The Death of Chaos

5.Death of Chaos

 

 

 

 

 

CIX

 

 

Dellash, Delapra [Candar]

 

 

 

DYRSSE LEANS BACK in the wooden chair, watching the heavyset officer in the tan uniform. The younger man steps out of the full sunlight of the courtyard and looks around, studying the bay below and the rows upon rows of black ships anchored in the bay. From a host of funnels rise thin lines of smoke.

 

A faint smile crosses his face as the naval officer turns, his eyes barely resting on the low forested hills to the west before he crosses the covered veranda to the corner table where Dyrsse waits.

 

The brown-haired and brown-skinned officer stops and gives Dyrsse the faintest of nods. “Reel Commander Stupelltry, at your service, Marshal Dyrsse.”

 

“You and your fleet are most welcome, Fleet Commander.” Dyrsse smiles politely. “Please have a seat.” His almost delicate fingers jab toward the other wooden armchair.

 

Stupelltry sits down gracefully. “I am here to serve the Emperor and you, as requested by His Majesty.”

 

“That's true. You are here because the Emperor Stesten has decided to eliminate Recluce, and we are the tools to accomplish this. It is our duty.”

 

“You have worked closely with the throne, Marshal, and the Emperor is well aware of your dedication, and your accomplishments in taking over a third of Candar with a relatively small use of resources.”

 

“Yes, it was relatively small.” Dyrsse nods to the pitcher. “Delapran wine. I wouldn't know, but it's supposedly not bad. Would you like some?”

 

“No, thank you.”

 

Dyrsse looks out at the bay, and the rows of ships. “A man of decision, wanting to get on with it.” He smiles. “What do you wish to get on with, Fleet Commander Stupelltry?”

 

“I would be less than candid if I were to say that I was pleased to have the bulk of the Emperor's fleet so far from Afrit. I wish to complete the subjugation of Recluce and Candar and return to Hamor.” Stupelltry's voice is level, and his eyes do not flinch as they meet Dyrsse's.

 

Dyrsse laughs. “Candar is far indeed from Afrit. I share your desire to subjugate Candar and destroy the power of Recluce. Are you ready to commit all your fleet? It will take no less.”

 

“Surely the third of the fleet that has arrived...”

 

Dyrsse laughs again. “Take your ships home. Send a courier boat out to tell those en route to return to Hamor.”

 

Stupelltry flushes.

 

“Forget Candar. Recluce is what has stopped the Emperor. With Recluce's power destroyed, twoscore ships would be enough to capture and hold Candar. Without Recluce's destruction, your fleet will never provide enough support to take Candar.”

 

“You presume-”

 

“Too much? I presume nothing.” Dyrsse straightens. “It will take all of your ships to destroy the handful of black ships and the city of Nylan.” He shrugs. “Once that is done...”

 

“And what clever tactics will accomplish such a difficult feat?” Stupelltry pauses but for a moment before pressing on. “You are so sure of your mandate-”

 

Dyrsse ignores the irony placed on the word “difficult” and leans forward. "The Emperor is the liege lord of Afrit, Regent of the Gates of the Ocean, and Emperor of Hamor, the mightiest empire in the history of the world. Yet, for all that mightiness, twice before have we been humbled in Candar and before Recluce. Our traders continue to labor under trade rules forced by Recluce. Over the years, those unseen black warships have sunk traders for trifling violations of the trade laws laid down by one small isle. For whose benefit are those rules enforced? For the black isle, of course.

 

“Candar is rife with strife, with chaos wizardry, and with violence. People live in terror of most of the rulers. Compare that to Afrit, where no one fears invasion or war. And who fosters that terror? The black isle, no less.”

 

Dyrsse pauses and smiles. “Are you sure you would not like some of the wine?”

 

“No, thank you.”

 

“As you wish.” The marshal leans forward again. “You asked about clever tactics. Clever tactics won't work. What will work is thousands of iron shells falling on Nylan nearly all at once. It's that simple and that difficult. Can you do that, Fleet Commander Stupelltry? Can you bring your ships to Nylan through the heaviest storms you have ever seen and pound that city into a mass of crushed stone and black gravel?” He pauses. “That is what the Emperor needs. That is our duty, the one laid on me personally by His Mightiness Stesten-to crush Nylan into black gravel.”

 

“I am a fleet commander, not a stone crusher.”

 

“No... you and I are the Emperor's stone crushers... and we will be crushed if we fail.”

 

 

 

 

 

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