The Arete - Princess-Consort Ch. 06

Chapter Six:

The Hordesdoom

The scouts and I sent two young riders ahead at marathon speeds to deliver the gist of the horde's destruction to General Heoldax. So, over the four days' ride to the main body of the army, we relaxed a bit and just rode fast in the day. The lands behind the pass were safe, so the scouts' primary purpose was both to provide an honorguard of sorts for me and to protect against accidental mishaps on the road.

Since I knew (or was reasonably certain) that I'd survive to return to Caeli, I wrote her a more honest letter before getting my first good night's sleep in what felt like months, albeit on hard mountainous ground.

The violence of battle remained glazed over in the long letter and I left out the Gartifian self-genocide, but I wrote frankly about my odyssey otherwise, the bravery of Thothoa and her kin, the arid waste of the dry grasslands on that sad rouncey, the desperation of the peaceful tribes to the south, and being mistaken for a deserter. I wrote of good things too though, bringing tribes to agree to cross the border, the beauty of a mountain stream, Herafu's pure joy as I handed her the reins to the jennet, and graceful hawks traversing the deep blue of an endless sky. Anything I thought might make her smile.

I also bothered to remove as much grime from myself as was possible before reporting to General Heoldax, albeit with mixed results.

Arriving at the main camp late in the evening, the auxiliaries visibly outnumbered the regular army and the tension could be felt even as I walked to General Heoldax's tent. Moreover, I could see great numbers of their non-warriors arrayed in the safety of the valley behind the rank and file army as we rode in, thousands of them elderly and children.

The Crown Princess had already received the news of the horde's demise - and received it with joy - but recognized the new problem. Cold as it sounds, the eventual battle with the horde would have likely killed many allied tribeswomen and others would have returned to the grasslands as rich and dominant warriors. Now we had a huge army which was no longer set to face an enemy in a bloody - but ultimately cathartic - battle in which the winners would take the victory spoils and fill the power vacuum.

"Our citizens will simply resume their lives in their lands between the mountains and the far border. Yet the temporary loyalty of most of those tribes arrayed out there is built on a common enemy that - however thankfully - no longer exists," Heoldax acknowledged before lamenting, "My nobles and the chieftains are at each others' throats already. The latter will be incensed at leaving a war camp with nothing and the former will be enraged at paying off 'a new horde we created.'"

I nodded. Ser Gharntex spat.

"There are several obviously poor options to choose from, but," Heoldax gave me a measured look. "I think I should save myself time. Taiglox Hordesdoom, how would you handle this?"

"You need gold and fallow lands to be garnered from your nobles, both to be given to unloved foreigners and both with as little cost to the crown as possible, Your Highness?" I ignored my new nickname, not placing much stock in such things.

"Yes," Heoldax answered, "And in no more than a month. Preferably far less. The thousands gathered must eat or riot."

I sat down and put my head in my hands to think. Heoldax held out her cup to be refilled, which Vostiv did immediately, having not even greeted me yet and wisely not interrupting to do so.

The problem was complicated. Some tribes would willingly return to beyond our borders with no payout, but those would be more inclined to raid our relatively unprotected lands between the mountains and the border, particularly as they'd have little or nothing to get them through the hard season. Others would settle on the grasslands between the mountains and our border, but be more inclined to rebel and would be in a geographic location where most citizens only had a few generations of citizenship themselves. In both cases, the same mountains would protect them that protected us now in the event of invasion or rebellion.

I thought like Tumnus, so hard that I could hardly breathe and made a Crown Princess wait. Eventually, I spoke.

"Were it me, I'd gather the highest ranking noble from each land-holding house and ask them to take equal portions of the thousands gathered. They won't want to, so one rich noble will introduce a buyout to not take tribes on their land. Almost all will jump on the idea, so make it a substantial cost and with a short deadline before the thousands are split. It'll be easier to raise the price and keep it high across the board if you introduce an exhausting debate on whether the buyout price should be based on the house's size in acreage, population, taxes, nobles, or levies. Plus, none will wish to openly admit before the others that they can't afford to pay by whichever method is eventually chosen."

"That would provide fast gold enough to pay off those who wish to leave, yes. But thousands would prefer to stay and will have no place. Moreover, I sent you with a guarantee that they could stay in the Queen's name." House Royal would not go back on promises authorized to be made in the name of the Queen, no matter the cost of keeping the Queen's guarantee and to whom the promise was made.

"Respectfully Your Highness, fulfilling the Queen's guarantee could be of value. Those who'd prefer to be poor and peaceful farmers over being wealthy and savage nomads are the ones you want to keep anyway. But not here on the border. Especially knowing we'll likely campaign over the mountains this spring, we don't want to install newly-minted civilians whose loyalty will be tested without need."

"I agree. Where would you put them?"

"Piadya, Faquardya, Chrerandya, Gaphindya, and - forgive me Vostiv - Miwirdya all pled off portions of their soldier levies and grain taxes for the army last year by claiming a lack of agrarian labor due to various plagues and natural disasters killing off droves of peasants."

"It was no lie," Vostiv asserted defensively, "House Miwirdya lost over a fifth of our farmers to a wasting sickness in our breadbasket."

"I did not mean to cast aspersions on the claims of those houses," I clarified, "Only to identify that they might benefit greatly from an influx of hearty immigrants to serve as both peasants and soldiers." I probably should have chastised my squire, but I sympathized with her fidelity and wouldn't scold her before the Crown Princess.

"Of course, ser. I'm sorry, ser," Vositv chastised herself.

I dismissed the offense with a gesture and continued, "Were you, Your Highness, to send emissaries to those houses offering to reduce their grain taxes to the crown in the amount they will already have paid unwillingly in absentia to not take those same potentially useful immigrants, they'd likely overcome any xenophobia and take the offer."

"A small loss this year for the crown which would be made up in grain and soldiers many times over for the next decade," Heoldax smiled and stood, causing us to stand too. "Take your squire and your squad of scouts and ride tonight for House Miwirdya to make the offer there. Ser Gharntex, put whispers in the right ears of foreigners and buyouts. Pages," she called and a half dozen smartly dressed noble youths entered the tent. She pointed to each in turn, "Inform Ser Trycix of House Piadya, Ser Yeanitix of House Faquardya, Ser Konchux of House Chrerandya, Ser Faswax of House Gaphindya, Ser Quoprix of House Mayrtedya, Ser Pliplax of House Chilandya, and Ser Bortox of House Hiruwodya that I wish to breakfast with them tomorrow after quarters."

"Your Highness, I'd request to leave at dawn, giving me the chance to recruit some likely tribeswomen for Miwirdya to question and giving Vostiv the chance to consult her eldest sister present in camp for familial openness," I requested. Vostiv audibly sighed behind me at not having to face that awkwardness later.

"Of course. Take all prudent action and leave at dawn."

"Yes, Your Highness," I bowed and stepped out with Vostiv on my heels.

"It's good to have you back, ser!" Vostiv hugged me suddenly.

"Good to be back, Vostiv." I patted my giant squire's back and released her, "How've you been?"

"Okay."

"How was your birthday?"

"Quiet."

No one in camp probably knew but me, "Right. Well, thirteen is a big one. We'll have to have a proper celebration once we get home. Do you understand everything well enough to talk with your sister?"

"Yeah, I think so. But Pred's here and she's...not always the easiest person to talk to."

"Please try? I'll hopefully be back in a few hours if she has questions or you need support."

Vostiv nodded and set off.

After alerting Sergeant Mitchux to our new orders and warning her to procure a few dozen more horses, I checked on Savaran, then went back to my tent, washed and changed, verified my tack and kit (responsable squire that she is, Vostiv had sewn in my Captain's badge), and took a bag of gold.

"The Gartifians," I asked a passing tribeswoman, "Do you know where they've camped?"

"Over that hill," she answered dismissively. Still not one of us, the rank, knighthood, and family colors that I'd re-donned with my armor meant absolutely zero to her.

Those orphaned children had been preying on my mind. More specifically, the statement that I'd made to their leader, that I certainly would "not kill their innocents." If the crazy Gartifian warriors thought that I meant that only children would be spared...

Either way, being a decent person, I felt the need to check on them. I'm glad I did.

They weren't starving or endangered. Certainly they were not nearly as bad off as they would have been in the harsh plains alone. Still, they were huddled together in too few tents and guarded - or shepherded maybe - by too few soldiers.

"Corporal," I addressed the nearest of the too few soldiers."What's the story with these children?"

"Abandoned, ma'am, and placeless."

"None of the others would take them in?"

"Too broke themselves in lookin' after their own."

I looked on the poor children that I'd left orphaned. "I suppose. Do you know where the Lanchalians are camped?"

"No, ma'am. I don't know the names of tribes."

"Very well, Corporal." I stepped away about twenty yards and found a tribeswoman who did know where the Lanchalians were. And the Vicranians and Rythraians. And the Farankians, Jalians, and Yalwians.

I met with all of them to confirm they still wanted to become citizens and offer to broker their moving to the breadbasket of Miwirdya. In exchange, I asked for five upstanding tribe members to come with me to speak to their cultures, values, and intentions to House Miwirdya.

Of the Lanchalians, I asked a personal favor.

"The Gartifian orphans," I spoke honestly to Chief Wisoiti, "I am at least the agent of their being motherless children, if not the direct cause. Many of your mothers are childless and your tribe is missing the better part of a generation. I'd offer you this gold to take them in."

"Done," the Chief agreed. "We could certainly use an influx of youth. And, as your General Heodax gave us provisions and shelter on reading your letter, we're already in your debt. For that debt and for basic human decency, I'd like to refuse your gold and still do right by those orphans," the good chief looked ashamed at needing to be paid to help, "but we can't afford to take on so many without it."

"That's what the gold's for, Chief," I reassured her, "I'll see your five on the west tip of camp before dawn."

Finally, I took an extra twenty minutes to walk to the Yontians' camp. Not to recruit as I knew that would never be successful. But I owed the dead.

"Where is your storykeeper?" I asked a random warrior, having learned a good deal of their social structure while riding with Thothoa.

She was pointed out to me, looking no different to me than the other warriors, "What do you want, barbarian?"

"To tell of Thothoa and her twenty riders, who sent a horde of 15,000 to a fiery death and died themselves killing and roaring in the flames. To ask that their names be known to the living as those names are now celebrated amongst the dead," I tried to say their words.

The Storykeeper removed a very old scroll and opened a vein. "Their names will be known to the living as those names are now celebrated amongst the dead," she confirmed.

I left, my chores through.

After 3 bells, I arrived back at my tent. I'd walked nearly 15 miles in the night between Heoldax's tent, the corral, my tent, and the various tribes, and so was ready for an hour or so of sleep.

But I found three people waiting at my tent, Sergeant Mitchux, Vostiv, and a woman in Vostiv's house colors who looked for all the world like Vostiv a dozen or so years later.

And Vostiv sported a new shiner on her left eye.

My hand hovered near my mace, "Why is my squire wearing a bruise?"

Vostiv's older sister was at least six and a half feet tall and looked like she'd been cut from a block of living granite, but I'd trounce anyone who assaulted my young squire.

Or, more likely, I'd get my ass absolutely whupped. Either way, I'd at least put up a fight.

Neither happened though as the hulking woman answered frankly, "Because she swung when she should have blocked. But she at least fights as well as a horsegirl now and I'm given to understand that that's thanks to your training her. Laerdya or not, you seem to have taught her actual combat techniques, at least when you're not honeymooning or hordeburning," she reached out her hand, "Major Predix, secondborn of Miwirdya. I'm told that you have a proposition for my house?"

I explained with equal frankness and concision the advantages and dangers of taking on the 2,000 nomads as I saw it.

"Can you vouch for all 2,000 of these nomads?"

"No. I've asked for five representatives from each of the six tribes whom you can question yourself if you like. We plan to leave from the west tip of camp at dawn."

"I will, but who vouches for you? You shot and fought well enough at the tournament at the capitol, but that's no true measure of your troth or your will."

"I vouch for Ser Taiglox, Pred," my squire stood up for me pluckily.

"You're her squire, Vos," she dismissed her, "I'd box your ears if you didn't vouch for her. But, you, Sergeant, how long have you known Captain Taiglox?"

"A few days," the sergeant answered and then answered the implied request for a character witness, "Thus far, she follows protocol and directives, she provides logical orders and listens to logical recommendations, she rides hard and works hard, and she neither takes offense where none is meant and nor assumes privileges where none are offered."

"Good enough," Predix answered, "Lead on, Captain. Sergeant, you can return to your scouts. Report with them at dawn at the west tip of camp for orders."

Sergeant Mitchux frowned and looked to me. It was beyond rude for the Major to give orders to my soldier in front of me, but it's the order I'd have given anyway and not worth getting my feathers ruffled. I just inclined my head. Sergeant Mitchux headed out to her squad.

Predix met with the gathered tribeswomen at dawn with the same inborn assumption of authority. I still hadn't slept.

"Who are you?" she asked the thirty of them as a whole.

None answered for a few moments, looking amongst each other instead.

"I'm Herafu of the Lanchalians," the young hunter spoke up, "May I ask who you are?"

"Major Predix, secondborn of Miwirdya. I'm here to negotiate your taking up residence in my mother's lands."

Herafu nodded and remained silent.

"Here's our offer. You march with us to our lands when we break camp. Based on your skills as a tribe, you'll be herdswomen or farmers and you'll be given the initial resources required to be successful. For tithe, you'll give forty percent the first year and sixty percent on successive years to your mense lord and you'll commit no less than half your able bodied young women under 25 years of age to the Queen's army in our regiments."

A general grumbling between the tribeswomen ensued, but Herafu spoke out again, "Lanchalia accepts, and thanks you, Major."

"Rythraia does not," an older warrior whom I hadn't met declined loudly, "We're not slaves to be ordered about."

"That is your prerogative," Predix answered stiffly, "To be clear, we seek for lawful and loyal citizens, not slaves. And the peaceful industry and commerce of our citizens is paramount to us, so any of you falling to bandity or raising political unrest will be hung, just as those who work diligently, fight bravely, and live honorably will prosper. Discuss and decide. We leave on the dawn."

All the tribes eventually agreed, after the Rythraian warrior was shouted down by her peers. None had better hope or prospects on the other side of the mountains, so they all returned to their camps to make ready to leave for Miwirdya on the morn.

"Ser Taiglox," Predix shook my hand, "you're right enough. Keep training Vos," she nodded at her little sister, "I expect her to be my Master of Cavalry when I take a generalship."

"I'm sure she'll do your house proud," I agreed and gave a free compliment to my impressionable squire. "You leave so soon?"

"I may be as eager to return home as you are, Hordesdoom," A momentary tenderness softened the major's hard features, but only fleetingly before she gave a more politically sound rationale, "My own lands have been among the worst scorouged by disease and I've only recently put down a peasants' rebellion. This new blood will be good for my people."

Vostiv hugged her big sister and I shook her hand again before we parted for our own duties and preparations.

I gave an order for the squad of scouts to return to Colonel Pacix. I'd no more useful enterprise for them and was sure that it would be better for them to break for home from their own regiment and for the Colonel to know as soon as possible what was taking place in the main camp. And I ordered my squire to return to see to the horses and to get some sleep.

Then, like a good soldier, I reported back to General Heoldax.

"2,000? Just like that?" She stood from her armchair. Ser Gharntex and a half dozen hetaireias remained at attention.

"You did send her favorite sister with me, Your Highness," I deferred, acknowledging that the shrewd politician had set me up for success.

The Crown Princess smiled, "So I did. Still, 2,000 is better than I'd expected and I hadn't expected an agreement here in camp at all. I'll hold off negotiations with the other houses until Miwirdya leaves. It'll be a good example and bargaining point."

I nodded.

"As for you, I'd promote you again if it wouldn't look like nepotism," Even if I had slew the whole horde hand-to-hand with my kopis, she was right. Lieutenant to Major in a matter of weeks would appear to be nothing but 'rank' favoritism.

I nodded and said nothing.

"Meanwhile, I'll never hear the end of it from Caeli if you've defeated a horde only to die of administrative exhaustion in my service. Take 48 hours. Rest and do what you need to do. We'll break camp in a few days."

I returned to my tent, greeted the other officers perfunctorily, and I slept, kopis beneath my pillow.

It must have been nine hours until I woke, and even then it was only because one of my fellow officers brought back a loud and amourous guest. I rolled away and slept for two more hours.

Then I checked on Vostiv and the horses. And Kemptrux.

"Ma'am," she shouted on seeing me, "No one believes me when I say I know Ser Taiglox the Hordesdoom. Did you really burn the whole horde alive on your own?"

"A bit more to it than that, Corporal," I equivocated, "How've you been? Looks like you joined a company."