Lerial seats himself, accepts a beaker of lager from the servitor, who swiftly withdraws, and waits for the commander to speak.
“I have to say that I’m surprised that Duke Kiedron decided to support Duke Atroyan … although I do believe such is in his interests.” Sammyl’s black eyes focus on Lerial.
“My father, to my knowledge, has always put the interests of Cigoerne above personal feelings.” Even in dealing with family. “So did my grandmere.”
The commander nods. “Your presence would suggest that in regards to your father. I have only heard stories about the empress, but those suggest a rather … powerful personality.”
“I saw most of that in retrospect. She was unfailingly kind, if firm, in dealing with me.”
“Your presence does present … certain challenges.”
Lerial decides to let silence respond for him, although he nods and then waits, punctuating the silence with a sip of the amber lager … better than many he has tasted, but not quite so good as that brewed at Kinaar by the majer, although it had taken Lerial years to appreciate that.
“Some five years ago, a certain Mirror Lancer undercaptain destroyed, and that is, from what can be determined, an accurate summary of what occurred, an entire battalion of Afritan Guards dispatched directly by Duke Atroyan. This has not been mentioned often, but it has not been forgotten either.”
“As I recall, Commander, never has a Mirror Lancer force ever entered Afritan territory, except now, and that has only been by the invitation of the duke.” Or his seal.
“That is true,” admits Sammyl, “but it still poses a certain difficulty.”
“Because some officers might feel a certain concern? They shouldn’t, not unless they intend the Mirror Lancers or Cigoerne harm … and act on that intent.”
“I thought you might say something like that. Still … it is good to hear those words. No one of your lineage has ever, to my knowledge, broken their word … unlike some other rulers.”
Lerial has the feeling that Sammyl is not alluding to just Khesyn and Casseon. “My father has stressed the importance of keeping one’s word, regardless of the costs.” And the majer emphasized the great danger in making threats.
“Subcommander Drusyn has expressed an interest in working with you, in any instance where he would require forces additional to his battalion. Would that be satisfactory to you?”
“If it is acceptable to you and to the arms-commander,” replies Lerial, hoping his initial judgment of the subcommander is accurate.
“Good. It may not come to that, but…”
“Do you have any idea where Khesyn might first attack?”
“It’s unlikely to be anywhere but here. My best judgment is that he will attack here in order to take Luba, gain complete control of the river, and then move north until he can bring his forces at Estheld across and attack Swartheld.”
“Does he have that massive a force? What about white wizards or mages?”
“He has gained the support of several war leaders of the western Tourlegyn clans. It’s likely he’s promised them spoils. The Tourlegyns love spoils and pillaging. He is also known to have mages and white wizards, but how many … and how talented … who knows?”
“Might I ask about your forces?”
Sammyl smiles wryly. “Afrit has never been endowed with many with chaos or healing talents. So few that most are jealously guarded by the merchanters who pay them handsomely.”
Atroyan can’t command their use against invaders? That raises some disturbing concerns, but not ones that Lerial can afford to mention. Not at present.
“As I am sure you understand,” Sammyl continues, “Khesyn is likely to have the tacit support of Duke Casseon. Your presence here will likely reinforce that support.”
Wonderful! Casseon’s support of Khesyn can’t be considered unexpected after the Verdyn rebellion. Even as he thinks that, Lerial is also aware that all the other officers are keeping well away from the two of them, not that he wouldn’t have done exactly the same thing in their boots. “I doubt that he will commit armsmen.”
“Not unless we are unsuccessful.”
Lerial shakes his head. “He won’t even then. He wants Verdheln back, and he wants Cigoerne destroyed.”
“You may be right about that, but…”
“That will happen if Afrit falls … and that is why we are here.”
“I’m glad we’re both clear on that.” Sammyl shifts his weight in the armchair. “I just thought we might have a few words.” He stands. “Oh … one other thing. If you want your uniforms cleaned, bring them to the room at the foot of the stairs in the morning.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your courtesy and your directness, ser.” Lerial rises as well.