The officers had assembled and the silence was awkward. Erik stood beside Owen’s empty chair of command. He glanced around the room. There were a dozen captains senior to him, but none holding the unique position of Captain of the Prince’s Crimson Eagles. The nobility in the tent was also senior to him, but none of them were part of Patrick’s command structure.
Erik self-consciously cleared his throat, then said, “My lords, we are faced with a dilemma. The Knight-Marshal has fallen and we are in need of a commander. Until Prince Patrick appoints one, we need to be united in our duty.” He looked around the tent. Many eyes regarded him suspiciously. “If Captain Subai were here, I would easily accept him as leader, given his years of service to the Principality. Or if Captain Calis, my predecessor, were here, he also would easily ascend to the office of commander. But we have a situation both dangerous and awkward.”
Erik looked at one old soldier, the Earl of Makurlic, and said, “My Lord Richard.”
“Captain?”
“Of those here you are senior in service and age. I would be honored to follow your command.”
The minor Earl, from a small corner of the Kingdom located outside Deep Taunton, appeared both surprised and pleased. He glanced around the tent, and when no one seemed to object, he said, “I will serve as interim commander until the Prince names another, Captain.”
There seemed an almost palpable sigh of relief in the tent as the conflict between the Prince’s handpicked Captain and the more traditional nobles was avoided for the time being. The Earl of Makurlic said, “Let us get the Knight-Marshal on his way back to Krondor, then I want a meeting of all senior staff immediately after.”
Erik von Darkmoor saluted and said, “Sir,” and left the tent before anyone could say another word. He hurried in search of Jadow Shati, for he needed to make sure his own men knew what they must do before any other officer could find them and send them off on another mission. He might give public acknowledgment to the new commander, but he wasn’t about to turn his own men over to the whim of a man who a year before had been hosting parties at his peaceful seaside estate a half-continent away.
Save those soldiers guarding prisoners, the entirety of the Kingdom’s Army of the West stood at attention as the wagon carrying Greylock’s body rolled south. Men who barely knew the Knight-Marshal of Krondor stood side by side with men who had served every step of the way with Owen.
Despite the previous day’s victory, there was a grim mood in camp, as if everyone sensed that the easy victories were behind them now, and that the future held only more loss and suffering.
Drummers beat a slow tattoo and a single horn blew farewell, and as the wagon passed each company on parade, they dipped their banners and the men saluted, fist over heart, head bowed, until the wagon moved on.
When the last company on parade was left behind, a company of Krondorian lancers, twenty handpicked men, fell in, ten on each side of the wagon, to escort the leader of their army back to the capital.
Each company commander dismissed his men, and Richard, Earl of Makurlic, sounded an officer’s call. Erik hurried to the command tent, putting aside his discomfort at seeing someone else sitting in Owen’s old chair.
Earl Richard was an old man, grey hair and blue eyes his dominant features. His long face seemed worn by years of duty, but his voice was strong and without hesitation when he spoke. “I am appointing Captain von Darkmoor my second-in-command, gentleman, to keep as much continuity as possible. For that reason, I’m asking all of you to return to your previous assignments, and to funnel all communications through Captain von Darkmoor. I will instruct my son, Lelan, to assume command of our cavalry units from Makurlic. That will be all.”
The nobles and other officers departed, and Richard said, “Erik, stay a moment.”
“Sir?” asked Erik when they were alone.
“I know why you chose me, son,” said the old officer. “You’ve a fair grasp of politics. I appreciate that. What I don’t appreciate is any thought you might have of using me for your own gains.”
Erik stiffened. “Sir, I will follow your orders and offer you the best counsel of which I am capable. Should you find my service lacking, you may remove me at your pleasure and I will not voice objection, even to the Prince.”
“Well said,” replied the Earl, “but now I need to know your heart. I’ve seen you lead men in the field, von Darkmoor, and the reports of your actions last year at Nightmare Ridge do you credit, but I need to know I can depend on you.”