Chương 13: Poised in Providence - Part 1
Cele watched as the princeling, still dressed in the thin summer clothes of Ilyos, gazed around the room, fair northern eyes scanning the spines of the tomes collected by the kings of Ilyos over centuries. He had brought Baptist to the negotiations, and Cele wondered if the boy ever left his side.
Watching their interaction that morning was as eye opening as it was alarming. Not only did the slave not fear his master, but in fact, he idolized him. The general supposed it was an easy enough habit to instill in a young, malleable mind, but malleable was not a word Cele would use to describe Baptist.
Even now, the boy sat beside his master on the low couch, straight-backed and muscles stiff, like the massive bear-hounds the northerners used as guard dogs. Cele could see his forefinger bounce anxiously against his thigh, but his vert eyes were focused.
And then the king beside Cele shifted, crossing one leg over the other, gesturing to the map on the table between the two parties. It was of the west continent carved into the wood, painted and lacquered, and nearly as old as Vincente’s line.
“It needn’t be said that this will not be simple. With more than a century of feuding over Tyton, it is highly unlikely that these mediations will be over any time soon.”
“Mm,” Heiko agreed, taking his time to finish his appraisal of the books, before setting his attention on the king. “An ideal situation would land us in Tyton, a summit conference in the Artem Alcazar, spanning the length of a moon cycle. Both you and I would have a handful of advisors, dukes, and officers in our company. A schedule would be created by an arbiter - likely Burkean - and strictly enforced.”
The general listened with fascinated intent. By his own estimation, that did seem like the ideal situation. The territory, while technically neutral, was also a constant reminder of their brutal history. Any single-mindedness would be combated by the advisors, any escalation mitigated by the arbiter.
And since Tyton was in Ilysian territory at the moment, they would have the upper hand. Cele was certain Prince Heiko considered that as well.
“Alas.” The prince threw up his hands, shifting his gaze to the general. “The reign of Gotthard has perished. Thus, here we are, pressed for time whilst determining the fate of our two kingdoms.”
King Vincente tensed, lifting his chin and looking down at the prince beneath his dark lashes. For a good moment, he rubbed his thumb against his middle finger.
“If you are at a loss for words, King Vincente, allow me to paint the picture.”
The prince slid himself to the edge of the couch, reaching over for a speckled marble piece on the table, carved in the shape of a tower. He pushed it to the southern border of Simo on the map, and then added two more, in fairly close proximity. He then grabbed the small horse bust of the same material and set it equidistant to them, further north.
“These are beautifully crafted,” he murmured, plucking a simple tile, representing a messenger, and placing it on the Burkean-Simonese border. Cele wasn’t sure if it was meant as an insult, but even if it was, it did not reach the king. His focus was too intent on the map, calculating the moves the prince was putting into play.
Prince Heiko’s hand drifted back, floating above the remaining pieces in thought.
“Ilyos is the rose quartz, yes?” He did not wait for an answer as he plucked two horses with deft fingers. “You know your strategy better than I, so for our purposes, they will be Burkean instead.”
He placed the two horses about ten kilos from the Burkean-Ilysian border, just beneath the Grey Forest, closer together than the general felt would be optimal. He then slid three ships twenty kilos, aslant from the shore.
“The…reshuffling…of the Simonese forces will not be considered an act of aggression, because my brother will insist that they are stationed close to the border to patrol the influx of trade and you cannot know better, because he will keep you in the dark about the conflicts that Simo has in the north.”
He slid back in the chair no more than an inch, to get a better angle of the board. Perhaps for dramatic effect. If so, Cele admitted it was successful.
“Despite any accord struck between Simo and Ilyos, my brother will compel Burke to remain neutral, thus their heavily armed border, while may be seen as an act of aggression, is not a cause for immediate intervention. Burke has no history of escalated quarrels with Ilyos, so to declare war against them for it would be gratuitous. And additionally, having such a rich and cordial history with Burke, Simo would have no choice but to come to her defense should you make such declaration.”
Prince Heiko settled his gaze on King Vincente.
“And that would leave Ilyos in a tight situation, don’t you agree?”
Vincente studied him for a long moment.
“Do you understand, Prince Heiko, that your goal is to convince me, not dissuade me?”
Geniality was gone at this point, not only for Cele but for Vincente as well. The king rarely used his dry, dark humor - rarely used condescension. Those were aspects of conversation that were reserved for close friends. Using it on anyone else would undermine his confidence and repose.
Cele wasn’t sure if it slipped from the king’s mouth by an unimaginable mistake, or if he was seeing something in the Simonese prince that was not an enemy.
Prince Heiko’s response came with ease.
“I do.”
The prince licked his lips like a lion preparing his palate.
“What you have to offer us is numerous, that cannot be doubted. With your access to warm waters, dyes and textiles are far superior to our own. Not to mention salt, which would cost considerably less than our own salt that must be mined. But of course, more so than yourself, you have access to the Gaeia Sea, and the islands that are scattered about in her. Jeisha, Haroma, even Kurkora could have significant use to my brother.”
Heiko’s gaze flashed to the general wickedly, before skating over to the king.
“But all of us in the room know what King Ingo will ask of you.”
The Ilysian men did indeed know - it was what most war seeking countries surrounding Ilyos desire.
“The Haroman kharvan.”
Chương 14: Poised in Providence - Part 2
The infamous island archers were world-renowned. It was common practice for strong kingdoms to bolster their own troops with kharvan mercenary companies, and for good reason. Their training was vigorous, involving not only the acquisition of swift precise marksmanship, but also immaculate horseback control and maneuverability. The kharvan studied not the enemy, but their armor. They pinpointed the weak areas and trained to hit them without fail. They were a terrifying force to be reckoned with and the exact reason the small island had yet to be stolen from its native people.
“Well done, general.” The Simonese prince smiled at him. He would’ve thought it a pleasant sight had it not been preceded with the taunt. “Simo has trade routes that you desire. You have baubles, at best. And, of course, access to the kharvan.”
“Baubles and kharvan for trade routes, Prince Heiko,” spoke the king, guarded, calculated, as if he sensed danger. “Is a fair deal.”
It was. Cele knew it to be true. Access to the kharvan, forget the other benefits of Ilysian allegiance, was worth Simo fully surrendering their right to the very land of Tyton, forget the measly acquisition of Burkean trade routes.
Still, the general knew it wouldn’t be that easy, not with the snake that sat coiled before him, camouflaged so perfectly as a handsome prince.
“You would find no dispute from me, King Vinecente,” He replied, tilting his head slightly, bright eyes on the Ilysian man. “If your estimations were accurate.”
When the men didn’t probe him on, the prince readily did it himself.
“Your strength - in the matter of the Tyton dispute - comes from Harmona and their kharvan. There is no shame in seeking help from others.”
He let that sink in, before supplementing with, “Us Simonese have done the same, with Burke, as you are well aware. So, allow us to…refigure this, yes? You have Haroma. We have Burke.”
His movements were flourished for effect, but they did not seem overexaggerated or theatrical, and they did the very job they were supposed to.
“You have archers, we have trade routes. And archers. Do you see the problem?”
The prince’s pause allowed Cele to peel his eyes from the boy’s movements and place them back to where they should’ve been all along. His eyes. Eyes held no secrets. And at that moment, Cele saw none.
He had heard the Burkeans were skilled archers, but certainly not the way the kharvan were. Hunting animals was much different than hunting soldiers. Prince Heiko had to have known that.
Vincente sat back, arms crossed. He licked his lips, drawing out the moment.
“Have you ever seen a Haroman archer, Prince Heiko?”
Heiko cocked a brow.
“Vion.” He shot out. “A kingdom which has been dying for Burkean trade routes.”
“I’ve heard.”
“Vion, a kingdom who has never defeated Burke, neither while it was a monarchy nor a republic.” His viridescent eyes landed on the general. “Vion, a nation of horseback soldiers. Haroman archers are skilled indeed. Trained since childhood, they can hit marks whilst riding horseback. Certainly an advantage to an army. Certainly an advantage Simo would want. Should archery styles be created equal.”
The prince exhaled and uncrossed his leg, leaning forward to the men. There was a shift in his disposition, like he was relinquishing a mask and demanding them to do the same.
“The Burkeans, they’re an adaptive people. When the Vionese moved in on their land, they decided they had to be able to pick off the riders.”
Cele breathed, watching the princeling.
“Have you heard of longbows? First created for taking down the massive creatures that haunt Burkean forests. And then reworked to take down the pesky riders of Vion. Longbowmen commence training at the age of eight and once entered into the service of their country, these men can fire three arrows in fifteen seconds.”
It was nothing too impressive, and Cele couldn’t help but almost feel a bit disappointed.
“What makes the kharvan remarkable is their speed and accuracy. Their ability to hit the unarmored neck. But, whether accurate or not, where the arrow lands matters not, should the enemy perish by it. Unprotected vital areas are not easily hit, and if they are to be, proximity is essential, hence the kharvan’s need for mobility. 40 yards is the absolute maximum before a steep decline in efficacy. Proper longbowmen have an effective range of a furlong.”
“Impossible.” Vincente scoffed. “A furlong, you would have me believe? Prince Heiko, I have permitted your capricious statesmanship, bowed to your every whimsical desire, but now this? You wish me to lick the absurd lie from your palm? 220 yards?”
Heiko watched him, as if alarmed by his response, before a sharp rap at the door interrupted the king’s barrage.
Vincente looked over to it with his brow pressed in slight irritation.
“What is it?” He demanded.
“My lord,” The servant called from the other side, knowing the negotiation room was strictly off limits to anyone but those invited by the king. “Riders near the palace. They bear the colors of Simo.”
“Number?” Vincente demanded. The general hoped he was the only one to discern the surprise in his tone.
“No more than five,” the servant replied.
“It seems my brother believes me inadequate.” Heiko smirked, standing.
The king and the general followed suit. As did Baptist.
“It’s an ambassador?” Vincente demanded, brow pressed.
“Yes, an ambassador that will try to sell you this peace treaty.” Said the prince. “I suppose it is time to retire to my room.”
The king frowned, eyes narrowed, and Cele understood him well. This was both odd and improper. And the prince didn’t seem surprised at all.
“You do not wish to sit in while we speak with him?” The king asked.
“I know precisely what will transpire in speech.” Heiko replied. “And what will be lost in silence.”
Heiko turned to Baptist, who seemed just as shocked as the Ilysians.
“Come, Baptist.”
And with that, the king allowed them their leave.
“This is odd.” Said Cele, though he needn’t have even spoken.
“Mm,” Vincente nodded, brow knit. “And planned, it seems.”
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