Orc Dominion: Triumph Ch. 04

Amelie smiled as Brigitte met her at the entrance of the castle. Though a little shorter than her, Brigitte's soft brown hair, bold brown eyes, lithe body and fair complexion made her look like Anne, Amelie's own daughter. The similarities ended there, however. Anne took to etiquette and decorum the way that Amelie took to swords and javelins. Brigitte certainly knew what diplomacy was, she just didn't care. The young Princess was forthright to a fault, resulting in her still being unmarried despite nearing her mid-twenties.

"Amelie, it's good to see you again." Brigitte smiled at the Queen.

"You as well, Brigitte." Amelie smiled back. She did genuinely like the younger woman, and after a fashion even respected the way she ignored courtesies that didn't serve a purpose.

"I'm pleased you survived the battle. Have you received any updates from Heste since you departed? Henry seems intent on not telling us any more than the bare minimum." Brigitte's smile twisted down into a pursed frown.

"He's worried about a bird getting intercepted, it's nothing personal. Anyway, to answer your question, the army in Heste has besieged Dromstadt. We've sent scouts down over the bone bridge, and it seems that Belkor has retreated all the way to the Duchy of Braden."

"It has been quiet here as well. The main Zentaran army has been stalled in the Hell Pass, and they have only a screening force in the Duchy of Haverset to prevent our army crossing in from the Seven Forts." Brigitte seemed to have expected the answer, but Amelie could see the gears turning in her mind. For all that she lacked in decorum, the girl was still smart.

"What are you thinking? Something to do with the plan you mentioned in your letter?"

"Yes, but I'll explain at the council. I don't want to have to repeat myself." She reached into a pocket in the skirt of her dress and pulled out a scroll. "Here, this is for you; a letter from Anne." She paused a moment, and then added, "I hope she is well."

"I'm sure she is; she was the last time I heard from her." Amelie slipped the letter into her belt. She would read it in private later. "Is the Duke of Lisene still arguing to take the offensive?"

"Yes, as I'm sure you'll hear soon. I'll let him describe the plan to you. You don't need me to point out the flaws, Amelie." The castle immediately opened up into a great hall, which led further back into the throne room.

The throne room was smaller than the great hall, but still large enough to accommodate the King's petitioners. It wasn't as large as her own, or even Zentara's. Sandora was the smallest Kingdom, which was one of the reasons it chose to ally with Thesta. It was also one of the poorest, a fact which the throne room reflected. The large columns supporting the ceiling were unadorned and the tapestries lining the walls were simple and common. The throne itself was almost unassuming. Though raised on a dais and lined with red velvet, the back was framed in bronze instead of gold. Still, despite their relative strength compared to Thesta, Sandora was still an important ally in the war. Their soldiers blocking the Zentaran army while the Thestan, Catabrian, and Hesten forces fought Belkor.

The meeting room for the council was off of the throne room. The small room was empty, so Amelie and Brigitte moved to inspect the map laid out over the table and the position of the army markers. "Lisene and my father will be here soon, I sent for them when I saw you approaching the gate."

Amelie smiled to herself at that. It wouldn't occur to Brigitte to ask if she wanted to freshen up before the meeting or even rest. Brigitte wanted to get on with the business at hand. In truth, she didn't mind: there would be time enough for rest tonight and sleeping in a bed again was worth the wait. It was better to settle things first, so she wouldn't lie down with uncertainty tonight.

"Excellent. The sooner we settle things here the sooner I can get back to the front. With a bit of luck Henry will have concluded the siege by then and we can return to the war of maneuver." Amelie reached down to the table and picked up the bronze falcon which she assumed represented the Falcon Guard and studied it. Her fingers stroked along the smooth, curved mantle before she placed it down at the Sandoran capital.

"Are you certain that it's best not to try and entrap their army and destroy it?" Brigitte looked at the far end of the map for the marker identifying Belkor's army and moved it to Castle Wareg and then moved the Bronze lion symbolizing Henry's army and the steel falcon representing the rest of the Thestan forces to Dromstadt.

"Yes, at least, not yet. I don't want to have orc insurgents raiding my supply lines; I'd rather sweep them all out of Heste in one go. A series of battles will demoralize them, but more importantly, demoralize the orcs back in Zentara and Ruar. That will make the Zentaran Duchies all the riper for rebellion, when the time is right."

"You really think they'll rebel?" Brigitte asked. "The last time they tried it didn't end too well for them."

"Oh yes, I think they will," Amelie replied, thinking of Drauken, "it is up to us to create the conditions where they'll be successful."

"Your Highness!" Boomed the Duke of Lisene as he entered. "Welcome! It's good to see you!"

Amelie forced a smile as he entered the room. "It is good to see you as well. Though I wish it were under better circumstances than war."

"True true," he agreed, if not sincerely, "but at least it's a winning war, eh? Come on, tell me all about how you smashed the orcs. I've been dying to hear your firsthand account!"

"There will be time enough for that." The King said as he shuffled into the room. Older even than Jeanette, the King was past his prime and no longer in a position to lead from the field. Even in his youth, the King was of a more scholarly bent. Brigitte's brother, Crown Prince Renard, was more martial, and currently commanded the defenses in the Hell Pass between Thesta and Zentara. "She can tell us all about it tonight at the banquet. For now, we should focus on the matter at hand."

"Welcome, Your Highness." Amelie said, inclining her head to the King."

"To you as well. I hope you'll forgive us foregoing a formal reception in your honor, but the exigencies of war preclude it."

"I don't mind at all; on the contrary, I prefer it. There is too much to do in too little time to spend on frivolities." Amelie gestured to the table. "As you can see, Brigitte and I have adjusted the map to reflect the current disposition of troops as we know them. Belkor and his Hesten orcs have fallen back to the Duchy of Braden, while King Henry has led the Hesten and Thestan forces into a siege of Dromstadt."

"Excellent, excellent." The Sandoran General said. "The war is turning in our favor. With the defeat of the first orc army in the Catabrian Hills, and the second orc army in Heste, we're well positioned to begin pressing the offensive and bringing this war to a conclusion."

"That's premature, Your Grace." Brigitte cut in. "The siege will take time, and the plan was to push the orcs completely out of Heste before invading Zentara. Belkor and his army are still in Heste, so it's not yet time to invade Zentara."

The Duke of Lisene bristled at being corrected by a young woman. "What would you know of it, Your Highness? Forgive me, but you have no training in war. With respect, I'm not even sure why you're attending this meeting."

"What does it say about you that even with no training I see the folly in your plan?" Brigitte shot back.

"Peace, everyone. We're on the same side. Brigitte, you're obviously familiar with the General's plan, but let him relay it to me so I can hear it direct." Amelie gave Brigitte a look asking the Princess to let her deal with it, and then turned to the General with a placating smile. "How would you bring us to the offensive?"

"Our screening force in the Pass is strong enough to hold the Zentara army at bay. We take the main strength of the Sandoran army and march east to the Angrian March, and then push down from the Seven Forts into the Duchy of Haverset and seize Shropfordshire!" Lisene traced his proposed line of advance across the map. "In one fell swoop we'll cut off their trade with the Eastern Kingdoms and seize on of their wealthiest Duchies!"

The idea of cutting off the Eastern Trade was interesting, but Amelie decided it would do more harm than good. The trade wasn't substantially aiding the Zentaran war effort, and it would alienate the Council of Guilds, who had provided excellent intelligence so far.

"The plan would probably work as you described, General, but I have some reservations." Amelie picked up the carved marker denoting the Sandoran army and placed it on Shropfordshire. "When you occupy Shropfordshire, our armies will be at near polar opposite ends of the Western Kingdoms with two orc armies separating them. The Zentaran army," Amelie picked up the Zentaran marker from the Hell Pass and moved it to Shropfordshire, "would be able to march on you and cut you off, leaving you without support and unable to escape."

"See, that is what I was telling you!" Brigitte pointed out.

"I hope they do! We'll crush them the way you defeated Agmar and Belkor, and then march on Ruar itself!"

"Perhaps." Amelie conceded. "Or perhaps not. Fighting pitched battles helps the orcs more than it does us. They need this war to be over quickly, before their food runs out. The longer it goes on, the weaker they become. Pitched battles are how they are going to do that. I attacked Belkor because we had solid information on where and when they were going to be allowing me to ambush them. Plus, our armies were of equal size. You'll be outnumbered by the Zentaran forces, with no appreciable terrain to defend from."

"My men will be flush with victory after sacking Shropfordshire. We're also fighting for our freedom, and the freedom of all humans. The orcs are only fighting for plunder. They won't have the will or the courage to defeat us in battle, as you've proved twice now." The General huffed as his face started to turn red. He had been certain Amelie would support his plan.

"You may be right, General. But it's high risk for low reward. Even if you repulse their counterattack, you won't have the strength to push on to Ruar. The best you can hope for is to occupy Haverset. They'll lose a Duchy, and be cut off from the eastern trade. But they don't really need that to prosecute the war." Amelie began to rearrange the pieces on the map. "On the other hand, if you're wrong and they defeat you, the way will be open for them all the way back to hear. Their army will be positioned to strike deep into Thesta and Sandora, while our own will be trapped on the other side of the Lyskean Mountains faced off against the Hesten orcs. It does not seem worth it, not when the war is already going our way."

Amelie returned to the western end of the map. "We need to keep them contained and let them eat through their food stores. After we take Dromstadt, we'll push them back to the Lyskean Pass and into Zentara, freeing all of Heste. Then, after the string of defeats and with starvation setting in, our allies in the Zentaran Duchies will strike, and we'll be there to support them. Then you can march into Zentara and close the net around their remnants." Amelie moved the markers across the map, showing the orcs retreating towards the center of Zentara as the Thestan, Sandoran, Hesten, Catabrian, and Ducal forces closed in from all sides.

"You show great tactics, Your Grace," the King began, cutting off the Lisene's protest, "but the Queen shows great strategy. We entered this war with a plan, and the plan is working. We should keep with it."

"Yes Your Highness."

Seeing her opportunity, Brigitte spoke up. "There is a way to enjoy the fruits of both plans." When all eyes turned to her, she continued. "We should send envoys to the remaining orcs in the Angrian March, and bribe them to attack Haverset." She quickly held up her hands to quiet the impending protests. "Listen to me a moment, please. I've been studying the tribes that remain in the March. They were never conquered by Turogg, and have resisted all Zentaran entreaties to settle down. Further, they no longer travel to Shropfordshire to sell the spoils they steal from us."

"They've also shown no interest in settling, so they'll likely return to the Angrian March after the attack. Plus, it will relieve our eastern border from their raids. Shropfordshire hasn't been properly defended since Zentara was unified. The walls have crumbled away, but they're been collecting tolls for centuries. It is a rich, soft target that should appeal to the orcs; much more than our fortified borders anyway."

"Out of all the tribes remaining in the Angrian March, there are roughly ten thousand warriors. How would you unite them under one banner, when even Turogg couldn't?" Amelie asked, trying to keep an even expression on her face.

"I've spoken to several of the merchants who deal with them. The tribes will sometimes unite under the banner of a great chieftain for a grand raid. That is how Turogg started, after all, but it is supposed to be temporary; just different clans pooling resources for one large raid. There is an orc chieftain named Morkaz in the Boshdog clan that is often spoken of by the remaining Tribes. If we approach him, and convince him, he could unite the remaining orcs into a strike force."

"We cannot make common cause with orcs! That is what caused this mess to begin with!" The General exclaimed.

"I'm inclined to agree." Amelie said a moment later.

"But it's the perfect solution! Why should we spend our lives fighting the orcs when we can get them to fight each other?"

"This war is about much more than defeating Zentara and Heste," said the King, "it is about ending the orc presence in the Western Kingdoms and restoring the traditional balance of power which made the Age of Peace possible. Hiring orc mercenaries is counter-productive to that point. It is a crutch; it will weaken our cause and make our soldiers doubt themselves. No, we must do this alone."

Just then a messenger burst into the room looking pale and clutching a scroll in his fist. "My Lords, there is news from the Hell Pass."

****

Seemingly endless rows of tents stretched out towards the horizon. Augras nodded in approval at the orderly way they were laid out. When he looked either way down each row he could see all the way to the end of the camp. Grotok runs a tight camp, he thought. That's good. As long as he-

"You've grown since the last time he saw you, Augras." Marishka interrupted his thoughts, "Your uncle is wise enough to make use of you, and in doing so, will grow to respect you."

Augras scowled as the Mincenntti woman seemed to read his mind again. Fortunately, she seemed to be the only one who could do so. It would be a disaster if the rest of his family, let alone his enemies, could read him so easily. "I'm sure you're right. I'm carrying his mother's recommendation after all." He looked back at the train of wagons following him that carried weapons, armor, and food. "I'm also carrying some vital supplies for his army. That will count for something too."

"You bring the future with you and you think he'll be impressed with grain?" Marishka threw her head back and cackled shrilly. "I hope he's not so small minded."

"You can't eat the future, nor slay an enemy with it."

"Yet the future will slay all of us, in time." She countered. "It won't be these gifts which sway him, it will be you...and in time, he will be the one seeking your approval."

He didn't say anything to that, but hoped that she was right. Augras wanted to believe that her eerily accurate insight would prove true but there was a family dynamic that she didn't know. Grotok never liked Trogar and Trogar despised Grotok. If Grotok carried that prejudice still it might prevent him from giving Augras a fair shake, regardless of the Queen's favor.

The found the King in the command tent with his lieutenants and captains. When Grotok saw Augras, a big grin crossed his face, "Augras! Is it really you? The last time I saw you I could pick you up and bounce you on my knee!"

Is he trying to provoke me like he would my father? "And now I could bounce you on mine, uncle, but I'll refrain out of respect for the royal dignity." Please, I have more self-control than that.

"You've certainly grown large enough to. You must be twice your father's size now! Are you sure you're your father's son? There was always some doubt, you know."

Augras threw his head back and laughed louder than necessary. "Are you questioning my mother's virtue? My mother's? Well, if you must. I love my grandmother too much to treat you in kind, but I think we both know how that comparison would go."

Grotok looked at Augras for a long moment, before laughing as well and giving Augras a genuine smile. "Welcome home, nephew, it's good to have you back. I understand that you come bearing gifts?"

"The weapons and armor are from the Queen. The food is mine though, yes." Augras replied, striding forward confidently towards a large table with a map stretched across it. "This is Marishka-"

"The Mincenntti woman I've heard so much about. Welcome to my camp, my lady." Grotok looked at Marishka speculatively, still smiling.

"Yes it's true I can read your mind." Marishka said, making Augras smile and wiping the grin from Grotok's face.

"It's not really true, uncle, but best not to test it anyway." Augras said before turning his gaze back to the map.

"I'll keep that in mind. The Queen says you have some way to break the stalemate?"

"Aye, I can bring the castles down." Augras ignored the look of skepticism on Grotok's face. "I just need a few things first. A prisoner, mainly."

"A prisoner? What for?"

Augras suspected Grotok wasn't going to like this part, but before he could say anything Marishka said it for him.

"Powerful magic is required to bring down stone. Magic to be powered by the life of your prisoner."

Grotok kept his face even, but the scorn in his voice was obvious. "A sacrifice? Who do you think you are, Andarrion reborn?"

Marishka looked at Augras questioningly.

"An old King of Zentara. He believed he was a sorcerer, and killed many people trying to do magic. He's generally considered a mad tyrant."

"Ah. There is a difference then, King Grotok. Augras can actually do magic. You'd have no issue slaughtering a thousand of their soldiers. Ten thousand, even. Why do you object to just one?" Marishka asked.

"A prisoner is no longer a combatant."

"They don't feel the same way, uncle, or haven't you heard? They butchered every orc they got their hands on after the battle in Heste."

A scowl crossed the King's face. "I've heard. It's an outrage. They paint us as barbarians while they're the ones butchering captives." Grotok shook his head, "But we won't sink to their level; we need to prove ourselves better than they are."

"Doing that is going to keep us here mired in mud. We'll be sitting here a year from now after The Princess Knight has swept Uncle Belkor out of Heste, and then we'll find ourselves trapped between two armies. No, we need to move quickly, uncle."

"I have seen it," Marishka added, "the castles must come down if we are to win this war."

"I've been fighting wars since before you were born, nephew, and without the benefit of magic. I've no doubt your tricks could come in handy but they won't prove decisive. Certainly not decisive enough for me start sacrificing captives." Gorotk scoffed dismissively.

Augras swallowed down his frustration. Is nothing going to come easy? "I'm sorry you feel that way, uncle. Nonetheless, I have permission from the Queen to cast my spell. It is going to happen, with or without you." That's too harsh, he thought. "If it will ease your conscience, uncle, I will find my own captive. I don't want to undermine you, I want to work with you, to coordinate our efforts so that we can exploit the gap in their lines when their fortresses fall."