Shemorane was wet with rain. The Army of the Bacosh was filing through its main road, an endless line of men and horses. Ahead rose the great spires of the High Temple, and as the Lenay party rode toward them, even the hard faces of the northern lords began to soften, their eyes raised to the weeping sky with awe.
They emerged into the temple courtyard, and mounted knights made a cordon before the High Temple's steps, as the common men of the army marched past, kneeling to the priests who stood beside the road to bless them, their eyes also raised to the sky.
Within the knights' cordon, nobility gathered and climbed the stairs, and embraced with joy. There would now be a grand service, Koenyg suspected, for the return of the Shereldin Star. He was pleased at least that he would be present for that.
He left the horses guarded nearby and climbed the wide steps, past watchful Bacosh lords. Within, the High Temple preparations for ceremony were already underway, the hurried deployment of drapery along the walls, and rushing priests with candle holders and prayer shawls. In the middle of the long pews, talking in hushed tones with several lords, Koenyg spotted the Regent Balthaar.
Balthaar turned as he approached.
“So,” said the Regent, somewhat cautiously. He had heard. They all had. Now he expected Koenyg to grovel in humiliation. Koenyg refused. “I hear it is bad.”
Koenyg shrugged. “A pagan rebellion. It is unfortunate. Yet the cream of Verenthane Lenayin remain with me, and are loyal to the cause.”
“More so than ever,” Heryd added from behind, with hard certainty.
Balthaar's eyes flicked to Heryd for a moment, then came back to Koenyg. “You have lost…three-quarters of your strength?”
“At least,” Koenyg agreed.
“An embarrassment.”
“Pagans,” Koenyg repeated. “A dying breed. Their dying shall begin here.”
Balthaar's lips pressed thin. “This could create for me a problem. We outnumber them greatly, yet pagans or not, this betrayal now strengthens the hand against us. You are certain they will fight?”
“Eastern pagans are leading them, they always liked the serrin. They'll fight.”
“And yet you brought them anyway,” observed one of Balthaar's lords, coldly. “Even knowing how dubious was their loyalty.”
“They are Lenay,” Koenyg replied. “That was supposed to be enough. Evidently not.”
“And now the numbers against us grow,” Balthaar continued. “Enora's losses were large, and Rhodaan's even larger, yet with Lenayin to bolster them, to say nothing of those troublesome talmaad, whose numbers will assuredly grow larger as we draw closer to Saalshen, our difficulties increase.”
“Elisse commits large forces,” Koenyg replied. “Most of your allies have kept many in reserve, yet Elisse owes you everything, and sends everything. Your other feudal allies now hear word of your successes, and are terrified that they are missing out on their share of this great triumph, and thus the spoils to come. I do not know feudal manpower in the Bacosh as you do, yet I should guess at several more tens of thousands there, who could reach across the Enoran border before we cross the Ipshaal River…if indeed the enemy does retreat to Jahnd as we expect.
“And then there are the Kazeri. I have word of a deal between them and the Chansul of Meraine.”
Balthaar looked mildly surprised. “You have sources.”
“My skills are not limited solely to warfare,” said Koenyg. “Should the Kazeri send the numbers being suggested, then we are in the process of building what shall be by far the largest force of men ever assembled in the history of Rhodia. Yet for all your core of strength, your primary weakness remains in cavalry, especially against the talmaad. Northern Lenayin remains with me, and it is almost entirely cavalry, the finest in all lands. We shall be your cavalry core. With Lenay command of cavalry, you cannot lose.”
Balthaar considered for a moment. Then he put a hand to Koenyg's shoulder, and steered him away from the others.
“Brother-in-law,” he said quietly in the hush of the temple's vast space, “I shall tell you of something more. My brother Prince Dafed reports from Rhodaan where we have made some great discoveries. There are workshops in Rhodaan, in towns near Tracato, where artillery is made. Steel artillery.”
Koenyg stared at him in amazement. “They were supposed to destroy it all before it was captured.”
“Yes, well, much to everyone's amazement, it seems that the Steel have many spare. The logistics of operating such things, I suppose, means that there are only so many units of artillery that a certain-sized force can utilise before it becomes unmanageable. These artillery were supposed to be moved by road to join the retreating army, or destroyed, as you say…only some Rhodaani lords hoping to curry favour with my army intervened and have now handed them over to Dafed.”
He stopped, and could not restrain a smile. “We have hellfire,” he added. “They were making it in the same town. We have great stores of hellfire, all captured. And even some men who will instruct us in its use, as the Rhodaani nobles have some friends who know such things.”
“My gods,” Koenyg breathed. “Can it be transported?”
“As soon as possible, though we may have to wait a little for its arrival.”
“We shall have to wait a little for the boats to cross the Ipshaal.”
“Indeed, so no loss.” Balthaar was assembling a large force of boat builders and carpenters, a surprisingly simple task with such a huge force at his disposal. “The enemy's only hope is that the Ilduuri come to their aid in force, and from what I hear, I do not think that at all likely. But I would ask you, brother, do not speculate on these things too often with the other feudal lords. Some things I would rather kept just between us two.”
Koenyg was astonished. He had assumed that his obvious loss of face, with three in four of his men deserting him, would result in a similar loss of influence with Balthaar. Now this. But then, he recalled, he had been hearing other things, about relations between the Regent and his allies of late.
“Your friends squabble over the spoils,” Koenyg said. “Well, be assured of one thing, brother-we Lenays are not concerned with your spoils. I fight for a Verenthane Lenayin, and a strong, Verenthane Bacosh to be our ally, nothing more.”
Balthaar looked relieved. “It is so nice,” he said mildly, “to speak to a man whose word I can trust. Just one.” Things were quite bad then, Koenyg decided. “I have a mind to put such a man in command of our cavalry, as you suggest. I understand all of the nobility of the rest of Lenayin's provinces have remained loyal?”
“Very loyal,” Koenyg agreed. “This war shall reshape Lenayin, brother. The pagans shall be dealt a crushing defeat here that it was not possible to deal them in Lenayin itself. Feudal power shall be expanded upon my return, and Verenthane power too. With the pagans diminished, more warriors of Northern Lenayin shall be freed to assist you, should you need them. The north has only sent a small portion of its forces, as it faces threats from Cherrovan and its Lenay neighbours. Soon that number shall increase. You have seen how we fight, brother. Lenayin remains a friend well worth having.”
The ceremony to replace the Shereldin Star in the High Temple was very grand, for a thing so hastily organised. Koenyg did not understand much of it, for services were in Larosan, yet the certainty of it all impressed him. Choirs sang in heavenly reverence, and priests in robes marched slowly up the aisle. Here was a force that could unite men, and cease their constant bickering. Lenayin needed this more than it needed anything.