Cole stared at the horizon, where the city sat, at once imperious, mysterious, and too familiar to be either – like staring at the family goat, with the city’s truncated towers its curling horns. His stewards, aides, and drivers, though at their sundry duties and swirling about him like a cloud, left him standing alone, in an empty ring of grass. He stared at the city, the city sometimes seemed to stare back, but mostly, seemed to take no notice of them at all.
He had a duty to consider, one last time, if he was making a terrible mistake. If, somehow, this was an elaborate ruse concocted to let the Comids invade the Capitol. If Nika was somehow playing on his emotions to secure one last victory…
…which would be shallow, and meaningless. Oh, it would wound Ainjir’s pride for the city to be taken, but it would mostly make them angry. It would give the Comids a great citadel to hold while their republic crumbled, and that at great cost. Taking the city only worked as a goal if many other conditions were met, and Nika wasn’t stupid.
But, it was his duty to consider it. Nika himself described his captors as fools and cowards, and fools and cowards would seek the city when doing so would be their death knell. So Cole considered: If I were Nika, and I were just using Cole to further an end, what would I do?
But this was as double-edged a question as it could be, because it also let Cole consider what Nika’s purpose was in getting captured, and confessing. Undoubtedly, the character of the use to which Cole was being put was different, but the fact that he was being used was true in both cases.
If he directly considered Nika’s plans in the second case, however, his nerves built to a pitch rivaling the start of a battle. He charged the gates, in that case, in combat against the city that was his only home. He did so with reckless abandon, even to his own too-instinctual mind. He could see the charge in his mind’s eye, and gladly felt its pull on his chest – the pull towards a glorious fight – but he absolutely blanked on what came next.
Everything changed as soon as the passed the gates. The nature of his rank. The structure of command. The nobility entered the fray. The Capitol had two separate and competing guard forces – not counting the various guards and honorable fighters associated with the Palace. Control of prisoners shifted from the Provost to the city’s carceral authorities. The populace, and its potential for disruption, had to be considered. He, personally, lost a considerable amount of hard power – inarguable authority to command – but gained a great deal of soft power – and threats, correspondingly, proliferated.
It was much easier, in a way, to consider even a complicated invasion plan, than predict what would happen after walking through the gates. He only knew change would come fast, and it would take everything he had to stay ahead of it.
So, what could Nika get for a confession? The confession made things public. Publicly, Nika was nobody for the Comids – his greatest role had been as a secret weapon – and an embarrassment for Ainjir and the Academy, as well as a flashpoint for further violence between the Ainjir and Midraeic populace. And – were it not enough everything else changed – in the Capitol one had to start considering the role of the other powers of Six Nations. They had stood back to let Ainjir settled its internal disputes, but any one might gladly step in should the situation become too… unstable.
Except maybe Wulsh, who didn’t care as long as Ainjir wasn’t invading them. And Teorainn, which wasn’t a country so much as a glorified buffer zone. At any rate, they would be dealing with the Palace, so the Palace had two faces to consider.
Cole’s face reflected his feelings on the prospect of dealing with the Palace with a small frown.
The ‘rings’ of the Ring were enormous stone blocks, elaborately carved to resemble hatching posts, and it was these rings which were the central aim of messengers, and thus the central point of camp. They also became the central area of focus for every clerk, driver, cook, wounded soldier, or other even remotely at-ease person, who all loitered nearby in hopes of being selected to run messages back into the Capitol. Ever reluctant to be exactly centered, Cole stood some ways off, but no so far he couldn’t see the eruption, as the gathered crowd reacted to someone’s arrival.
Cole's formidable mind still bent towards the Capitol, but he had room to think: That isn't good.
Guy, looking deeply disheveled, burst into the little clearing in which Cole stood, and which became an immediate eye, all still while the storm of setting up camp raged around it.
“Bad news, sir,” Guy said.
Cole had to reach out and grab his shoulder to steady him; once he did, he worried Guy might need the support to keep standing. His eyes were deeply shadowed, all pretense of neatness forgotten. They hadn’t seen each other much – and it wasn’t unusual to be a bit unkempt on the march – but now he worried Guy simply hadn’t been sleeping over the last few days.
So concerned was he, he had opened his mouth to tell Guy to rest but Guy interrupted him.
“General Hammerlyn and his prisoners arrived just before us. They’re camped over the hill to the east of the Capitol.”
“What?” Cole almost looked over his shoulder, as if he might spot them. “How?”
“Sir, there’s more,” Guy said. “The Prince Regent is at the Palace.”
Cole’s brows twitched together, but Guy wasn’t done.
“He’s ordered a triumphal parade.”
Cole let go of Guy (who did, in fact, wobble), and put his hands on his hips, face turned to the ground. After a moment’s pause, he glanced up at Guy, who squeaked:
“Rumor has it the King is on his deathbed. He may not even live to the Comids’ full surrender.”
Cole gestured for Guy to go, at which a half-dozen of the watchers scattered back to tasks on sheer instinct.
“Get Nika. Meet me in my tent.”
Nika flung the flap aside, stormed in, and sat across the corner of the low table from Cole. His face settled into a posture of preparatory council so similar to Cole's as to be almost identical, except the tint of his expression was angry where Cole's was calm; such was, apparently, the default 'planning' mood. Following after, Guy sent one last look out of the flap before he let it fall behind him, turning to face the council with a deep swallow. There were battles begun with less heavy concern in the air.
“You took the shorter route back to the Capitol,” Nika said.
“Shorter, but harder. Hammerlyn could pick up time if he took them over Namera Pass, through the valleys. If he cut straight east out of the jungle, he hit the coal basins second day, then he could head up Ard Coinín, and the Pass would be right there. I never considered it because much of that land is not at all under our control, except on maps. An attack would be devastating. Even taking that path, at a reasonable pace he should have arrived three days after us, barring accident. The prisoners and wounded should have slowed him down further.”
“He didn’t arrive with the wounded – not the ones he was supposed to leave with,” Guy said, wondering why he didn’t quail as both generals’ heads swiveled to give him their full attention – but then, he realized, he was far too tired to quail.
“And he wouldn’t be attacked,” Nika added his voice growing more and more bitter as he spoke. “I know who’s in the lower Ards and coal country. They wouldn’t attack. But I know that, Hammerlyn doesn’t. A fool would risk it with half his number of prisoners.”
With a quiet curse, Nika turned and spit on the ground, which made both Ainjir jump – it wasn’t something the Ainjir did. Cole hadn’t seen him do it since First Year. Also, he was glad the rugs weren’t down (he had sent them for cleaning).
“Uh,” Guy said, and the nerve-wracking swiveling happened again. “He only arrived with about half the prisoners he left with. They… uh...” and Guy found himself staring at General Galen, sorry to deliver news that would have gladdened him – or at least, not troubled him so much – not two weeks ago. “It seems a bit more than half Comids survived the march. He lost some hundred of his own soldiers, too. They dumped the supplies, ate on the march, double-timed the route, and left the newly wounded and sick behind.”
Nika was on his feet. “That piece of shit!”
And that was only the beginning volley. Since having entered Cole’s service, Guy was no longer used to open displays of displeasure. He flinched back, hands coming up to guard himself, but Nika soon turned away from him and started to vent his anger on Cole’s half-set-up camp bed, kicking at the frame.
Cole only leaned his face away when the boards cracked, casting a sympathetic glance up the Guy, who seemed unable to decide if should be bewildered or horrified. When, just one or two kicks later, Nika turned and fluidly lowered himself to sit on the ground again, face utterly calm, as if nothing at all had happened, Guy settled on bewildered.
“What sort of triumphal parade are we talking about?” Cole asked, also as if nothing had happened, and his bed frame wasn’t slowly collapsing behind him.
“I sent a messenger to find out,” Guy said, then started. “Uh, begging your pardon – I should have spoken to you first, sir, but I, uh… I had guesses what questions…”
Smiling briefly, Cole held up his hand and Guy meandered to a stop.
“Any triumphal parade will end in ceremony – I suppose we should find out who is behind ‘triumphed’ and how extensive the parade should be – but what really matters – well, what matters to Nika – is the ceremony. Could be anything from mass execution, to a gauntlet, to a competition, or public shaming.”
“Who requested it?” Nika grunted.
Guy had to think, which was very hard at the moment. After a few hard blinks he was able to put together an answer. “The way the messenger spoke about it – Palace messenger – seemed to suggest it was the military’s idea, which the Prince was graciously acquiescing to. Seemed annoyed I would even ask what the details were.”
“Hammerlyn,” Nika grunted, at an even lower note of disgust.
“Better Hammerlyn than the Prince, I think,” Cole mused unhappily.
This time, the head-swiveling thing happened to him.
“Hammerlyn can be circumvented in ways the Prince can’t,” Cole explained.
Nika’s eyes narrowed further. “Why are we circumventing the Prince?”
Cole waved a hand absently, before returning it to rest under his chin – all without meeting Nika’s gaze.
“What could Hammerlyn get out of a triumphal parade?” Cole asked.
Silence fell.
“Does he want promotion? He’s already on the Academy Council. There’s not much further to go,” Guy offered.
“Angling for Durante’s place?” Nika asked.
“No,” Cole said. “He couldn’t hold it if he got it, and it’s got even more of everything about being involved with the Academy that Hammerlyn hates in the first place. He’s not ambitious in that sense.”
“What about connection to the Palace?” Guy asked. “Maybe he thinks he can gain influence with the nobility through earning recognition from the Prince.”
One side of Cole’s mouth quirked upward. “You have no idea how insulted he would be by the very implication of seeking favor with the nobility. I know that it makes sense, but there’s a whole culture at the Academy of complete disdain for noble titles and honors. It’s a foolish but necessary separatism for maintaining the functioning of Ainjir’s two branches of power as separate entities. There are always rumblings about finally connecting them, and restoring the glory of Keadar-Ainjir’s days, but fundamentally the Academy is wed to distrust of the Palace, and – for obvious reasons – the Palace, the Academy.”
Guy tilted his head in question, and Nika drew a finger across his throat.
“Ah, yeah – that,” Guy said.
“It’s for me,” Nika said. Heads swiveled.
He sighed, rocking back and refolding his arm over his chest so he could chew his other thumbnail. “A triumphal parade ends in ceremony. He could have you knighted, cut off my head – except he can’t. They named me Executive so they could blame as much as possible on me, bring me to trial, and kill me as if it killed the Rebellion. Killing the Comid soldiers obviously doesn’t matter to him, or he would have brought more back alive. He wouldn’t dare give me a chance to fight my way free. It’s public humiliation – it’s the pillory.”
“No, it isn’t,” Cole said, but more as if such a thing couldn’t possible – or would have grave consequences if it were – than as if he didn’t believe it was true.
“It’s uncommon,” Guy said, “but it has happened before.”
“It’s stupid,” Nika said, “but there’s also no objection – I’m not a gentleman, and even if I were, treason would remove that objection. And he would enjoy it. It would be just like that…”
But he didn’t seem to want to put words to what he thought Hammerlyn was – or couldn’t, lest Cole’s bedframe get smashed to splinters.
“You won’t be pilloried,” Cole said, eyes fixed on Nika, cold fury taking the temperature of the whole tent down with it.
“I’ll need to be kept alive, until the trial starts – or the torture, whichever comes next,” Nika said, staring right back.
“It won’t happen,” Cole replied in a low, steady voice, the hand resting on the table clenching into a fist.
Guy wondered if he had ever seen Cole this angry outside of the stress of battle and doubted it. Certainly, he wouldn’t have been staring back, something no less gentle for the hardness of General Galen’s face, into Cole’s furious eyes. In Guy’s experience, people died before such a gaze. Dying, in as much as it was like sleeping, didn’t sound so bad right now.
“I will do what is necessary,” Nika said.
“I doubt that’s necessary,” Guy said, only a second later realizing he had spoken – in a lazy, dismissive tone – over whatever Cole had been about to say.
“Well,” Guy went on, haltingly, “even without accounting you a gentleman, such a thing is… a security risk… and, well… not very popular… but I guess… the point is that there is sufficient law in place to let us keep such a thing from happening, if it’s proposed.”
“Security is the better angle,” Cole said quickly. “Sufficient law depends on sufficient defense of the law. The mob is fickle, and emotions have been very high in the Capitol. They can be swayed by anger and by eloquence – dangerous to both sides.”
“Oh, yes,” Nika rolled his eyes, “because eloquence is my well-known specialty.”
“There’s no way they would let you speak, anyway,” Cole said, pretending to be consoling by patting Nika’s shoulder. “The city stood on a hair’s edge at several points during the war – they wouldn’t risk giving a sufficiently talkative pig a stage if it looked a tad too Midraeic.”
“I do look Midraeic,” Nika replied.
“And you know people who are eloquent,” Cole added.
“Who shouldn’t be, for my sake,” Nika said, and went on over Cole’s already primed objection, “especially not when I also know people who know the law sufficiently.”
A very pregnant silence ensued, in which, again, Cole looked at Nika, and Nika looked at Cole, and Guy wished he had some kind of broadsheet summary of potentially meaningful phrases in their relationship, as they had no obvious logic.
“Most of the Academy Council is still traveling back from the front, yes?” Nika asked.
“Tits,” Cole said
After another, more thoughtful silence, Guy contributed, “What… does that mean?”
“It’s usually not this bad,” Cole said, cutting Guy to the quick, until he explained further. “High Command would typically either return together in the event of a pivotal decision being needed, or would leave explicit instructions with a chosen representative. I don’t believe they would have elected Hammerlyn to that position, or given orders to the effect he should sacrifice the health and safety of his soldiers in trying to arrive before us.”
“He has arranged this carefully,” Nika said, voice grim.
Cole was looking at General Galen apologetically. Shutting his eyes, Guy forced his tired brain to put it all together.
“So…” he said.
“General Hammerlyn is currently the highest-ranking member of the Ainjir military and the highest ranking representative of the Academy Council,” Cole said, still watching Nika. “And he is… unlikely to be responsive to my informal authority as Durante’s protégé. At least until Durante or other members return in three days, he has… more or less free reign over military decisions in the Capitol.”
“Hopefully less,” Nika said. “There might be some still left who would defend me – or the law – at least on principle.”
“Ghent,” Cole said, putting a hand on Nika’s shoulder, “and Seavokard – for the principle, if nothing else.”
“It’s good to hear the Old Oak remains,” Nika said, with a smile.
“It’s still unclear to me, though, what Hammerlyn gets from this,” Cole said.
“Vengeance,” Nika said.
“I feel…” Cole said, then stopped, knitting his brow. “I should apologize for failing to take your warning not to underestimate Hammerlyn’s hatred for you seriously enough, but I feel I’ll only have to apologize again, because I can’t for the life of me recall what happened between you that made it so bad.”
Nika grunted, but Cole’s look – or the admission of a mistake – was enough to soften him into replying. “It was in private. Nobody knew.”
He cast a look between Guy and Cole, both of whom waited in expectant silence, and frowned severely before looking down at his hands in rueful recollection. “I committed the worst of all possible sins for an arrogant, self-imporant man – I embarrassed him. It never mattered that only I knew. He has kept special hatred for me since.”
“It is special at that,” Cole said. “He’s risking his career for vengeance, if that’s what he’s after.”
“It is,” Nika said. “Who else benefits from his vengeance, I cannot guess.”
“Well, if we must canvass the old days, almost everyone hated you then,” Cole said. “Some even had reasons to.”
Nika conceded the truth of this with a shrug, but raised one finger, shaking it to emphasize his point, “But not quite everybody.”
Cole frowned deeply again, the reaction so instinctual he couldn’t stop himself, and Nika grinned.
“But he can't!” Guy threw his hands up, completely unable to join in the charade of nonchalance. “Not even for hatred's sake! Galen must confess, must go to trial, and must suffer due ordeal! It's all written in the laws! It's been that way for five-hundred years!”
“Laws which are enforced with sufficient defense, and so on, and so on,” Nika said, hand-waving again. “You must do two things: you must keep everything on track until the Comid issue an official response, and you must do what you can to protect the soldiers – sure, many of them must die, but they needn’t suffer more than they already have. It’s pointless. This should be over, and must be put away.”
“This doesn't upset your plan at all, does it?” Cole asked, a tint of anger to his voice despite his half-cocked smile.
Nika shook his head, looking away. “They're just soldiers. They don't need to suffer because an old man in Ainjir hates me. There's only a few days in which they'll need protection from Hammerlyn – then the law will return.”
“Bollocks the law,” Cole said, letting his face fall into a frown. “Bollocks to Hammerlyn. Bollocks the Council, too, we've fought them before.”
“It never went well,” Nika said grimly.
“Not bollocks to the Palace, since we’re bollocksing?” Guy asked.
“No; specifically not bollocks to the Palace,” Cole confirmed.
“This is shaping up to be a wonderful plan you two have,” Nika said.
Cole gave him a theatrical scowl. “Bollocks to you and your plan.”
“I retain a strictly no-bollocks stance, I'd like you to know,” Guy added.
“You and the Palace, then,” Nika chuckled, “can be good bedfellows. Anyway, I think Cole and I can handle the bollocks.”
Guy made a face, which broke out Nika's laugh, but Cole's thoughts had wandered.
“I never liked Hammerlyn,” Guy said dreamily, since a companionable silence had followed. “Always seemed like such a… prick.”
“All right,” Cole said, slapping his knees. He paused, then turned to Nika, fixing those blue eyes steadily on his. “Nika, you know I will do my best for you – your plan, your soldiers – I don’t like it, but I will.”
Despite this undoubtedly good news, Nika’s face had fallen into a deep, suspicious frown. “Yes.”
Cole didn’t go on immediately, the pause indicating that the heavy rock of his steady cognizance obviously had shifted, and was continuing to shift, perhaps slowly at first, but ever faster. In the pause, Nika and Guy exchanged a glance: Nika, looking up with sharp unhappiness, and Guy – far, far too tired for this – burying his face in his hands before dragging them down it as he looked back up.
“I love you,” Cole said.
This did not make Nika happier. This did not make Guy cease wanting to dissolve into a puddle.
“I love you, too,” Nika muttered, in the most accusatory yet sincere way imaginable.
Cole leaned forward, putting a hand gently behind Nika’s head, and kissed him, then finally stood up. He walked around the table and stood before Guy, smiling.
“Guy,” Cole said, “I’m promoting you.”
“Bravery’s Brass Balls,” Guy whispered to the sky.
Cole just kept smiling. “You’re going to be a Lieutenant – my Second.”
Guy’s face came back down, filled with confusion, but Nika stood up in his shock, just managing to stop himself from saying anything.
“Wait,” Guy said. “Wait… that’s… wait, your Second… is a Lieutenant-General.”
“At this moment, yes,” Cole replied, “but not the next. You’ll be Executive class, but nonetheless, given the situation, I believe you’ll be able argue strongly for maintaining those powers for the traditional period of time – that is, until either someone as high up as Durante busts you down, or the war officially ends.”
“Wait a minute,” Guy said, holding out a hand. He was dangerously pale; Nika actually moved closer in case he should fall. “Wait a minute, that’s… six ranks. Sir, you can’t–”
“I absolutely can, and I absolutely must,” Cole replied. He was looking lovingly and regretfully at his gold braid, brushing some stray grass off his cuffs. “The moment you accept, I am retiring my position as Executive General of the Ainjir Army in cooperation with an investigation into my conduct in executing that role. Seeing as how there is no quorum or officiating body of sufficient rank to handle the succession or review the case, and we are still in a state of war, that means you’re Executive General until quorum or peace may be achieved.”
Nika’s stare at Cole – utterly ignored by him – was frighteningly severe, and had Guy not been about to pass out, he might have flattered himself with a similar expression. Instead, he found himself with one hand to his temple, watching the ground move in ways the ground shouldn’t, before he saw Nika’s outstretched hand thrust into his vision.
“Congratulations, General Guy.”
“What.” Guy said.
“Congratulations,” Nika repeated, shaking his hand up and down a little, as if to show him what to do next.
Guy stared at Nika's outstretched hand. “No.”
Nika raised his brows, like a doubtful bear or curious lion – something that might be temporarily surprised out of eating Guy because it had absolutely nothing to fear from him. Shaking his head, Guy protested nonetheless.
“This is ridiculous,” Guy said. “A week ago, you wouldn’t let me stop being a regular Lieutenant.”
“A week ago things were different,” Cole said.
“I’ve kept track, you know,” Guy said, raising a finger at Cole’s chest. “I should be a corporal.”
“That’s generous,” Cole said, arms folded over his chest, as he contemplated. “Must have counted some marks for bravery, I suppose.”
“A bit arrogant, but that’s how officers are sometimes” Nika said.
“Well, he surely deserves one or two,” Cole returned, and they nodded to one another.
“A soldier is perfectly allowed to refuse promotion if he feels the honor is unwarranted, or if he's pleased with his position,” Guy said in a determined growl, fists clenched at his sides. But then – oh, but then – Cole saw his eyes dart to the side, ever so briefly, considering.
“Nika’s promotion won’t last in the city, really,” Cole said. “I mean, Hammerlyn will see through that in seconds.”
“Are you pleased being a Lieutenant?” Nika asked, as if such a thought had never occurred to him.
“Lieutenants get rotated back out to the field quickly,” Cole said. “They have a high death rate.”
Guy sighed. “No, I don't particularly want to be a Lieutenant, but, sir,... Virtue’s Tits! Sir, I'm not trained to be a general. I don't have the experience. I don’t even know what’s going on now, and I’m standing right here, with two generals explaining things! I can't be a general on my own. I’m not ready.”
“Ah, yes,” Nika said, predatory gaze at once merciful and fatal, “because we were ready. We were asked. I see.”
“You went to Academy; you wanted to be generals,” Guy protested. “You're insane,” he added as further proof.
“Guy,” Cole said, his voice soft, “take the promotion.”
“Cole...” His voice was weak, full of rasping doubt. Guy's clenched fists made his arms shake. “I don't deserve this. I'm not ready.”
“You will be,” Cole said. He neither smiled nor laughed, but stared at Guy with the pitiless eyes of a field commander – of the field commander that Guy remembered from so many battles, so many moments of desperation. The field commander of a laugh and a charge, of a bursting flash of steel, of a single gaze for a whole new set of orders. Cole was only 'Cole' amidst action, something both of them knew; when Guy was most completely Guy remained to be discovered.
This was the chance to discover it.
Nika stuck out his hand again. “Congratulations, General Guy.”
“What is it they say,” Guy asked, taking Nika's hand with a rueful smile, “What is it I hear the soldiers say all the time...? 'De’s miserere.'”
“De’s te benedicas, General Guy,” Nika smiled, “and remember His mercy.”
“So I return to the rank of Brigadier, though I can’t do much with it under investigation,” Cole smiled, giving a little bow, “and I formally request leave.”
“Leave granted,” Guy said, a smile passing over his face a moment or two later – his first order as a General.
“I would like to petition the general, too,” Nika said.
Guy nodded, hesitantly.
“There are two more things I need. I would like to know the Comid response, as soon as you receive it – presuming I'm still alive.”
“Easily done,” Guy nodded. Of course he would be alive. Cole had a plan.
“And I would like to know which diplomats are currently in the Capitol.”
“Diplomats? Uh…” Guy glanced at Cole, then forced his eyes to slide away, as if he hadn’t looked on purpose. “Sure. I think that can be done. It’ll wait for another messenger, though, at least.”
“Fine,” Nika said, and then, despite both of them looking at him, he said nothing more.
Suddenly, Guy took a sharp breath, letting it out with a gentle sigh. “I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again.”
Cole smiled. Nika slapped him on the shoulder, and said, “Not well.”
“That said,” Cole stepped to the side of the tent entrance, indicating he and they should all head outside, “I suppose it’s time for me to enjoy my leave.”