The Red Gulf
War Council
Folk is the largest naval base in the kingdom and located just north of the capital. It serves as a shipyard, an academy for both officer and enlisted, museum, weather shelter, underground ark, and a regular active base. Originally built to accommodate over two hundred thousand but underpopulation over the years has caused large sections to be shutdown. For safety purposes after the draft, remaining personnel relocated to comfortably spread out within the academy barracks.
When it was announced Ironsides was to be recommissioned and permanently post in the gulf so many volunteered they had to do a lottery to keep things fair. Luckiest day in the world. But I’m not an idiot. First stage of invasion is barrier bombardment and that could take hours or weeks. And until the other ten show up it’ll just be us. A three-hundred-fifty-seven-year-old warship against modern battlecruisers? Come on, I know we were volunteering to be the first ones to die. I was just happy not to be on the Drum anymore.
Don’t get me wrong. She’s not a bad crew. She’s great and I learned a lot from them, but I don’t want to die fighting off a mutiny or getting marooned. I’m not being pessimistic or lacking love for the kingdom. It’s the cold, harsh, ugly truth. It’s reality. Invasion hits, the other ten are going to hesitate to answer the call to arms. Guaranteed at least three attempted mutinies. One will outright refuse the call and become pirates or scuttle the ship to start over in a different realm.
Have to admit the lottery was weird. After it was done no one knew anyone, not even the officers. Which can be great because it can be like, uh, a clean slate sort of. But it’s also horrible because, yeah there’s that basic trust, but there’s no real trust yet. And every ship is a little bit different but for this crew standard operating procedures had yet to be established and that can be really bad. I mean the lottery just ended on the twelfth and we were shipping out on the twentieth. Last week on land, we’re doing orientation, getting equipment, weapons, papers, going through medical. We even did tours on the ship to make sure we knew where everything was. Captain wanted us hitting the water at top efficiency.
2300 hours on the fourteenth, I was still up. Thought I found a way to improve cannon accuracy by fifteen percent, but calculations just kept proving me wrong. Master Gunner Orrick retires in two years. Whoever he recommends is guaranteed the promotion. And I was determined to prove myself worthy. No matter what, I am still the most qualified. Who else has more than my twenty-six confirmed kills by cannon? Drum’s artillery had fifty percent accuracy before I joined her crew and I bumped it up to ninety-seven percent. Sank five pirate ships because of my training. I was damn sure going to bring that ferocity to Ironsides.
Sirens went off. Those they use only when the base is under attack. Grabbed our bags, formed up outside and did rollcall. Whole base was in chaos. All the lights were on. Siren’s blaring. Everyone running to the docks and screaming orders. Was not an unorganized mess but people were clearly panicking. Thought it was strange at first, we were marching, not double-timing or anything but marching real calm. Vengeance was out there somewhere; we were the only warship at the docks. We were showing that everyone else can panic but we march. Fear doesn’t control us.
Every vessel, navy and civilian, was called to duty and we moved as one fleet. Not every ship was outfitted with self-propulsion, so it took hours. Glad to be wearing full armor. Middle of spring the gulf is freezing at night and early morning. Without proper equipment you can die if you stay in the water too long. Ports were closed but cannons loaded. Artillery top deck couldn’t be manned but were ready to fire. We were instructed to prepare for war but couldn’t look we were ready for a fight. Armor and weapons was standard uniform.
We were told mass deportation was to begin at 1000 hours when the sun is high and the water’s just starting to get warm. We arrived at 0600 to have plenty of time to get properly situated. Dugall, we were told, was going to show up at 0800 to give us two hours to coordinate ship to ship transfer. We just crossed the barrier at 0530 into neutral waters and what I saw was horrifying.
Dugall was already there. Their ships were civilian triple-decked ferries and overcrowded way beyond capacity with our people. They were pushing them off into the freezing gulf. Too many were already in the water to have just started. This was no accident. Their lifeboats were still tied up. This was deliberate. Men, women, children, elderly were falling from up to a hundred feet into water. If it’s not done right, jumping anything more than twenty feet can cause serious injuries. I’m talking broken bones, paralysis, death. These were average folks. None were professional divers or cliff jumpers.
Think Master Gunner Orrick could sense the crew’s anger and desperation to do something because he kept repeating the orders to ‘hold’.
Survival and safety was the priority. Captain and everyone not assigned a cannon was communicating with other ships. It was important not to get too close in fear of crushing people between the hulls. We got the whaleboats down with a few crewmates. Smaller ships went into the crowd towing makeshift floating decks. Instead of harpoons, LifeSaver Lines—rope enchanted to stay afloat—were shot far out into the water for lots of people to grab and be slowly wheeled back. Lifeboats were picking up as many as they could and ferrying them to the bigger ships that had to stay back fearing their size would make things worse.
Thirty thousand terrified civilians were being dumped into the gulf and we were fishing them out of the water. I couldn’t hear the howling wind or the crashing waves over all the screaming and crying for help. They were bobbing up and down trying to stay afloat. It was too crowded. Too many were in such a small area, most couldn’t swim ashore. Some had grouped together holding each other, trying to make a human raft. Others tried climbing over others out of desperation and not caring about anyone else’s survival. Rescue boats, on the horns, were shouting instructions not to panic and anything to ward off drowning. Either their skin was incredibly light or dark to begin with because from where I was standing, I could see people’s skin turning blue and purple from hypothermia. Everyone in that water was dying.
Felt impotent, we all did, the whole crew. First day Ironsides returned to active service and this is how she’s being introduced to the kingdom? We all swore an oath to protect the people and all we could do was watch as this horror was inflicted on thousands.
Remembered Hanson, youngest gunner and fresh out of the academy. Only reason he was allowed in the lottery was because of his precision with a cannon. I don’t know if it was the cold, the anger or fear but he was shaking. Drum was crewed by hardened sailors who would’ve broken the kid’s nose to stop from panicking. We’ve all served on a ship like that or heard the horror stories. I thanked the Divine for that tiny blessing this new crew was nothing like the Drum. I just…
‘They can always throw chum in the water,’ O’Brien—that idiot—he said that to scare the kid. There was still a week of migration left but in all the commotion we forgot about the whales. If they had come in, there’d be no stopping that feeding frenzy. I saw the smirk on his face. Always got to point out how a bad situation can get worse. I hate people like that.
Starboard side we saw Vengeance further out in neutral waters. Her sails down, ports open. She was surrounded by three Sea Dogs, modern battlecruisers with firepower that…one good shot could blow us out of the water. I really want to believe those three were there to stop the whales if they got curious or hungry. I wanted to believe that was the reason they weren’t helping. But being an experienced military man, I knew what was happening, we all did. It was that standoff that happens right before battle. Three steel battlecruisers up against a wooden warship? Pathetic. It’s disgraceful on the Sea Dogs part. Cowards to come in force like that but they weren’t scared of an outdated warship, they were terrified of Admiral Gupta.
Every gunner has a ‘scope on their person, used mine to see if I could identify the three. Didn’t know the other two but the third was Constellation, the last modern battlecruiser we built. I read the history. I know the last to command that vessel before we sold it to the Senate was, at that time, Captain Gupta. Bringing that ship into the gulf was a deliberate insult. The whole morning was a spit in the eye, punch in the teeth and a kick to the groin. All we could do was stand there.
Orders came to clear room in the cargo hold. We moved slowly to one of the ferries manned by their coast guard to do a ship to ship transfer. Maybe the horrors they were inflicting pricked the other captain’s conscience. Got the extra wide ramps ready for port side. I’m no fool. Two ships lowering their barriers for boarding is delicate. Dugall has no military, only ‘peacekeepers’. But we’re a warship. Couldn’t give them an excuse to hurt or kill the civilians. Dugall has always been real quick to play ‘victim’ even when they’re the aggressors. Disgusting cowards.
We helped terrified civilians cross the ramps and down below into the cargo hold. Again, gun crew couldn’t look like we were manning the cannons, but we were ready. I mean, if Dugall can inflict this kind of horror onto people, can there even be a limit to their deceit? Twenty minutes and only a quarter of the folks on the ferry had transferred over. I don’t know if it was impatience or orders came in, but they started shoving the remainder off just like the other ships. Civilians were panicking. Don’t know it was intentional or coincidence, but several elderly men and women had grouped together.
I’m not saying all elderly are frail, but these looked it; weak, frightened, confused, separated from loved ones, and didn’t know what was happening. A lot of them looked like their canes had been taken away. I say that by the way they were shuffling and wobbling. Couldn’t use the ‘scope now we were next to them. Cowards would think it a weapon. Had to really look but in the middle of that group of elderly they were protecting children around five years or younger. I looked down where they were being pushed over and saw instead of swimming to rescue people were treading water waiting to help the children and elders. No way of knowing if any of them were related or just good people.
I know I’ve been saying ‘pushing’ and ‘shoving’ but don’t think for one second any of them were being nice about it. They were needlessly cruel. Couldn’t take it anymore. Want to say I didn’t know what I was doing until it already happened. Want to say my body was taken over by instinct but I can’t. I was fully aware of my actions. Only weapons those coast guards had were batons. The group was trying to get closer to the ramps. One of the elders, I wager in his nineties, tried resisting after being shoved closer to the edge. I don’t know if anyone else saw it, but I did, saw it clearly. A Dugallese struck that elder with a baton and that was it.
Jumped the rail onto their ship and ran to the group. I grabbed that man and we tussled. Punched him once in the face, cut my knuckles on his teeth. I don’t know what’s being said but I want to clarify with absolute confidence I never once reached for my weapon. It lasted only seconds before we were both pulled back by our own crews. Captain Hull had removed his gloves, punched the mast to cut his knuckles and made his way to the front of—
“Stop.”
Jeremy Vik was brought out of solitary confinement into the Royal Office to provide his account of what happened that morning. In the empty space between the three tables he sat in an armless chair and tried his best to sit at attention despite being told the whole affair was informal. He wore the blue and black navy uniform but as a prisoner he could not wear his rank, medals, or name.
Lord Chancellor Talus asked, “How could you have known Captain Hull punched the mast? Weren’t you still onboard the ferry, the…Marriot?”
“Sir, those pulling me back were quick to put me in gloves and out of sight. It was a quick glance, but I saw a smudge of blood on the mast. Figured it out when they put me in the brig that Captain Hull was taking my place, sir.”
“So, you didn’t actually witness that,” Chancellor Moore asked. “You’re speculating. How—”
“Why didn’t you kill him,” the regent was curt.
Chancellor Moore decided to clarify the question, “You made it a point we should know your lethality and skills in observation. Unprompted, you felt it necessary to clarify you did not reach for your sidearm. Did you want to? We need to know your intent, no matter how negative a light it puts you in. Our priority is Captain Hull’s release. Do not say what you think we want to hear. Dugall will claim to have feared for their lives. We need to know if it’s a lie or had legitimate cause to be afraid. The distinction could determine if your captain is returned alive or as a corpse. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Vik glanced down at the crease of his left pantleg while chewing the inside of his bottom lip and mulling over what to say next. He believed the rumors that moss had started growing inside the palace because the air smelled like fresh soil after a rainstorm. There was no background noise, which only intensified the ringing in his ears. “Yes, I wanted to kill the one that struck the old man. Truth, I wanted to kill them all, even the Sea Dogs for not intervening, which is their duty. Wanted to, but couldn’t, sir. Apologies, your highness, but I cannot explain. Nothing was really going through my mind when it happened. I just couldn’t stand there any longer and do nothing as cowards were beating the elderly who were trying to protect crying toddlers. I swore an oath to—”
“You understand,” Chancellor Wallace interrupted, “your actions of boarding their vessel wearing military uniform broke the neutral peace treaty and was an act of war?”
“What of it,” the regent was quick to dismiss. “Dugall was first to break the treaty. Why did Ironsides not open fire?”
Caught off guard by the bloodthirstiness, Vik took a moment. The worst thing he could do was come across as argumentative. His fate was already sealed and the only thing he could control was how he goes to the gallows: on his feet with pride like a true sailor or groveling on his knees.
“I was put in the brig and cannot speak for,” he paused. “With all due respect, your highness, I disobeyed orders to ‘hold’. And if we’re in open war, my actions deprived Ironsides of her captain and a gunner. I take full responsibility for what has happened and accept the consequences. But if the situation was repeated, I’d do the same.”
“Good,” the regent said. “You can leave.”
Vik was escorted back to solitary confinement to await the disciplinary review board, which will commence once the captain is returned alive or dead. Meanwhile, those on the war council that could show up on short notice joined the regent and chancellors in the Royal Office to discuss how to proceed. They were still waiting for Ambassador Rosales.
“Your entire department is made up of spies. Dugall is right across the gulf. This has been going on for six months.” The regent asked, “How did you miss this?”
Circio, Director of Central Intelligence, glanced at the accusatory stares, smiled and answered calmly, “My department is stretched thin. Closing all our embassies. Ambassador Recall. Securing the safety of all our delegates. Locating all our subjects abroad and requesting they return.” He locked eyes with the regent and said, “And of course, other activities. Before now Dugall has never been an issue. It was wasteful to have three fully staffed teams. I made the choice to reduce it to one Inquisitor.”
“My apologies. None of this is your fault nor anyone here. Blame rests solely on Dugall.”
“Director,” Chancellor Moore asked, “I do believe it necessary for us to speak to that one Inquisitor to better understand the political strife that is happening in Dugall.”
“Impossible.” He answered with a straight face, “I had him dissolved in a drum of acid.”
Moore chuckled nervously but said, “No, seriously.”
“Yes, seriously. Failure is contagious. I can’t have weakness infecting my department.”
Richard, the Chosen Commander of the heavily militarized Bureau of Criminal Investigation, asked, “You’re admitting to murder?”
The two had sat on opposite tables right across from each other. They locked eyes.
“It’s not murder. Everyone knows the consequences for failure before joining.”
Richard pointed hard on the tabletop on every word for emphasis, “That doesn’t change the fact it’s murder.”
Michelangelo Bell was currently serving his forty-second year as Chancellor of Agriculture. Mud was caked under his fingernails and in the deep creases of his wrinkled trembling hands. Small patches of dirt were all over his clothes. Lines from a comb were fresh but tiny twigs were still stuck in his grey hair and bushy beard. The heads of his departments had taken over most of his administrative responsibilities to free his genius mind to work out a solution for strengthening crops.
“This reminds me, your highness, of an unofficial precedence in such matters and of course the public is never made aware,” Chancellor Bell said. His cadence was slow, and voice was shaky. “The—your father, King Aaron, and the other…forget his name. Yes, the two monarchs had come to arrange that the corpse of the one that violated the treaty is given to the other kingdom. This will, if I recall correctly, be the twenty-seventh occurrence in fifty-five years. Fourteen for them, thirteen for us. Or was it the other way around?” He waved his shaking hand. “No one wants a war. After that young man’s execution, we should see if we can do an exchange for our missing captain. No doubt, the Senate will pressure Dugall to accept.”
Almost everyone at the table rolled their eyes or shook their heads.
“Yeah, and we can bend over and spread our butt cheeks while we’re at it,” Navy Representative Gulliver said while rapidly tapping a fountain pen on the notepad. “Captain Hull is not ‘missing’. He’s being held prisoner. Have you lost your mind in that dump of a greenhouse? You’d have us lose our last shred of dignity by groveling to those that declared war on us?”
“Weren’t you supposed to be the captain, Gulliver,” Chancellor Rayne came to the defense. “Oh, that’s right, you got fired on the first day and had to be replaced by your first mate.”
“Pushing us into war isn’t going to clear your guilty conscience,” Chancellor Lumen said.
“It is easy to get riled up and justify answering one travesty with another,” Bell said. “But it is during these times that test our resolve and why it is important we hold on to our principles less we go astray and become like animals.”
“Let’s not forget our policy is Peace at Any Cost,” Lord Chancellor Talus stated.
“We should accept their declaration and meet them in battle,” Admiral Gupta said, lightly hitting the table. “This isn’t a fairytale fantasy. It’s time to accept harsh truths. Barren Wasteland is going to consume the whole kingdom in five years. Dugall proved no one is letting us leave. We are all going to starve to death or cannibalize each other to death. That is an indisputable fact. Only thing we can control is how we face death: fighting on our feet with pride or groveling on our knees like cowards? I say we go out in a blaze of glory taking as many of them with us as we can.”
“What a surprise,” on the far other side of the table Circio said with a smirk, “a warmonger counsels war. Violence is always the answer, isn’t it?”
“That’s some talk from a torturer.”
Everyone erupted into an old-fashioned feud between pacifists and warmongers. Instead of stopping the argument the regent silently stared at the exquisite hand painted world map on the back wall and patiently waited for them to regain composure on their own. On the other hand, the person sitting silently at the end of the table caught her attention. It was Julian, Deputy Representative to the Senate. He was recording the minutes of the meeting for Representative Nahstrum, who was still on vacation. His lackluster performance was out of character, especially the unwashed hair and greasy skin. There were dark circles around his puffy red eyes, his cheeks looked sunken and his nose was red. It wasn’t the occasional shedding of a tear. He had the appearance of a broken man experiencing constant episodes of uncontrollable sobbing.
Eventually the regent had to break up the debate with clarification. “Long as I am regent, we will never sacrifice one of our own to appease the outside world.” She cleared her throat and sipped water. “What else have they done?”
“Preparing to attack. More Sea Dogs are arriving in the gulf every day.”
“Numbers?”
“Sixty-six so far,” Admiral Gupta took over. “Thirty-eight modern battlecruisers. Twelve recovery boats. Sixteen combat ships. And scouts reported this morning seeing four troop transports six days out heading our way.”
Gulliver, having already explained the specifics to the chancellors, reiterated for the regent’s benefit, “Battlecruisers will break the barrier and begin long range bombardment on the city’s defense. Combat ships provide cover as the transports beach themselves on shore and sixteen-hundred heavy infantry pour out as the first wave.” He said tapping the fountain pen on the notepad. “Secure a forward base, most likely the harbor, use it as a landing spot for more waves. Penetrating the city’s defenses will take half the time it took to break the barrier.” The tapping was increasing into a rapid pace. “That’s our navy. We built ‘em for the Third Global War and sold ‘em sixty years ago. That’s our navy they’re attacking us with. It’s a sick joke.”
“What has the negotiations been like,” the regent asked, wanting to move forward.
Everyone at the table suddenly became quiet as they awkwardly looked away, cleared their throats or took unusually long sips of water.
The Lord Chancellor sighed after realizing the responsibility fell on him to explain. “There hasn’t been any,” he admitted. “Claimed we had to tend to the deportees. Then we just started refusing. Now we’re outright ignoring them. They’d quickly put it together, when you didn’t show, that raising the barrier put you in a coma. Understand, the past fifty-five years the only thing stopping the Empire from invading is fear of our royal magic. Now with proof it’s weak—I mean,” he cleared his throat. “King Aaron, everyone knew he could raise and lower the barrier at will with no…ill effect…”
“What was the plan,” the regent asked, ignoring the egregious insult.
General Fields stated, “Past sixteen days we’ve mobilized the Fifth and Tenth Battalions, your highness. Fifth along the coast and Tenth is at the border crossing, in case they decide to invade on two fronts. I have them further back behind the hills so no one can see them. That way it eliminates the Senate using the excuse of building up their forces because they saw us building up ours.”
“So, there was no plan?”
“Well, tomorrow we were going to provide the evidence to petition the Senate to investigate Dugall,” Chancellor Moore said.
“So, really, there was no plan. General, have the battalions stand down. The Senate will not attack but if they do, we’re going to let them.”
“Highness,” she declared, “we can’t just stand by and let people attack us without reprisal.”
Muscles were stiffening to the point the regent could barely move. “We can and will.” Instead of fast and squeaky like a child, her voice was low, mature and authoritative. “Moment they first attack the barrier, we will send an emergency signal kingdom wide to get down into the underground arks. And yes, I said arks not the weather shelters. The signal opens the entrance and people can fill the foyer.” Instead of wide and darting all over her eyes were steadfast. “The deposition for abdication will be signed for me to ascend as the new monarch and I will cast Scorched-Earth.”
She paused for questions but there were none.
“Barrier will be impenetrable for twenty years. All buildings, all life, everything will be eradicated even magic. Ocean currents will be restored. Barren Wasteland will be gone. Everything.”
“Revirginizing the kingdom?”
The regent had paused to take a sip of water. “Yes, the spell restores the land to what it once was before the touch of humanity. Life will begin anew after the first five years and that is when it will be safe for survivors to resurface. When I start casting, the foyer will open, and people can spread out. Our ancestors built these arks during the height of our power long before the Domain War. They had the foresight to prepare for the next extinction. The archives contain artificial wombs and genetic coding from every plant, animal, bird, fish, insect and us. Underpopulation and fertility crisis will no longer be an issue. There are enough rations to last fifty years. Plenty of entertainment to prevent anyone from going mad. A plethora of knowledge and forgotten magic. When you resurface there’s a good chance, you’ll be stronger than you are right now.”
Again, she waited for questions but there were none.
“Chain of command will remain as it is. Lord Chancellor Talus will be regent. Arks can communicate with one another so none will be at risk of devolving into independent states. When the barrier breaks at the end of twenty years the relic will have been purged and be ready to create a new bloodline of royal magic. Anyone, literally anyone can have it. Though I would prefer it to be one of you here in the room to preserve chain of command. Of course, this is a perfect opportunity to create something new, a true republic with no royal magic. The relic can be used that way. The new barrier won’t be as strong, but it is possible. When I cast the spell, I will leave the relic where it needs to be for that option.” She paused. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t want to cast Scorched-Earth. I don’t want to die. But if the Senate invades, this is the only chance the kingdom has at survival because we cannot fight them off. Can we? Generals, war council, realistically can we fight them off as we are?”
Fields, General of the Army, shut her eyes as her brow furrowed. She didn’t want to admit defeat. “No,” she admitted. “We have the superior armor, magic, training and discipline but they outnumber us by over a hundred thousand to one. They don’t have to be smart, tactical, or even well provisioned. They’ll crush us by sheer size alone.” She was tightening her left fist to the point those closest could hear the leather of her glove.
Chancellor Philip asked, “Your highness, all the arks combined can only house one million. Last census put our population at two and a quarter million. Round it down to two because those in the country are too spread out and won’t make it in time. How do we determine who’s worth saving? Fairest option is a lottery.”
“Everyone can be squeezed into the foyer. Once maximum occupancy is reached the remainder will be put in an induced coma.” She asked but already knew the answer, “Councilor Nomak, is that possible on such a large scale?”
The councilor’s eyes were wide. He had the appearance of being in shock ever since hearing about Scorched-Earth but snapped out of it. “Y-yes, absolutely it is incredibly easy, your highness.”
“With all respect,” Lord Chancellor Talus asked, “I don’t see how the spell can be cast. From what I can remember however many are down below in the arks ten times that must be sacrificed. We put two million down, how do we get the twenty million to sacrifice?”
“The Empire will provide. They have a severe crisis in overpopulation. Desperate to colonize they will send twenty million.”
“Royal magic is fading in other realms but is growing in the Empire. Won’t they see the trap?”
“Exactly. Right now, the Senate holds all the power or so they think,” the regent made one last declaration to garner support. “Peace at Any Cost does not mean forfeiting our dignity when confronted with acts of war and threats of annihilation. It is impossible to make our lives any worse than they are. Neither can you threaten death to a people already cannibalizing each other. Most of us would welcome an early grave. We want the Senate to invade, that is the attitude we need to exhibit in the negotiations tomorrow. We must never say it out loud but make it obvious the spell is not a bluff.”
Hector Rosales, Chief Ambassador to the West, finally arrived. The scent of fresh soil after a rainstorm was overshadowed by strong cologne. It wasn’t a pungent odor, but scented soaps, perfumes and cologne were a luxury that many couldn’t afford. He came straight from the docks and stood in the empty space made by the three tables while trying to catch his breath.
“They agreed to the terms, your highness. Dugall will be first tomorrow morning at ten followed four hours later by the Senate. There were requests for a second round of talks, but I put a stop to that with heavy emphasis the matter will be settled tomorrow. Otherwise the Senate will turn it into a meet and greet with a second round acknowledging what happened and a third to discuss options, etcetera, etcetera. They are masters at procrastinating. It’s important not to play their games. In this regard, it’s best to see it as selling a product, give them limited options, one or two, and force them to make a decision that requires immediate physical action.”
Commander Richard asked, “Who is Dugall sending?”
“Prince Ferdinand. He requested to be allowed into the palace before the sun rises.”
Chancellor Rayne rubbed her face while shaking her head and looked at Councilor Nomak. “Really, you’re going to let a shaman into the kingdom?”
Commander Richard quickly stated, “Dugall has no prince by that name.”
“He’s King Philip’s tenth bastard son. He served a few years in the coast guard. And every summer he works one month at a different business. The people love him and demanded he’d be put in the line of succession. Of course, he doesn’t have any royal blood so that didn’t happen, but he was legitimatized last week. The title is purely ceremonial.”
“They’re not sending Ambassador Ruiz. Does this nonroyal have experience in diplomacy?”
“No.”
“They want us to kill him,” Director Circio declared. “How does a kingdom with no military wage a war? By getting a bigger ally to fight for them. And what’s the easiest way to accomplish that? They did it in the Third Global War. Ambassadors, delegates, those deaths don’t matter. Assassinating a royal on a diplomatic mission is an automatic declaration of war.”
“Do you think he knows he’s being sacrificed?”
“Why do they think we’ll kill him?”
“Why would they think we wouldn’t?”
“Can we get reparations, the captain or anything?”
“No, not even an apology. Dugall firmly believe they’ve done nothing wrong.”
“We will not negotiate for the return of our captain,” the regent declared. “Director Circio, have your Inquisitors bring him back. Make sure he is out of their control before our ten o’clock meeting. No bloodshed. They will know it was us but without evidence they can’t prove it.”
The director happily agreed.
Lord Chancellor Talus objected, “Wherever Dugall is keeping our captain, he is undoubtedly surrounded by their best security. No matter how skilled your spies are, director, you cannot select a team, infiltrate the kingdom, locate the captain, circumvent their security measure and return all without detection in under fifteen hours. An operation such as this takes weeks or—”
“You’re right,” the regent interrupted. “You should have ordered the rescue the day you learned of his capture. Let us all hope our dear captain was not tortured. Because I make this promise, Lord Chancellor, every pain he’s been forced to endure so shall you experience.”
“Then what’s the point of having separate talks with Dugall,” Councilor Nomak asked.
Ambassador Rosales kept rubbing the back of his neck and shifting his weight. He’d open his mouth to say something but quickly look away. Eventually he got the courage to speak up, “There is. I don’t want to say it but it’s the duty of an ambassador to present all options no matter how distasteful. Again, I do not want to say this but Dugall has offered free trade, help restore our economy, feed our starving masses, support us in the Senate, and pay a quarter of our debt to the Empire.”
“They hate us, but they’d be our saviors. What do they require in exchange?”
He closed his eyes, licked his lips, swallowed and shook his head. “It involves you, your highness, appealing to their ego. You would need to get on your knees in front of them and submit by declaring their kingdom is superior to ours in every way and that only they have the virility to save your people. You would also need to surrender our half of the gulf to them.”
“And why not have her suck his cock while she’s at it?”
Rosales widened his eyes, stretched a corner of his mouth and slowly tilted his head to convey that she would have to perform fellatio.
Chancellor Bell spoke before anyone got the chance, “Maybe we should set aside Dugall for now and rehearse what we way to the Senate.”
General Maddox, in charge of military logistics, said, “What we’re doing right now, with all this talking, is just ‘what if’ scenarios. Truth is, only way to know how best to approach a situation is just wait till it arrives. Over prepping can screw us all to hell. I suggest we end this meeting now and get a full night’s rest.”
They convened for the evening. The regent ordered Ambassador Rosales to stay while everyone else left the Royal Office. When Chancellor Bell left the room so did the scent of fresh soil after a rainstorm. The doors were closed, and guards kept watch outside to stop any interruptions. The air smelled of wood polish mixed with the ambassador’s cologne. Rosales remained standing and kept glancing at the doors.
“Refreshments,” the regent asked, still seated. “I’ve always loved this room,” she said while pouring herself a glass of water. “Used to make a fort under this very table as father sat at that desk signing all manner of documents,” she smiled from nostalgia. “You will no longer be involved in the negotiations.”
“Y-your highness, please, what I said earlier about—it’s my job to present all options.”
She raised a hand to signal him to stop talking. “The Senate and Dugall will be expecting you and Representative Nahstrum to be present for these talks. I refuse to meet their expectations.”
“W-what else am I to do?”
“Crown acquired the Hardin Mines after the rebellion last year. Tomorrow you will leave the kingdom and go to the Polaris Combine, where you will secure a trade agreement. Their gold for our iron, coal and saltpeter. Currently we mine a cumulative of five thousand tons per month but this time next year it will be three million tons per year.”
“You’re opening them up to foreign trade? Your highness, those resources can be a huge bargaining chip in the talks with the Senate tomorrow.”
She leaned back in the chair and said, “I know the Combine is preparing for war against the Senate. What’s taking them so long is a lack of resources. Buying from us, they can finally turn their entire navy into steel battlecruisers and with the right combinations of enchantments stand a real chance at victory. The fifteen neutral city-states between them and Angoria should provide enough workers to increase weapon manufacturing exponentially. I know they’ve already taken two and plan to annex the rest.”
Rosales glanced at the locked doors and awkwardly smiled. “It is true a technological boom in the Shaman Domain is causing an uproar. And there are talks of military action but your highness if war were to break out it would be ten or twenty years from now and by then the arms race will have kept the peace.”
“Why give your enemy ten years to fortify themselves when you can attack when they are unprepared? A huge advantage can be gained by controlling when the war starts.” The regent finished off the glass of water. Her muscles were stiffening so she walked slowly across the office to the map of the world on the back wall. She used a pointer to identify the Nation of Argen’s five bays. “Three days a year all their fleets are in this one bay and vacant for their biggest holiday. You will provide them with the security information they require.” She used the pointer to identify the continent. “Without ships Argen cannot uphold their military contract. The Combine is to send a small army to invade Angoria, a kingdom of farmers with no military of their own. They won’t ask the Empire or the Senate for aid in fear of losing their independence. Desperation will bring them to me. One of our battalions will meet the Combine’s forces in mock combat. Half of Angoria’s surplus can feed the Combine’s soldiers indefinitely and the other half will feed our starving masses.”
Rosales stroke the thick mustache of his overall beard in order to hide the smile.
“You will inform the Combine our kingdom’s barrier will remain erect to prevent Sahara from marching their troops across the land bridge thus forcing them to sail around the whole continent where they will cross into Chaos waters and most likely die. The Combine’s home will be safe from a ground east flank and a southern rear attack. Everything will be on their schedule except for trade. Payments must begin early this summer, within the next three months.”
The regent filled the nearest unused cup with water. Rosales wouldn’t stop side eyeing her.
“This is not an alliance,” she continued. “Geography surrounds us with realms in the Senate, meaning we must remain for now. Regarding our King and his army, we have lost all communication due to the machinations of the Empire. The Senate treats us as two separate entities. It would be best for the Combine to do as well. If my father is killed, emphasize the moment I attain crown royal magic I will obliterate the entire civilization of the culprit. If the King is encountered, capture and send him back to us. I would be eternally grateful in the form of a public alliance, my marriage bed and whatever remains of the King’s six hundred thousand army will fight for the Combine.”
He glanced at the doors and lowered his voice, but it wasn’t a whisper, “You want me to go to the Polaris Combine and start the Fourth Global War?”
“Yes.”
He glanced at the doors and rubbed his face. “Horrible atrocities will occur. Violations of human rights will rise to levels never before—hundreds of millions will die. A movement is gaining speed around the globe trying to achieve world peace through free trade, diplomacy and getting rid of all royal magic. Without their barriers those countries will be wiped out. The Polaris Combine is a merchant republic, your highness, obsessed with profit. Their politicians are cutthroat businessmen with no empathy and no mercy. They openly engage in slavery, organ black markets, sex and drug trafficking. The Senate sees them as evil incarnate. Even the Empire, with their duplicitous nature, find them morally reprehensible.”
The regent drank water.
“This is a well thought out plan, your highness, but we shouldn’t let what’s happening in the gulf provoke us into making a rash decision. Wanting to lash out in anger and bitterness is—”
“Past three years I have been gathering intelligence, reading reports and working out every scenario,” she interrupted with a calm voice.
His eyes widened from the realization, “The five times you summoned me but canceled. Those were this meeting? Why now, what’s changed?”
She doesn’t want to admit it’s because she was weak. “There were other options. Ambassador, I would not be pursuing this unless it was the only option we had left. I will set the world on fire and destroy the ashes of whatever remains to save my people.”
He glanced at the doors, “That is in direction violation of our policy Peace at Any Cost.”
She continued to look him in the eyes. “Peace at Any Cost has two meanings: be a doormat by making all manner of compromise and sacrificing one’s dignity to live a little longer; the second is the complete annihilation of all your enemies, without conflict there is only peace.”
He glanced at the doors and stepped closer, “But the Combine is our enemy.”
“They are to the Senate and to humanity, but they are not my enemy. They have proven themselves more of an ally than those that claim to be and legally are. I trust you above all other ambassadors and diplomats to carry out this mission. There’s not enough time for negotiations to go back and forth so you will have full control to make the deal. You also have the freedom to decline of course, but you will need to drink a Qandar Potion to erase all memory of our discussion.”
He glanced at the doors, “You want me to believe this is real?”
“This is not a trick. I know you are not a shaman or a shaman sympathizer. Councilor Nomak is not on the other side listening if that’s what you fear. The Council will believe we’re selling iron and coal to Angoria in exchange for food.”
His back straightened but he stood more relaxed and stroked his beard hiding the smile. “This will be a permanent looming threat of exposure. We will be war criminals of the highest—any time the Senate learns of our involvement they will point their swords at us, and they will attack. Highness, there’s no going back when you get in bed with a demon.”
The regent spoke with unwavering confidence, “Ambassador Rosales, I do not fear the world’s wrath, it is the world that will grow to fear mine. Do you accept?”
His eyes were glistening with joy as he could no longer hide his enormous smile. “Absolutely I agree, your highness. This is…marvelous. I cannot express how reassuring it is to know a pissed off badger is once again on the throne viciously defending its den. Never been happier than right now to be an ambassador. Death to blue jay pacifism. Finally.”
Though phrased as a compliment the regent was unsure if that’s what he meant. A snarling badger was the sigil of the royal family back when the kingdom was overly militaristic but was changed to the pacifist blue jay after the Domain War four hundred years ago.
“You will be escorted by two Inquisitors of high rank,” she said.
“Good. That’s good. It’ll add credibility, shows you’re serious. Is this a trap? They’ll never ask but it’s going to be in the back of their minds. Curry favor with the Senate by presenting the heads of the Combine. If it is, I’m all for it, but I need to know so I don’t screw it up by accident.”
“Throughout history every realm in the Senate has suffered their own civil war. Our kingdom has always stayed out of it by remaining neutral to every party. Civil wars must run their course without foreign interference. Many cry, ‘unfair’, ‘heartless’, ‘cruel’ but people need to solve their own problems. If the Senate had stayed out of our Succession Wars, it would have lasted only two weeks instead of decades. They have denied my people humanitarian aid three times.” She held up a finger and glanced away for a second to calm the anger. “You can tell the Combine or not, that’ll be your discretion. With or without them the war will happen. My ancestors built the Senate building on Deluga Island and intentionally withheld certain blueprints. My Inquisitors know how to infiltrate. During the annual Grand Hearing when every senator, important figure, Candala’s president and the Emperor’s heir is present, when security is at its highest, it will be destroyed. Clues will be left behind incriminating the Combine. We all know how Candala reacts when someone preemptively strikes against them especially without warning. In their blind rage they’ll launch royal magic to annihilate anyone they think is culpable. The Combine can either fight in the war at full strength with me as an unofficial ally or be slaughtered.”
Rosales was grinning from ear to ear, “I can definitely make this deal. I’ll need a sample of our iron, coal and saltpeter. Combine will want to test the quality.”
“Inquisitors will have that.”
“Because I’ll be away from family for so long in a dangerous foreign land, may I ask something of your highness?”
“Of course.”
“Once the payments start coming in, can you divert some gold to fix up the royal park in Crescent Bay? My wife was a ranger back in our youth, it’s where we met and got married. I retire in ten years and plan to renew our vows. It would bring her more joy than the birth of our first grandchild to have that park reopen.”
The regent smiled, “Yes.”
After the ambassador left, the regent slumped over the nearest table while holding her left side and breathing hard. Slowly she made it back to her chair while saying aloud, “I know you’re listening, Circio, you’ve bugged every room.” She suddenly tensed up from a sharp pain and took a moment to exhale slowly. “Inquisitors you send to escort Rosales need to gather intel. Case the Senate fails to destroy the Combine, we’ll need to know how they plan to fight in the global war so we can finish them off. When Rosales undergoes the Valencia for ambassadors, make sure you leave the discussion we just had unprotected. They might do a Drop of Truth on him and I want them to see the words were in fact coming from my mouth. Otherwise it was a complete waste going through all that with him. Oh, and, um,” she coughed. “I know weeks ago I said ‘no’ to the assassination of the brother to Queen Makeda, but you have full permission. Maybe coordinate it with the destruction of Argen’s navy.”
Alone in the Royal Office she took off the top-quality wig and gently rubbed her shaven head while lightly touching the four sixteen-day old surgical incisions. The report on the table contained more in-depth information about the thirty-one-thousand-two-hundred-eight-three survivors. There was a bag containing hundreds of Drops of Truth documenting what the deserters were forced to endure. She picked a few at random to watch at top speed while drinking water.
*
Serving as first mate on Ironsides was the greatest honor I’d ever have in my life. Being her captain? I kept thinking Captain Gulliver was on sick leave and my command was just temporary. Or that it was all just a lucid dream. None of it felt real until that morning.
Third day as captain, my first command, an entirely new crew and our first time leaving the pier. Thirty-one thousand unarmed civilians were being chucked overboard like rancid garbage. The location they chose was far from the barrier. We were only two warships, three hundred years outdated and outmanned. Vengeance was surrounded. There must have been an upgrade to magic disruptors because they were jamming all communication between me and the admiral, cutting us off from command. The territorial and unpredictable whales were still migrating just outside the gulf. Can’t destroy armored hulls, but I’ve seen them work together to capsize a modern battlecruiser. Conditions for battle was against our favor. I ordered the crew to prepare for combat, but I would never give the order to engage. They were deliberately trying to provoke us. It was an obvious trap. We would have been slaughtered. Safety of the civilians was top priority.
Short-range communications were still operational. The Marriot, a triple-decked ferry, still had all their civilians and requested a ship to ship transfer. I heard the clicks. They were recording the conversation and wanted me to decline so they’d have an excuse to the Senate with evidence. ‘They refused normal transfer, what else were we to do.’ There was also the chance they’d fire hidden cannons when we got close enough, then claim we had open fired. I had to risk war. I could not give them an excuse for what they were doing.
Twenty minutes in, I saw what appeared to be a shouting match between the captain and officers. Suspected a mutiny because moments later they were shoving civilians overboard and their captain with a few other officers were nowhere to be found. Against orders to hold position, a gunner jumped ship and was punching one of their coast guards. If they had taken him into custody, he would have been tortured and killed but the captain of a ship would be treated with respect. So, I took off my gloves, punched downward on the mast to cut my knuckles and went to the front of the crowd just as their officers arrived. They saw the bleeding knuckles and per the treaty took me into custody.
On shore, they tried tricking me into signing papers declaring my intentions to defect or seek asylum. Laws of Conduct permit full conversations but why make it easy for them? The room was being recorded so I decided to play their game. All I ever said was my name, rank and number.
A Colonel Vega moved me to a cell for ‘my protection’. We were both aware of the situation and knew the game had to be played. There are jails for the poor and those for the rich. Mine was somewhere in the middle, wasn’t luxurious but wasn’t disgusting. He kept insisting I take off the armor to be more comfortable.
The prototype was created over five hundred years ago by all four magic domains and to this day the Four-Fifty-One navy battle armor is still the most advanced in the world. They wanted the armor and I suspected they’d laced each meal to knock me out, so they can take it without any hassle. I had activated the armor before leaving my ship, it would keep me alive for a year without food, drink and eliminate the need to utilize the latrine. I stood at parade-rest the entire time in the middle of the cell and silently stared at my captors. Spent enough time in the navy to learn how to sleep with eyes open. They kept the lights on continuously and randomized the changing of the guard along with any other behavior that could be used to track the passage of time.
An admiral of the Senate’s Sea Dogs requested an interview. I was being escorted through the building. Started noticing all the guards were unconscious. Pieces of wire were around their necks, shoulders, elbows, chest, hips, knees. They were strategically placed to keep them attached to the walls as if still manning their posts. Guards escorting me kept quiet and I never said a word.
I’ve read about this tactic used by intelligence agents. Instead of torture they stage a rescue to gain trust and it can go on for months ‘laying low’ and ‘waiting for the right time to escape the city’. For a staged rescue it was disappointing, I was expecting a raid of sorts, storming the place, taking out the guards, smokescreens, the works.
It wasn’t staged. They were Inquisitors in disguise. Later they explained I had been a captive for sixteen days, war had yet to break out, regent woke from the coma eight hours ago and the first thing she ordered was my immediate rescue, but it had to be bloodless and look like Dugall’s own people had done it. There were angry protesters everywhere. Took us three days to get back.
I am eternally grateful for all that was done to facilitate the rescue. And I am in no position to ask anything but what has become of the gunner?
Yes, he disobeyed orders and committed an act of war. Technically, I abandoned ship in a time of great crisis, yet I’m to retain command. Your highness, if I may ask a favor to restore the gunner to his post. Going back to the ship, working alongside his crewmates, forced to look them in the eyes is going to be punishment enough. No, I do not condone or tolerate group punishment and I am not asking for him back so I can punish him. It’s just, I cannot in good conscience allow a member of my crew be denied the same second chance I’ve been bestowed.
Thank you, your highness, I am…thank you.
When it was announced Ironsides was to be recommissioned and permanently post in the gulf so many volunteered they had to do a lottery to keep things fair. Luckiest day in the world. But I’m not an idiot. First stage of invasion is barrier bombardment and that could take hours or weeks. And until the other ten show up it’ll just be us. A three-hundred-fifty-seven-year-old warship against modern battlecruisers? Come on, I know we were volunteering to be the first ones to die. I was just happy not to be on the Drum anymore.
Don’t get me wrong. She’s not a bad crew. She’s great and I learned a lot from them, but I don’t want to die fighting off a mutiny or getting marooned. I’m not being pessimistic or lacking love for the kingdom. It’s the cold, harsh, ugly truth. It’s reality. Invasion hits, the other ten are going to hesitate to answer the call to arms. Guaranteed at least three attempted mutinies. One will outright refuse the call and become pirates or scuttle the ship to start over in a different realm.
Have to admit the lottery was weird. After it was done no one knew anyone, not even the officers. Which can be great because it can be like, uh, a clean slate sort of. But it’s also horrible because, yeah there’s that basic trust, but there’s no real trust yet. And every ship is a little bit different but for this crew standard operating procedures had yet to be established and that can be really bad. I mean the lottery just ended on the twelfth and we were shipping out on the twentieth. Last week on land, we’re doing orientation, getting equipment, weapons, papers, going through medical. We even did tours on the ship to make sure we knew where everything was. Captain wanted us hitting the water at top efficiency.
2300 hours on the fourteenth, I was still up. Thought I found a way to improve cannon accuracy by fifteen percent, but calculations just kept proving me wrong. Master Gunner Orrick retires in two years. Whoever he recommends is guaranteed the promotion. And I was determined to prove myself worthy. No matter what, I am still the most qualified. Who else has more than my twenty-six confirmed kills by cannon? Drum’s artillery had fifty percent accuracy before I joined her crew and I bumped it up to ninety-seven percent. Sank five pirate ships because of my training. I was damn sure going to bring that ferocity to Ironsides.
Sirens went off. Those they use only when the base is under attack. Grabbed our bags, formed up outside and did rollcall. Whole base was in chaos. All the lights were on. Siren’s blaring. Everyone running to the docks and screaming orders. Was not an unorganized mess but people were clearly panicking. Thought it was strange at first, we were marching, not double-timing or anything but marching real calm. Vengeance was out there somewhere; we were the only warship at the docks. We were showing that everyone else can panic but we march. Fear doesn’t control us.
Every vessel, navy and civilian, was called to duty and we moved as one fleet. Not every ship was outfitted with self-propulsion, so it took hours. Glad to be wearing full armor. Middle of spring the gulf is freezing at night and early morning. Without proper equipment you can die if you stay in the water too long. Ports were closed but cannons loaded. Artillery top deck couldn’t be manned but were ready to fire. We were instructed to prepare for war but couldn’t look we were ready for a fight. Armor and weapons was standard uniform.
We were told mass deportation was to begin at 1000 hours when the sun is high and the water’s just starting to get warm. We arrived at 0600 to have plenty of time to get properly situated. Dugall, we were told, was going to show up at 0800 to give us two hours to coordinate ship to ship transfer. We just crossed the barrier at 0530 into neutral waters and what I saw was horrifying.
Dugall was already there. Their ships were civilian triple-decked ferries and overcrowded way beyond capacity with our people. They were pushing them off into the freezing gulf. Too many were already in the water to have just started. This was no accident. Their lifeboats were still tied up. This was deliberate. Men, women, children, elderly were falling from up to a hundred feet into water. If it’s not done right, jumping anything more than twenty feet can cause serious injuries. I’m talking broken bones, paralysis, death. These were average folks. None were professional divers or cliff jumpers.
Think Master Gunner Orrick could sense the crew’s anger and desperation to do something because he kept repeating the orders to ‘hold’.
Survival and safety was the priority. Captain and everyone not assigned a cannon was communicating with other ships. It was important not to get too close in fear of crushing people between the hulls. We got the whaleboats down with a few crewmates. Smaller ships went into the crowd towing makeshift floating decks. Instead of harpoons, LifeSaver Lines—rope enchanted to stay afloat—were shot far out into the water for lots of people to grab and be slowly wheeled back. Lifeboats were picking up as many as they could and ferrying them to the bigger ships that had to stay back fearing their size would make things worse.
Thirty thousand terrified civilians were being dumped into the gulf and we were fishing them out of the water. I couldn’t hear the howling wind or the crashing waves over all the screaming and crying for help. They were bobbing up and down trying to stay afloat. It was too crowded. Too many were in such a small area, most couldn’t swim ashore. Some had grouped together holding each other, trying to make a human raft. Others tried climbing over others out of desperation and not caring about anyone else’s survival. Rescue boats, on the horns, were shouting instructions not to panic and anything to ward off drowning. Either their skin was incredibly light or dark to begin with because from where I was standing, I could see people’s skin turning blue and purple from hypothermia. Everyone in that water was dying.
Felt impotent, we all did, the whole crew. First day Ironsides returned to active service and this is how she’s being introduced to the kingdom? We all swore an oath to protect the people and all we could do was watch as this horror was inflicted on thousands.
Remembered Hanson, youngest gunner and fresh out of the academy. Only reason he was allowed in the lottery was because of his precision with a cannon. I don’t know if it was the cold, the anger or fear but he was shaking. Drum was crewed by hardened sailors who would’ve broken the kid’s nose to stop from panicking. We’ve all served on a ship like that or heard the horror stories. I thanked the Divine for that tiny blessing this new crew was nothing like the Drum. I just…
‘They can always throw chum in the water,’ O’Brien—that idiot—he said that to scare the kid. There was still a week of migration left but in all the commotion we forgot about the whales. If they had come in, there’d be no stopping that feeding frenzy. I saw the smirk on his face. Always got to point out how a bad situation can get worse. I hate people like that.
Starboard side we saw Vengeance further out in neutral waters. Her sails down, ports open. She was surrounded by three Sea Dogs, modern battlecruisers with firepower that…one good shot could blow us out of the water. I really want to believe those three were there to stop the whales if they got curious or hungry. I wanted to believe that was the reason they weren’t helping. But being an experienced military man, I knew what was happening, we all did. It was that standoff that happens right before battle. Three steel battlecruisers up against a wooden warship? Pathetic. It’s disgraceful on the Sea Dogs part. Cowards to come in force like that but they weren’t scared of an outdated warship, they were terrified of Admiral Gupta.
Every gunner has a ‘scope on their person, used mine to see if I could identify the three. Didn’t know the other two but the third was Constellation, the last modern battlecruiser we built. I read the history. I know the last to command that vessel before we sold it to the Senate was, at that time, Captain Gupta. Bringing that ship into the gulf was a deliberate insult. The whole morning was a spit in the eye, punch in the teeth and a kick to the groin. All we could do was stand there.
Orders came to clear room in the cargo hold. We moved slowly to one of the ferries manned by their coast guard to do a ship to ship transfer. Maybe the horrors they were inflicting pricked the other captain’s conscience. Got the extra wide ramps ready for port side. I’m no fool. Two ships lowering their barriers for boarding is delicate. Dugall has no military, only ‘peacekeepers’. But we’re a warship. Couldn’t give them an excuse to hurt or kill the civilians. Dugall has always been real quick to play ‘victim’ even when they’re the aggressors. Disgusting cowards.
We helped terrified civilians cross the ramps and down below into the cargo hold. Again, gun crew couldn’t look like we were manning the cannons, but we were ready. I mean, if Dugall can inflict this kind of horror onto people, can there even be a limit to their deceit? Twenty minutes and only a quarter of the folks on the ferry had transferred over. I don’t know if it was impatience or orders came in, but they started shoving the remainder off just like the other ships. Civilians were panicking. Don’t know it was intentional or coincidence, but several elderly men and women had grouped together.
I’m not saying all elderly are frail, but these looked it; weak, frightened, confused, separated from loved ones, and didn’t know what was happening. A lot of them looked like their canes had been taken away. I say that by the way they were shuffling and wobbling. Couldn’t use the ‘scope now we were next to them. Cowards would think it a weapon. Had to really look but in the middle of that group of elderly they were protecting children around five years or younger. I looked down where they were being pushed over and saw instead of swimming to rescue people were treading water waiting to help the children and elders. No way of knowing if any of them were related or just good people.
I know I’ve been saying ‘pushing’ and ‘shoving’ but don’t think for one second any of them were being nice about it. They were needlessly cruel. Couldn’t take it anymore. Want to say I didn’t know what I was doing until it already happened. Want to say my body was taken over by instinct but I can’t. I was fully aware of my actions. Only weapons those coast guards had were batons. The group was trying to get closer to the ramps. One of the elders, I wager in his nineties, tried resisting after being shoved closer to the edge. I don’t know if anyone else saw it, but I did, saw it clearly. A Dugallese struck that elder with a baton and that was it.
Jumped the rail onto their ship and ran to the group. I grabbed that man and we tussled. Punched him once in the face, cut my knuckles on his teeth. I don’t know what’s being said but I want to clarify with absolute confidence I never once reached for my weapon. It lasted only seconds before we were both pulled back by our own crews. Captain Hull had removed his gloves, punched the mast to cut his knuckles and made his way to the front of—
“Stop.”
Jeremy Vik was brought out of solitary confinement into the Royal Office to provide his account of what happened that morning. In the empty space between the three tables he sat in an armless chair and tried his best to sit at attention despite being told the whole affair was informal. He wore the blue and black navy uniform but as a prisoner he could not wear his rank, medals, or name.
Lord Chancellor Talus asked, “How could you have known Captain Hull punched the mast? Weren’t you still onboard the ferry, the…Marriot?”
“Sir, those pulling me back were quick to put me in gloves and out of sight. It was a quick glance, but I saw a smudge of blood on the mast. Figured it out when they put me in the brig that Captain Hull was taking my place, sir.”
“So, you didn’t actually witness that,” Chancellor Moore asked. “You’re speculating. How—”
“Why didn’t you kill him,” the regent was curt.
Chancellor Moore decided to clarify the question, “You made it a point we should know your lethality and skills in observation. Unprompted, you felt it necessary to clarify you did not reach for your sidearm. Did you want to? We need to know your intent, no matter how negative a light it puts you in. Our priority is Captain Hull’s release. Do not say what you think we want to hear. Dugall will claim to have feared for their lives. We need to know if it’s a lie or had legitimate cause to be afraid. The distinction could determine if your captain is returned alive or as a corpse. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Vik glanced down at the crease of his left pantleg while chewing the inside of his bottom lip and mulling over what to say next. He believed the rumors that moss had started growing inside the palace because the air smelled like fresh soil after a rainstorm. There was no background noise, which only intensified the ringing in his ears. “Yes, I wanted to kill the one that struck the old man. Truth, I wanted to kill them all, even the Sea Dogs for not intervening, which is their duty. Wanted to, but couldn’t, sir. Apologies, your highness, but I cannot explain. Nothing was really going through my mind when it happened. I just couldn’t stand there any longer and do nothing as cowards were beating the elderly who were trying to protect crying toddlers. I swore an oath to—”
“You understand,” Chancellor Wallace interrupted, “your actions of boarding their vessel wearing military uniform broke the neutral peace treaty and was an act of war?”
“What of it,” the regent was quick to dismiss. “Dugall was first to break the treaty. Why did Ironsides not open fire?”
Caught off guard by the bloodthirstiness, Vik took a moment. The worst thing he could do was come across as argumentative. His fate was already sealed and the only thing he could control was how he goes to the gallows: on his feet with pride like a true sailor or groveling on his knees.
“I was put in the brig and cannot speak for,” he paused. “With all due respect, your highness, I disobeyed orders to ‘hold’. And if we’re in open war, my actions deprived Ironsides of her captain and a gunner. I take full responsibility for what has happened and accept the consequences. But if the situation was repeated, I’d do the same.”
“Good,” the regent said. “You can leave.”
Vik was escorted back to solitary confinement to await the disciplinary review board, which will commence once the captain is returned alive or dead. Meanwhile, those on the war council that could show up on short notice joined the regent and chancellors in the Royal Office to discuss how to proceed. They were still waiting for Ambassador Rosales.
“Your entire department is made up of spies. Dugall is right across the gulf. This has been going on for six months.” The regent asked, “How did you miss this?”
Circio, Director of Central Intelligence, glanced at the accusatory stares, smiled and answered calmly, “My department is stretched thin. Closing all our embassies. Ambassador Recall. Securing the safety of all our delegates. Locating all our subjects abroad and requesting they return.” He locked eyes with the regent and said, “And of course, other activities. Before now Dugall has never been an issue. It was wasteful to have three fully staffed teams. I made the choice to reduce it to one Inquisitor.”
“My apologies. None of this is your fault nor anyone here. Blame rests solely on Dugall.”
“Director,” Chancellor Moore asked, “I do believe it necessary for us to speak to that one Inquisitor to better understand the political strife that is happening in Dugall.”
“Impossible.” He answered with a straight face, “I had him dissolved in a drum of acid.”
Moore chuckled nervously but said, “No, seriously.”
“Yes, seriously. Failure is contagious. I can’t have weakness infecting my department.”
Richard, the Chosen Commander of the heavily militarized Bureau of Criminal Investigation, asked, “You’re admitting to murder?”
The two had sat on opposite tables right across from each other. They locked eyes.
“It’s not murder. Everyone knows the consequences for failure before joining.”
Richard pointed hard on the tabletop on every word for emphasis, “That doesn’t change the fact it’s murder.”
Michelangelo Bell was currently serving his forty-second year as Chancellor of Agriculture. Mud was caked under his fingernails and in the deep creases of his wrinkled trembling hands. Small patches of dirt were all over his clothes. Lines from a comb were fresh but tiny twigs were still stuck in his grey hair and bushy beard. The heads of his departments had taken over most of his administrative responsibilities to free his genius mind to work out a solution for strengthening crops.
“This reminds me, your highness, of an unofficial precedence in such matters and of course the public is never made aware,” Chancellor Bell said. His cadence was slow, and voice was shaky. “The—your father, King Aaron, and the other…forget his name. Yes, the two monarchs had come to arrange that the corpse of the one that violated the treaty is given to the other kingdom. This will, if I recall correctly, be the twenty-seventh occurrence in fifty-five years. Fourteen for them, thirteen for us. Or was it the other way around?” He waved his shaking hand. “No one wants a war. After that young man’s execution, we should see if we can do an exchange for our missing captain. No doubt, the Senate will pressure Dugall to accept.”
Almost everyone at the table rolled their eyes or shook their heads.
“Yeah, and we can bend over and spread our butt cheeks while we’re at it,” Navy Representative Gulliver said while rapidly tapping a fountain pen on the notepad. “Captain Hull is not ‘missing’. He’s being held prisoner. Have you lost your mind in that dump of a greenhouse? You’d have us lose our last shred of dignity by groveling to those that declared war on us?”
“Weren’t you supposed to be the captain, Gulliver,” Chancellor Rayne came to the defense. “Oh, that’s right, you got fired on the first day and had to be replaced by your first mate.”
“Pushing us into war isn’t going to clear your guilty conscience,” Chancellor Lumen said.
“It is easy to get riled up and justify answering one travesty with another,” Bell said. “But it is during these times that test our resolve and why it is important we hold on to our principles less we go astray and become like animals.”
“Let’s not forget our policy is Peace at Any Cost,” Lord Chancellor Talus stated.
“We should accept their declaration and meet them in battle,” Admiral Gupta said, lightly hitting the table. “This isn’t a fairytale fantasy. It’s time to accept harsh truths. Barren Wasteland is going to consume the whole kingdom in five years. Dugall proved no one is letting us leave. We are all going to starve to death or cannibalize each other to death. That is an indisputable fact. Only thing we can control is how we face death: fighting on our feet with pride or groveling on our knees like cowards? I say we go out in a blaze of glory taking as many of them with us as we can.”
“What a surprise,” on the far other side of the table Circio said with a smirk, “a warmonger counsels war. Violence is always the answer, isn’t it?”
“That’s some talk from a torturer.”
Everyone erupted into an old-fashioned feud between pacifists and warmongers. Instead of stopping the argument the regent silently stared at the exquisite hand painted world map on the back wall and patiently waited for them to regain composure on their own. On the other hand, the person sitting silently at the end of the table caught her attention. It was Julian, Deputy Representative to the Senate. He was recording the minutes of the meeting for Representative Nahstrum, who was still on vacation. His lackluster performance was out of character, especially the unwashed hair and greasy skin. There were dark circles around his puffy red eyes, his cheeks looked sunken and his nose was red. It wasn’t the occasional shedding of a tear. He had the appearance of a broken man experiencing constant episodes of uncontrollable sobbing.
Eventually the regent had to break up the debate with clarification. “Long as I am regent, we will never sacrifice one of our own to appease the outside world.” She cleared her throat and sipped water. “What else have they done?”
“Preparing to attack. More Sea Dogs are arriving in the gulf every day.”
“Numbers?”
“Sixty-six so far,” Admiral Gupta took over. “Thirty-eight modern battlecruisers. Twelve recovery boats. Sixteen combat ships. And scouts reported this morning seeing four troop transports six days out heading our way.”
Gulliver, having already explained the specifics to the chancellors, reiterated for the regent’s benefit, “Battlecruisers will break the barrier and begin long range bombardment on the city’s defense. Combat ships provide cover as the transports beach themselves on shore and sixteen-hundred heavy infantry pour out as the first wave.” He said tapping the fountain pen on the notepad. “Secure a forward base, most likely the harbor, use it as a landing spot for more waves. Penetrating the city’s defenses will take half the time it took to break the barrier.” The tapping was increasing into a rapid pace. “That’s our navy. We built ‘em for the Third Global War and sold ‘em sixty years ago. That’s our navy they’re attacking us with. It’s a sick joke.”
“What has the negotiations been like,” the regent asked, wanting to move forward.
Everyone at the table suddenly became quiet as they awkwardly looked away, cleared their throats or took unusually long sips of water.
The Lord Chancellor sighed after realizing the responsibility fell on him to explain. “There hasn’t been any,” he admitted. “Claimed we had to tend to the deportees. Then we just started refusing. Now we’re outright ignoring them. They’d quickly put it together, when you didn’t show, that raising the barrier put you in a coma. Understand, the past fifty-five years the only thing stopping the Empire from invading is fear of our royal magic. Now with proof it’s weak—I mean,” he cleared his throat. “King Aaron, everyone knew he could raise and lower the barrier at will with no…ill effect…”
“What was the plan,” the regent asked, ignoring the egregious insult.
General Fields stated, “Past sixteen days we’ve mobilized the Fifth and Tenth Battalions, your highness. Fifth along the coast and Tenth is at the border crossing, in case they decide to invade on two fronts. I have them further back behind the hills so no one can see them. That way it eliminates the Senate using the excuse of building up their forces because they saw us building up ours.”
“So, there was no plan?”
“Well, tomorrow we were going to provide the evidence to petition the Senate to investigate Dugall,” Chancellor Moore said.
“So, really, there was no plan. General, have the battalions stand down. The Senate will not attack but if they do, we’re going to let them.”
“Highness,” she declared, “we can’t just stand by and let people attack us without reprisal.”
Muscles were stiffening to the point the regent could barely move. “We can and will.” Instead of fast and squeaky like a child, her voice was low, mature and authoritative. “Moment they first attack the barrier, we will send an emergency signal kingdom wide to get down into the underground arks. And yes, I said arks not the weather shelters. The signal opens the entrance and people can fill the foyer.” Instead of wide and darting all over her eyes were steadfast. “The deposition for abdication will be signed for me to ascend as the new monarch and I will cast Scorched-Earth.”
She paused for questions but there were none.
“Barrier will be impenetrable for twenty years. All buildings, all life, everything will be eradicated even magic. Ocean currents will be restored. Barren Wasteland will be gone. Everything.”
“Revirginizing the kingdom?”
The regent had paused to take a sip of water. “Yes, the spell restores the land to what it once was before the touch of humanity. Life will begin anew after the first five years and that is when it will be safe for survivors to resurface. When I start casting, the foyer will open, and people can spread out. Our ancestors built these arks during the height of our power long before the Domain War. They had the foresight to prepare for the next extinction. The archives contain artificial wombs and genetic coding from every plant, animal, bird, fish, insect and us. Underpopulation and fertility crisis will no longer be an issue. There are enough rations to last fifty years. Plenty of entertainment to prevent anyone from going mad. A plethora of knowledge and forgotten magic. When you resurface there’s a good chance, you’ll be stronger than you are right now.”
Again, she waited for questions but there were none.
“Chain of command will remain as it is. Lord Chancellor Talus will be regent. Arks can communicate with one another so none will be at risk of devolving into independent states. When the barrier breaks at the end of twenty years the relic will have been purged and be ready to create a new bloodline of royal magic. Anyone, literally anyone can have it. Though I would prefer it to be one of you here in the room to preserve chain of command. Of course, this is a perfect opportunity to create something new, a true republic with no royal magic. The relic can be used that way. The new barrier won’t be as strong, but it is possible. When I cast the spell, I will leave the relic where it needs to be for that option.” She paused. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t want to cast Scorched-Earth. I don’t want to die. But if the Senate invades, this is the only chance the kingdom has at survival because we cannot fight them off. Can we? Generals, war council, realistically can we fight them off as we are?”
Fields, General of the Army, shut her eyes as her brow furrowed. She didn’t want to admit defeat. “No,” she admitted. “We have the superior armor, magic, training and discipline but they outnumber us by over a hundred thousand to one. They don’t have to be smart, tactical, or even well provisioned. They’ll crush us by sheer size alone.” She was tightening her left fist to the point those closest could hear the leather of her glove.
Chancellor Philip asked, “Your highness, all the arks combined can only house one million. Last census put our population at two and a quarter million. Round it down to two because those in the country are too spread out and won’t make it in time. How do we determine who’s worth saving? Fairest option is a lottery.”
“Everyone can be squeezed into the foyer. Once maximum occupancy is reached the remainder will be put in an induced coma.” She asked but already knew the answer, “Councilor Nomak, is that possible on such a large scale?”
The councilor’s eyes were wide. He had the appearance of being in shock ever since hearing about Scorched-Earth but snapped out of it. “Y-yes, absolutely it is incredibly easy, your highness.”
“With all respect,” Lord Chancellor Talus asked, “I don’t see how the spell can be cast. From what I can remember however many are down below in the arks ten times that must be sacrificed. We put two million down, how do we get the twenty million to sacrifice?”
“The Empire will provide. They have a severe crisis in overpopulation. Desperate to colonize they will send twenty million.”
“Royal magic is fading in other realms but is growing in the Empire. Won’t they see the trap?”
“Exactly. Right now, the Senate holds all the power or so they think,” the regent made one last declaration to garner support. “Peace at Any Cost does not mean forfeiting our dignity when confronted with acts of war and threats of annihilation. It is impossible to make our lives any worse than they are. Neither can you threaten death to a people already cannibalizing each other. Most of us would welcome an early grave. We want the Senate to invade, that is the attitude we need to exhibit in the negotiations tomorrow. We must never say it out loud but make it obvious the spell is not a bluff.”
Hector Rosales, Chief Ambassador to the West, finally arrived. The scent of fresh soil after a rainstorm was overshadowed by strong cologne. It wasn’t a pungent odor, but scented soaps, perfumes and cologne were a luxury that many couldn’t afford. He came straight from the docks and stood in the empty space made by the three tables while trying to catch his breath.
“They agreed to the terms, your highness. Dugall will be first tomorrow morning at ten followed four hours later by the Senate. There were requests for a second round of talks, but I put a stop to that with heavy emphasis the matter will be settled tomorrow. Otherwise the Senate will turn it into a meet and greet with a second round acknowledging what happened and a third to discuss options, etcetera, etcetera. They are masters at procrastinating. It’s important not to play their games. In this regard, it’s best to see it as selling a product, give them limited options, one or two, and force them to make a decision that requires immediate physical action.”
Commander Richard asked, “Who is Dugall sending?”
“Prince Ferdinand. He requested to be allowed into the palace before the sun rises.”
Chancellor Rayne rubbed her face while shaking her head and looked at Councilor Nomak. “Really, you’re going to let a shaman into the kingdom?”
Commander Richard quickly stated, “Dugall has no prince by that name.”
“He’s King Philip’s tenth bastard son. He served a few years in the coast guard. And every summer he works one month at a different business. The people love him and demanded he’d be put in the line of succession. Of course, he doesn’t have any royal blood so that didn’t happen, but he was legitimatized last week. The title is purely ceremonial.”
“They’re not sending Ambassador Ruiz. Does this nonroyal have experience in diplomacy?”
“No.”
“They want us to kill him,” Director Circio declared. “How does a kingdom with no military wage a war? By getting a bigger ally to fight for them. And what’s the easiest way to accomplish that? They did it in the Third Global War. Ambassadors, delegates, those deaths don’t matter. Assassinating a royal on a diplomatic mission is an automatic declaration of war.”
“Do you think he knows he’s being sacrificed?”
“Why do they think we’ll kill him?”
“Why would they think we wouldn’t?”
“Can we get reparations, the captain or anything?”
“No, not even an apology. Dugall firmly believe they’ve done nothing wrong.”
“We will not negotiate for the return of our captain,” the regent declared. “Director Circio, have your Inquisitors bring him back. Make sure he is out of their control before our ten o’clock meeting. No bloodshed. They will know it was us but without evidence they can’t prove it.”
The director happily agreed.
Lord Chancellor Talus objected, “Wherever Dugall is keeping our captain, he is undoubtedly surrounded by their best security. No matter how skilled your spies are, director, you cannot select a team, infiltrate the kingdom, locate the captain, circumvent their security measure and return all without detection in under fifteen hours. An operation such as this takes weeks or—”
“You’re right,” the regent interrupted. “You should have ordered the rescue the day you learned of his capture. Let us all hope our dear captain was not tortured. Because I make this promise, Lord Chancellor, every pain he’s been forced to endure so shall you experience.”
“Then what’s the point of having separate talks with Dugall,” Councilor Nomak asked.
Ambassador Rosales kept rubbing the back of his neck and shifting his weight. He’d open his mouth to say something but quickly look away. Eventually he got the courage to speak up, “There is. I don’t want to say it but it’s the duty of an ambassador to present all options no matter how distasteful. Again, I do not want to say this but Dugall has offered free trade, help restore our economy, feed our starving masses, support us in the Senate, and pay a quarter of our debt to the Empire.”
“They hate us, but they’d be our saviors. What do they require in exchange?”
He closed his eyes, licked his lips, swallowed and shook his head. “It involves you, your highness, appealing to their ego. You would need to get on your knees in front of them and submit by declaring their kingdom is superior to ours in every way and that only they have the virility to save your people. You would also need to surrender our half of the gulf to them.”
“And why not have her suck his cock while she’s at it?”
Rosales widened his eyes, stretched a corner of his mouth and slowly tilted his head to convey that she would have to perform fellatio.
Chancellor Bell spoke before anyone got the chance, “Maybe we should set aside Dugall for now and rehearse what we way to the Senate.”
General Maddox, in charge of military logistics, said, “What we’re doing right now, with all this talking, is just ‘what if’ scenarios. Truth is, only way to know how best to approach a situation is just wait till it arrives. Over prepping can screw us all to hell. I suggest we end this meeting now and get a full night’s rest.”
They convened for the evening. The regent ordered Ambassador Rosales to stay while everyone else left the Royal Office. When Chancellor Bell left the room so did the scent of fresh soil after a rainstorm. The doors were closed, and guards kept watch outside to stop any interruptions. The air smelled of wood polish mixed with the ambassador’s cologne. Rosales remained standing and kept glancing at the doors.
“Refreshments,” the regent asked, still seated. “I’ve always loved this room,” she said while pouring herself a glass of water. “Used to make a fort under this very table as father sat at that desk signing all manner of documents,” she smiled from nostalgia. “You will no longer be involved in the negotiations.”
“Y-your highness, please, what I said earlier about—it’s my job to present all options.”
She raised a hand to signal him to stop talking. “The Senate and Dugall will be expecting you and Representative Nahstrum to be present for these talks. I refuse to meet their expectations.”
“W-what else am I to do?”
“Crown acquired the Hardin Mines after the rebellion last year. Tomorrow you will leave the kingdom and go to the Polaris Combine, where you will secure a trade agreement. Their gold for our iron, coal and saltpeter. Currently we mine a cumulative of five thousand tons per month but this time next year it will be three million tons per year.”
“You’re opening them up to foreign trade? Your highness, those resources can be a huge bargaining chip in the talks with the Senate tomorrow.”
She leaned back in the chair and said, “I know the Combine is preparing for war against the Senate. What’s taking them so long is a lack of resources. Buying from us, they can finally turn their entire navy into steel battlecruisers and with the right combinations of enchantments stand a real chance at victory. The fifteen neutral city-states between them and Angoria should provide enough workers to increase weapon manufacturing exponentially. I know they’ve already taken two and plan to annex the rest.”
Rosales glanced at the locked doors and awkwardly smiled. “It is true a technological boom in the Shaman Domain is causing an uproar. And there are talks of military action but your highness if war were to break out it would be ten or twenty years from now and by then the arms race will have kept the peace.”
“Why give your enemy ten years to fortify themselves when you can attack when they are unprepared? A huge advantage can be gained by controlling when the war starts.” The regent finished off the glass of water. Her muscles were stiffening so she walked slowly across the office to the map of the world on the back wall. She used a pointer to identify the Nation of Argen’s five bays. “Three days a year all their fleets are in this one bay and vacant for their biggest holiday. You will provide them with the security information they require.” She used the pointer to identify the continent. “Without ships Argen cannot uphold their military contract. The Combine is to send a small army to invade Angoria, a kingdom of farmers with no military of their own. They won’t ask the Empire or the Senate for aid in fear of losing their independence. Desperation will bring them to me. One of our battalions will meet the Combine’s forces in mock combat. Half of Angoria’s surplus can feed the Combine’s soldiers indefinitely and the other half will feed our starving masses.”
Rosales stroke the thick mustache of his overall beard in order to hide the smile.
“You will inform the Combine our kingdom’s barrier will remain erect to prevent Sahara from marching their troops across the land bridge thus forcing them to sail around the whole continent where they will cross into Chaos waters and most likely die. The Combine’s home will be safe from a ground east flank and a southern rear attack. Everything will be on their schedule except for trade. Payments must begin early this summer, within the next three months.”
The regent filled the nearest unused cup with water. Rosales wouldn’t stop side eyeing her.
“This is not an alliance,” she continued. “Geography surrounds us with realms in the Senate, meaning we must remain for now. Regarding our King and his army, we have lost all communication due to the machinations of the Empire. The Senate treats us as two separate entities. It would be best for the Combine to do as well. If my father is killed, emphasize the moment I attain crown royal magic I will obliterate the entire civilization of the culprit. If the King is encountered, capture and send him back to us. I would be eternally grateful in the form of a public alliance, my marriage bed and whatever remains of the King’s six hundred thousand army will fight for the Combine.”
He glanced at the doors and lowered his voice, but it wasn’t a whisper, “You want me to go to the Polaris Combine and start the Fourth Global War?”
“Yes.”
He glanced at the doors and rubbed his face. “Horrible atrocities will occur. Violations of human rights will rise to levels never before—hundreds of millions will die. A movement is gaining speed around the globe trying to achieve world peace through free trade, diplomacy and getting rid of all royal magic. Without their barriers those countries will be wiped out. The Polaris Combine is a merchant republic, your highness, obsessed with profit. Their politicians are cutthroat businessmen with no empathy and no mercy. They openly engage in slavery, organ black markets, sex and drug trafficking. The Senate sees them as evil incarnate. Even the Empire, with their duplicitous nature, find them morally reprehensible.”
The regent drank water.
“This is a well thought out plan, your highness, but we shouldn’t let what’s happening in the gulf provoke us into making a rash decision. Wanting to lash out in anger and bitterness is—”
“Past three years I have been gathering intelligence, reading reports and working out every scenario,” she interrupted with a calm voice.
His eyes widened from the realization, “The five times you summoned me but canceled. Those were this meeting? Why now, what’s changed?”
She doesn’t want to admit it’s because she was weak. “There were other options. Ambassador, I would not be pursuing this unless it was the only option we had left. I will set the world on fire and destroy the ashes of whatever remains to save my people.”
He glanced at the doors, “That is in direction violation of our policy Peace at Any Cost.”
She continued to look him in the eyes. “Peace at Any Cost has two meanings: be a doormat by making all manner of compromise and sacrificing one’s dignity to live a little longer; the second is the complete annihilation of all your enemies, without conflict there is only peace.”
He glanced at the doors and stepped closer, “But the Combine is our enemy.”
“They are to the Senate and to humanity, but they are not my enemy. They have proven themselves more of an ally than those that claim to be and legally are. I trust you above all other ambassadors and diplomats to carry out this mission. There’s not enough time for negotiations to go back and forth so you will have full control to make the deal. You also have the freedom to decline of course, but you will need to drink a Qandar Potion to erase all memory of our discussion.”
He glanced at the doors, “You want me to believe this is real?”
“This is not a trick. I know you are not a shaman or a shaman sympathizer. Councilor Nomak is not on the other side listening if that’s what you fear. The Council will believe we’re selling iron and coal to Angoria in exchange for food.”
His back straightened but he stood more relaxed and stroked his beard hiding the smile. “This will be a permanent looming threat of exposure. We will be war criminals of the highest—any time the Senate learns of our involvement they will point their swords at us, and they will attack. Highness, there’s no going back when you get in bed with a demon.”
The regent spoke with unwavering confidence, “Ambassador Rosales, I do not fear the world’s wrath, it is the world that will grow to fear mine. Do you accept?”
His eyes were glistening with joy as he could no longer hide his enormous smile. “Absolutely I agree, your highness. This is…marvelous. I cannot express how reassuring it is to know a pissed off badger is once again on the throne viciously defending its den. Never been happier than right now to be an ambassador. Death to blue jay pacifism. Finally.”
Though phrased as a compliment the regent was unsure if that’s what he meant. A snarling badger was the sigil of the royal family back when the kingdom was overly militaristic but was changed to the pacifist blue jay after the Domain War four hundred years ago.
“You will be escorted by two Inquisitors of high rank,” she said.
“Good. That’s good. It’ll add credibility, shows you’re serious. Is this a trap? They’ll never ask but it’s going to be in the back of their minds. Curry favor with the Senate by presenting the heads of the Combine. If it is, I’m all for it, but I need to know so I don’t screw it up by accident.”
“Throughout history every realm in the Senate has suffered their own civil war. Our kingdom has always stayed out of it by remaining neutral to every party. Civil wars must run their course without foreign interference. Many cry, ‘unfair’, ‘heartless’, ‘cruel’ but people need to solve their own problems. If the Senate had stayed out of our Succession Wars, it would have lasted only two weeks instead of decades. They have denied my people humanitarian aid three times.” She held up a finger and glanced away for a second to calm the anger. “You can tell the Combine or not, that’ll be your discretion. With or without them the war will happen. My ancestors built the Senate building on Deluga Island and intentionally withheld certain blueprints. My Inquisitors know how to infiltrate. During the annual Grand Hearing when every senator, important figure, Candala’s president and the Emperor’s heir is present, when security is at its highest, it will be destroyed. Clues will be left behind incriminating the Combine. We all know how Candala reacts when someone preemptively strikes against them especially without warning. In their blind rage they’ll launch royal magic to annihilate anyone they think is culpable. The Combine can either fight in the war at full strength with me as an unofficial ally or be slaughtered.”
Rosales was grinning from ear to ear, “I can definitely make this deal. I’ll need a sample of our iron, coal and saltpeter. Combine will want to test the quality.”
“Inquisitors will have that.”
“Because I’ll be away from family for so long in a dangerous foreign land, may I ask something of your highness?”
“Of course.”
“Once the payments start coming in, can you divert some gold to fix up the royal park in Crescent Bay? My wife was a ranger back in our youth, it’s where we met and got married. I retire in ten years and plan to renew our vows. It would bring her more joy than the birth of our first grandchild to have that park reopen.”
The regent smiled, “Yes.”
After the ambassador left, the regent slumped over the nearest table while holding her left side and breathing hard. Slowly she made it back to her chair while saying aloud, “I know you’re listening, Circio, you’ve bugged every room.” She suddenly tensed up from a sharp pain and took a moment to exhale slowly. “Inquisitors you send to escort Rosales need to gather intel. Case the Senate fails to destroy the Combine, we’ll need to know how they plan to fight in the global war so we can finish them off. When Rosales undergoes the Valencia for ambassadors, make sure you leave the discussion we just had unprotected. They might do a Drop of Truth on him and I want them to see the words were in fact coming from my mouth. Otherwise it was a complete waste going through all that with him. Oh, and, um,” she coughed. “I know weeks ago I said ‘no’ to the assassination of the brother to Queen Makeda, but you have full permission. Maybe coordinate it with the destruction of Argen’s navy.”
Alone in the Royal Office she took off the top-quality wig and gently rubbed her shaven head while lightly touching the four sixteen-day old surgical incisions. The report on the table contained more in-depth information about the thirty-one-thousand-two-hundred-eight-three survivors. There was a bag containing hundreds of Drops of Truth documenting what the deserters were forced to endure. She picked a few at random to watch at top speed while drinking water.
*
Serving as first mate on Ironsides was the greatest honor I’d ever have in my life. Being her captain? I kept thinking Captain Gulliver was on sick leave and my command was just temporary. Or that it was all just a lucid dream. None of it felt real until that morning.
Third day as captain, my first command, an entirely new crew and our first time leaving the pier. Thirty-one thousand unarmed civilians were being chucked overboard like rancid garbage. The location they chose was far from the barrier. We were only two warships, three hundred years outdated and outmanned. Vengeance was surrounded. There must have been an upgrade to magic disruptors because they were jamming all communication between me and the admiral, cutting us off from command. The territorial and unpredictable whales were still migrating just outside the gulf. Can’t destroy armored hulls, but I’ve seen them work together to capsize a modern battlecruiser. Conditions for battle was against our favor. I ordered the crew to prepare for combat, but I would never give the order to engage. They were deliberately trying to provoke us. It was an obvious trap. We would have been slaughtered. Safety of the civilians was top priority.
Short-range communications were still operational. The Marriot, a triple-decked ferry, still had all their civilians and requested a ship to ship transfer. I heard the clicks. They were recording the conversation and wanted me to decline so they’d have an excuse to the Senate with evidence. ‘They refused normal transfer, what else were we to do.’ There was also the chance they’d fire hidden cannons when we got close enough, then claim we had open fired. I had to risk war. I could not give them an excuse for what they were doing.
Twenty minutes in, I saw what appeared to be a shouting match between the captain and officers. Suspected a mutiny because moments later they were shoving civilians overboard and their captain with a few other officers were nowhere to be found. Against orders to hold position, a gunner jumped ship and was punching one of their coast guards. If they had taken him into custody, he would have been tortured and killed but the captain of a ship would be treated with respect. So, I took off my gloves, punched downward on the mast to cut my knuckles and went to the front of the crowd just as their officers arrived. They saw the bleeding knuckles and per the treaty took me into custody.
On shore, they tried tricking me into signing papers declaring my intentions to defect or seek asylum. Laws of Conduct permit full conversations but why make it easy for them? The room was being recorded so I decided to play their game. All I ever said was my name, rank and number.
A Colonel Vega moved me to a cell for ‘my protection’. We were both aware of the situation and knew the game had to be played. There are jails for the poor and those for the rich. Mine was somewhere in the middle, wasn’t luxurious but wasn’t disgusting. He kept insisting I take off the armor to be more comfortable.
The prototype was created over five hundred years ago by all four magic domains and to this day the Four-Fifty-One navy battle armor is still the most advanced in the world. They wanted the armor and I suspected they’d laced each meal to knock me out, so they can take it without any hassle. I had activated the armor before leaving my ship, it would keep me alive for a year without food, drink and eliminate the need to utilize the latrine. I stood at parade-rest the entire time in the middle of the cell and silently stared at my captors. Spent enough time in the navy to learn how to sleep with eyes open. They kept the lights on continuously and randomized the changing of the guard along with any other behavior that could be used to track the passage of time.
An admiral of the Senate’s Sea Dogs requested an interview. I was being escorted through the building. Started noticing all the guards were unconscious. Pieces of wire were around their necks, shoulders, elbows, chest, hips, knees. They were strategically placed to keep them attached to the walls as if still manning their posts. Guards escorting me kept quiet and I never said a word.
I’ve read about this tactic used by intelligence agents. Instead of torture they stage a rescue to gain trust and it can go on for months ‘laying low’ and ‘waiting for the right time to escape the city’. For a staged rescue it was disappointing, I was expecting a raid of sorts, storming the place, taking out the guards, smokescreens, the works.
It wasn’t staged. They were Inquisitors in disguise. Later they explained I had been a captive for sixteen days, war had yet to break out, regent woke from the coma eight hours ago and the first thing she ordered was my immediate rescue, but it had to be bloodless and look like Dugall’s own people had done it. There were angry protesters everywhere. Took us three days to get back.
I am eternally grateful for all that was done to facilitate the rescue. And I am in no position to ask anything but what has become of the gunner?
Yes, he disobeyed orders and committed an act of war. Technically, I abandoned ship in a time of great crisis, yet I’m to retain command. Your highness, if I may ask a favor to restore the gunner to his post. Going back to the ship, working alongside his crewmates, forced to look them in the eyes is going to be punishment enough. No, I do not condone or tolerate group punishment and I am not asking for him back so I can punish him. It’s just, I cannot in good conscience allow a member of my crew be denied the same second chance I’ve been bestowed.
Thank you, your highness, I am…thank you.