The Alliance - 22. Chapter 22

They made it through Devan’s borders. Luca breathed a sigh of relief, and sat back in his chair at his – or rather Alexandre’s – huge desk. Getting to that point was a much bigger step than it might seem at first. If the group was caught, not only would they arouse the suspicions of an already paranoid Devan Di Coteau, but they would likely also have to provide a reasonable explanation for escorting a Tomacian noble home safely. A pending alliance would never be accepted by Devan, and the mission would be failed. And if he found out just how valuable of a nobleman Carlisle really was… implications were bad. I’m not even sure Talia knows exactly who Carl is.

The correspondence from Mikhail that brought this news had arrived just moments earlier, carried by a messenger bird that had probably taken at least a few days, given that it had stopped in a few different locations first. Luca noticed that the letter it had for him still had the Di Coteau seal on it unbroken, which he supposed was a perk of being involved with such a powerful family. This business was private, and would stay that way.

He read on to learn that Mikhail had moved through the borders with little harassment, and no weapons or armor had been lost. Merchants and arms dealers were usually treated well in Nabius. When he had reunited with the group of escaped prisoners, they had reclaimed their various weapons and clothing, meaning the group was back to its full lethal force. That fact made him feel a bit better about the overall success chances of the mission. If Alexandre’s group failed, then he would surely be taken out soon after it was known. But if the group survived unarmed and dressed as peasants, then they most definitely could defend themselves while armed to the teeth.

Luca found it curious that the most dangerous part of their journey was going through a Nabian territory, considering the group was almost entirely Nabian. But that would probably make sense compared to the neighboring countries, which were actually more peaceful than Nabians would make them out to be. I must be getting caught up in this violent frenzy attitude Nabians have. Of course getting through Nabius would be the most difficult part.

Ironia was too fragmented and had so many different leaders that it was impossible for any real security to be instated except for from the largest territorial lords. Many areas of Ironia were ruled by cult leaders and small landowners, which reflected the tribal history of the country. Originally, Ironia was a land of intellectual tribes that worshipped different gods and obeyed different customs. Now, the divisions in the land simply existed as political boundaries. There were rumors of certain cults and tribes still being active in the modern day, but Luca didn’t know of anywhere that this was verified. Thus, the country as a whole was pretty peaceful, given that beliefs were the only topics of contention. In Tomacia, justice was so emphasized that trials and bureaucracy would probably give any academy-trained Nabian time to make an escape. This was true even though the Cathcart family effectively ruled the entire country, so Nabius held the most danger no matter what.

And now…. They’ll enter Laura Nandra’s region. Luca truly didn’t know much about General Nandra, other than that she became famous for her fighting abilities and had wed twice, having both a husband and currently a wife from a western Ironian region. He didn’t think that her spouses had been from any of the large followings of Ironia, given that he didn’t recognize their names, and he had even been reading up on some Ironian politics lately. The Ironians had quite a few leaders and families and politicians to read about, and Nabian spies kept tabs on all of them. Namely, only the Coyne and Monciet families retained any real semblence of power. Marion Monciet was the last leader of the Monciet region, which had recently been conquered by Alex. The Monciets were related to the Coynes, but Luca couldn't recall how. Reading over these reports wasn’t incredibly interesting, but learning about a few Ironian-Nabian relations made him long for a home he once had to the west.

I have a home now, though. I think. Luca had been tortured and almost murdered upon arrival at the Di Coteau estate, but he supposed that was just the Nabian way. When people wanted, they took. Here, people killed and asked questions later, and never passed up an opportunity to show their strength. In fact, the only reason Luca was still alive was that he had pretended himself into the role of an assassin, and killed guards that were helping to hurt him. This advice and help from Alex had wracked him with guilt, but had gotten him the chance to live. And for the past several years, a place where he had the chance to live was a home to Luca anyway. Here, he wouldn’t suffer the fate of someone like Jack, and wouldn’t face the fists of anyone he displeased. Not if I can help it, and I have the power to do so.

But it’s more than that. Alex… he’s not completely cruel or evil. I guess he’s not exactly warm, but… he tries. Luca remembered the kindness that Alexandre had shown him the night they had first met during his days as a slave, and even though it really took no effort from him, it was more than most Nabians. He also believes in change, and stands up for that… Evangelo Mortisse proves that. And Carlin! Carlin definitely proves that. This entirely foolish mission is just to get his lover back home and somehow change Nabius by doing so. Maybe he’s Nabian for doing whatever he wants to do, but I think that he actually takes some morality into consideration when he does things…

Luca’s attention snapped back when he saw that he had another stack of letters to go through. Sighing, he untied the bundle and began to sift through his prospects today. Crop yield reports, Ironian tribe intelligence, a report on the effectiveness of a new poisoning agent, and complaints about the quality of soldiers being sent into the Illjard truthfully didn’t interest him much. Luca actually felt like he had been doing a good job with the affairs of the estate, and had come to enjoy fostering a relationship with the far-off prince of the Illjard, who had a lot of trade agreements to propose and deliberate over. But the letter he received today wasn’t very friendly, and he didn’t feel like being diplomatic at the moment. At the sound of loud bickering between Eamon and someone else on the other side of the large office doors, Luca perked up.

When the doors opened and Jamison Hadeaux walked in with Eamon yelling about how he didn’t give permission to enter, Luca slouched right back down.

“I can do what I want around this household boy!” Hadeaux sputtered at Eamon while red in the face. Luca gave Eamon – who was looking flustered and embarrassed at his inability to hold command with the older man – a look that said all was well, and Eamon grumpily went back to his guard position.

“Hello, Jamison.” The older man gave Luca a squinty-eyed look and launched into a story about how the newest batch of soldiers and slaves and servants brought in were unbearably bad at fighting, and that he could hardly even salvage the situation. He talked for what seemed like ages, both belittling the new slaves and claiming that they would fetch the estate more money by selling them to another lord, count, or general. Luca resisted rolling his eyes, but gave the answer he knew Hadeaux probably wanted to hear.

“I am confident that you’ll manage. You’re the best this estate has ever seen, so I’m told, so I have no doubt they’ll be in top shape soon enough.” Luca would have forced a smile if that would have helped, but Hadeaux was nearly as Nabian as they came. Luca actually frowned a little bit more.

“I suppose I don’t have a choice… but they’ll be needing equipment. New arms, training weapons, armor…”

“Of course.” Luca had actually been meaning to give new instructions anyway, and saw this as the perfect opportunity. “Actually, Hadeaux, if you wouldn’t mind telling Wilhelm to get all of his forges going and start churning out armor and weapons at rapid pace, I’d appreciate it. All kinds of armor and weapons. Enough to outfit the majority of Mullansburg, at least. Let him know that he will be compensated for the labor and he has access to funding for whatever raw materials he needs.” Hadeaux’s eyes widened.

“The cost of that shit will be –“

“Affordable by this estate, I can assure you.” Luca tried to interrupt in the commanding way that Alex did sometimes, and felt that this attempt had been successful. “And you of all people should know that the people of Nabius should be ready for war at any time. I see it as doing something that should have been done a long time ago anyway.”

At that Hadeaux’s face hardened, and he nodded understanding. The soldier in the older man walked him right out of the room, and Luca folded his hands together, placing them on the desk in front of him. Eamon was leaning in the doorway to the office, and watched as Hadeaux walked right past him. Eamon gave Luca a wink before he shut the door, and Luca frowned.

***

Alex felt massive weight lifted off of his chest after making it this far. The group was to the halfway point between the nearest eastern border of Devan’s territory, and Laura Nandra’s capitol city, which put them in boggy, odorous lands. General Nandra lived along the East Pike, the river that marked the border between Nabius and Tomacia. Beaches and marshes along it were known to smell unpleasant on both sides, though Alex didn’t know if it was from the countless bodies that constantly rotted there or if it was a natural scent. Either way, this was another part of the journey he didn’t look forward to.

“We’ll be nearing Nandra soon. There’s bound to be watch posts and sentries around the closer we get to the city. Maybe we shouldn’t wear our nice clothing and draw attention to ourselves,” Roark announced suddenly. The lanky redhead almost phrased this as a question, showing that he was still apprehensive about giving input to those that outranked him.

“That’s probably not a bad idea,” Alex replied. “I don’t think we have to worry as much with her as we did my uncle, but if we get past the city without drawing her attention, things might be easier.” Alex knew that it was highly unlikely that a group of armed strangers that weren’t merchants would go unnoticed in the battlegrounds of eastern Nabius, but figured he would change anyway.

“Have either of you met General Nandra before?” Mikhail asked, nodding to Talia and Alexandre. Talia looked to Alexandre before she spoke, and back at Mikhail, who was walking next to the horse and Carl.

“Yes, once. We saw her in the capitol during a war games festival.”

“How was she?”

“Well, she’s not exactly like any of my family… she’s strong. Commanding, and dangerous. But she’s not quite so…”

“Cruel,” Alex cut in.

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Talia agreed. “But she’s not weak either. She actually got famous for her abilities in the field, like my mother.” Carl raised his eyebrows, obviously wanting to know more.

“Is she just as brutal?” he asked.

Alex smirked, knowing that Tomacians thought poorly of the demon. Carlisle had told him once in bed that Tomacian children were told horror stories of Ysabel Di Coteau, about how she chopped up children and ate their organs when they misbehaved. He would have liked to be able to dismiss these tales as children’s stories, but they were based on true elements.

“She doesn’t overkill like my mother, no.” At Alexandre’s reply, Carlin nodded and became serious. Alex continued. “She’s famous for using a unique weapon, much like General Clarion, though. Nandra is pretty muscular, even though she’s quite a bit older. The last time I saw her, she wore iron fists that were spiked. It’s said that she can punch through most plate mail and armor, and hits hard enough to kill instantly.” At that, Barclay scoffed, but Alex flashed a look that dared him to deny the claim. “At the war games she demonstrated. She punched a man with those weapons and crushed his skull. Part of the reason she’s so respected is that she fights in close combat about as close as you can possibly be.” Talia confirmed this, adding that she had seen general Nandra smash through a breastplate till it was inside out, and the group walked on silently. After a time, Roark spoke again.

“I think she’s going to know we’re here anyway.” He pointed to a bird off in the distance, which was unmistakably a messenger. “It came from a group of sentries up ahead.”

Shit, Alex thought. I didn’t even see them. Good for Roark I guess.

“Should we prepare for a fight?” Talia asked. Alexandre weighed his options, and replied a few moments later.

“No. That bird has already left, and if Roark is right then whoever is in charge of entry and exits for this region will report our group to Nandra. In the event that we’re detained, we might as well be cooperative.”

“Alex, if they find out who I am – “ began Carl.

“They won’t,” Alex interrupted. “I’ll say we’re making a trade for a spy or something, and that you’re just some common nobleman. I’m pretty sure Damien has engaged troops near this area anyway. It’s believable.” Carlin nodded, but Alex thought he still looked concerned.

As he should be. Alex surveyed the group around him, and walked even more confidently onwards. The soft clinking of his armored boots in the dirt road was all he focused on, all the way up until they were passing the sentry stand that Roark had seen so much sooner than he had. He noticed it was a wooden tower made of local logs, but nothing more about the sentries or their defenses. He was tuned into every little tick of the atmosphere, just waiting for a guard to strike, or for his ears to pick up the notching of an arrow onto a bowstring. With all of his faith placed on his own gut feelings and the fine hairs on the back of his neck that rose with danger, will Alex pressed on wordlessly. After making it out of bow range of the tower, Alexandre’s breathing, heart rate, and pupils went back to normal levels. He was no longer focusing on everything with such fine attention, and no longer felt the world moving in slow-motion. He supposed that he could have been overreacting, but he was never sure.

It never hurts to be cautious, he thought. But they should have at least pulled us aside for questioning. He knew that the guards ignoring a well-armed group of Nabians was a failure on their part, and probably signaled something being planned for further down the road. Talia has probably guessed that too… we’ll both have to keep a watch out.

But it was not for several more hours that anyone in the group actually did notice anything, and that didn’t happen until it was too late. By the time the group could actually see the riverbank and a city skyline of the region’s capitol, it was nightfall. And on their first look upon the river, they were flanked on either side by large black warhorses, each topped with Nabians in fine plate armor with equally nice swords and shields.

“Shit,” Talia cursed aloud.

“Shit is right,” said a voice that came from outside the circle of warriors around Alexandre’s company. It was stern, and Alex knew the speaker was frowning before he ever even saw her. The circle of horses parted, and a grey-haired, muscular woman walked through it. She had a scar stretching from the corner of her mouth up towards her ear, and looked to be at least six feet tall. She definitely weighed more than Alex, and looked as if she was ready to punch him out on the spot, metallic fists and all. Laura Nandra looked directly at Alex, staring him down while guards on horses drew their weapons.

“Your visit is an unexpected surprise, General Di Coteau.”

***

“General Di – I mean, General Clarion, where would you like the – “

“Silence,” Ysabel hissed. She did not enjoy being followed by the bumbling, fat little man that was supposed to be her assistant around the new estate, and thought about ripping his tongue out.

I’ll consider it.

They were walking through the home of the late General Pyconne, who had actually kept a fairly nice home. So far, Ysabel had most enjoyed learning that she had her own outdoor baths and a prison beneath the ground, which had over twenty cells. The prison included a torture chamber and a crematorium, which were bonuses. Only a few of the cells there were occupied, but she knew that number would change soon. The other wings of the manse were nice as well, but they would not be home for quite some time. Of course, it helped that Yago would be just a few hours ride away in the Clarion estate that she had grown up in, but Ysabel felt that something was missing here. The house was hers now, and it was going to be suited to her wants and needs. But those wants and needs included her inaccessible late husband and children.

“You are dismissed from my presence. Ensure that rooms are set up today for my children to visit. They should come often. I want them here.”

“Of course, Madame, but you see I just really think we should go over –“

“Enough.” Ysabel had barely raised her voice, but the short man instantly went pale, and stopped talking. Ysabel could hear his heart beating.

I will take his tongue. They don’t fear me enough yet here. “Leave.” The fat little man nodded, and scurried away.

“Little fucker."

Ysabel had spent a few hours exploring in the morning, and decided that she should probably introduce herself to her new staff and slaves. She regretted sending away the fat man whose name she didn’t pay attention to, given that she could have had him gather the leaders of her staff and soldiers in the great hall where her seat was.

I’ll just visit the barracks myself. I don’t want to sit in Pyconne’s hall anyway. Ysabel Clarion had always been accustomed to generals of the Thirteen addressing others from behind their desks in private meetings, and never in open halls like Pyconne’s. She thought that the way General Pyconne had set up his “office” made it seem like he was a king in court, following traditions of foolish nations like Tomacia or the regional lords in Ironia that thought themselves fancy. Men always like to feel more important than they truly are. I’ll change meeting arrangements later.

She walked away from whatever room she had been in, and into a marble hallway. The black and white checkerboard tiles in the hall felt freshly waxed, and seemed to go on forever. At the end of it, she found a balcony, which surprised her because she hadn’t realized that she was on the second floor. Not wanting to search for a proper exit into the yard, Ysabel hopped over the balcony and down to the grass below. She had a pretty good idea of where she was after seeing some of the yard from above, and headed straight for the tents and makeshift houses along the property that soldiers lived and rested in. When she heard music, she followed it and walked into what looked to be the biggest, most important tent.

When the General walked in, she froze at what she saw. Drinking, prostitutes, and a general lack of clothing accompanied loud music from a few obviously drunk bards. Soldiers were behaving in lewd, disgusting manners and – most importantly – were doing nothing to guard the estate. How dare you.

“Hey baby, how you – “ the tipsy soldier who had the misfortune of not recognizing Ysabel Clarion instantly was cut off by four black claws sticking through his throat and out the back of his neck. Aside from a few strands of flesh holding him together between holes, he was nearly decapitated in one quick movement of a hand.

Slowly but surely, people began to notice and the noise died down, until every soldier and warrior slave in the room stood staring silently at their new commander. Many looked embarrassed or terrified, and the rest were trying to subtly clothe themselves or arrange some kind decency.

“Where is my captain of the guard?” Ysabel asked sweetly, venom in her voice oozing.

“T-That would be me, Madame. I can assure you that what you just walked in on was –“

“Silence. Come to me,” she beckoned. The muscular man that had spoken walked from one end of the tent to the other, taking what seemed like an eternity. When he finally reached, Ysabel backhanded him so quickly that it seemed like her claws were already back at her side before his face and neck opened in red lines. The sound of a man drowning in his own blood filled the tent while everyone watched, and the ex-captain of the guard died at General Clarion’s feet. The room was silence, everyone slightly shocked but not nearly as afraid as Ysabel would have liked.

I’m going to have to do a few shamings. Maybe I’ll make it a lottery, who lives and who dies amongst them.

“You,” Ysabel said as she pointed at a young man of about 35, who had been dressed, sober, and appeared to be pouring over an old map of the estate despite the debauchery around him. “What’s your name?”

He stood up respectfully, and averted his eyes from the demon’s, who was fighting to gain control. “Marcus, General Clarion.” Marcus looked strong, capable, and intelligent. His skin was darker than coal, and Ysabel liked the imagery of the black claws she wore and cities burnt to the ground that it called up. He was from south Ironia or the provinces, of that there was no doubt. Judging by some of the ritual scars he wore, she guessed he was a powerful warrior.

“Marcus,” she drawled, letting his name roll over her tongue in a sultry, dark way. “You’re the new captain of the guard for this estate. I suggest you and these men get prepared for an inspection tomorrow morning, on the caliber of soldiers you are and what you can do. Don’t displease me, or I’ll kill you all.”