Fourth Vector Ch. 50

The issue with this was that the common people were easily roused by rumors of defeat and invasion, and by that evening, they were positively riotous about the rumors that they had suffered such a great defeat.

"It's getting worse out there," said Victor as he entered Michael's study in the palace. "The people have destroyed a good portion of the main marketplace. They've torn down stalls and thrown everything that wasn't nailed down. It's not getting any better, and it seems to have only served to enrage them."

Michael crossed his arms in front of his chest. He moved closer to the window, looking out across the main courtyard to the quiet street out front. There were no signs of rioting here, but he knew that if not checked, any demonstrations ultimately made their way to the palace.

"Do we have any news that we can release to them that would pacify the crowds?" asked Michael. "They have worked themselves up into a frenzy over mere rumors. The fact of the matter is that we have no idea who won this battle, if anyone won it at all."

Victor started shaking his head. "I had some of the men interview the merchants that brought the initial news. As you can imagine, most of it was hearsay and just plain misinformation. The only thing that we can figure out is that the battle took place and it seems to have broken off in the night after some casualties. No one knows how many casualties have taken place or whether any one side has declared victory. And I'm fairly certain Bancroft wouldn't give up those figures even if we asked nicely."

Michael grunted. "The curse of choosing a third side. We are shut off from both major combatants and yet it's the people of Belfort who have husbands and brothers manning those ships. It doesn't make this any easier."

"And I don't mean to be a downer but there are reports that the Tyroleans aren't far away," said Victor, taking a seat in one of the oversized, fancy palace chairs closest to Michael. "By all reports, they are only a day or two away from the city. And we've had no word on whether or not they plan to attack it."

"I've sent them three emissaries at this point," said Michael, his anger getting the better of him. "They know that we are not Bancroft's men. That we don't have any reason to fight them. And yet, still they approach."

"And if we don't quell this riot in the city, the Tyroleans will find a capital that can't even defend itself," said Victor quietly. "The first thing we need to do is get control of Belfort. And possibly send another envoy to Trevor Downing."

"A fourth envoy though, Victor? Is their silence not enough communication about what they intend to do?"

Victor separated his hands in a sign of true confusion. "What else could we do? I don't want them to attack the city any more than you do. But you know that five green regiments will not be able to stand up to a battle-tested army of thirty thousand pissed-off Tyroleans who finally see the end of the war in sight. It would be a bloodbath and we'd almost be better off leaving the city."

Michael shook his head. "I won't leave Belfort. Not when I just got here. We have to find a diplomatic solution to the problem with the Tyroleans, but you're entirely right about Belfort. We can't have a city on the brink of rioting when they get here so we need to find a way to calm them down without getting them the news that they are so desperate for."

It was at this point in the conversation that Victor gave Michael a hollow, knowing look. It was long enough for Michael to notice, and he casually asked what the look was in regards to.

"You know how Bancroft used to quiet dissent," said Victor, spitting out each word quickly like it was a foul dish. "I hate to even suggest it but it is an option."

A look of disgust appeared on Michael's face. "You're suggesting I turn the army on them? Declare martial law and kill a few of the ringleaders?"

Victor shrugged. "It is an option, no matter how distasteful."

Michael shook his head vigorously. "It's no option of mine. I'm not Bancroft. I'm also not my great-uncle. I won't start off my reign with ordering my troops to turn their rifles on the people they're supposed to be defending. I won't do it, Victor."

Victor put his hands up quickly. "Not that I'm suggesting it warrants it now, but this is continuing to develop as you well know. We could get to the point that if we want to keep the city, we might have to take that step."

Michael took a deep breath before turning to face his old friend. "In that case, I'd rather surrender it. I won't become like them. The whole point of doing what we're doing is to present them with a break from the past. Bancroft is history as is Charles IX. We represent a new way forward, one that sees more value in the lives of Javans. I will not do so."

Victor nodded his head solemnly. "We'll have to do something eventually. Do you have any suggestions on what we might be able to do? We can't release any more food to the people, not with our meager stores. What else can we do?"

Michael sighed and didn't answer the question. Victor posed the most important question of the day. What else could be done?

*****

The rioting only continued to get worse. By the next morning, a near permanent blockade had been set up in the middle of the city, manned by the families of those sailors that were still with the fleet. Across the entire breadth of the city, mothers could be found asking about their sons while wives could be found pining for the fate of their husbands.

It was a situation that was increasingly spinning out of control. Perhaps it was for that reason that Victor made the offer again to use the five regiments to disperse the crowd. While certainly tempting, Michael still found himself shaking his head firmly.

"I can't be like that," said Michael. "We have to be better than the last emperors that they saw. I will not show them the same face that they're used to."

"We have to do something, Michael. The Tyroleans are almost here and they're just as likely to find a city that's burned itself to the ground if we don't address these rioters."

At that point, Michael felt like he had everything to lose and next to nothing to gain. He couldn't set the army on the rioters and he couldn't continue to ignore them.

What if there was a third path though?

"What if I talked to them?" asked Michael, broaching the subject with delicate hands. "What if I went down to the main square and addressed the crowd? It would be better than nothing, right?"

The face Victor made in response told him that his new plan wasn't regarded very highly.

"And then what? Watch them tear you limb from limb the moment they hear something they don't like?" asked Victor. "You know the mob is a fickle bunch. They might cheer you one minute and kill you the next because you can't immediately solve their problems."

"I can't immediately solve their problems," said Michael, mulling the idea over. "But I can offer them a long-term solution."

"What kind of long-term solution?"

The idea was still forming but it showed considerable depth. If Michael could pull it off, he just might redirect the fury of the public toward all those that threatened it--namely Bancroft or perhaps even the Tyroleans if he wished it.

His will set in stone, Michael turned toward Victor.

"Go get my car. I'll need an escort to the main square."

*****

"And it's for that reason that I pledge to you today an end to all the fighting, an end to this war that has dragged on for so long!"

Michael took a deep breath as he looked out on the assembled masses of Javan citizenry. Nearly a quarter of the city was now hanging onto his every word, their rapt attention giving ground to the radical idea he was currently espousing.

He held up his arms in a theatrical manner. "This war--Bancroft's war--has gone on for far too long! And what results have we gotten from it? Nothing but death and blood and hardship! The good people of Java deserve so much better! You all deserve so much better! You didn't choose to be here wondering whether your loved ones are still alive or dead!"

That last point caused a small ripple of excitement to go through the crowd, reminding them of the reason most of them were so upset in the first place. Michael didn't dwell on the subject, instead turning it around and pointing it toward another target.

"Bancroft chose to send us to a war that couldn't be won! If any of your loved ones are dead, their blood is on his hands! I propose an end to Bancroft's ruinous war! I will bring back your fathers, brothers, husbands, and sons! I will see to it that our great nation returns to the peace that we all deserve, so that we all have the chance to live fulfilling lives of peace and prosperity--this I pledge to you today!"

The crowd roared with excitement. Suddenly, those that had been screaming about the rumors of defeat were now chanting their hatred of Bancroft. It only took a skillful amount of political maneuvering to turn what had been a riotous demonstration by the people into something that was as threatening to the state as a whole.

As Michael returned to the palace after his speech, the streets were lined with crowds of well-wishers. Many turned out just to see their new, youthful emperor--flush with success about the prospects of a successful turnaround. By the time that he reached the palace, Michael was beaming with pride.

"I think we did it, Victor! Listen to them out there! Their rage has been turned around on Bancroft! They are out there espousing the case for peace, which is exactly what we needed to happen."

Victor's position was much more muted than his. "True, but they are still riled up, which isn't good for us. Even if they are riled up for your cause, they can still be as destructive as they were this morning and yesterday."

Victor had a point but Michael didn't want to admit it. Not when he was still riding the high from his speech.

"Perhaps they'll settle down now. I think more than anything, they just wanted acknowledgment that we heard them and that we're pursuing the same goals," said Michael. "We could still have the city settle down."

As it turned out, the city did settle down after Michael's speech. While not yet going to the same level that it was before the rumors of the battle, the situation inside the capital deescalated from the high it was at that morning. There were still reports of damaged property coming in frequently but at least it wasn't death and arson.

That evening, Michael laid in bed staring at the ceiling. Sleep was something that wasn't coming easily, despite the busyness of the day. Though he had faced the first real threat to his rule and came out on the other side, he was still feeling the stress of uncertainty. More than anything, it was the knowledge that not every problem would turn out as well as this one did.

And yet, he was still satisfied that he didn't resort to violence. It would have been nothing to order the regiments to fire upon the rioters and disperse them back to their homes. While it would have ended all the violence right away, it also would have stained the beginning of Michael's rule, as well as demonstrate to the people that he was cut from the same cloth as Bancroft.

And that was something he wasn't able to stomach--being compared to the same man that raped and killed Jade.

It was only in the quiet evenings that her name floated into his mind anymore. Jade never stayed for very long before drifting off, a sign that perhaps he'd finally gotten over and accepted her death. Still, it was inevitable that the memories of Jade would cause him to think of yet another woman that he couldn't have.

Michael turned on his side angrily. He was still upset about Sarah, and no amount of time could dull the ache that plagued his chest. Today might have been a little easier if he had her by his side, and while he knew it wouldn't have affected the outcome, she still might have been a source of stress relief.

Michael grumbled and closed his eyes. He kept them close until he couldn't bother to pretend any longer.

He was wide awake and his thoughts centered on one woman.

Deciding that sleep could wait, Michael was in the middle of swinging his legs out from under the sheets when the door to his bedroom creaked open. He bolted upright, looking at the door and trying to see who might have come in. Not just anyone could enter the emperor's own bedchamber, and at first he suspected the worst.

And yet, the only person he saw making their way to his bedside was a tiny, pixie brunette wearing an unreadable face.

Sarah didn't stop once she reached the bed. His eyes stared back at hers, begging the question of what she was doing and why she was there but no words could escape his mouth just yet. It wasn't until Sarah pulled the strings on her sleeping pants, letting them hit the floor, that he thought to say something.

"Sarah, what are you doing?"

She shushed him. Instead of answering the question, Sarah snuck into his bed, her bottomless form soon resting against his lower half. From this angle, she looked to tower over him, her eyes searching for something within his.

Whatever she was looking for, she found it. Sarah leaned down and kissed him frantically.

Despite the confusion of the situation, he found himself responding to her kiss. His hand soon went to the back of her neck, keeping her pressed against him while her hand went to his trousers. She yanked them down furiously, and then positioned her sex directly against him.

With only a hint of light, Sarah leaned forward, kissed him, and then sunk back, taking his entire length.

"Oh my god," she murmured once their bodies were joined.

Those were the only words that were exchanged for the rest of the night. For the next twenty minutes, they enjoyed each other in a carnal and silent way--one that Michael never thought was possible.

But one that he enjoyed very much.

*****

Not much more than a day to the southeast, the Tyrolean Army was on the move and in good spirits. Trevor had never seen the army with such buoyant attitudes as they had now, not even after one of their many victories.

"It's like they're all a bunch of kids," he noted to Nina, amused at how the men were enjoying themselves as they moved forward. "You would think peace had already been declared."

Nina shrugged and smiled at him. "Peace isn't far away, is it? For all they know, their war could already be over."

That was true enough. It was only yesterday that the men were able to cross over a small mountain--notably the last mountain before reaching the Javan west coast--and get a glimmer of Belfort in the distance. The Javan capital city was practically laid bare for all of them, nearly undefended despite all that had happened.

It was certainly a beautiful sight to Trevor and the rest of the army. For years, they'd imagined this moment and what it might look like. With the last Javan Army under General Zander running north, there was nothing to stop them from taking the city.

Most of the men seemed to think that they only had to occupy Belfort and the war would be over. They imagined that Bancroft would surrender at that point and they could all go home to Tyrol, their job being done.

Trevor was more of a realist in that situation though. He knew that Bancroft was still in the north facing down Jack Kincardine, and despite the fighting up there, the Javan emperor still had an army that was very much intact.

And if it combined with the remnants of Zander's force, it could still be extremely deadly.

The best case scenario was that Trevor hoped to use Belfort as a bargaining chip for Tyrolean independence, especially if Bancroft managed to beat Kincardine. However, he also knew there was a new emperor in the city, and there were possibilities of other arrangements that might be more suitable.

Up until now, he'd been holding all delegations from the new emperor at arm's length, unsure if he was willing to get involved in Javan internal politics but the closer he got to Belfort, the less he could afford to ignore them.

Finally today, he decided he would hear out what the envoy had to say if nothing else. The biggest piece of news he was still waiting on was the outcome of this last battle between Kincardine and Bancroft, and he could afford to indulge this new emperor for a few moments.

The army stopped for a midday meal that afternoon as Trevor, Nina, and Gavin set up to meet with this envoy. When he arrived, Trevor was shocked by how young he was. Scarcely more than twenty years old, it was another reminder of the inexperienced hand that now ruled in Belfort.

He also looked nothing like the typical courtier class that had ruled Belfort up until now. This man almost looked like he'd been fetched off the streets for this purpose.

"General Trevor Downing, Emperor Michael Bainbridge sends his regards," announced the envoy, bowing in front of Trevor in an exaggerated manner.

"I'm no king so the bowing is a little much," replied Trevor, looking the young man over. "What's your name, Javan?"

"My name is Carson Atwood, and I've been given the authority to entreat with you by my emperor."

"That sounds like a hard job these days," said Gavin, from Trevor's side. "Seeing as there are now two Javan emperors."

Carson nodded. "You are correct, however, the emperor that currently rules in Belfort is the legitimate emperor. The man known as Percival Bancroft is a usurper to the throne and it is only a matter of time until he is dealt with."

"Well, that's something that still remains to be seen," said Trevor. "But frankly, I'm more interested right now in what you have to say. Bancroft is many, many miles to the north. I'm on your doorstep. I take it you have a message for me from your emperor?"

"I do have a message," said Carson, pulling out a small dispatch from within his coat pocket. He unfolded it and began to read.

"To General Trevor Downing," he started before clearing his throat. "I do not desire that you and I be enemies. I have no ill will toward the Tyrolean people or toward the struggle that you've fought for the past three years. Your quarrel was with my predecessor, who is in the process of being removed from power. I ask that you not treat Belfort and myself as your enemies so that there may be peace between us. In exchange for a peace settlement between Java and Tyrol, I'm willing to recognize Tyrolean independence as well as the severing of every political link between my country and yours. All I ask is that you do not attack Belfort and I will ensure that you get a fair peace settlement."

Once he was done reading, Carson folded the dispatch and put it back in his pocket. He said nothing further but looked from Trevor to Nina to Gavin, waiting for someone to speak.

Finally, it was Trevor who broke the silence.

"That's a lofty promise to guarantee Tyrolean independence," said Trevor. "And that's the first time I've heard any Javan leader talk about it."

"I can assure you every word that I read is true," said Carson. "Emperor Michael desires an end to all conflict, and he's willing to pay the price for peace."

"I still think this offer is a bit premature," said Trevor, tapping his chin. "You and I both know that if Bancroft moved south with his army, he would squash your new emperor like a bug. Your words sound good on paper but there's little power behind them."

Carson's face turned a shade of red. "The realities of this war aren't as clear as we would like them--"

Gavin snorted. "No, the realities of this war seem to indicate that you're making an offer that you can't back up. When or if Bancroft is defeated, then you might have more ground to stand on but until that happens, this offer doesn't have any teeth to it. Not that the gesture is not appreciated."