn't decide which words to spit out next. "It makes me uneasy. It makes me fear that we might be walking into a trap."

"Then we'll have our regiment here to protect us."

Victor gave him a hollow look. "Hardly a comforting thought to have one regiment against three."

Before Michael had the chance to respond, there was the sound of commotion below. Victor was the first to run toward the window, peering through the blinds to see the cause of such excitement.

"He's here," said Victor finally before moving away from the window and turning back to Michael. "I hope you're ready for this. This won't be easy."

"No, it probably won't," agreed Michael. "But it needs to be done."

The sounds of commotion soon entered the small marketplace where they were situated. Rows of 104th men lined either side of Michael as well as behind, ready to intervene the moment hostility was shown. The situation became tense when the commander of the opposing regiments came into the room, flanked by his own security detail.

The commander wasn't exactly like Michael had pictured him. For one, he was old. He had deep lines of wrinkles cut into his face and his gait was slow and doddering. The second thing to notice about him was his weight. Judging by the way his uniform stretched over his body, he's seen far too many winters with more than enough food, finding little time for exercise.

The man's eyes though had a sharpness to them that was a pleasant contrast to the rest of him. Michael also noticed that he wore the uniform of a brigadier general, the lowest rank of generalship in Java.

As the general came to a stop before Michael, his eyes studied the new emperor in a most critical way. It wasn't hard to tell by his searching eyes and pinched mouth that he didn't think very much of having to appear in front of Michael and negotiate in this fashion.

That became quickly apparent by his first statement as well.

"You'll have to excuse me if I don't bow," said the general, who Michael learned afterward was named Tyrell. "Despite your trappings, I only recognize one Javan emperor and he is presently fighting in the north of the country."

Michael suspected that he was going to start off in such a manner and he tailored his speech to reflect that.

"The man that you regarded as the last emperor, Bancroft, is still fighting a war in the north," said Michael. "A losing war."

General Tyrell scoffed. "A losing war you say? Hardly a loss when he's subjected most of the known world."

"And yet, his enemies still surround him, do they not?" asked Michael. "We have a Tyrolean Army nearly on our doorstep and a much larger invasion force from the Fourth Vector having already occupied Lockhaven. Huge swathes of Javan territory are under the control of foreigners. For an emperor that has conquered so much, Bancroft finds himself one conquest away from total ruin."

Tyrell didn't have much of a response to that statement. He pursed his lips and looked around the room. "Say what you like but he is still the legitimate emperor of Java."

"That's an idea that I formally challenge by being here," replied Michael. "Bancroft is not the legitimate emperor. He usurped the throne when he killed my great-uncle. By rights, the throne of Java belongs to my family, the Bainbridges, as it has for hundreds of years before now. If you're seeking legitimacy in your rulership, you can look no further than the man in front of you."

Tyrell shook his head as a cruel smile appeared on his lips. "You've got some balls on you, boy. Not that I don't think Bancroft won't remove them when he gets back to the capital, but taking over his city while he's gone has been an impressive feat, I'll give you that. Especially when you've been so busy killing your own people in the last six months, I'm surprised you've managed to talk them over to your side."

"I kill only those that stand in my way, General," said Michael, giving Tyrell a very knowing look. "And I will continue to do so for all of those that follow the way of the usurper, who has led Java to the brink of ruin. Look around you, General. The city suffers from a misery not seen in several lifetimes. Her people can't get enough food. Her armies suffer defeat after defeat. Our reputation on the world stage is in tatters and all of it is due to the influence of one man who couldn't be satisfied with his station in life. So if you think that I won't continue to kill those that prevent me from turning the tide, you're mistaken. I will do everything in my power to return Java to her proper place."

"And what role do I have to play in that?" asked Tyrell. "You summoned me here for a reason, no? What part do I have to play?"

Michael changed his tone from one that was authoritative to one that was a bit softer. This next piece would be critical to get right and he couldn't sound too demanding lest it go sideways.

"You have a bigger role to play in this than you might imagine," started Michael. "We cannot continue to fight with each other in the streets of Belfort. Not like this. Java needs peace, and this continuous war will be her ruin. At this very time, I have more regiments coming my way to consolidate my rule, and it is my plan to make peace with the enemies on our doorstep. I don't want to see your men placed in harm's way for a lost cause. I'd rather you joined with us."

For a brief moment, the color drained from Tyrell's face at the mere mention of other regiments. He lost much of his confidence with his next statement.

"How many more regiments do you have on your side?"

Michael shook his head like he was disciplining an errant child. "That number is of little consequence to you right now. The only number I want to hear from you is how much it will take to bring your men to my side."

Tyrell's mouth dropped in surprise. "The number? What number?"

"The number that I need to pay you from my treasury to come fight for me," replied Michael. "I could be content to wait until my reinforcements arrive to rejoin our battle but that route would leave a sour taste in my mouth. I took the actions that I did in order to stop the spilling of Javan blood, not to shed more of it. In which case, I want you on my side, General. Your men look up to you, and I have a need for good commanders. If you'll join with me, we can help to rebuild the country that we love so much. However, I'm not naive to the fact that you will need to be paid to be my commander. Name your price."

Tyrell didn't seem certain on how to respond. His expression kept changing from being flabbergasted to shrewdly calculating whether he could actually come over to Michael's side. On one hand, he most likely had a loyalty to the Javan state, and even thinking about coming over to Michael probably rubbed him the wrong way. However, he also likely knew that Bancroft's side was a lost cause and would only lead to more misery. Michael watched as Tyrell went through each option silently for several moments before he finally replied.

"A year's extra pay," said Tyrell, putting his shrewd face back on. "As well as double rations for my men for the next month. Those are my terms."

Michael had already been thinking about a number in his head, and once he heard the general offer such light terms, he pounced on it.

"Done," replied Michael with a quick nod to Victor, who wrote down the conditions. "Can you make the announcement as soon as you leave this room? That your men fight for us now?"

Tyrell still looked surprised that he got his way so quickly. He became tongue-tied.

"I suppose I could, yes, I could do it right now, if you like?" he offered.

Michael gave him a smile. "That would be great. Let the city see that we are now united in cause. I'm sure they will be grateful for that outcome. No one wants to see anyone else die needlessly."

For a man that had just gotten his way, Tyrell was decidedly neutered for the next half hour as he made the announcement to the entire city of his terms and decision to fight for Michael. His soldiers took it with a stone-faced serenity until it was announced they were getting double rations, at which point they celebrated the changing of the guard.

Michael couldn't have been more pleased by the turnaround in his fortunes, although Victor had several choice words for him once they were alone.

"A full year's extra pay?" asked Victor, his mouth still hanging open. "Why didn't you try to negotiate with him? We could have talked him down substantially from that!"

Michael only smiled in return. "I was prepared to go as high as five year's wages and the fact that he settled for only one was very useful to us. In the long scheme of things, having his support will be more important than any other man in that regiment. He gets an extra cut and he gets to tell his men that he got them extra rations for the next month. By nightfall, they'll be cheering both his name and mine loud enough for the entire city to hear. That came much more cheaply than I thought it would."

Victor started to tap his foot against the floor. "Still, we should have at least negotiated a little."

"No, this will serve our purpose," said Michael. "We can now count ourselves as the undisputed masters of Belfort. We have quite the army under our control now."

"Five regiments though," said Victor, bringing him back to reality. "Hardly enough of a force if Bancroft or even the army under Zander comes back here. Although this news that we have more forces coming is heartening."

"Don't take too much heart in it," warned Michael. "I made it up."

Victor's eyes threatened to bulge out of his head. "You did what?!"

"A little white lie," said Michael, shrugging his shoulders. "I wanted Tyrell to think that his time was numbered, and that even waiting for Bancroft to come back would be too long. If he thought another force was on his way, he couldn't hold out on me. It's not exactly the truth. We have feelers out with other regiments in the field, but I thought it would do nicely to take care of any indecision on his part."

"You're playing a dangerous game, Michael. If he finds out..."

"He won't find out, at least not now," said Michael. "Because all that communication goes through you and I know you won't tell him. By the time he does find out, we'll be in an entirely different position."

Victor still wasn't that happy about it. He grunted before shuffling toward the window.

"Don't be mad at me," called Michael. "We did what we had to do."

"That's what worries me," said Victor. "How easily you fell into that role. I wasn't watching a young man with no ruling experience dictate terms to Tyrell. I felt like I was watching a seasoned monarch. The Bainbridge blood runs deep in you, Michael."

Michael took a deep breath but said nothing. He was partly worried about that as well. He knew the great evils that had been committed by his family over the centuries, some of them on par with what Bancroft had done.

It was always in the back of his mind--whether or not he would act the same way once he tasted power. Truth be told, Victor wasn't the only one surprised by how easily it had all gone. Michael found that the act of ruling itself wasn't that hard and it could even be, dare he say it, fun.

It only meant that there was reason to fear what he could turn into. If left unchecked, perhaps he would turn into just the sort of tyrant that Bancroft was.

Michael was snapped from his thoughts as Victor started speaking again.

"Well, let's get back to the palace, Michael. I know you have a lot to do and if you do, then that means that I do as well."

Michael smiled and found himself falling in with his old friend. The two men caught the imperial car out to the palace, flanked by soldiers for the entire ride. Before they could arrive, Victor turned to look at Michael.

"You mentioned back then that you'd been reaching out to all the regiments in the army to see who could possibly be turned. Have you heard anything back from the delegation that you sent to the Tyroleans?"

Michael shook his head. "Nothing yet. I'm not even sure if my envoy reached them quite frankly. And even then, I don't know what they'd do with him. I've made it quite clear that I'm open to a peace settlement with Tyrol but whether they will take that as a serious offer is still anyone's guess."

"Well, we can only hope," said Victor. "It would certainly make things a little easier."

Michael started to chuckle. "Victor, haven't you learned yet? Nothing is ever truly easy in this line of work."

Victor shot him a sideways glance. "I don't know. You made that negotiation look pretty easy."

"Well, you should have seen the amount of thought that went into it!"

The two men continued to chat until the car arrived at the palace five minutes later, at which point, Victor soon separated in order to get back to his work. Michael supposed that Victor was finding out just how much work came with being the main advisor to the throne, and no doubt that was causing the other man to continue to develop gray hairs.