Chapter V #3
He meant the last to sting. Gileta was fond of acting the part of Silith’s chief emissary, but the moon’s followers staunchly refused to name a successor to Olienne, the Matria whom Orden’s predecessors had slaughtered.
The Imperatrice ignored his taunt and seemed unwilling or unable to hear any criticism of the Caervallin king.
“Whatever Afon’s nature, it’s you who’s choosing unnecessary warmongering over the well-being of the Hand.
You leave me with no recourse but to attempt to reason with Afon.
We do indeed have a goddess in common, and if I must give Caervallion the incaendium that has previously been traded to Honoria in order to rob you of your fangs and preserve peace, I’ll gladly do so and wash my hands of any guilt concerning your people and your other war in Vesper. ”
She might as well have said it outright. I will use your family’s sins, and their massacre of our innocents, as a cautionary tale to bring Afon in line, and then will build him up into an enemy you dare not engage.
“If you think a weapon like incaendium will go unused by Afon, you’re sorely mistaken,” Orden said.
“Should you cede him so much as a grain, he will use it against Honoria, regardless of any agreement he strikes with you to uphold peace on the Hand. The man has no honor. If Tyrus bares his sword on my behalf, Afon will be vanquished soon, while fighting against me. That is the best outcome the Hand can hope for now.”
Gileta gave Orden a look, dark and fathomless as the new moon.
“I forget sometimes how young your dynasty is. How brief your history, and how little you understand. I see no reason that we could not make a proper Silithien of Afon. Consider it your own fault if I am forced to look to Caervallion now for an ally.”
Having spoken her piece, Gileta and her retinue swept past Orden, for all the world as if they owned his castle.
Once, they had.
Worry tightened around Orden’s throat like a noose.
His people were stretched very thin—the conflict in Vesper ate at Honorian resources constantly, stealing the best and brightest of the citizenry, requiring vast inputs of coin and craft and material goods.
Caervallion had no similar draw upon its citizens or its coffers, and though it was not as prosperous as Honoria, an allegiance with Song Royale would grant Caervallion new riches and a wealth of incaendium, with which the horror of witchsmoke could be produced.
The very idea of having to face an army that utilized the dread weapon of his dynasty’s own devising soured Orden’s stomach and brought out cold sweat on his brow.
But he would not be the king who failed, Orden resolved fiercely, balling his hands into fists at his sides.
He would win his wars, and keep his country, his crown, his queen, his life.
He wanted it all. And what he wanted, he no longer sought to grasp for his own sake alone.
Now he wanted it for his son after him too.
“I warned you,” Lucian’s silken voice said at Orden’s side.
He’d appeared soundlessly, watching as the Imperatrice’s retinue vanished into the castle.
“You ought to have marched on Caervallion at once, rather than declaring your intent, and giving them all time to conspire against you. Why you’re waiting when Afon’s been needling you for years is beyond me. ”
Orden thought of the letters he’d received sporadically from Afon ever since their battle summer.
Threats, rantings, provocation, and insidious inquiries as to the health of Ariana and the state of the Inver king and queen’s bedchamber.
A new missive from Afon was enough to make Orden’s skin crawl.
But Hadrian had believed a delay was best—as councilor to Orden’s father, Hadrian Inver had presided over many a victory in Vesper, and had assured the king that providing his people with an opportunity to consider the evils of Caervallin worship and the benefits of a conquest on the Hand would lead to far greater support for his new conflict.
When Ariana had begged for a chance to attempt peace, Hadrian had agreed even to that.
Let Honoria see Afon as he is, Hadrian advised the king with satisfaction.
When he sojourns within our border, your people will understand better the nobility and honor of their own sovereign, the glory of the conquests you seek, and the barbarous nature of Caervallion.
It will bring home to them that we are best served by making a vassal of the north and imprinting the fire and culture of our faith and practices on those wild lands.
And if the gods are willing, conquering Afon will lead you to greater success than any of your forefathers.
First, a victory in Caervallion. Then afterward, in Vesper, for we will have the means to prevail there with half the Hand at our disposal.
“Majesty,” Gaius said, shoving past a knot of guards and puffing a little as he offered a bow to the king. “Afon is on his way.”