The Arete - Princess-Consort Ch. 02

"Thank you, General," I answered politely, but not amicably.

"Where are you posted this season?" she asked more pointedly, "I could use an aide-de-camp with actual battle experience."

"I'm a cataphract company officer, General," I answered honestly. I didn't want to serve under the woman who'd so cruelly mistreated Caeli, but I had no interest in being an aide-de-camp for anyone.

"A Princess-Consort as a company officer?" Trogox laughed again, "You are a rube. Ask one of your new sisters-in-law what you'll be this season."

I took a breath. "I will." I might be offered a more prestigious posting, but there was nothing dishonorable in being an officer in the heavy cavalry that would limit my acceptability as a wife to Caeli. Moreover, it'd be a waste of many years of expensive training and hard-won experience in battle tactics to place me in a posting for which I had no valuable education or knowledge. Still, I would ask Yonjax about it.

"Do," Trogox pressed, "And try to better understand what you are to them."

"What I am to them? What do you mean?" I puzzled.

"For fuck's sake, Taiglox," Trogox grunted in exasperation, "I can't believe my mother didn't make this clear to you. You're a pawn now. For life. Between House Laerdya and the House Royal, and probably any number of other factions."

"Politically," I conceded, "But in my capacity as a soldier, I'm a soldier. Am I not?"

Trogox leaned over, "The army is a tool of politics. I got my lieutenant generalship from politics. In trade for a princess's hand," That last part could have been left implicit, but rumors of Trogox's bluntness were apparently fact, "You're a useful princess-consort now, not some disposable cavalry officer. Welcome to the political level of the army."

"I thank you for your welcome, General," I responded formally.

"Bitter pill, I suppose," Trogox conceded in turn as she stepped away, "But be sure you remember where your loyalties lie. Be assured that my mother has sacrificed more than one pawn who's stepped out of line."

Enough death threats had been casually leveled at me that I was becoming a connoisseur, and my cousin-the-general's vague clublike swing wasn't great. I find that I strongly prefer specificity in my death threats. Those with clumsy mixed metaphors simply aren't as satisfying.

Trogox's threat failed on a second front as well, in using the terms "sacrifice" and "loyalty." I'm quite sure Laerdya would sacrifice my life, goals, or honor for any purpose that served her more than my life, goals, or honor. She said as much and her treatment of Kemptrux proved it.

Because of her dastardly orders to a soldier in her service, I owed Laerdya no natural loyalty. My natural fealty would only buy her my support in decisions that had no preponderant factor and I certainly don't hold my life so dear that the threat of its loss would likely ever be a preponderant factor.

A horn blew, telling us that the day's events had ended and we were free to leave. A wild party was planned on the now available field, but I had promised not to take part in such things until wed, so I stood to retrieve Savaran instead.

Vostiv stood with me, but looked hopefully at House Miwirdya's tent.

"Go," I ordered empathetically, "Goodness knows when you'll see your cousins again. I'll take Stygian back with Savaran and me."

"Thank you, ser!" And Vostiv ran off to enjoy the night.

Returning to the stables with Savaran and Stygian, Heoldax caught up to me.

"You know, I don't think you're understanding the traditional duties of knight and squire," the Crown Princess offered another bland joke.

I smiled, "I left Vostiv with House Miwirdya for the evening."

"And you're retiring to your apartments?"

"I did promise."

She nodded, "So you did. Is that what's bothering you?"

"No," I responded candidly, "My cousin intimated that I'd not be allowed to rejoin my company this spring."

"She's right. You'll be one of my aides-de-camp," she replied just as candidly.

"There's no dishonor for your sister in marrying a cataphract."

"There is not. Nor in marrying a foot soldier. Or anyone else who spills blood in the Queen's name. It's not a matter of rank. You are more valuable to the crown as Princess-Consort than as a cataphract."

"I'd be away from Caeli on campaign just as long either way. And I'm a very good cavalry officer. No company has contributed more to the Queen's victories than mine this season. Conversely, I've no talent or training as an aide-de-camp and I'd be far less useful to the army."

"Yes, perhaps, but also much less likely to fall in battle," she frowned and reassured me, but not with the reassurance I wanted, "I didn't say you weren't valuable as a cataphract, just more so as a Princess-Consort. Caeli's very fond of you and you'd be far more difficult to replace in that capacity," she made her point plainly. "Eschewing the Queen's wars for the safety of palace walls would shame Caeli as a coward's wife, so you will need to go on campaign, but an aide-de-camp is equally honorable and far less prone to widowing her."

"So I'm to fetch and carry then, and leave off real fighting as a proper soldier?" I asked in something more than pique.

"And do so with a good will when you are so ordered, as a proper soldier," she corrected my attitude correctly.

I took a breath. I could still exercise my right as a member of the warrior caste, but that would mean forsaking Caeli. "Yes, Your Highness."

She nodded in acknowledgement of my capitulation. We walked in silence.

"Believe it or not, I understand what you are sacrificing," she eventually spoke again, wistfully, "As a general, I have to forgo the bloodlust and comradery of battle, too. My sisters and I can't even enter the lists."

"Why?" The tournament was safer than most practice yards.

"Because a knight tilting against one of us would shame themselves by losing or embarrass the Queen by winning."

"Huh." There were too many rules in my new world, but at least I wasn't alone in thinking so.

We parted ways amicably at the castle gates and I returned the horses to the stables before returning to my apartments.

The girls were all talking excitedly around the table, but stopped to congratulate me on the mounted archery. I thanked them and left them to their fun. I had a chore to do.

In a soldierly blunt style, I wrote informing my first sergeant of my change of orders so she'd have as much time as possible to scout out my replacement and not have a random fledgling officer foisted upon the company. As a final favor, I asked her to take on Kemptrux as a horsegirl, assuring her of the corporal's high character and rising skills.

Then, unable to reconcile my happiness and unhappiness with my fate, I slept like a good soldier.