(Hospodian political situation (West))

The warm winds blew on. The heat of another midsummer day beat down on the former general, resplendent and imposing in his usual military attire. The breath that came whistling out had a mix of confidence and belief, but also rage and grief.

For the third time, ten weeks after his literal drop into Estreon, Urdin went round to inspect the men his newest lieutenant Arys had managed to assemble: slightly over three hundred in all, including archers but no cavalry.

Clad in boiled leather against the stifling heat; armed with spears, swords, maces and small round bronze shields strapped to their left arms--and most of them human--Urdin realized this motley bunch would have to do against whatever number the rebels in Elbar could muster and hurl against him... if he was to have any chance of restoring Hospodia's vision of unity.

As of now, Estrean intelligence under its mayoress' experienced direction was still trying to figure out just whom their compatriots would be going against: of what sort their banners were; whether or not they had any allies, and if so, who and where; where their key supply chains were, and the like.

Another fact that did not escape Urdin's attention was that those same rebels would include at least part of his core regiment: trained, outfitted, led and armed like few others in this part of Vikr. Not to mention the mubarizuns...

With Lord Hospodia gone, his elite corps might appear in many forms. Either they remain united under a new inspirational leader--in which case they'll be a threat more potent than ever--or they turn into brigandage, instilling fear to the common folks.

Then again, they might just drift on to one of the five outposts in 'the Link'--a literal trade route between Elbar and Estreon. With this rebellion, however, Urdin doubted any trade would be necessary. They were simply military targets to overcome with word or sword, provided the suitable chance.

"Your thoughts, sir?"

He looked sideways, finding his newest aide gazing just as intently at those gathered, hands on hips.

"It will have to be adequate." Urdin sniffed the air, finding only the smell of swirling dusts. "Good job rounding them up. More words from your mother?"

"Not yet, sir, except that I should stay by your side from now on."

The former general growled. "That's what she's been spewing since we're in Tiana's house."

"Perhaps you'd like to call on her again yourself?"

"I'd welcome the chance... but first I'd like a word with the one in charge of the archers here." He raised his voice. "Who amongst you has that honor?"

One man stiffened to attention. "Sir! Shirsa, at your service."

Urdin found himself staring at a bronzed, wiry man dressed in boiled leather like the rest of his comrades. In place of a weapon and the round bronze shield, he was holding a composite bow with ten arrows in his quiver.

"You don't seem to have many arrows there, do you, soldier?" the former general asked.

"Pardons, sir. Arrows have their maximum impact when used in volleys, and field commanders would scarcely request more than ten of them for support. Every volley must therefore count."

"Indeed. You seem to have some years under your belt despite the looks, eh? Which unit were you taken from?"

"Sir, I was but a conscripted hunter. What skills I have, I learned from my father."

Urdin squinted. "Including the volley thing? Hunters don't fiddle with such stuff, I recall."

"That was two years ago, sir."

"Who recommended you, Shirsa?"

"Sir Arys noticed me when I was doing my previous trade, sir. Why he took me in, he didn't say... apart from that he saw something in me that was too good for a lone poacher."

"Does the name Kalasnir mean anything to you?"

"No, sir."

The former general turned to Arys, pursing his lips. "Good to know the old recruiting lines still work?"

"I was taught to recognize talent when I see it, Sir Urdin."

"I think I could guess your mentor... but that's for another day. Shirsa, stay. The rest of you, dismissed. We're going to have a little chat, if you don't mind... before the mayor. Arys, take us there."

"Sir."

***

"Ah, it's the Eagle again. I hope what my son did satisfies you?"

"I thought your days of flattery are past, Asha, but thanks again. Not sure how I'm going to account for this, and more, given the odds."

The mayoress chuckled. "Confidence, sir; you have real battles to win and real hopes to make good of. Fulfill those two first before even thinking about payback. Besides, I have been told we're fellow Hospodian subjects--er, aspiring ones, given the prevailing circumstances. So? How might I be of further assistance today?"

"Before you is the man I'd like to confirm as being in my service," Urdin tapped Shirsa by the shoulder from behind. "I did not know you allowed for conscripts too before I see him."

"Oh my. From conscript to a former general's right-hand man. Quite the leap there, soldier; congratulations are in order, I believe."

Shirsa flushed. "My heartfelt thanks, Madam Mayor. I'll strive to
live up to this new position."

"That you do, good sir."

Urdin cleared his throat. "Exactly how many of your men are you entrusting to me?"

"If I reply with 'all', would you be satisfied? Consider me your little city's overseer, as it already is. Even then you might not take all your troops to the field, hmm?"

"I must admit, though, the very existence of the Skandians to our south bothers me. More so when I'm aiming for a campaign not in that direction."

"Why not try and do it this way, dear Urdi? You lead the campaign, manage the spoils, keep up the men's morale--as you've always done. I will aid you from behind the desk in my study or wherever I happen to be, sending letters, envoys, and provisions at your request--all while keeping you informed of the maneuvers of such hostiles as the Skandians. Fair?"

Ingeras' brother favored his hostess with a sideways squint. "Not here."

The mayoress flicked her gaze to Shirsa, and perceptibly smiled. "If there's nothing more, soldier, you may return to your post. The commander and I have a few more things to discuss. Regards to your other comrades."

The archer nodded. "By your leave, then, Madam Mayor."

As soon as they were left alone, the real talk commenced.

"Asha, for the last time, must you tease me at every turn? Granted we've developed some degree of camaraderie, but to have our officers witness that..."

She shrugged playfully. "Complimenting someone is not the same as being indiscreet, Sir Eagle, not here. At that, you might find some of my men not as rigid as yours back home--few might actually surprise you. If you aspire to lead them through successful campaigns, learn well their ways."

"Is that so? I better start combing out people with some semblance of discipline then..."

"Ah-ah," Asha waved her index finger. "I wouldn't lend my voice to it. An army's strength derives in part from the ranks' mutual trust to those leading them, wouldn't you say? Try to segregate them, and you've lost even before the first blow of your war horn."

Urdi whirled. "I don't suppose you can propose what kind of training regimen I could thus offer them?"

"Why do you think I'm having my son close by your side, hmm? Seek his counsel, for starters. Meet people. Sort things out. If you could in that manner lead those men halfway to Elbar, maintaining even relative discipline in the ranks, then you are indeed a commander to be reckoned with--perhaps more. Either way, I shall know."

The Eagle considered this. "Fair enough. And Asha, might a war council be convened this evening? I wish to have some of that information your agents have been rummaging."

She curtsied, with her usual fearless smile. "At your service, General. As always."

***

His usual session with Asha properly done, Urdi made his way briskly to the chamber provided for him in the mayoress' residence (separate from hers, as a matter of course), stripped himself of his armor with no due haste, then sat on his bed with a heavy sigh--pondering on the bits of information he'd gathered up to that point, trying to sum them up.

Hospodia had been usurped, that much was clear: the roll of paper that he had received the other day during his stay at Tiana's house had brought it beyond doubt--and he trusted Asha. Never would the mayoress forge any report that comes to her possession, surely, especially one of such urgency!

The details, however... those might prove trickier.

"I don't recall we have any battles other than against the Skandians. Nor have we interacted with any other supernatural dwellings yet... if indeed there is any."

If such is the case, the former general concluded, it had come from within. Ingeras is dead, so it can't be from his circles--and indeed, why would he bother?

Which party stood nearest to gaining the most direct control of a city? Oh, its garrison to be sure. But Elbar's garrison comprised of mubarizuns as well as the common grunts...

Why was it then that those elite soldiers had joined the uprising instead of opposing it?! Something else must be at play... something that stunk.

Slowly, meticulously, Urdin traced what might have happened back home since his grounding here in Estreon.

Shock of such news were bound to spread--but Ingi must know better than weeping for hours on end due to that fact, for all his tenderness. He was also a king, and kings had tons of affairs to attend to.

One aspect that would've taken the hardest blow from Urdi's unexpected fall was... yes, the military. The burgeoning Hospodian Army, to be very precise. This was where any sane ruler would hark to first, and the late Lord Hospodia might have been no exception.

To that end, candidates would've been appointed, but only one should be elevated. Dissenters would then start to growl and gnash, hovering for the opportune moment to strike.

"Be that as it may, that doesn't explain much about the mubarizuns deciding to change sides..."

At length it occurred to Urdin that, at some point, Ingi's untimely demise had provoked panic amidst the corps: whom to look up to, then?

"...Darn, right. They'd have to be blithering numbnuts to rally around my under-aged nephew for that purpose. What's left? Join the usurping side..."

Under such circumstances, what remained of the royal family would have had to either get away or perish. In the first case, there was only one route to which they could've gone--if at all.

Upon such realizations, the former general slapped his own thigh with an open palm in virtuous rage. He even started shedding manly tears.

"My nephew and his mother, driven out like beggars... All those common folks! Kindly grant that they stay safe, o Infinite One, and may those responsible for that be rightly shamed!"