The Return of Hope E-Book

J. S. Allen

• Herausgeber: Bluedrake Books
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Aralia is at war once again, and the stakes are higher than ever. Emboldened by their alliance with the newly rebuilt Primus Emprius, the Eastern Union strikes on all fronts. With the armies of the West in disarray, it falls upon Aralia’s Golden Order to hold the line. Once more, Lieutenant Fordain Abendroth and his friends find themselves in the forefront of the action. But even as they face the enemy out in the field together, Fordain must confront the more terrible foe that lurks within his own mind alone.

Leseprobe

Book III: The Return of Hope

ALSO BY THIS AUTHOR:

Knights of Aralia Book I: Remnants of Light

Knights of Aralia Book II: Evil Rising

Sauragia

Journey to the Red Mountain

Woodland Tales

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Text and Maps Copyright © 2024 by J. S. Allen

Cover Art Copyright © 2023 by Ilya Royz

Published by Bluedrake Books,

an imprint of Ash Tree Media

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication Data

provided by Five Rainbows Cataloging Services

Names: Allen, J.S., 1995- author.

Title: The return of hope / J. S. Allen

Description: Belton, MO : Bluedrake Books, 2024. | Series: Knights of Aralia, bk. 3.| Summary: Fordain and his companions find themselves on the frontlines of a war in the field and in the mind.

Identifiers: ISBN 978-1-956619-19-5 (hardcover) | ISBN 978-1-956619-20-1 (paperback) | ISBN 978-1-956619-21-8 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: Young adult fiction. | CYAC: Dragons--Fiction. | Knights--Fiction. | War--Fiction. | Fantasy. | BISAC: YOUNG ADULT FICTION / Fantasy / Epic. | YOUNG ADULT FICTION / Action & Adventure / General. | YOUNG ADULT FICTION / Animals / Mythical Creatures. | YOUNG ADULT FICTION / War & Military.

Classification: LCC PZ7.1.A45 Re 2024 (print) | LCC PZ7.1.A45 (ebook) | DDC [Fic]--dc23.

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CONTENTS

World Map

Gathor Map

Pirakos Map

The Blockade

Preparations

The Wolf

The Situation

Separated

Rebels

The Coral Coast

Passage to the North

Open Country

General Abendroth

A Cry in the Wind

A Line in the Sand

Shadow in the Ruins

The Second Strike

Paths to Victory

Sanctuary

A Sea of Black

The Battle for Gathor

The Edge of a Blade

Besieged

On the Border

A Light on the Horizon

Allies

The Golden Forest

A Turn for the Better

United

The Conquest Preview

About the Author

World Map

The Kingdom of Gathor

The League of Pirakos

Chapter I

The Blockade

Griffarus gazed intently at the far horizon. Still nothing stirred but the sapphire blue waves of the Sea of Pellias. He sighed, turning his eyes to the Gathorian trade vessel about a quarter of a mile off the starboard side. Beside it were two larger vessels waving the white eagle of the Primus Emprius from their flagstaffs. Commerce raiders, most likely commanded by a couple of eager captains aiming for promotions. He watched as the two docked with the trading ship and the crews proceeded to board it. He was not unfamiliar with the process, having taken part in the commandeering of a few ships throughout his lifetime, but still he found it fascinating.

Now aboard the vessel, which by signals from the other ships he knew to be called the Lorelei, the officer on the port-side ship accepted the surrender of the merchant captain. Following this, the Imperial soldiers took to looting the cargo hold of valuables and foodstuffs, then dredging up the remainder of the crew from below deck. He felt a brief pang of sympathy for the unfortunate men, knowing that they would either be impressed into the Eastern Navy or shipped to the Far South to live out the rest of their miserable lives as galley slaves on some Elnorian warship. The Lorelei would either be burned in place or taken into port to be refitted for use as a troop transport. He sighed again as his best mate Cassus joined him.

“Anythin’ new, Griff?” his companion asked. “Or are we just inspectin’ the deck again?”

“Nothing we haven’t seen before, Cas,” replied Griffarus, keeping his eyes on the spectacle.

Cassus watched with only passing interest. “Ol’ Quintilius is at it again, eh?” he said, recognizing the ship. “Ain’t that six this week alone?”

“Seven,” corrected Griff.

“Aye, seven. Someone’s got his eye on the next rank, I see.” Cassus stroked his full, greying beard with a half-toothed grin.

Griffarus and his companion could not have been more different. Cassus was the very essence of a man who had served far too many years before the mast. He spent most of his time on land either drunk out of his senses or playing games of chance at some tavern’s back table. Ten years the senior of Griff, he had begun his career as a pickpocket on the streets and docks of the town in which he had grown up. He had been orphaned at an early age, and so had learned the hard way to either toughen up or die. Thus, he had become as sly and merciless as any cutthroat could be, and had soon formed his own gang of no-goods and bandits within his hometown. In search of greater adventure, they had taken to the seas. Following the fortuitous capture of an unarmed fishing trawler with a stash of valuables hidden below deck, they had never looked back.

Griffarus, or just Griff as most knew him, was a refined individual from a fairly upstanding family on the southern coast of Emprius. His love of the sea was inspired by his father, who had owned a trading company with a partner. The business had passed to Griffarus when his father had died, but he was no businessman, and had soon lost a great deal of money. Having fallen on hard times, he had decided to sell the company and strike out on his own as a first-rate sailor. He had enjoyed it, but found the simple shipping of goods from one port to another rather tiresome, and hardly worth the pay. Thus, he had fallen in with Cas and his band of rabble. Despite their differences, their shared love of the sea and excitement had held them together for years beyond count.

They had had a ship of their own once called the Sea Star, but it had been badly damaged in a storm off the Imperial coast just a month before, and needed more than a few repairs to be seaworthy again. So, the pair and their crew had agreed to sail on board one of the rebel vessels that needed a crew under a commander appointed by the Primus Emprius. The Sea Star was currently moored in a secret hideaway somewhere along the coast, where it would remain until they could acquire the materials for the repairs. They would then revert to their lawless ways until their days ran out or some fortunate pirate hunter caught them up.

For now, however, they were both in the service of the Primus Emprius, a duty which paid well and offered them ample opportunities to do what they did best. They did not fully understand the organization’s lofty goals and ideals, nor did they really care. But they did see it as a rising power in the world, and thus an opportunity for wealth and action.

“Blast, I wish we’d got that one,” continued Cas. “It looks like a full load, that. And without escort too! What would they be thinkin’ then?”

“I don’t know, Cas,” replied Griff. “But I imagine they weren’t expecting to find us here.”

“That’s for sure.” Cas proceeded to spit a wad of that exotic leaf he chewed over the side of the ship. “Aye, ‘tis a loverly day to be seaside though, ain’t it?”

“I’ve not seen one better in a while.”

This was not completely true. It had been a week since the last storm had threatened them off the Gathorian coast, but not one of the past days since had been quite so cloudless and bright as this one. There really was nothing like a life on the open sea.

“Oh,” muttered Cas, clearing his mouth of the minty substance entirely. “Best buck up, matey. Looks like the cap’n’s a-comin’.”

Griff glanced toward the stern. Sure enough, their unit leader, Tiberius Noctus, was coming with that long, slow stride of his. Griff straightened up immediately and checked that his tunic was neat and brushed off. The officer sauntered over and the two gave him a good Imperial naval salute.

“Mornin’, sir,” greeted Cas. “Beautiful day, eh?”

“It is that,” said the legatus in his usual absent-minded manner. He watched the plundering of the nearby ship with the same unperturbed air, and shook his head ever so slightly. “That’s the sixth this week for Captain Varo, is it not?”

“Seventh, sir,” Griff corrected again.

“Right, seventh,” he noted carelessly. He sighed, then regarded the two pirates as though just noticing them. “Haven’t you two got some sort of duty to be attending to?”

“Not just now, Cap,” remarked Cas. “The quartermaster below said we could take a breather on the deck for the time bein’. It’s been awful quiet ‘round here of late.”

“Oh, really?” said Noctus, shifting his gaze away for a moment. He regarded Cas anew and nodded curtly. “All right. But mind you don’t stay out here too long. It’s a scorcher of a day.”

“Of course, sir,” Griff assured him. “We won’t be long.”

That was what they so loved about “Cap’n Noctus.” He was so nonchalant about everything, and always seemed to be too preoccupied with other thoughts to be very stringent with rules where the ship and its crew were concerned. Maybe it was that constant, in some ways eerie, absent-mindedness he had about him. Maybe he was just an honestly likeable officer. Who could say? All they knew was that they had gotten lucky when they were assigned to be part of his crew, especially considering how harsh some of the other Primus Emprius captains could be with their mercenary recruits. It was difficult to believe at times that he was really one of them.

“Oh!” Noctus spun around suddenly. “I wanted to inform both of you that we shall be bringing her into port in a couple of days. You are not obligated to continue with us, but we would like to sign you on for another three months anyway.”

“Why sure, Cap. Only too happy to oblige you and yours for a while longer.”

“Thank you...er...”

“Cassus,” supplied Griff.

“Yes. Cassus. And...”

“Griffarus.”

“Right.”

Legatus Noctus paused for a long while and glanced again at the captured vessel. Evidently this one had been deemed valuable, as it was being manned by their own troops. The goods were through being unloaded. And so, after detaching itself from the boarding ramps of the larger Imperial Aromae and Tacitus, it continued in its intended direction to one of many ports along the southern coast of Gathor now under the control of the Eastern Union, floating just a bit higher above the waterline.

“Well,” said Noctus, returning to the present. “Carry on, men. I shall see you again around suppertime, I imagine.”

“That you will, sir,” promised Cas as he and Griff saluted. “We’re many things, but late for mealtime ain’t one of ‘em.”

“Quite,” said Noctus, dismissing them with a casual salute. He then turned on his heel and continued his leisurely patrol down the deck. When he was out of hearing range, the two resumed their conversation.

“Aye, there’s a good man, that un,” spoke Cas. “He don’t make much small talk, and he might not be the most aggressive plunderer I seen, but he’s a fine man just the same.”

“He’s drifting on his own sea, most of the time,” said Griff. “But you’re right. He’s certainly a more agreeable man than some of the commanders in this fleet. The stories I’ve heard about that Captain Varo...” He shook his head.

“Aye, ‘tis so.”

“Still, I wish he’d show a little more liveliness from time to time. This waiting around for something to fall into our net isn’t the life for me.”

“If’n we had a ship faster ‘n this ol’ Astra, I’d agree completely. But I have to admit, there’s a certain charm about sittin’ around on deck all day in a nice sunny clime like this and gettin’ paid for it with no risk to life or limb whatsoever. It’s almost what I imagine retirement would be like.”

“True enough. A couple more months of this would be quite all right by me. By the time that’s over, who knows? Maybe we really will have enough stowed away to retire. They can’t all be as dull a day as this, can they?”

“The very idea is enough to set one to thinkin’. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like, not havin’ to ride the waves anymore in search of mischief to make a fortune. It does sound nice, come to think on it.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Aah, but on second thought, I don’t believe I could ever give it up. The sea’s where I’s made to be, an’ not even the richest kingdom in the Far South could entice me to give up that good ol’ salty air.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” said Griffarus, inhaling a good dose of that invigorating sea air himself. “I don’t think I could ever give it up either, even if I wanted to. After all, I couldn’t really imagine a couple of tried-and-true scalawags living a cozy life in some ruler’s palace, could you?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Cassus, striking an imperious pose. “What d’you think of ol’ Emp’ror Cas, hmm?” They shared a hearty laugh. “No, matey. We was born for the sea, you an’ I. An’ with any luck, we’ll die with them clear blue waters under an’ over us.”

Griffarus watched as the newly captured merchant ship made its way farther and farther across the northern horizon. When it was nearly out of sight, he turned to Cassus.

“Well now, shall we take another circuit before we get back to it?”

“Aye, matey. I wouldn’t mind if we took all the time in the world.”

And together they went off to “inspect” the port side.

“I see them! They’re coming!”

“Are you sure?” asked an older officer, shielding his eyes with one hand against the glare of the afternoon sun.

“Without a doubt,” said the younger, a spitting image of his elder some thirty years before. “There’s no mistaking horse or rider where the king is concerned.”

“Your eyes are far better than mine, Colonel,” said the elder, gathering his reins. “Let’s go and meet them, then.”

The two rode forth with an aide in a small, tight cluster, a glowing display of the finest the Kingdom of Cairaga could produce. In the lead rode Lieutenant General Ivan Mikhaelovich Garretov, the highest-ranking and most experienced officer in the entire Army of Northern Cairaga. Beside him rode his son and protégé Vladimir. They slowed to a halt as the king’s entourage came nearer.

“Hail, my general!” spoke the deceptively youthful King of the Cairaga.

Even the younger Garretov, who had never especially liked King Nikolai or his fondness for Western culture, could not but find him an impressive figure upon his black steed Zwaart. At only twenty-one years old, this man had taken them and their kingdom to heights never thought possible by his predecessors. In the course of but a year, he had pacified the last nomadic tribes of the Steppe, conquered the Kingdom of Baroland in the north, and nearly the entire Realm of Draakland besides. Whatever their opinions of the man himself, the confidence and awe he inspired in his followers reached to the stars and back. There was nowhere Lord Caritus could not take them.

“Any news from the north, my lord?” asked the senior Garretov.

“Indeed,” replied Caritus. “Kowansky and old Dagovich have secured a crossing point over the Great River, and intend to resume the campaign soon.”

“That is good to hear.”

“Yes. I only regret I shan’t be with them when they do. But with any luck, we’ll beat them across down at this end.” He paused as he noted the young officer beside Garretov. “You look a familiar sight, though I do not recall your name.”

“My lord,” spoke Garretov. “You’ve met Vladimir Ivanovich, my son.”

“But of course! This able young fellow made quite a stir outside the gates of Osterhaus in Ralgar. First one over the walls, if I recall the dispatches correctly. How’s your arm, Colonel?”

“Much better, thank you, sire.”

“Ready to take on the Gathorians?”

“Never more so.”

“Excellent! Now...” He paused. “Where is General Durth?”

The others regarded each other uneasily.

“Our missive must not have reached him,” stated General Garretov flatly.

Caritus nodded slowly. “I see. Well, I shall have to tell him later, then.”

He pulled out a cloth map from his saddlebag and partially unfolded it before their eyes.

“From what I understand, General Kalinovsky has taken most of Pirakos without much of a struggle. The citizen armies of the city-states were no match for the might of Cairaga. The hardy warriors of the Trikata Range have proven more difficult to pacify, but as they are mostly holed up in their mountain villages, they are of little concern to us. Our only real problem is the two states in the west that have managed to hold out, thanks mostly to the Eighth and Ninth Imperial Legions stationed there. But I have issued orders to transfer two thousand more troops and a handful of siege equipment to Kalinovsky, so they shouldn’t last much longer.”

“A wise move, my lord,” remarked General Garretov.

“I’m not so sure about that,” muttered Vladimir.

“What’s that?” spoke Caritus.

Vladimir hesitated.

“Do not be afraid to speak your mind, Colonel. If you have an objection, please tell us.”

“Well, mightn’t we need those two thousand for our own advance, sire? It seems to me General Kalinovsky should be more than able to take Pirakos with the twelve thousand he already has. Especially with the blockade our allies have set up of the western ports.”

“Perhaps so. But the additional troops can only help him achieve his goal that much faster. As soon as he has done so, we will get over thrice that number back. But don’t worry, Colonel. With twenty thousand men plus allies, we are not completely helpless. Our force will be sufficient to eliminate the Gathorian threat.”

“The plan is still the same, is it?” spoke General Garretov.

“Yes. Straightforward enough. As Colonel Garretov says, our blockade and capture of those ports utilized by Gathor has been going splendidly. Now we’ve got them hemmed in from three sides, the time is ripe to strike. As soon as our Imperial allies are ready, we will make our main overland thrust in the centre. We will concentrate our forces in an attack on the capital at Urbs Stellarum. Any survivors will likely flee to the fortified city of Hansenburg here. General Dmitriov.” He addressed the ancient cavalry commander with a flowing grey beard to his right.

“Yes, sire?”

“You will sweep across the north of Gathor and secure the road to Ralgar. That way, once we’re done with operations here, we can swing northward and conclude the venture my dearest cousin Sergei started before winter sets in. Clear?”

“Clear!” the officers echoed, glowing with confidence.

“Right! Then let’s get on with it, shall we?”

He folded up the map and tucked it away into his saddlebag. His officers saluted him and dispersed to see to their commands. Within half an hour, the messenger arrived from the lines of the Primus Emprius declaring that all was ready. At this, Lord Caritus sent word to his commanders to move out. Thus, the Eastern Union began its march to Gathor...and certain victory.

Chapter II

Preparations

Will Aralia ever be at peace?

So wondered Lieutenant Fordain Abendroth as he stood by Aralia’s northern port on this sweltering summer day. Dressed in his signature dusty shorts and the medallion of his forefathers, he leaned casually against the shaded corner of the Alenian Inn. He watched as a line of Aralian soldiers drilled with their commander by marching in an orderly column along the waterfromt. Another column marched past in the opposite direction. Friends in each unit greeted each other as they passed, much to the dismay of their officers. Fordain smiled briefly to himself on beholding the spectacle. He remembered a time not all that long ago when he and his friends had been mere trainees in the Aralian Wolves. They had been a relatively disciplined lot, but young nevertheless. And so much had happened since then.

After earning their knighthoods in the ferocious Imperial Civil War, they had essentially inherited the Fifteenth Wolf Section, of which he was presently the commander. Shortly thereafter he and most of his unit had travelled to the Realm of Hengoroth to visit the famed Draga Elder Vargon on their way to the Kingdom of Ralgar. Their intention had been to warn Ralgar’s king of danger from the distant land of Cairaga. They had arrived too late, however, and had been forced to join the king in a desperate defence of his people at the bloody Battle of Tégor’s Fortress.

Fordain remembered that most uncertain time with crystalline clarity, and found it hard to believe that it had been nearly two months ago. His friends Dèscar, Lampolo, and Julius were also members of the Fifteenth, but had not been there because they had been needed in the Far South. They had returned to Aralia shortly after his group, having carried out their own rather dangerous charge. Lampolo and Julius thought it rotten luck that they had missed out on the adventure in Ralgar, but for his part, Fordain was glad they had. It had been a trial from which any of them were fortunate to have emerged unscathed.

And now Aralia, too, was preparing its army and navy for this war that was quickly spreading to involve more and more of the world every day. It was almost too much for the young lieutenant to comprehend as he stood there ruminating beneath shade of the inn. It was a momentous task Aralia was taking on by fighting against the massive power of the Eastern Union, even with allies. But it was not in the nature of Aralians to back down from a challenge when one came their way. Indeed, it was the knights’ duty to help defend the right and just whatever it took. It was all part of their oath: the sacred Knights’ Oath Fordain and his friends had taken. And they would stand by their order and its monarchs, the much respected King Frolin and Queen Falin of Baroland, whatever happened.

As he pondered this, Evander, one his closest friends from before arriving in Aralia, came up beside him. He acknowledged the red-haired lad with a forward tilt of the head, then looked again to the activity on the docks.

“Quite a sight, aren’t they?” he remarked.

“They are at that,” said Evander in his distinctive rustic Imperial dialect. “I reckon they’ll be bound for t’mainland soon. Doubtless us too, o’ course.”

“Doubtless,” said Fordain. “Us and our reinforcements.”

“Reinforcements? What doest mean?”

“I just received word this morning that we’re going to get a couple of new recruits in the Fifteenth.”

“Really?”

Fordain nodded. “There were only a few deemed worthy of going on a real campaign this spring, and since ours is one of the smallest sections, we got first pick.”

“And? Who’d we get?”

“I chose Linde and that young Pirakoan, Hesperos.”

“That’s the pair thou an’ Dèscar have been trainin’, right?”

Fordain nodded again. “They seemed the most promising of the lot.”

“Wi’ thee as their trainer, ‘ow could they not be?”

“Fair enough,” said Fordain with a wry grin. “Any idea where the enemy will be striking next?”

“There’s talk, sure enough,” replied Evander with a sigh. “What wi’ the sightin’ of enemy ships lately, some say Emprius. Others think Gathor. A few think both. Then, o’ course, there’s a chance they’ll concentrate their efforts on conquerin’ the Far South as fast as possible. So really, no idea at all.”

“It’s hard to believe the East actually has the strength to fight in so many places at once,” said Fordain, rubbing his eyes. “We can barely keep up a good front in one.”

“Too true, mate.” Evander regarded his friend more closely. “Atta all right, Fordain?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I dunno. Thou lookst a tad weary, like thou ‘ast been worryin’ about summat.”

Fordain sighed. There was no keeping anything from Evander. The young knight’s insightfulness was simply too strong. It was perhaps this gift above all his other talents which Fordain considered to be his most valuable contribution to their unit.

“Nothing, really. I’ve just been having a few dreams lately.”

“Dreams?” repeated Evander, now genuinely curious. “What sort? The bad sort?”

“It’s hard to tell,” replied the lieutenant evasively. “They’re very foggy, and a bit mysterious.”

“What are they about, then?” spoke Evander, not content to leave it at that.

“Well...” Fordain hesitated. “I’m pretty sure they’re about what happened a few years ago. The fire. My brother.”

“Ah.”

Evander understood without the need to say more. He and the others knew all about Fordain’s brother Amon. During the last battle of the Civil War, there had been a great fire in which they had narrowly escaped with their lives. Amon, who had been among the enemy ranks, had fallen into the flames. It had been an unpleasant day for everyone, but especially for Fordain, who did not like to even mention it. For not only Amon, but one of Aralia’s greatest knights, Lord Maritius of Emprius, had also fallen that same afternoon. To say nothing of the many other fine comrades-in-arms who had died. It had been the battle that ended the war, but to this day no one in Aralia hailed it a great victory.

Just at that moment, the gallant Wolf Company Commander, Gnaeus Alexander, strode purposefully over, and they lay fists to their hearts in salute. He acknowledged the gesture with a lax version of the same.

“Good morning, Lieutenant Abendroth,” he spoke. “Morning, Evander. Fine day, wouldn’t you say?”

“Aye, sir,” said Fordain. “I was thinking of going down to the shore for a swim after manoeuvres.”

“No manoeuvres for the Wolves today, Lieutenant,” replied Alexander.

“Sir?”

“There’s an important assembly of the Council this morning. I’m surprised you didn’t know. Everyone in my company is to attend.”

“Consider us there, sir,” replied Fordain. Commander Alexander took the lead. The other two dutifully followed as he navigated his way through the busy streets and press of people toward the city centre.

In truth, though Aralia was called a city, it felt more like a very large fortified town. With its sturdy walls and the docks on the seaward side, it was always busy, but those who lived there permanently were not a great many. Upwards of five thousand certainly, and more than that if one counted the small settlements spread out along the island’s single main road, but that was it. This was mainly because the only ones living there were knights—or those aspiring to be knights—and their families in some instances. Most everyone else was just a visiting traveller or a merchant on his way from one port to the next.

Nor was there a lot of living space. Aralian dwellings typically had two storeys, each a complete home unto itself with a central cooking and gathering room. Knights below the rank of captain usually had to live four to a floor, while higher officers could live two to a floor if they so desired. Only Knights of the Inner Tier and members of the Council got a whole two-storey home to themselves. Fordain was well on his way to becoming a higher officer, but couldn’t imagine vacating the single floor he shared with Evander and their two best friends, Elagor and Ingred.

The trio soon came to the Council Chamber, the tallest structure in the whole city. It was only two floors, the Chamber itself having a particularly high ceiling, but it towered above everything else on the island save for the Argonian Mountains to the south. The more impressive sight, however, stood before the chamber in the centre of a broad square.

For in this spot was a patch of earth that sustained the very heart of the knights’ order: the Golden Tree itself, whose leaves glinted in the sunlight. It had been planted there as a sapling by King Alenius shortly after coming to the island nigh a thousand years before, and he had insisted that it remain unhindered in its growth. Every generation since had honoured his edict. As a result, it had continued to grow slowly with the ages, and was now over half as high as the Council Chamber. It was said that as long as the Golden Tree stood, so would Aralia, and such had proven true so far. Its very presence never failed to inspire hope in even the most jaded onlookers.

Arriving at the Council Chamber doors, they were ushered into the crowded anteroom by the queen’s personal aide, a young Draga named Lyra.

“Morning, Lord Alexander. Morning Lieutenant Abendroth!” said the maiden with a polite curling of her tail. Draga were essentially bipedal lizards in appearance, with sharp teeth in a lengthy snout, scaly hides, and a couple of short, slightly curved horns extending from the back of their heads. In size and demeanour, of course, they were much more like Humans than their flying cousins, the Flamewings.

“Hello, Lyra,” spoke Alexander. “Everything spot on in there?”

“Indeed, sir. The rest of the Council has been waiting on you.”

“Well, I shall keep them waiting no longer, then. Many thanks, my good drakin!”

“Any time, Commander!”

As he left, Lyra turned to Fordain.

“Lord Elezier says that officers should sit as close to the front as they can,” she advised. “Valentine and Lucius have saved a seat for you.”

“Thank you, Lyra.”

“I’ll see thee when it’s done, mate,” said Evander as Lyra guided Fordain away toward the Council Chamber.

He padded down the cool, smooth steps, scanning for familiar faces among the assembled knights. Many members of the Wolves were there, including the other knights of his Fifteenth. As he neared the front, he heard a boisterous voice calling his name above the ruckus.

“Fordain! Over here, Abendroth!”

Fordain perked up as he saw Lucius and his foster brother Valentine waving to him from the right. He waved back and made his way over to them.

“Can’t get a better view than this,” said Lucius, who had reddish blond hair like fire and a personality to match.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever gotten this close to the proceedings before,” said Fordain.

“It’s a lot more interesting, believe me,” commented the more mild-mannered Valentine. Valentine was the son of the late Lord Maritius. Lucius’s father had been a close friend of Maritius, and so he had taken the boy in when his parents had died. The two had been raised together, and were very much like brothers, albeit of very different temperaments. Not unlike the brother he had once had.

“I do. And congratulations on your promotion to captain, by the way,” said Fordain to Valentine.

“Thank you.”

“I’ve always said that Valentine would be running this entire army some day,” said Lucius. “Give it a couple more years and you’ll see.”

“Quiet now, Lucius,” said Valentine as the king and queen emerged from the rear chamber to take their seats, followed by seven other Council members. “It’s starting.”

Among the councillors was the recently elected Lord Siculus. This was his first session since being instated as the replacement for the exiled Lord Pélégor. Technically Lord Pélégor had fled after being revealed as a traitor to the Order, but a sentence of exile had been pronounced on him since.

The Southern Imperial man looked a little uncomfortable in his new position. After all, he was the youngest Council member by far, though still older than Fordain by a few years. Even more uncomfortable was the understudy of Lord Tullius, who was currently away fighting in the Far South. The seats of Lord Erudain and Lady Vandermeer were empty, for they hadn’t any understudies to serve in their absence. The audience took to their seats at a gesture from King Frolin, and when everyone had settled in, he began:

“Knights of the Order, we have come together this day to discuss our position and opening moves in this war so recently declared. Based on our current reports from the mainland and scouts at sea, General Lord Elezier has found out where the enemy is most likely to strike next. Together we have devised a plan which will allow us to aid in defending these points as efficiently as we can with what forces we have. The good general will now present this plan to you.” He nodded to Lord Elezier, who rose as the king sat down.

“My friends,” he began in his singular rasp. “As you are well aware, enemy ships have been blockading the coasts of Gathor and Pirakos for some weeks now. With the aid of their land armies, they have taken control of Gathor’s ports and nearly conquered the Pirakoan League entirely. Merchant vessels stopping by our island have now reported sighting Eastern warships in the waters just to the southeast of Aralia.”

A few gasps and murmurs came from the audience, but Elezier shook his head.

“Worry not, knights,” he reassured them. “The enemy has no intention of invading our home just yet. They have much bigger projects in mind. We believe that Gathor is their next target, but that is not all. They would not bother with a naval invasion of Gathor, which they could much more easily attack by land. Nay, based on the size of that war fleet, they intend to strike a much larger target. Therefore, we are under the impression that, due to its lack of manpower from the recent civil war and Algoron’s attack in the Far South, the enemy will strike Emprius as well. A two-pronged assault, as it were.”

More murmurs went around. Could their enemies really invade two countries at once? And if they had that sort of strength, how could their own forces stand a chance?

“We believe that it is their intention to land on the eastern coast of Emprius at about the same time they march their land army into Gathor. Those in Gathor will, ideally, sweep down through the kingdom with relative ease and join up with those in Emprius, forming one massive army with which to pursue their westward advance. Aralia, by their reckoning, will fall much more easily after Emprius and Gathor. But we are not going to allow any of that to happen. It is our intention to reinforce these points with all the strength we can spare.

“Three days from hence, Wolf, Bear, and Falcon Companies will depart for the Imperial capital at Ergamar, followed by Squirrel Company as soon as its remaining elements have returned from the Far South. From thence, Falcon and Bear Companies will proceed to the Imperial coast to reinforce the defences there. They will be joined by Group A of the Wolves under Major Ambrosius. The remainder of Wolf and Squirrel Companies will head north through the Bluefall Mountains to Gathor. They will make for the city of Sternestadt on the Great River. Some of you may know it better by its former name of Urbs Stellarum. If it should fall before our troops arrive, then they shall make instead for the fortified city of Hansenburg. The remainder of the Aralian army will stay here in the unlikely event that this endeavour should fail, and the enemy does decide to invade Aralia. The senior commanders of this expedition will be our native Imperials, Lords Corinus and Tullius. Any questions?”

“Lord Elezier,” Dèscar, a dark-haired lad of Fordain’s age from the Kingdom of Cairaga, now spoke up. “Should the worst happen, and both Gathor and Emprius fall, then Aralia will doubtless be threatened with invasion, as you say. What would you have those of us who survive do in such a scenario? Should we return to Aralia in its need, or stay on the mainland to divert the enemy’s attention?”

It was an odd and rather depressing question. Only Dèscar could have thought of it.

“We have not considered such a possibility yet, and I seriously doubt such contingencies will be needed, Dèscar,” replied Elezier to what he treated as a highly practical and sensible question. “But, should matters become that desperate, then I think it only fitting that the officers in the field make their own decisions.”

The room went quiet as everyone considered the consequences of failure. Such thoughts could not be allowed to take seed and grow within their minds, however, so Elezier quickly turned the moment to his advantage:

“However, as I have said, I doubt that it will come to that. We are Knights of Aralia. We have never failed in our promise to uphold the righteous in times of need, however great the odds. And I have full confidence in each and every one of you to maintain that highest of standards set forth by Alenius himself so many centuries ago.”

This seemed to assuage any doubts the assembled warriors had about their mission, and recharged the air with that sense of eagerness and excitement that Aralians so often felt just before a great campaign. This was precisely what Elezier wanted to see, and he moved to conclude on that positive note.

“Now then, if that is all, you may return to your quarters to rest and make whatever preparations you deem necessary. Departure in two days. You are dismissed, and may the Arden watch over you all.”

As the crowd dispersed, Fordain fought through the throngs to find his friends. He discovered most of them assembled in the antechamber awaiting him.

“Well Lieutenant, how do you feel about our newest task?” questioned the raspy-voiced Elagor, a man slightly older than Fordain with long, ruddy brown locks and a finely cultivated collection of facial hair that marked him as a true man of the wild. A Vildegraad, as the ancient Flamewings had dubbed them.

“After our last foray, this one sounds like a cinch,” said Wavae, the youngest of the circle by nearly a year.

“I’m not so sure,” said his elder brother Béragon, who had dark blond hair and a countenance aged before its time with worry. “If anything, I think we might have it harder this time.”

“For once, I agree with you, brother,” said Ingred, his fair-haired twin. “But we are duty-bound to see it through, no matter what happens.”

“Well spoken, dear sister,” spoke Éogor, the eldest of the siblings, and the one with the lightest hair. “If we have not our duty, then what have we?”

“I couldn’t have put it better myself, Éogor,” replied Fordain at last. “It doesn’t matter how we feel about it as long as we do it, and do it well. At any rate, at least we won’t be alone this time.”

“Aye. What with Commander Alexander at our ‘ead, we can’t lose, I reckon,” said Evander, ever the optimist.

“Where’s Morgan?” asked Ingred of Fordain. “I haven’t seen her since this morning, have you?”

Fordain looked around. “I haven’t actually, though I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. Where’d Lamp and Julius get to?”

“You know them,” said Wavae. “Soon as a session’s done, so are they.”

As they were talking, Morgan herself approached.

“Where have you been?” asked Wavae.

“Lord Elezier wanted to see me for a moment,” replied she.

“What’s wrong, Morgan?” asked Dèscar.

“Apparently I’m to take command of Fourth Section now.”

“Fourth Section? But they’re bound for the coast with Group A, aren’t they?”

Morgan nodded. “They also lost their leader last month, and are in need of an officer to serve in her place.” She turned to Fordain, a tinge of regret in her hazel eyes as she sighed. “I’m sorry, but it looks like I won’t be joining you all this time.”

“Once again, the Fifteenth is split apart, then,” remarked Fordain with equal disappointment.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Well, that’s all right,” said Wavae. “We’ll all be together someday. Then the East will really be sorry, eh brother?”

“If we survive this, I’m sure they will,” replied Béragon.

“Best be off, then! We’ve a long journey ahead, and only a couple of days to get ready.”

Thereafter the young knights returned to their dwellings, where they proceeded to discuss the plan and their roles in it, sup heartily, and try to get one last night of solid sleep before their work began in earnest.