The Prince stood, lifting his glass to the Princess. "To you, my dear, a wonderful hostess. You, from so far away, make one feel welcome in Mystria."
The men lifted their glasses and sipped.
Gisella bowed her head. "I only reflect the hospitality my friends have showed me since coming to these shores."
The Prince smiled. "We shall abandon you ladies, if that is acceptable. I know Major Forest is fatigued, but I wish to give him a look at du Malphias' fortress."
The Major slid back his chair. While not a tall man, his solid build gave the impression of his being quite powerful. A full shock of white hair topped his head. It had been blond before Villerupt. A handsome man, he shared his sister's noble features, save that his nose clearly had been broken on at least one occasion, and Hettie Frost's had not. Aside from that, and his missing right hand, no other mark of misfortune made itself apparent.
"Splendid. I've heard so much about the model." He set his sherry glass down and grasped the knife blade protruding from his wooden prosthesis. He twisted it, then pulled, and the knife came free. He slipped it into a boot sheath, then produced a small hook and locked it into the hole. He nestled the sherry glass into the metal curl replacing his right hand.
Dr. Frost, his son Caleb, Count von Metternin, and Owen Strake all made their apologies to the women and headed for the Prince's office. Owen became noticeably formal, but he had been that way all night. He had been seated next to Bethany Frost, a pairing which had previously brought him some pleasure,
but this evening it appeared to be a source of discomfort.
Discomfort the Prince had not seen reflected on Miss Frost's face.
Vlad led them straight to the model. The militia officer circled it. Fairlee had adopted a light green coat with buff facings and cuffs. Forest wore it well. Buff breeches and waistcoat matched, and he wore tall cavalry boots.
He took a good look, then sipped sherry. "And we have no idea how many troops will be opposing us?"
Vlad shook his head. "I am afraid not."
Caleb snorted. "Add one for that idiot, Rivendell."
The men chuckled, but Forest waggled a finger at his nephew. "Let that be the last time I hear that out of you, Caleb, or any of your boys, if you expect to be chosen to join my men. Ridicule erodes morale and discipline faster than the sun melts ice. As any veteran will tell you, when the cannons roar and guns thunder, you don't fight for country or leader. You fight for your friends in the ranks. If they don't understand the importance of standing with you, they won't, and you'll all die."
"Yes, sir."
The Prince pointed to the model. "Rivendell has one regiment of foot, one of horse, twelve guns, probably light. He couldn't recall the size."
"The man is an idiot, isn't he?"
Caleb laughed.
Forest raised an eyebrow. "Remember, when I say it, it is a judgment based on experience. I met him on the Continent a couple of times. He was insulting, short-sighted, and had an inflated sense of his own position in history. How is it he got this command?"
Vlad shrugged. "Correspondents of mine have hinted at a political fight in Parliament. The Foreign Ministry wishes to finish Tharyngia on the Continent and sees du Malphias as a distraction. Last year's campaign did not go well, and Rivendell was part of the reason why. Getting him away from Tharyngia is a way to give someone a chance at victory.
"The Home Office wants to protect Mystria to protect the Norillian economy. They point out that conquering New Tharyngia will destroy the Tharyngian economy and, ultimately, boost ours. Rivendell's enthusiasm for this venture made him easy to promote. Unfortunately, they underfunded and undermanned his expedition based on his manpower request. This leaves them sufficient resources to campaign on the Continent this year or next, regardless of what Rivendell does."
Forest turned to Owen. "I understand, Captain, that du Malphias indicated he wished to form his own nation?"
"Yes, sir. His fortress controls access to the west. Being south of New Tharyngia, it has better growing seasons. The rivers and lakes let it get furs and other trade goods out." Owen sighed heavily. "If he can get settlers in, he could achieve his dream."
"This was all in the report you sent to Launston, Highness?"
"Every word." The Prince finished his sherry in a gulp. "And every one was dismissed as fantasy."
"Amazing." Major Forest turned back to the model. "There is, of course, only one way to take this fortress. Surely you all see it."
Count von Metternin set his sherry glass in the middle of the ruined farmhouse. "It is not to begin the assault from here?"
"No." Forest tapped the cliffs with his hook. "Two companies of men, hand-picked men, approach the cliffs under cover of darkness. They scale up, use grapnels to get over the wall, then take the upper fortress. From there they command the interior and can use Ryngian cannons to knock out the other artillery batteries along the north wall. The rest of the troops stage here, to the north, and concentrate on this point nearest the cliff fort. Once in, du Malphias' stone wall works for them. They eliminate the central fortress and clean out the other forts."
"Are you certain, sir?" Owen frowned. "Those cliffs are quite sheer."
"I appreciate your perspective, Captain, but I'll differ with you. While I cannot climb with my metal hand, I have plenty of men who climb like squirrels. Here in the Northlands are dozens like them."
Caleb nodded. "The Bone brothers, Nathaniel, Twilight People, could all get right up there."
"We would arm them with two guns. They would have their rifles for accurate shooting, and shotguns for closer work. From what you have said, Highness, iron pellets, bits of nails, and the like would be effective against the pasmortes."
Vlad nodded. "Likely against other troops, too."
Owen drew closer to the model. "Shotguns would work well for cleaning out the warrens."
Forest nodded. For the first time since Vlad had begun work on the model, he felt hopeful. He had no doubt that taking the fortress would be a fierce and bloody affair, but prior to Major Forest's suggestion, the only solution seemed to be relentlessly pounding the fortress with cannon, then to throw men at it.
Which was exactly the sort of attack for which du Malphias had been prepared.
Doctor Frost circulated. He refilled the men's sherry glasses, then raised his in a toast. "To a Mystrian solution for a Mystrian problem."
They all laughed, then drank, the Prince included. As he set his glass down, however, he wondered if his Norillian problem would scuttle their solution.
Owen shook his head. "Rivendell will never allow this. Success would take away from his glory."
Count von Metternin smiled. "Do not be so dour, my friend. There is a way. I will suggest, perhaps, to Colonel Langford, that were I leading the assault, I would send a diversionary attack up the cliffs. I would use Mystrians. Keep them out of my way, you know, since they are not Norillians. I would give them a chance, but contain the danger. Langford will mention this to Rivendell. His lordship and I shall talk. I shall congratulate him on having had the same idea I did. Once he believes he came up with it, that I think it is brilliant- and that it will put an end to Mystrian complaints-he will adopt it."
Vlad smiled. "If it succeeds, it is his brilliance. If it fails, it is Mystrian weakness. Do you honestly believe Rivendell will fall for this?"
"He cheated to save himself two pounds, Highness. He thinks himself a military genius." Von Metternin smiled easily. "If I go and find Langford now, by noon tomorrow the plan will be set."
Forest laughed. "Then I think you should get to your work, my lord. I will get my quartermaster requisitioning the necessary arms, and we shall take a fortress."