“If he does, can he then retake Ylith?” asked Patrick.
Akee glanced at Erik and Arutha, both of whom nodded to him. Akee looked at Patrick and said, “No, he cannot. He would need three times the number of swords he has at his call to stand a chance of retaking Ylith. He can hold where he is, unless this General Fadawah turns his entire force northward—which he won’t do if he’s moving soldiers south to hold Krondor—but Duke Carl cannot retake Ylith.”
“My lords and gentlemen,” said the Prince, “LaMut is, by necessity, die anvil.” He looked at Owen Greylock and said, “My Lord Marshal, your army must by needs be the hammer.”
Owen said, “It’s a small hammer, Patrick.”
The Prince said, “Indeed, but Kesh is arrayed in force along our southern border, what’s left of our fleet is keeping Queg and die Durbin pirates at bay, and some of the eastern kings are getting ambitious. You’ll have to make do with your current force.”
Owen said, “That’s barely twenty thousand men, against how many? A hundred thousand?”
Patrick said, “We can’t just let them keep what they’ve taken until we resolve these other issues, can we?”
His question was greeted by silence.
Patrick looked from face to face in the room. “I’m not ignorant of the flaws of my own ancestors. We took every inch of land from somebody else to make the Western Realm. Only Yabon joined the Kingdom willingly, and that because we saved them from the Brotherhood of the Dark Path, else they would have fallen.
“But the only reason there’s a Baron von Darkmoor in the first place is the bandit ancestor of your own Captain Erik was too tough a nut to crack, and it was easier to make him a Kingdom noble and let him keep the land he had already taken than it was to kill him and put some king’s idiot nephew here in his place.” Patrick’s voice began to rise. “And several other accommodations have been made over the years, allowing former enemies to become valued vassals.” Now his voice was raised to the point of yelling. “But I’ll be damned to the Seventh Hell if I let some murdering bastard set himself up as ‘King of the Bitter Sea’ and rule over my Principality. If Fadawah does, it will be with one foot on my dead body!”
Dash and James exchanged glances. They didn’t need to say anything. The message was clear. Owen Greylock and Erik von Darkmoor, and what remained of the Armies of the West, would have to retake the Principality without any outside assistance.
Owen cleared his throat. Patrick glanced at his Knight-Marshal of Krondor and said, “Yes?”
“Is there anything else, Highness?”
Patrick was silent a long moment, then said, “No.” To the men in the room he said, “My lords and gentlemen, you are all under Marshal Greylock’s command from this moment on. Treat his orders as if they are my own.”
He lowered his voice. “And may the gods smile on us,” he said. And left.
The nobles in the room began muttering comments to one another, then Owen said, “My lords!”
Silence returned to the hall.
Greylock said, “We move in the morning. I expect to have advanced units in Ravensburg by nightfall, and scouts to the walls of Krondor by the end of the week.” He glanced from face to face, then said, “You know what to do.”
The men began to file out of the room, and Erik came to stand before Dash and James. “You’re with me,” he said, turning and walking toward a small door off to one side.
The brothers found their father waiting in the room already, and in a moment Greylock entered, closing the door behind. “I just wanted to let you two know,” said Owen, addressing the brothers, “that you’re going to be given the dirtiest, most thankless job we’ve got.”
Dash smiled. “Smashing!”
Jimmy threw his brother a dark look, and said, “What is it?”
“Jimmy, you’re in charge of our special advance unit.”
“Special advance unit?” asked Jimmy.
Arutha nodded. “Him,” he said, pointing to Dash.
Dash rolled his eyes heavenward but said nothing. He had long ago accustomed himself to being under his older brother’s direction whenever they were working together.
Arutha said, “Owen said he needed a couple of sneaky bastards to operate behind enemy lines.” He smiled at his sons. “I told him your parentage wasn’t in doubt, but that you were sneaky enough for the job.”
“When do we leave?” said Jimmy.
“Now,” said Erik. “There are a pair of horses waiting for you by the postern gate, with supplies for a week.”
James said, “A week? That means you’ll want us inside of Krondor when your scouts reach the walls?”
Owen nodded. “Or close by. Leave those uniforms here and dress like a couple of free swords. If you get caught, tell them you’re Valemen looking to enlist.”
Dash grinned, but his tone was mocking. “Oh, joy. We’re playing at spies again.”