The next few days were frustrating ones for the King as they waited for news from the Carrow garrison cities.

     Leothan paced the corridors of the palace in a fever of nervous energy, glowering and irritable, having to constantly watch everything he said in case he snapped at someone whose only crime was to have had the misfortune to cross his path. He was determined not to be the sort of person who vented his frustration on underlings, people who couldn't defend themselves, and his being King meant that there were no other kinds of people in the whole Kingdom. There was literally no limit to his power and authority. Before the attack on his daughter, the Queen had kept tight reins on him, but now she could only agonize over Ardria to the exclusion of all other duties and responsibilities. That meant that the only thing that could keep him in check, keep him from excesses and abuses of power, was himself.

     he needed to appoint a conscience, he decided. Someone whose only job was to follow him around and tell him the things that no-one else would dare to. Someone who was constitutionally immune to punishment. Someone that other people could go to when there was something on their mind, some issue that they feared to broach with the King themselves. Someone who had no vested interests they might want to promote. No agendas of their own, which ruled out most of the aristocracy and government ministers.

     It would have to be a commoner, he thought. Perhaps he could organise a lottery, the winner to be... No, that was a stupid idea. Most commoners lacked the training, the education, most importantly the intelligence for such a role. Also, they would have no idea how to conduct themselves amongst royalty and nobility. He would become a laughing stock amongst the other royal families of the world. A military man, perhaps. High ranking, because the junior ranks were trained to obey and wouldn’t have the nerve to speak up to him. Someone whose loyalty and grounded common sense he could trust. Someone with the courage to speak up when needed. Someone like the Brigadier, perhaps. He stopped in mid step, making his Private Secretary almost bump into him. Now there was an idea...

     He was jolted out of his train of thought when a runner appeared and trotted up to him. “Majesty. News from Fastyke. Victory, Sire! The army has won a glorious victory!”

     Leothan's heart leapt with joy and he strode off towards the War Room, almost at a run.

     Most of the War Council was already there, and a cheer of relief went up as the King entered. “Victory, Sire,” said General Pavok, grinning with delight and relief. “The operation went exactly as planned.” He beckoned over the messenger, who bowed low.

     “They had no warning,” the messenger said. ”They were at a low level of alert, but it didn't pose a problem. The engineers blew holes in the city wall, the army went in and caught them unprepared.”

     “Prisoners?” asked the King.

     “Thousands, Sire, but many fewer than there might have been. The enemy chose to fight, as soon as they were over their initial shock. There are rumours that the enemy commanders ordered their men to surrender when they saw their position was hopeless. General Grogen speculated that they were thinking to burden us with prisoners, having guessed our strategy, but if so their subordinates chose to disobey them.”

     “How many men did we lose?”

     “Five hundred dead or incapacitated, about three thousand walking wounded. Another thousand needed to guard the prisoners and bring them back across the border.”

     “So the army’s down by nearly ten percent,” said General Glowen. “And three more cities to hit yet. And the men will be tired. Barely any time to rest before they have to march again. The next city will be harder, the one after that harder still, even if they get no warning. If everything goes perfectly, we have to count on losing half the army before this is over.”

     “But they’ll have lost half their army,” pointed out General Pavok.

     “Meaning they'll still outnumber us by the same proportion.”

     “True,” said the King, “but most of our losses will be temporary. Injured men returning to health, guards able to return to front line duty when the prisoners are properly housed. Our objective isn't to invade and conquer Carrow. It's to stop them from invading and conquering us. If we can achieve similar victories against the other three cities, they'll no longer have the manpower to do that. This is a good start, gentlemen. A very encouraging start.”

     He beckoned the messenger over to the cork board that covered most of the far wall, where the map of the tweenlands had been joined by a large, detailed map of Fastyke. “Now, tell me exactly how it went.”

☆☆☆

     “They've had a day to recover from the battle,” Leothan said later as he and General Pavok walked slowly along the corridor back towards the residential wing. “Patch up minor cuts and burns. Search the city for any intelligence regarding the other garrison cities. That means they'll be marching on Salford now. Right?”

     “Yes, Sire. They'll be sending out advance parties to circle the city, prevent any news of what’s happened to Fastyke from getting in.”

     “But people must be entering and leaving the city all the time.”

     “Anyone leaving will be allowed to go, and anyone approaching from the west or south will be allowed in. Only people approaching from the north will be apprehended. We want things to seem as normal as possible for as long as possible.”

     “And they’ll attack tomorrow?” The General nodded. “And it'll take a full day for a rider to bring news back here. That means it'll be two days before we know anything more.”

     “It’s going to be a long two days,” agreed the General. “And the operation will still be only half over. King Nilon will have guessed what we're doing. He'll be desperate to warn the garrison cities. He'll be sending his fastest riders. There's a chance they might reach Kapperwell before we do.”

     “Meaning we might have to content ourselves with three cities.” The King nodded. “Kapperwell contains fifteen thousand Carrow soldiers. Reducing them by that many would really help our chances.”

     “If we overreach ourselves we might lose everything.”

     “Fortune favours the bold. How many times have you told me that?”

     “There’s boldness, and the there’s...”

     “Foolishness?”

     “Over confidence. If we take the first three cities with the losses we project, we'll have reduced Carrow’s army by fifty thousand men, over a third of their total armed forces, for the loss of only ten thousand of ours. And as you say, most of our losses will be injuries, not deaths. They'll be able to return to active duty when they've recovered.”

     “Weeks from now. The war may well be over by then. Until then, they'll still outnumber us by over two to one. Once they’ve recovered from the initial surprise it'll be a standard war in which we'll be on the back foot the whole time. We have to make the most of our advantage while we've got it. We have to go for all four cities!” They walked in silence for a few paces, deep in thought.

     “We're too far from the action here,” the King then said. ”It takes too long for messengers to travel here and back, and there’s no time to set up a telegraph line.”

     “If you're thinking of going there and taking personal charge of the campaign, I would advise against it. You're not experienced in battle. Your Generals know their business. Leave it to them.”

     “The situation can change so quickly! Grogen may have to make a snap decision on his own, without being able to confer with me.”

     “That's what we Generals get paid the big money for. With respect, Sire, if you went there, you’d only be in the way. Men would have to be diverted from the battle to protect you. Grogen is a good man. The best. He knows what you want, and he's got enough good sense to get the army out of there if things go south. Trust him to do his job.”

     The King nodded reluctantly. “I just feel so... Helpless. Everything's happening way out there. I'm stuck here, waiting for news. All I can do is sit and wait.”

     “Welcome to my world. Do you know how often I regret accepting a government post? Minister for War. Sounds so grand, doesn't it? Turns out I spend most of my time doing requisitions for boots. Attending meetings with contractors trying to persuade me that the boots they make are better than their competitors’. Reviewing complaints from Captains who say the boots wear out too fast or that they’re not waterproof or don't give sufficient protection from the cold, and that’s just boots! My life has been overtaken with meetings and paperwork. I miss the old days when I was out there, in the action. I always thought I would die in battle, you know?”

     “There'll be a statue of you in Freedom Square one day, I promise.”

     “A statue of me up to my neck in requisition orders probably.” He sighed. “Listen to me. Here I am complaining about paperwork when our boys are out there dying by the hundreds to keep my head off a spike on the palace gates.”

     The King nodded. “If that happens, we'll enjoy the view together. In the meantime, I have to meet with the Council of Guilds. They want to re-negotiate the terms of the Trade Charter. I have to try to concentrate on a bunch of old men whining about tariffs and monopolies while my mind will be out there, in Salford."

     He gave a heavy sigh. "How did it come to this, Jeff? Why didn’t we see this coming? Carrow must have been planning this for years! We have people in their government, right in their palace, just like they had people in ours. Why didn't we get word of this in time to head it off at the pass?”

     “Larren’s a good man. Used to be military himself. We kept our operation secret from them, they kept their from us. We're all good at keeping secrets these days.”

     Leothan paused at a window, looked out at the gardens spread out below. He saw pools of sparkling water with fountains reaching a dozen feet into the sky. Hedges trimmed as straight as a ruler and large topiaries pruned into a variety of exotic shapes. Two gardeners were busy trimming a bush that had been shaped into a green peacock. They were hacking delicately at it with shears, cutting off green shoots no more than an inch long which they then raked up and piled in a wheelbarrow. They had no idea what was happening out in the tweenlands. He had made a pronouncement a few days before, informing the people of his Kingdom that they were now at war, but so far as the common people knew no military action had yet taken place. Leothan found himself envying those gardeners with a desperate longing. How good it would be to live a simple life, to not have the fate of a whole Kingdom resting on his shoulders. To be able to sleep the whole night without being woken by worries and anxieties that he could do nothing about... He put the thought out of his head with a surge of self disgust. He was the King! The whole Kingdom was depending on him to keep them safe, and here he was wallowing in self pity.

     Had his father gone through these agonies during the last war with Carrow? he wondered. He, Leothan, had only just been declared human the last time Carrow troops had poured across the border. Only the hastily negotiated treaty with the Kelvon Empire had enabled them to push them back. Had his father wished he could swap places with the gardeners while waiting to hear whether the threat of Empire involvement would be enough to make Carrow back down? King Goswen was an almost legendary figure these days, despite only having died ten years before. What would he have thought about arranging to marry their daughter to the Carrow crown prince? Would it even have worked? Could he and King Nilon really have ruled the unified Kingdom together, or would he have suffered an ‘accident', leaving Nilon to rule Helberion without the need for all the bother of conquering it?

     The thought brought him up short. Nilon could have become sole ruler of a unified kingdom without the need for war. Allow the marriage to take place. Kill Leothan. Ardria takes his place on the double throne, but she would have been far too young and inexperienced to stop Nilon doing what he wanted, and by the time she'd grown into the role Nilon would have consolidated his position as sole ruler. Nilon could have had everything he wanted without a single shot being fired in anger. He remembered his advisors making that very argument, trying to convince him that the marriage was madness. He remembered trying to reassure them that killing him would not be easy. That his bodyguards and food tasters would always be there, watching over him. The ease with which the Princess had been blessed proved the falsehood of those reassurances, though, which left the question. If they could get at the Princess so easily, why not take him out the same way? Poison rather than a blessing, but otherwise the same?

     Nilon wanted a war, he realised. He didn't want to share power with anyone, not even for the brief time it would have taken to dispose of him. But wars were risky. Even with a three to one advantage in manpower, luck played a huge role in war. A day of bad weather, a message going astray... History was full of examples of a small army defeating a larger one because of sheer, dumb luck. Nilon was either supremely confident of victory or he wanted a war for some other reason. But what reason?

     Leothan stared out over the gardens, General Pavok standing beside him in silence, not wanting to interrupt the King's train of thought. He had the sudden very strong feeling that he was missing something. Could there be more to this war than Carrow just wanting to win back lost territories? Could this all be part of something bigger? Arwin Tsocco thought there was something bigger going on. He had believed that Helberion was trying to steal Kelvon export markets, something that would only make sense if it was part of a larger scheme. What did the Empire know that he didn't?

    He turned to where Darnell and a pair of runners were standing a discrete distance away, and beckoned them over. “I need to speak to the Kelvon ambassador. Summon him to the palace immediately.”

     Darnell nodded and gestured to one of the runners, who trotted off down the corridor.

     On the way he passed another runner, coming in the other direction. “Majesty!” he said, puffing, half out of breath. “Majesty, the Brigadier has returned! He's waiting in the east reception room!”

     King Leothan stared, then hurried down the corridor at a full run, all regal dignity forgotten.