Ethelbert was above them, Prydae could clearly see.
The prince thought of the boy who had just died.
A peasant, a commoner.
Prydae shrugged and put the boy's dying words out of his mind. Prince Prydae marveled at how adept this army had become in cleaning up after bloody battles. The Samhaist clerics accompanying the force went about their work with the dead, consecrating the ground in their ancient traditions before burying men of Honce, damning the ground below the bodies of powries, which would be left unburied. All of this was done under the judgmental eyes of the brothers of Abelle, who busied themselves with the wounded, not the dead, using their magical gemstones to bring some measure of relief.
The struggle between the two sects, a battle for the hearts of men, was not lost on Prydae. Nor were the various effects the two sects were having on the common soldiers. Those hopeful of returning home some day seemed to be favoring the brothers of Abelle, but as more and more died on the field, the Samhaists' promises and warnings of the afterlife seemed to be resonating more profoundly among those remaining.
Prydae looked to the west below the defended forward ridge, where screams and moans and sobs came forth continually, and he shook his head in amazement. For not far above the tents of the wounded sat a pair of Samhaists, staring down like vultures. The brothers of Abelle wouldn't give up the corpses easily to the clerics of the ancient religion, but they were too busy with those still living to prevent the taking.
The tug for hearts became a tug for bodies, a battle from birth that tore at every Honce citizen throughout his life, and even after, it seemed.
Neither Prydae nor Bannagran spoke as they crossed from the forward lines to the rear. They entered Laird Ethelbert's tent with little fanfare and, to their surprise, found none of the other lairds within.
Ethelbert smiled widely and warmly, bidding them to enter and to sit opposite him at the opulent-relatively speaking-dinner table that had been set out. To either side of the laird sat his four military commanders, accomplished warriors all, men whose reputations had preceded them to this war.
"I am so pleased that you could join me, Prince of Pryd," Ethelbert said when Prydae and Bannagran had taken their places. Attendants moved immediately to put their food-a veritable feast-before them.
Prydae was too busy staring at the cutlery of shining silver and cut glass goblets filled with rich wine to even answer.
"A proper laird must always take his accoutrements with him," Ethelbert explained. "We owe that to our peasants, you see?"
Neither of the men from Pryd questioned that aloud, though both their faces, especially Bannagran's, asked the obvious question clearly enough.
"What the peasants need from us is the hope that their own lives might not always be so miserable," the Laird of Ethelbert dos Entel explained. "Or that their children will know a better existence. That is always the way, do you not understand? A miserable peasant with hope is a miserable peasant placated. We walk a fine line between breaking them altogether, which would lead to open revolt, and teasing them just enough to keep them happily working."
"Happily?" As soon as the word left Bannagran's mouth, Prydae jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow.
But Laird Ethelbert seemed to take no offense. He grinned and held up his hands.
"There is so much to learn about ruling the common folk," Ethelbert said at length. "I have spent forty years as leader of Ethelbert Holding and still I feel as if my initiation has only just begun. But the people of Ethelbert are happy enough, I would guess, and healthier than those in many other holdings, Delaval in particular."
Prydae perked up at the disparaging reference to the largest and most populous holding in all Honce. Set at the base of the great river that cut the main region of Honce off from the vast northern forests, Laird Delaval's city was more than twice the size of Ethelbert's. The river teemed with fish, the fields to the east of Delaval City were rich and fertile, and the wood brought in from the west allowed the Laird Delaval to build wondrous sailing ships that even Laird Ethelbert had been known to grudgingly purchase.
Laird Delaval's army, and his warships, were battling powries up the coast in the north, and with great success, by all reports. That success of his rival seemed to grate on Laird Ethelbert, from what Prydae could tell.
It all began to make sense to the warrior prince from Pryd Holding. The roads had brought the holdings of Honce closer together, had greatly increased trade and communication between them. Several lairds were rumored to be in secret alliance already. During this campaign, with so many armies marching side by side, Prince Prydae had come to envision a time, in his lifetime perhaps, when Honce would become a united kingdom under a single ruling laird. Of course, that presented the question of who that leader might be.
"We are scoring the greatest victories of all against the powries," Laird Ethelbert went on. "More of the vicious dwarves have died here than in the north, and I attribute that to the finer coordination between our forces." He lifted his goblet in a toast, and all the others followed suit.
"In the north, of course, there is little cooperation and a more-hierarchical command," Ethelbert went on, predictably now to Prydae, who hid his knowing smile. "Laird Delaval is not interested in the plans and movements of his peers, unless those movements follow his precise instructions."
Prydae thought to point out that Delaval's force was many times greater than the combined armies of the other lairds up in the north beside him, but he kept silent.
"This battle will be done soon," Ethelbert remarked.
"We can hope for that," said Prydae.
"Indeed." Ethelbert held up his goblet again. "And when it is done, we must all be aware that Honce will emerge a different land than the one of scattered holdings which began this campaign. The roads are nearly clear of powries and goblins, from the gulf to the mountains, and our people will be able to trade even more vigorously outside their communities.
Thus, we must anticipate the changes, my friends. We must prepare ourselves for the new reality that will be Honce. Smaller holdings, such as your own, will need allies, or perhaps even an overseeing laird of a greater holding to secure your defense."
So there it was.
Prydae felt Bannagran's stare upon him, and he turned to offer a comforting nod to his excitable and uneasy companion.
"An overseeing laird?" the prince calmly echoed.
"Various cities joined together in a greater and more powerful holding," Ethelbert explained.
"Are you asking permission to annex Pryd, Laird Ethelbert?"
The blunt question had Laird Ethelbert's commanders bristling and brought a slight gasp from Bannagran. But if Ethelbert was at all discomfited by it, he hid the fact. Again he seemed the calm man on a great horse, unbothered as he walked past the broken bodies of his inferiors.
"I am suggesting that you and your father begin to give consideration to your future," Ethelbert replied.
"We ever do. That is the duty of an independent laird above all, is it not?"
"Be reasonable, Prince Prydae. When this messy business with the powries is done, the world around you will be changed. You cannot deny that. Roads carry trade and they also carry armies."
"And Honce will no longer be a collection of separate holdings?"
"A few perhaps, or perhaps a single kingdom. We all see that. And you must understand that in the end, it will be Ethelbert or it will be Delaval. I offer you a peaceful alliance."