Why is he smiling?
"Why are you smiling?" Elly asked, more curious than upset. Her husband didn't reply immediately, still pacing. "Better question. How likely are we to win?"
"Win? The Empire spans the rest of this continent, Elly. They could marshall more soldiers than we have farmers, and that's only a minor exaggeration. Yet they come with twenty thousand men, a number suspiciously close to our own. None of it adds up. We might win the battle, but after that? No. There is no winning, not here."
Well, that pessimism would have to go. "I understand, more so than you may expect, but you cannot say so to anyone else. Not Duke Helios, not my officers, not the mages. No one. Morale will be hard to maintain as it is."
"I'm aware," he replied, finally grinding to a halt. "How much longer until the army is ready to march?"
"The one we built? It can leave in a number of hours. Dukes Helios and Hargraf are assembling their own household guard, alongside the Barons, but it won't be much. A thousand at most. Their own armies would double our numbers, but they're scattered. It could take weeks to assemble them, and we don't have weeks."
Marcus hummed. "No we do not. A list, then. Lists always help. What do we have, what do we know, what does the Empire have?"
"The army. One hundred and twenty one war mages, two thousand trained crossbowmen, a light cavalry detachment, seventeen thousand infantry. Half of the city watch, which is another two thousand men."
"The Royal Guard," Marcus added. "My mages from the academy, though I won't be taking all of them, and the summons they can, well, summon. Barry has a Demon Knight, which I've never seen in combat and am actually quite looking forward to seeing."
Elly thrummed her fingers against the table. "My Life Enhanced soldiers. Good as both melee combatants and long-ranged archers. What else?"
"Enchanted objects," he supplied. "The Royal Vault still has a number of them. Every discipline of magic I am capable of, from runic traps to five-matrix arcane fire."
She nodded. "I have a bow enchanted to accept the energy of life. Very powerful. If they summon big elementals, or we just need a particular somebody dead, I can kill them as long as they're within two klicks."
"Two klicks? I don't doubt you're strong enough, but what if they move?"
"Not a problem with big targets, a small problem with small targets. My arrows fly fast."
He shot her a look, Elly realizing she'd made a pun by accident, and he turned away after expressing his displeasure. "So what can we do now? Your officers are taking care of the army, messengers are informing Hargraf and Soema about the finer details. I can't sit here for another hour waiting for everyone to get moving."
I can. She'd learned war usually consisted of waiting, endless marching and short, horrific moments of battle. Of the three, waiting was by far the most comfortable.
But her husband, for all his experience with war, had a rather singular view of it. A short battle, replayed endlessly until he'd learned to adapt. Days filled with spars, hours killed by hunting for information. He'd told her more of it, over the months. Jokes about his squad, those who she could see he still valued as friends. Self-deprecating humor for his own lack of skill, the arrogance he'd entered the artifact with.
Ah, that was something. "We could fetch the artifacts and enchanted gear you have in the Royal Vault? That's something you would have to be present for regardless, yes?"
"Yes," he replied, a moment of hesitation passing over his features. It was smoothed away quickly. "Let's go."
Why would he care? Elly frowned, following him as he moved towards the door. She saw no reason for him to be upset about going to a vault, unless… The artifact. The School of Life. It was still down there, wasn't it?
Well, shit.
Not like she could back out now. And he didn't seem that upset, but it wasn't like she appreciated being forced to confront her own trauma. Elly failed to come up with something by the time they traveled down there, his stride devouring distance, and though it was one she matched rather easily, many would have some trouble.
He'd always been tall, but there was muscle now. A properly hardened physique to go with all of that height. If he had any more talent with the sword he might have been a great fighter.
Now he needed the arcane forces to make up for his lack of skill.
Elly grinned to herself, shaking her head when he caught her expression. Best not to mock him right now, though she was saving that one for later. Probably after he'd just lost another spar.
Well, no more sparring in our foreseeable future. Just war.
Yeah.
No more sparring. That's a promise she wasn't going to be able to keep. She'd learned a lot, though, learned how mages fought and moved and planned, and he'd learned how people like her fought. People that could dodge and act at speeds he simply couldn't.
She shook her head, the journey to the vaults a short one, and watched him slice his arm before pressing it against the vault door. It opened, natural light spilling inside as Elly leaned past him.
Huh.
She'd expected something grander, honestly. This just looked like an old tomb repurposed as storage. Weapons, some suits of armor, Nothing her senses deemed overly impressive. Amulets, too, which Marcus seemed interested in, and an old book seemingly made from leather.
Elly angled away from it, the life energy wafting from that thing being decidedly impure. Downright corrupted, in fact. But as she did she found the last item of major importance.
The School of Life.
Again, she'd expected more. It looked just like a stone cube, covered in scribbles she wasn't remotely trained to interpret. Marcus avoided even looking at the thing, busy scooping up jewelry and hanging it on his arm.
She cleared her throat after an uncomfortable fifteen seconds. "So what do we have?"
"Mostly minor enchantments," he replied, handing her a shield. It pulsed faintly to her senses, though she had no clue what it actually did. "Sharpness, arrow protection, minor bloodline bindings, that sort of thing. I'd actually forgotten about the book of endless pages, that could come in useful. Not actually endless, of course. Just rewrites previous information and stores it in a matrix. Still useful. Oh, it comes with a quill of endless ink. Also not endless."
Elly blinked. "Alright?"
"There is some good stuff here," he admitted, holding a ring up to the light. "This one I'm pretty sure enhances stamina. Somehow. I'm not that great of an appraiser. That one gives temporary boosts of strength, coming at the cost of endurance. Some more things I don't have the inclination to examine right now."
She shook her head again. "Back home we only had two enchanters worth their name. One on the other side of the continent, the other fifty klicks away. They charged absurd prices for even the most rudimentary enchantments, their clientele consisting of royalty and the richest of merchant cabals. They even sold their services to the Holy Sect of Asham, who disdained magic to the point of idiocy. This would be worth a fortune."
"And the Empire would have given almost anything for fighters of your caliber, but alas the sea is filled with monsters. We're not taking the armor, by the way. Cursed and awaiting cleansing. It'll probably be waiting a while. We're done here."
Elly let herself be shepherded out, Marcus relaxing somewhat after the doors sealed shut again. She placed a hand on his shoulder, the gesture feeling decidedly awkward, and after a moment of even more awkward silence he patted it a few times.
She sighed. "Let's go."
REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK p^o^q REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK
Twenty thousand men. Elly hadn't quite internalized that despite the fact she trained them. It was as many as she'd once taken on the Lowlands Campaign, though those had been more war-hardened. Yet now, seeing company after company march past, it hit her.
Twenty thousand lives, and if she lost again, if she failed again, there would be yet another twenty thousand dead on her conscience.
"How the Hells didn't we see them coming?" she heard Marcus ask. It wasn't directed at her, Duke Helios standing beside his King, but she heard it all the same. "We have spies. Informants and lookouts and rangers and more. All to keep watch for this exact scenario."
The Duke sighed. "The Empire removed our spies, evidently. Killed our rangers with advanced parties of riders, or summons - anything. Assassins emptied our watch posts, probably more I haven't been able to determine yet. We will know all the details later, but there is little point in the how right now. Only the when and where."
Very true. Elly thought, settling her horse when Xathar nipped at the beast's side. She shot the demon a look, suppressing a smile at the resulting flinch. At making a horse flinch. Her mother would be proud.
Marcus grunted. "No, I suppose not. How long again until they reach Redwater?"
"Two weeks at their current pace," the Duke answered, nodding in greeting as yet more nobles joined them. Hargraf and Soema, though each with a retinue. "A week if we meet them halfway. I doubt it will be so simple."
No it won't be.
Elly turned towards the recent arrivals, one who hated the Empire and the other who loved them. Neither looked happy. "Duke Hargraf, Baroness Soema, welcome. Have your men been assembled?"
"Baron Zolman has been dispatched to raise additional levies from our lands," the Baroness replied, bowing her head. "It will take time for them to assemble and march south. Two weeks at the least."
Hargraf cleared his throat. "My brother has been ordered to do the same in my lands. The proximity of the enemy will make it difficult to raise substantial numbers."
Elly supposed that was fair. It was his lands that were burning, his castles being sieged. From what Marcus had said the Moderates grew powerful by controlling trade with the Empire. Now they paid for it.
At least she could see their combined forces moving in the distance. A shame the Imperial invasion hadn't shattered their alliance, any infighting would have been a good excuse to fold their forces directly under her own command, but it seemed they weren't that stupid.
Bad for later, good for now. Smart allies were preferable over simpleton subordinates, and they could hardly afford infighting before the war had even properly started.
More soldiers moved down below, the crossbows slung over their backs catching her attention, and she knew they'd made a good sight. The King and Queen, standing on a low hill with Redwater crowning them. Mounted, talking, projecting confidence and strength.
And so the soldiers marched, not quite in perfect lockstep but well organized. Soldiers that could move in formation devoured distance that a line of armed men simply couldn't, and speed was of the essence.
Already her mounted scouts were ranging towards the enemy, spreading out in a wide net to catch any change in direction. To observe and report. It wouldn't be enough, but it would be a start.
"Duke Hargraf, Baroness Soema, have your men line up at the back of the army," she said, breaking the silence. "Their combined count is under one thousand, correct?"
Soema nodded. "Eight hundred and forty one, twenty eight of those mages."
"Those are with me," Marcus said. "Them, my own Academy and the Court Mages add up to one hundred and eighty four. Plus another two hundred in non-combat magical personnel. Low level healing and summoning, mostly."
The two nobles, both leaders of powerful political factions, did nothing but nod. Elly suppressed a grin. Of course they would. In peace their King would have to tread carefully, balance politics and risk and more. In war?
Marcus could punish any disobedience, insult or political threat with impunity, nevermind if any would be so stupid as to commit treason. So could Elly, for that matter, and the pair seemed to finally grasp exactly what she'd been building.
Numbers on a page. Memories from second-hand experience. But here and now, seeing thousands and thousands and thousands of soldiers march past, the Duke and Baroness realised what it actually meant.
Yet more people joined them, a small mounted party coming to stand next to her husband. She recognized a few, Kleph the irritable druid, Gretched the old witch, Barry the kid. Others she didn't recognize. A giant of a man, easily over seven feet, with a bird on his shoulder. A housewife with shifting eye-colors, looking at Marcus like he was some kind of deity.
A trio of Court Mages, two women and a man. Teachers at the Academy. Elly hummed, looking back at her marching soldiers.
She had her army, he had his mages.
Elly glanced at Marcus, busying herself with looking impressive when he proved to still be in conversation, but after some long minutes the mages left again. Off to execute their orders, whatever those might be. Helios was talking with his fellow Duke and Baroness Soema, so there was finally a moment.
He joined her as she rode away, slowing to an easy gait as they got away from prying ears. "Anything I should know about the mages?"
"Nothing we haven't already discussed. For now most of the non-combat mages will be assigned to either healing or summoning duties, mostly low level creatures for the latter. The war mages are being distributed in groups of ten among the regular infantry. It's mostly yours in command, so they'll know what to do."
She hummed, glancing at him again. "Are you alright?"
"Considering our Kingdom is being invaded, that thousands are soon to die, and that I myself might very well be one of them? I am remarkably well."
"No bad habits from your last experience with war?" she asked. He looked at her, clearly suppressing a mild glare. Elly sighed. "Look, I'm not trying to be a bitch here, but it needs to be asked. People at war develop habits that can be hard to break, and some of those habits only come back when they are in similar circumstances. You told me you blew yourself up once, yes? Fighting a shapeshifter, I think."
"What's your point?"
"My point is that snap decisions are rooted in experience, in muscle memory, and I don't fancy you doing something self-destructive. Doing something as your fighting instincts still think you're immortal. I'm sure sparring helped, but sparring is not war."
He sighed. "I'm fine, but I'm aware that word means less and less the more one says it. I'll keep it in mind, alright? There's a reason I only killed myself once like that. Very unpleasant."
"Good," she replied, venturing a smile. "Is that something we're going to have to keep an eye on? Suicidal mages taking a few hundred soldiers with them?"
"Probably not. I used four matrices back then, which is the reason the explosion was noteworthy. Fourth tier mages are too valuable to sacrifice like that, and first or second tier mages won't actually do all that much. Just try to avoid making them too desperate."
"If they think they're going to die, they might take everyone with them," she finished, grunting. "I'll make sure the officers know. And what's this about tiers?"
Marcus hissed as Xathar stepped to the side, forcing him to rapidly adjust his posture, and glared as the demon started chewing on yet another critter. He shook his head. "I'm going to find another damned demon horse, you hear me? Honestly. Uhm, right, tiers. I got tired of saying 'a mage who can hold four matrices simultaneously', basically. It seems to be catching on."
"Of course it is," she replied, her tone indulgent. "Which I am sure has nothing to do with you being King. No, it was just that brilliant of a term."
"Shut up."
Silence fell, their travel taking them closer to her central command post. Their combined central command, now. The place where her commanders planned the next immediate steps, and a place she knew very well.
Marcus clearly didn't. Not that it was obvious, he clearly knew how to walk like he belonged, but it was the eyes. Taking in details, assessing and categorizing. Her husband could have a somewhat intense presence about him, honestly. He said it came from studying the arcane.
Whatever the reason, some guards clearly picked up on it. They stiffened and shifted nervously, unsure as they opened the flaps of the tent. Even those inside, older men and women with experience in battle, dropped their conversation a little more hastily than their arrival might have warranted.
Pator, though, remained calm. As usual. The overall commander of her army, nine others in the tent with him. Only three of which with Mirranian blood, led by Baron Zotor. A competent leader, if not overly imaginative.
The Baron was also Pator's second in command, a compromise that she didn't like but was forced to implement. Not that she had anything against Mirranian soldiers, of course. Yet so few were professionals, and even the Baron was untested in true war.
But three fourths of the Royal Army was Mirranian, and so the Baron was named commander. At least until he proved incompetent, a compromise for the compromise.
Sometimes she found it almost suspicious how much power her husband was giving her over a rather critical building block of his powerbase, honestly. She appreciated the trust, it even made her want to return it, but every now and then she succumbed to her more suspicious instincts.
"Good afternoon," she began, glancing at the table briefly. Filled with maps, as was only natural. Commander Itmof angled them her way without her having to ask, the good man that he was. "Let's get started, shall we?"
A flash of irritation went through her when the Baron looked toward Marcus, who looked back with a raised eyebrow, but she suppressed it. The Baron bowed, followed somewhat awkwardly by the rest of her high command, and Elly resisted the urge to cross her arms.
Marcus filled the small silence, his tone rather dry. "The Queen asked you a question, commander Pator."
The man looked back at his King with a mild expression, inclining his head. Elly grunted, tapping the table somewhat harder than necessary.
"If we're all quite done establishing the pecking order, I would like to start planning how we're going to win this war. If everyone is alright with that, of course?"
Her tone was sharp, probably sharper than it should have been, but no one commented on it. She forcefully relaxed, but even knowing that friction was inevitable, she didn't have to like it.
Elly turned her gaze back to the table. "Commander Zotor, bring us up to speed."
On to war. Easy. Effortless, even. Gods, Marcus better be willing to keep sparring. The stress is already driving me crazy.