"Then why haven't they attacked?" This was from another chieftain, called Lastabruis. "These were found not more than a morning's walk away."
"Why do they have to attack?" said Aegenuis. "The whole point of being in this shithole is so that the Askhans do not know where we are. I wonder how many of the other armies have been discovered. Fuck, for all I know, everybody else is dead. There's no reason to attack, they don't think us a threat."
"That's where we prove them wrong," said Medorian, putting a foot up on the bench beside his father and leaning over him. "I've sent riders out to Caraghlin, Tanna, Gathluis, and a few others. With our warriors, that's nearly fifty thousand. They're going to meet us at the Hadric Mounds in twenty days."
"Well, that's nice," said Aegenuis, pushing his son's foot from the bench. "At least we'll spare the Askhans the trouble of finding us before they kill us. The Hadrics are at the heart of their advance."
"That's my plan!" said Medorian. "They won't expect us to be there. We'll hide in the wooded hills and wait for them to march on Carantathi and then attack from the rear."
Aegenuis laughed, and once he had started it took a supreme effort to stop. Medorian looked at him with a frown while he recovered from the fit.
"You think Ullsaard and his men are just going to walk past?" said the king. "They have scouts you know. Hiding fifty thousand warriors isn't like putting a coin in the bottom of your shoe. They tend to get noticed."
"Which is why we'll give the Askhans something else to look at," said Medorian, crossing his arms and looking like he had already won the victory. "The Casabha and Kighans are going to lure the Askhans on, make it look like part of a larger force falling back towards the city. Ullsaard won't be able to resist it. He'll set off after them, thinking he has us on the run and wanting to catch us before we reach the safety of our walls. He'll be looking ahead to that, not worrying what's behind."
Aegenuis tried hard to consider the plan on its merits, but it seemed pointless. It didn't make any difference. All of the tricks and ploys would not defeat the combined might of Askh. Even with Anglhan's duplicity and constant attacks from the tribes, the Askhans had not given a pace backwards. It was not a question of whether the Askhans would win, it was a question of when, and how many would die to delay that inevitable victory.
"No," said the king. He stood up and paced in front of his son and the chieftains. "I have a better plan, one that will not throw away the lives of thousands. Son, I have failed you, and for that I am sorry. I will be the last king of Salphoria. You must put aside your pride and come to terms with what I have been forced to accept. The Askhans will win."
"You cannot surrender," said Medorian. "Would you be remembered as a coward?"
"The memory of my rule has already been determined," said the king. "Some Askhan chronicler will note that the line of the Salphorian kings ended, and the rule of Askhos's descendants began. Whether I fight, or seek peace, that cannot be changed."
"So you must at least fight," insisted Medorian. "Do your lands, your people mean so little to you?"
"Does being king mean so much to you?" countered Aegenuis. He pointed to his war-helm, left at the end of the table. It was made of precious iron, rimmed with gold, its mask decorated with a silver wolf's face, a ruby set at its brow. "Take it, wear it, if you want to be king, for all the good it will do you."
"I will," said Medorian. He took a step towards the table, arm outstretched. "Our people deserve a leader that does not abandon them!"
Aegenuis grabbed Medorian's wrist and twisted, kicking at his ankle to send him tumbling to the ground. The young man struggled against his father, swinging and missing with a fist. Aegenuis twisted again, turning Medorian to his belly, and placed a knee in the small of his back.
"You do not deserve it!" hissed the king. "I suffered the same vanity as you. I killed my father, as you want to kill me right now. I thought I was great, a leader worthy of these lands. I have been proven wrong. I look to dawnwards and I see an empire that will crush us or swallow us, it cares not which. That empire was founded by another king, and his will has won over ours. We have fought for rulership, and built nothing. We spilled the blood of our own while Askhos's followers raised cities and armies that we cannot match."
Releasing his hold, the king stepped back.
"It is no great mystery," he continued, as Medorian rolled over and sat up. "The spirits have abandoned us. We are at the mercy of the Askhans and all we can choose now is to preserve those lives the spirits have entrusted to us with their passing. I'll not be responsible for the deaths of women and children born under my rule. Future generations may not remember me, but if they do, they will thank me for putting their prosperity above my pride."
Medorian snarled and sprang up, snatching a knife from his belt. Aegenuis easily slapped his son's arm aside and drove his forehead into Medorian's face, crushing his nose. The prince stumbled back, blood pouring onto his shirt.
"Take him!" Aegenuis called to the chieftains. For a moment they hesitated, but Aghali seized Medorian, ripping the dagger from his hand, and the others followed his lead, grabbing the king's son by the arms and neck. "I could have you slain on the spot for drawing a blade on me. However, I would not see my last act as king be the execution of my son. I killed my father and to this day I have not regretted it. You shall live, and reap the benefits of my mercy."
He waved the chieftains away, but then called for Aghali to stay when the group reached the door. When the others had gone, Aegenuis motioned for Aghali to sit beside him on the bench.
"Spread the word to any chieftain that will listen," said the king. "They are to offer no resistance to the Askhans. They are not to provoke them in any way. I will send word to Ullsaard himself and invite him to Carantathi. There I will hand him my crown, bow my knee to the Askhan king and offer him my throne. Do you understand?"
The old chieftain's eyes glimmered with tears. He grasped the king's shoulder and squeezed tight.
"I never had no love for you, nor your father," Aghali admitted. "Your son has the same failings. But if it means anything, I am happy to call you king now. There are those as won't like it at all, and the Askhans will deal with them in their way. But you are right, we can't fight no more. Let's not spill the blood of our children for land they will never own. The past is past. We need to bury it with our dead."
The two of them stood and gripped each other's arms in parting. Aegenuis walked with Aghali to the doors and stepped onto the street outside. The sun was bright overhead, the air dry on his skin. He felt as parched as the land, and had no tears to offer.
A group of warriors stood guard a short distance away, sheltering under a ragged awning. As Aghali walked away, the king turned to the men and called out.
"Send out the word to the camp. Find me someone that can write the words of the Askhans."
They signalled their compliance and Aegenuis returned to the hall to compose his letter to King Ullsaard of Greater Askhor, soon-to-be ruler of Salphoria.
Salphoria
Midsummer, 213th year of Askh
I
The mountains ahead were wreathed with clouds, though the sky above was clear and the sun scorching hot. To coldwards, on the edge of sight, more hills rose up, dark with trees. The tramp of thousands of feet brought up a great swathe of dust that swirled in light wind and settled on the armour of the legionnaires. At the front of the Askhan column, ahead of the worst of the cloud, Blackfang panted heavily as she padded alongside Ullsaard on her rein. He patted her flank out of reflex, pleased to be reunited. She was, he considered, more loyal than many he had once considered friend or ally.