Crossing the river had been an adventure, and it had taken all day. Two men got swept away with the current as they were struggling to get the carriages across. Aeolwyn wished he had some method to build a bridge, but he didn’t. At least, no method that would have been unnoticeable.

  While the mage corps was using magic to help get the carriages and soldiers across, Aeolwyn sent Reiva out with some scouts to make sure that they wouldn’t be seen by any Fennish scouts who may have been on patrol out of Tinar Outpost. He didn’t know what they would do if they saw any scouts. He left that decision up to the individual scouts.

  He would prefer not to kill them just yet, but this was war, and those sorts of things were going to happen. He didn’t want any word getting back to the outpost that they were crossing the river, but he also didn’t want to alarm the outpost when their scouts didn’t return from their patrols.

  Fortunately, the scouts didn’t encounter anyone on their patrols, and the army was safely able to cross the river without alerting the Fenns, nor getting harassed by any scouts coming out from Fort Camulan.

  “My lord prince,” Wollams asked as soon as the last group had finished crossing. “What do you plan to do about Tinar Outpost? The army can’t move until we deal with it.”

  The outpost itself wasn’t much of a problem. With the men they had, they could easily take it, especially knowing how lax their security was the last time he was on this side of the river. But a large army makes noise, and even the lazy soldiers at Tinar would notice that. And once that happened, a messenger would quickly be on his way to the general in charge, or even the capital. Then the whole kingdom would know they were here, and Aeolwyn wasn’t ready for that.

  “We’ll do what we did before,” he said, nodding to Reiva and Egne. “We’ll send a small group to take the outpost.”

  “Send me, my lord,” Wollams said. “Me and my knights will deliver that outpost for you.”

  Aeolwyn shook his head. He knew Wollams was itching for action. It was commendable, but he only had three knights. He couldn’t afford to lose a single one of them this early in the campaign. Not before he’d promoted some squires and had the resources to equip them.

  “I’m sorry, count.” He glanced over at Reiva. “I was thinking of something a little more discreet.”

  “If they haven’t realized their mistake, we could go in the same way,” Reiva said. “Take the fort from the inside.”

  “I say burn it,” Galafar said.

  He wasn’t wrong. Aeolwyn would love to give them that sort of retribution. But burning the outpost would be counterproductive. It was a fitting revenge for what they did to Lannic Outpost, but that was in the past, and Tinar was no Fort Camulan.

  “No,” Aeolwyn said. “We take the outpost, and man it with a few of our own men. Enough not to arouse suspicion.”

  “I am in agreement with Galafar on this,” Wollams said, surprising everyone, including himself. “We can’t spare the men.”

  Aeolwyn drove his hand into his fist. “Nor can we afford to lose the element of surprise so soon.”

  “We could just leave it abandoned,” Reiva said. “It’s not like we’ll be sending our own men as messengers back to Fenn Castle.”

  “Agreed,” Wollams said. “It’s a fair compromise.”

  “Fine,” Aeolwyn agreed. “I’ll take Reiva, Egne, and two dozen soldiers. We leave at midnight.”

  “My lord,” Wollams said. “You’re the general. You can’t go on this mission.”

  “Benefits of rank, count.”

  Galafar stood beside Wollams, eyeing him strangely. “He’s right, general. You’re too important. Send one of us instead.”

  He was about to protest, but he knew they were right. As much as he wanted to bury his sword in a Fennish soldier, he couldn’t afford to put himself at risk like that. There would be plenty of time for that later.

  “All right,” he said. “Galafar, you go. You’ve been there before.”

  His friend nodded and slipped off with Reiva and Egne. He hated that Wollams was right. What if something happened to them? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he’d just sent his friends off to their deaths.

  “I know you want to lead from the front my lord, and that’s commendable,” Wollams said. “But you have to remember that you’re in command here, and everyone’s lives depend on your decisions. Your responsibilities to them outweigh your desire for action.”

  He wanted to resent Count Wollams for the lecture, but there wasn’t a single hint of condescension in his voice. He was just a more experienced soldier passing advice on to a younger one. He knew exactly what Aeolwyn had wanted to do because at some point Wollams would have wanted to as well.

  “I thank you for your counsel, count. I suspect that I will be depending on it a great deal in the coming weeks.”

  He meant it, too. Whether he liked it or not, Count Wollams was his most senior advisor now, both in rank and experience. With Brakus dead, he needed someone with more experience he could lean on for advice. His father and Sir Jom instilled in him the usefulness of good advisors, and after the fiasco at Fort Camulan, it was something he dearly needed.

  ***

  Reiva led them back to the same secret entrance that she’d shown them before. It was exactly as they’d left it. Either the Fenns didn’t know that they’d been infiltrated this way, or they didn’t care. It didn’t matter. This time they were going to pay for it with their lives.

  Galafar ordered that half of the soldiers stay behind and watch the keep. If the soldiers on duty made any strange moves, like suddenly screaming an alarm or running back inside, they were to attack them from behind. The others were with him, Reiva, and Egne.

  “Secure that armor,” he said. “We don’t want any noise.”

  The men did as instructed, and they entered the tunnel. Reiva once again waited until they were well past the entrance before asking for light. She needn’t have bothered. Egne was already casting the spell when she asked.

  Galafar still didn’t know what to think of her. She had been hired by Aeolwyn’s brother to kill him, yet the prince trusted her with his life. If their places had been reversed, Galafar would have run her through the second they’d been teleported to Wickshire.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  But he was the prince, and he was merciful. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he seemed to have a magnetic personality. Anyone spending more than a half-hour with him would feel it. Even the pompous ass Count Wollams was infected by it. Despite the fact that the man was supposed to be loyal to King Alfyn, he had suddenly found himself allied with the king’s estranged brother.

  Then Reiva took the Laryn Oath and bound it with a spell from Egne. That was unheard of. Try as he might, Galafar could not divine her motive for doing that. It was insanely foolish, and with the correctly worded orders, could make her an indentured servant of his rather than an ally.

  Not that Aeolwyn would do it. Galafar doubted such a thing would even cross his mind. Whether that was due to the innocence of his age, or his strong moral character was unclear. Considering him and Alfyn were brought up in the same household, it was probably more the former than the latter.

  Reiva led them down the tunnel until they reached the hidden door. She listened for a few moments and then carefully opened it. Slowly the men filed in, swords at the ready. Things were about to become real.

  They made their way up the stairs and into the mess hall, which was dark and cold. Just as they were about to make their way into the corridor, the door opened, and a soldier quietly made his way in. His eyes widened at the sight of all the soldiers, but before he could cry out an alarm, Reiva leapt up, and drove both her daggers deep into the soldier’s throat. He collapsed to the ground without a sound.

  The silence was punctuated by the sounds of men snoring in the adjacent barracks, which had increased in volume now that the door was open. Galafar looked at Reiva nervously. They didn’t know how many men were in the barracks, and he was uneasy about killing sleeping men, soldiers or not.

  It was either that or take them prisoner, which wasn’t the best proposition either. They would have to drag the men with them on their march across Fennland. He wanted to ask Aeolwyn for his advice, but he was in command here. It was his decision to make.

  “Alarm! Intruders!”

  The Fenns made the decision for him. One of them woke up while he was deliberating and saw the body of his compatriot. Well, at least they wouldn’t be killing sleeping, unarmed men. He drew his sword and charged into the barracks.

  Most of the men were undressed and still reaching for their swords when Galafar and the other soldiers charged in. Galafar took on the one that called the alarm and gutted him before he could even bring his blade up to bear.

  The others didn’t have the same compunction about killing unarmed men and stabbed them where they lay. Though he knew it was necessary, Galafar felt sick. It was one thing to kill a man in a shield wall. It was an entirely different thing to kill him as he lay in bed.

  The last man standing, fled from the room and in short order, an alarm bell rang out. Reiva was quick on his heels and silenced both the man and the bell. They followed her into the fort’s interior. She and Galafar took a few men and climbed the stairs towards the commander’s chambers, while the rest of the men fanned out in search of other soldiers.

  A commotion sprang up outside as a few of the soldiers who had heard the alarm bell sprinted back inside the fort. As ordered, his men pursued them before they could get into the tower and help out their dying comrades.

  Just as they made it to the commander’s door, it opened, and a fat, middle-aged soldier in only a nightshirt and sword jumped out. As soon as he laid eyes on Reiva and Galafar, he dropped his weapon and raised his arms.

  “I surrender!” he shouted. “You can’t kill me!”

  “Maybe I should, Flosin,” Reiva said, stalking closer. The commander tried to turn and flee, but she grabbed him and pulled him forward. “But I won’t. My commander will be interested in what you have to say.”

  She shoved the man towards the handful of soldiers they’d brought up the stairs with them, who took the man and bound his mouth and arms.

  She was smarter than Galafar. He would have just killed the man, but if he was commander, he would have access to a lot of intelligence that Aeolwyn would be interested in. Troop movements, plans, strategies—all valuable information to an invading army.

  How had she known his name, though?

  It didn’t take long to capture the rest of the fort. There were only two dozen soldiers guarding it, and half of those had been sleeping when they attacked. Most of the rest had been on watch outside. Only a few were on duty inside, and none expected anyone to sneak in through a tunnel that obviously none of them knew about.

  Out of that two dozen, only three were smart enough to surrender. Galafar insisted that they be spared. He thought that’s what Aeolwyn would have wanted, and, more importantly, that’s what Galafar wanted. He wasn’t going to kill a prisoner.

  ***

  Drahius had been torn on where to meet the Elvish ambassador. Not the throne room, as he didn’t want it to be anything official. It was the same with the Water Room. While a meeting there wouldn’t be considered an official audience, it was still where he met with his council.

  So, he chose a simple boat ride on Fenn Lake. It was a pleasant day, and those would be few and far between in the coming months, so he wanted to enjoy them while he could. It was also a good cover for any spies that might be on the elvish ambassador’s staff.

  The boat was small compared to the massive cargo ships that regularly docked near Fenn Castle but compared to the other pleasure craft that were frequently seen around the lake, it was enormous. It had a wide beam, tall masts, and a giant deck in the aft of the ship where the wheelhouse was. On the opposite end, a large forecastle with a wide platform was where he would take his cruise. It was staffed with an army of servants who brought a never-ending supply of food and wine.

  Besides Ambassador Traxxus, He’d brought his son, the crown prince Fillem, and Avaris, his chamberlain. He wanted to keep this meeting as small as possible. The fewer ears that knew about a possible alliance between him and the elves, the better. His daughter Avilia wanted to come, but he refused. She was to be married off to Lord Jorus. She didn’t need to know these things.

  “It’s a glorious day,” Traxxus said. “I thank you for the invite.”

  “You’re welcome, ambassador,” Drahius said. “As the days get shorter and the lake gets colder, we won’t be able to enjoy trips like this much longer.”

  “You didn’t just invite me here to enjoy your boat,” the ambassador said matter-of-factly.

  Drahius shifted in his seat before taking a drink from his cup. The elves had a tendency towards bluntness that could appear rude to outsiders. “No. I wanted to hear your thoughts on this new magical weapon the Camulani have invented.”

  “We’ve only heard your unconfirmed reports, so I don’t know how much I can add. As I’m sure my mages have already told you, unless they placed a mage at the front of their shield wall, what you described is impossible.”

  “There’s no way a mage could survive in a shield wall,” Fillem said.

  He was an obstinate young man, but by the gods was he powerful. He was as muscular a man as had ever lived and had a massive two-handed sword that he swung in battle. Despite his size, he was still nimble on his feet and used that agility to slay many opponents.

  In jousts, he was a much-feared opponent. As the future king, however, he still had a lot to learn.

  “I believe my general,” Drahius said.

  Traxxus took a deep gulp of wine before popping some grapes in his mouth. “I don’t doubt it. I am just stating the facts of magic.”

  “Could it be some dark magic?” Fillem asked. “Some as yet undiscovered school?”

  Drahius dismissed his question with a wave of his arm. He didn’t want the ambassador to get sidetracked on some obscure magical theory that would derail the conversation. “Whatever it is, we have no counter for it.”

  “We neither,” the ambassador agreed.

  The ambassador quieted down after that, and just looked towards the waves. The boat was not going fast enough for them to splash up as high as they were on the forecastle, but a fine mist would occasionally wash over the bow and cool them off.

  “We could help each other, perhaps,” Traxxus suggested.

  Drahius tried to hide his smile. This was exactly what he wanted, but he hadn’t wanted to come right out and say it. If it had been his idea, that would put him in a weaker negotiating position.

  “What did you have in mind, ambassador?” Lord Avaris asked.

  The ambassador turned back to them, leaning back in his chair. “A mutual aid agreement. Should Camulan attack either of us, the other would come to its aid.”

  “Like an alliance?” Avaris asked.

  Traxxus nodded. “Exactly so. It would, of course, have to be approved by the Daal and his council.”

  “Of course,” Drahius agreed. “But I think that is a marvelous idea, ambassador. You and Lord Avaris can hash out the details later. For now, let us just enjoy the lake and each other’s company.”

  Drahius smiled. He had gotten exactly what he wanted. He trusted Lord Avaris to not make the details too favorable to the elves, and, of course, include a provision for the Fenns to back out of the treaty without penalty. Not that he wouldn’t come to the aid of the elves should Camulan attack them, he would just need to ensure that it was prudent and profitable for him before he did so.