Forlorn Hope - Chapter 4
The Great Emperor's Ultimatum
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His horse knew the way to the palace stables. A surprise, one that made Prince Lothan wonder as to how many times, and who, had ridden from Silicia to the Lahun waystation thirty miles east. There was little there but an inn with unattractive bedmates and a small garrison of some twenty men. The most valuable building there was the postal office that served as the first node for everything travelling westward from the capital.
The cobblestone road clicked under the horses hooves and Lothan loosened the reins to focus on his breathing. Commoners and nobles alike cheered at his arrival. Some threw flowers to be trampled in good luck by his steed, while others tasked him with bloodying the enemy. He waved and swore he would smite the invaders yet in truth his thighs were sore from the saddle and the callouses on his hand had softened from lack of practice. Still his image was on of the great warrior and protector, an image he had to polish it seemed as his belly sagged against the. pommel.
Tamon guided his horse close with his one good hand, ‘Thankful your ancestor maintained the tradition of keeping the centre of the road free for the highest nobility. Imagine galloping through these streets at the risk of knocking over some commoner. A quick way to spend your favour.’
‘Do you always have such strange thoughts when entering Silicia?’
‘Given this is our first time back in quite some time I haven’t been able to experience these thoughts.’
Lothan grumbled from the barb and chose silence instead.
Tamon did not choose silence, ‘Little has changed. Though that bar has changed its name. Never used to be a tannery down that way, the smell is horrendous. Where’d the fishmongers go?’
Lothan rolled his eyes trying desperately not to ask why Tamon knew this street so well. It didn’t matter, wouldn’t matter, once through the palace gates. They’d be unlikely to leave for fear of Prince Lothan being seen with gamblers and whores and common merchants. It wasn’t Lothan’s fault the commoners had little interest in politics. ‘Where are the others?’ He asked, having tuned out of Tamon’s monologue.
‘Hufin and Rugad had business, they didn’t say what.’
‘Families I think, though neither would admit it. Chatogan?’
Tamon shifted awkwardly in his saddle, wincing with the pain that he swore wasn’t constant, ‘Accepting the generosity of the masses.’
Prince Lothan craned his neck back and slapped his forehead, ‘Refugees clogging the streets, trade routes broken, grain likely to be rationed, and he accepts the few riches the commoners have. That damned fool.’ He was ready to gallop back and toss all the ill-gotten loot back to the crowds.
Tamon caught his arm, ‘Deal with that inside the palace. The people want to help, if this is how they do it. Let them. The feeling of generosity is powerful, don’t toss it back in their faces.’
Lothan let the reins of his horse go slack, ‘You read too much of the Classics.’
‘You read too little.’
The pair hmph’d together.
Chatogan stood with his haul on a wide bronze plate stamped with the reign era of the first King, Prince Lothan’s great-great-grandfather. By the standards of Silician history that was new but it held great sentimental value to the once-conquerors. Lothan cast his eyes over the treasures, bells, candlesticks, paintings, statues, incense, flowers, and a handled mirror. The handle caught his eye, a naked woman with her arms stretched overhead holding the polished bronze surface, ‘Your mirror has breasts.’
Chatogan grinned, ‘I know. That’s my favourite gift.’
‘You’re giving it all back.’
‘Not a chance,’ Chatogan hugged his plate of offerings. They stood before the entrance to court. The guards stared directly ahead, impersonating blind and deaf men perfectly. ‘I was given this out of the kindness of their hearts, it would be rude to reject their gifts.’
‘Then donate it somewhere, you don’t need it, the common people do,’ Prince Lothan said. He tapped his foot against the floor, fingers knotting behind his back.
‘I don’t remember you returning your gifts. The last place, before… this… you accepted an heirloom deel and the village elder’s private stash of kumis. Which you spilt by the way. Where’s the deel?’
‘I gave it to…’ her name escaped him.
‘Pomae?’ Chatogan nodded. ‘I haven’t forgiven you for rushing us here. Where will I find a beauty like her again?’
‘I found her. Not you,’ Lothan chided. Shame rippled through him, shame at fighting over a girl like a couple of boys.
‘Prince Lothan,’ a soft and gentle voice called.
He turned and felt his cheeks redden, ‘Xun-Ma Rei… Princess.’ He corrected himself, though where his title had power, hers did not.
Xun-Ma Rei giggled and curtsied, her hands flat before her and looking to her right, ‘Rei is fine, Prince.’
Chatogan cleared his throat, ‘Never have I seen such beauty, Princess. Truly it was worth the hard ride to the capital.’ He bowed.
Lothan rolled his eyes, ‘I thought Pomae was the most beautiful women in the world?’
Chatogan sneered, steam escaped his nostrils, and his eyes spoke of violence if only he weren’t holding the wealth of the masses in his hands. ‘Pomae had a common beauty, Princess Xun-Ma possess divine beauty.’
‘Oh, and what would you know of divine beauty? Have you been borrowing Tamon’s books?’
‘Leave me out of this,’ the scholar spat. ‘A pleasure, Princess,’ he bowed.
Xun-Ma Rei curtsied, smirking and faced the door. A gong sounded from inside, the ringing punching into Lothan’s heart. The guards turned and grasped the bronze handles in both hands and pushed with all their might. The great two-foot thick doors creaked and a shaft of light blazed between them.
‘Princess Xun-Ma Rei,’ the court announcer called. He gulped and did a double take. ‘And Prince Lothan and his band.’ A cold breeze blew through the court as all but the King stiffened. A flurry of whispers cascaded from the officials all the way up to the Chancellor who whispered into King Lobahan’s hear. The old man nodded and tugged at his thin beard.
Lothan held himself high, hand resting on the hilt of his sword, and breathed in his paunch. Tamon and Chatogan followed, the latter still holding his gifts. Officials tutted and their seals of office rattled.
‘Prince Lothan’s companions are to remain outside,’ Chancellor Jifan ordered from atop the dais.
Tamon scurried to a halt and gave a swift bow before turning on his heel and marching out. Chatogan sniffed, inclined his head, and swaggered out earning more tutting.
Xun-Ma Rei approached the throne ahead of Lothan, gliding across the central aisle as her traditional hanfu billowed to create the illusion she was floating. She curtsied, averting her eyes from the King and the Three Excellencies. The Prince halted six feet behind her, a hand on his sword as he held no petition.
‘Princess Xun-Ma, a pleasure as always,’ Jifan held one hand behind on the small of his back and one across his midriff. Crow’s feet spread from his eyes and his lips had thinned from the weight of office. ‘Please begin your petition to the court.’
Rei inclined her head and began, ‘You are all aware of the refugees making a village against the walls of this great city. Many have travelled hundreds of miles expecting the safety of Silicia’s stonewalls when the Gör Khāni come, and I am sure they will be hurried inside in such an event. BUT my concerns today are with the children, specifically those who have been orphaned by the raiding. I have directed a substantial amount of my family’s wealth to supporting the orphans but the sheer numbers have surprised even me. Hundreds if not thousands are now filling the Palace of the Lotus and dozens more arrive every day. I humbly request a fund be made available to assist my clan in caring for these poor children and that more accommodation be assigned to house them.’
The Chancellor waited a respectful few seconds before responding, allowing the chatter to hatch and die among the courtiers. ‘We are at war, Princess. The cost of grain has doubled, the risk of hunting quadrupled, we have soldiers to recruit, train, and arm, there is little left for the children.’
‘Yet these children represent the future of our city and kingdom. They are subjects of King Lobahan as much as your soldiers, many of the orphans are boys who wish for vengeance and in a mere few years will be old enough to enlist. Would you waste such an opportunity to create such loyal soldiers? Grand Commandant, how many in your garrison?’
The supreme commander of the army stiffened and shifted his helm, ‘A few thousand.’
Jifan gave Kabok a piercing look, ‘We need soldiers now, not in five years.’
‘So you would rather let children starve?’
Jifan tongued his front teeth, his narrowed eyes surveying the courtiers, ‘Are there eligible recruits among the orphans?’
Xun-Ma Rei shuffled the skirts of her hanfu, ‘I believe so.’
Grand Commandant Kabok pinched his chin and spoke over Jifan, ‘If I may assess the eligible the funds can be made to support the other orphans.’
‘Grand Commandant,’ Chancellor Jifan’s voice was edged.
‘The funds will be grain, not coin,’ Kabok ignored the Chancellor.
‘A thousand thank yous Grand Commandant,’ Xun-Ma curtsied to the throne, the Three Excellencies and retreated to the edge of court.
Lothan remained, alone, in the centre of the room, the eyes of a hundred officials on him. Rei played that well, given the circumstances. He waited while Jifan and Kabok quarrelled. King Lobahan stamped his fist against the arm of his throne, ‘Prince Lothan, step forward.’ His voice boomed.
The Prince approached the base of the dais and bowed, ‘Your Grace.’ His father’s eyes stared vacantly down his nose at him, a certain concoction of hatred and disappointment that Lothan had never, in all his life, ascertained the cause of.
‘We here by pronounce you Vanguard General,’ King Lobahan said.
Grand Commandant Kabok descended the three steps and presented Lothan with a jade seal hanging on the end of an intricate tassel of rubies, sapphires, and polished green jade beads. The Prince accepted the appointment with a stiff bow and held the symbol across both palms, ‘I thank Your Grace for this honour.’
‘I care for your skill, not your honour. You must rally the chiefs and elders of the south to our aide. We need every horseman you can find, raise a host that rivals King Logan’s when he conquered this city,’ Lobahan shook with anger.
‘Your Grace, I will see it done,’ Prince Lothan kept his tongue from wagging, disagreement was for the inner chamber, not the outer.
‘See, I told you he’d accept without issue,’ Jifan said, a touch too loud. Sniggering followed from the courtiers.
‘Chancellor, what is to become of the refugees?’ Prince Lothan crowed. He fitted the seal and tassel to the belt of his deel. In truth the rank was an insult, merely third highest in the military. He didn’t expect Grand Commandant, Kabok was far more suited for the role, but Vice Commandant was vacant and befitting a Prince.
Jifan peered like a hawk down at the Prince, his hands fidgeting within the sleeves of his deel. ‘Those who can fight will, those who can’t,’ he shrugged.
Cold words were muttered through the hall. Si Loma, the Grand Secretary, appeared from behind the throne, his hair pinned up in the style of his forefathers, the founders of Silicia. ‘That is unbecoming of the throne and our city. The refugees should be assessed, lodgings and jobs proscribed based on those assessments. Allowances made for the old and infirm, but only for the duration of the siege.’ He spoke in the lilting accent of the old nobility.
‘Si is correct,’ King Lobahan interjected.
Jifan pursed his lips, eyes flicking from Si Loma to the King. If Lothan hadn’t been away for so many years he’d have thought the Chancellor had not expected the King to interfere. What changed? ‘Very well, I will leave the administration of such tasks to you and the Grand Commandant.’
Si frowned, ‘Typically the Chancellor would oversee such administrative work but if you are overwhelmed my departments can carry the slack.’
Jifan turned puce, his jaw so tight it might have snapped, ‘Such generosity cannot be refused.’
Lothan fought a smile.
‘Court is adjourned, further petitions will be heard tomorrow,’ King Lobahan rose suddenly. Tassels rattled as the courtiers rose to their feet. ‘The Three Excellencies and the Vanguard General are to remain.’
The officials shuffled out row by row, most ignored Lothan, a stone in the stream, a few congratulated him and fewer still warmly welcomed him back. Princess Xun-Ma Rei glided out last, taking her time to gently grasp his hand, ‘I’ve missed you, Prince.’
‘And I you, Princess.’
‘Rei, I insist. My title is an ancient courtesy. If Jifan could get rid of me along with the other old clans, he would. Your title is true.’
‘Only because of conquest.’
‘Naught is truer than conquest, Prince. You should strive to understand the Classics, you used to be so good with them.’
Lothan smiled sadly at a more than decade old memory Rei had conjured, ‘Once, perhaps. No longer.’
‘Such knowledge is not lost, only misplaced for a time,’ she smiled with her eyes and squeezed his hand before floating away. The scent of saffron remained.
He remembered discussing one of the Classics, but which eluded him, in a darkened room, around age fifteen. He’d said something that had surprised his teacher, something wise beyond his years. Then a door slammed shut and shattered the reverie, ‘Chatogan, Tamon!’ He called out at the top of his voice.
‘Err, there is no need for those two,’ Jifan quiet as a knife in the night.
‘If I am to raise a host and lead it into battle then my strategist and captain will need to know all you do,’ he turned and marched to the door. ‘Chatogan! Tamon! In here, now!’
Tamon came first, forcing himself as upright as he could, with Chatogan behind walking in backwards and singing sweet nothings to a woman in the hall, his arms still full with the plate of gifts. Lothan craned to see if it were Rei but the door crashed shut before his eyes could focus. That oaf.
‘It is good to see you, Tamon,’ Jifan lied. ‘If you ever become bored with this drunkard, do return to me. A prestigious position awaits.’
Lothan felt the air escape him. The Chancellor had always been brusk but this was exceptional, had his father become so indifferent? ‘I don’t see why Tamon should suffer under your heel when he can spread his wings with me.’ If this was how the inner chamber functioned then Lothan could grow accustomed.
‘Silence, both of you,’ Lobahan growled. ‘Kabok, report.’
Lothan’s dream lay dashed upon the stairs.
‘Your Grace,’ the Grand Commandant bowed. ‘The Gör Khāni have raided every village ten miles across the border and are advancing on the city in number. Sightings speak of a hundred thousand infantry, cavalry totalling twenty thousand, supported by hundreds of mangonels and siege towers.’
‘Preposterous! Are these the ravings of the commoners at our walls?’
‘The commoners claim higher,’ Kabok said. ‘The size of the raiding parties is unknown, the refugees claim anywhere from ten to a hundred, mostly infantry, though horsemen attack first in all reports. Regardless it seems the raids are a distraction to the true purpose.’
‘Silicia,’ Lobahan pulled his beard. He procured a wood slat scroll from his sleeve, ‘That bloated sack of lard in Gör Khān sent an ultimatum,’ he held it out for Kabok who read it with a swift familiarity, bristled, and threw it to his new Vanguard General.
Lothan caught it and read:
Cherished by the heavens, the Great Emperor sends this letter to the King of Silicia. Our nations, sharing borders, trace our heritage to the same ancestor, our Great Emperor of the Vast Green Sea who, chosen by the heavens, conquered the world from desert to mountains and mountains to sea. All trembled beneath his greatness, as all tremble beneath the Great Emperor. The city of Gör Khān is the centre of the world and all under sun and moon bow towards it. Yet Silicia does not send tribute, nor despatch ambassadors. Do you dare to defy the heavens?
‘When was this received?’ Lothan said.
‘The same day the first raid was reported,’ Lobahan said.
‘The army is behind. A few days, weeks maybe.’
‘At most four weeks march, an army that size is unwieldy, especially with so much infantry. This fool speaks of the Great Emperor of the Vast Green Sea who conquered with horsemen alone and comes to our door with infantry and towers. Pathetic,’ Kabok mimicked spitting.
‘Indeed,’ Lobahan nodded.
‘Pray tell how you expect to withstand such force?’ Jifan took three steps to the King’s right and held himself as a bulwark to Kabok.
‘Silicia’s walls can withstand projectiles from mangonels, the concern there is in flaming ordnance coming over the walls. The towers are a different beast, though concentrating our forces where each one aims to commit their incursion will hold them off. Siege towers burn too and we should position catapults every fifty foot along the wall.’
‘Our granaries aren’t infinite,’ Jifan said.
‘Do you want to surrender, Chancellor?’ Chatogan barked. He set his gifts on the floor and stepped forth, fists clenched.
‘I’ll not take such words from a commoner,’ Jifan looked about but the guards had been dismissed as well.
Si Loma said, ‘No, Chatogan,’ he inclined his head to check the name. Chatogan nodded. ‘He has a point. Is your position surrender?’
‘No, but my position is also not starvation. Repelling the attack is all well and good but the gates won’t hold forever and nor will the granaries. If the Gör Khāni can simply sit at our walls for a year to wait for us to die what will be the point?’
‘That is why Lothan will gather my host and smash the invaders from the rear. They’ll stand no chance against that attack. Half will flee from such an onslaught,’ Lobahan punched his palm.
Lothan sidled from foot to foot. Is the host so large? He couldn’t bring himself to ask, none would know for sure and his father seemed… delusional. ‘Precisely. If we know where the enemy is and when they’ll be here I can plan the route required and return before the real hardship of siege begins.’ Now who is delusional. An ache had appeared in his legs, a soreness that only lying down would help with, preferably with a bedmate atop him and a goblet of arhki in hand.
‘Then I suggest you ride with haste,’ Jifan craned down.
Kabok descended the steps again and blocked Jifan from Lothan’s vision. ‘I have ten thousand true soldiers here. The rest are hunters and farmers with swords, they won’t stand a chance. If you don’t arrive in time, don’t arrive at all. Strike the Great Sack of Lard in the heart if you must or make for the desert,’ the words were a warning and a prophesy. If the Grand Commandant didn’t expect victory, how could Lothan?
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