Rumors of War - Prologue #1

After a long time of promising and procrastinating, we are proud to show you our first sneak peek of Rumors of War. We hope you enjoy it, and would love to hear your feedback!

“Amire is dead.”

Rasson’s jaw dropped. The bells still tolled, as they had for the past twenty minutes. He had come as quickly as he could, but the lower markets were far from the Palace War Room. Staring at the bald General Bain, the Standard Captain was at a loss for words.

Bain gave an understanding nod, his eyes grim and gaze lowered in shame.

“I,” the general began, then shook his head. “It was all so...  unexpected. That the gods would take such a noble king from this world...” A pained frown stretched across his features. His weight leaned on his cane, but he stood tall even still, his sword that they nicknamed “Weeper” at his side. Bain was a powerful man, or had been once, and though he had more meat on his bones and had acquired many injuries throughout his years, he was no less a fighter because of it.

Rasson felt his heart drop as the words even now began sinking in. “How...?”

General Bain’s red rimmed eyes shot up, and he replied in a soft tone, unusual for his gravelly voice, “Poison. One of the servants. We are questioning him now.” He pointed off to the right,  waving his hand in the direction of the Palace Guard rooms.

Rasson looked about him, his mind a mess of shock, anger, and confusion. Amire had been the one to raise him to Standard Captain, barely four months prior. It had been an honor few soldiers would ever receive. He pulled a chair over to him and sat down heavily, his head feeling light.  He threw his hand out and grabbed the corner of the long table so many generals and kings had used for the planning of war, foreign and domestic.

Rasson eyed the small wooden figurines that sat on the table, laid out on a map that displayed the entire army of Emyr. He looked at the many pieces scattered across different regions, tactically placed to handle the threats that often beset the land. It was a thing of beauty, the map, covered in the armies of Emyr. Such a presentation of power.

Something caught his eye. Rasson frowned. The northeastern side of the map held a great conglomeration of the figurines, positioned all the way from Northstand to Seven Pikes, the far eastern holdfast. This is new, he thought. The figures formed a great line, as if...

Standing, the Standard Captain pointed at the mass of battalions. “What is this?” The general looked troubled, and scratched his head.

“Are we going to war?” Rasson asked suddenly.

Bain stared at him and before he even spoke, Rasson knew the answer. The general opened his mouth and then closed it in mutual understanding.

Rasson spotted the third battalion of the Second army, his own battalion. The small detachment of light infantry was placed below Northstand, nestled in the wooded area that surrounded it. There was a small red block next to the figure, showing that his men were not actually there yet, but would be there shortly. Rasson would lead them there.

He felt a tingle down his spine. As much as he had prepared for this, when he saw the small wooden figurines showing him and his own men, he felt that nothing would have been enough. War is coming and all I can do is wait, like a helpless farmer watching a storm approach. Rasson thought. A storm that may leave the entire country in ruin.

Bain quietly left the room and Rasson followed him.

II

Helane gave General Bain a look that said nothing but told all.  Rasson watched as Bain’s shoulders slumped just slightly, but enough for Rasson to know what he was thinking as well. The Queen and the two soldiers stood in her personal reception room, it was large hall with five hearths and clusters of cushioned arm chairs nestled near them. The room by itself was cold enough to make visitors anxious, but the rumors of the queen alone would have done the job.

Rasson noticed that Bain was tired from the sleepless night where they had interrogated various servants. Rasson himself had only gotten a few hours of sleep. Still a few hours more than Bain from the looks of it.

“Have you always been so fat?” Helane asked coldly. She had long flowing hair, bound by a stunning crown with a simple, yet queen-like black dress on. The color of mourning.

Bain managed a chuckle, “Oh I’ve had more than my fair share of wine and bread in recent days, my queen.”

Helane didn’t return the laugh and instead fiddled with the wedding ring on her finger. “Should I replace you? Are you capable?”

“I fought beside the brothers and slew more men than both of them combined. I may have gained weight, but I could still slay any green boy.” Bain gritted his teeth.

“Right. You fought beside both brothers. How do I know you won’t turn over to Jora’s side if we begin to falter in battle?”

“It was Amire I said the oaths to not Jora, and are you certain we should come to conclusions so fast?” Bain said, his face impassive.

“I am not being rash. It is clear to me who is responsible. Jora has never forgiven Amire for being the one to marry me.” Not a tear fell onto her cheeks. A hard woman, thought Rasson, shifting his feet and holding his hands behind his back.

“The people will have suspicions...” Bain said slowly.

“Suspicions of what?” Helane’s eyes dared Bain to speak further.

“Nothing, your grace. I spoke in haste, without thinking.” Bain continued, “But the

questions will come. I am prepared to answer anything that you need me to answer, and in whatever way. But the people will talk. We will have to strike fast, and get the people behind us before there is any chance or rebellion. Once Jarash kills a few more of our soldiers, the people will flock behind us, but until then, we need a plan.” Helane listened to him absently, her eyes gazing at the tall vaulted ceilings, passing over each arch and gable, examining each beautiful sculpted pillar, and caressing the stained glass windows that sat at a slant, allowing shafts of morning light in to illumine the room.

A group of servants in livery passed by, shooting furtive glances at Helane and the

general. Rasson kept his face as hard as stone, showing none of the anger he felt deep down. He had never liked the queen, though he felt ashamed to admit it.

“I always loved this room,” she began, smiling, her face a painting of reminiscence. “My father used to take me here, when he would meet with Amire’s father. I would wait out here, as I was not allowed in the court, but oh how I wished to be with father. The court always intrigued me, even then.” She laughed. “There I would be, barely six years old, and I already wanted to be queen.” Then the queen paused, her eyes returning to the hardness that had been before.
“No, dear Bain, everything will be quite alright. Jora will come in full force, you know how he is, now that he has killed Amir. He will act outraged, of course. Helane paused, straightening her back and sighing, “But he won’t be the one to attack first.”

“If I may, your grace. There are only two men capable of beating Jora in the field. One is world’s away ruling Molothgar and the other died last night,” Rasson said. He fought when Jora and Amire had taken back their namesake cities, and he remembered vividly the tactical genius of Jora.

Helane stopped and looked at Rasson, “Who’s this one?”

“He’s my son-in-law. A bit ambitious to be sure, but a good man the same.” Bain shot Rasson a look, but it had warmth in it, they continued through the room.

“I won’t disagree that Jora is a great soldier, which is why we must send word to Vidar and Orath.”

Rasson knew all about Vidar Oakswood, the men in the field knew him as “The Horned Giant.” He stood more than seven feet tall and wore a helmet with horns coming out, that was made from the skull of some northern beast. Men say when he rides into battle, he looks more a demon than a man.

Bain beat Rasson to the question, “He is the most dangerous man in the world, your grace. Or have you forgotten the crimes he committed during the last war?” This morning started with me eating breakfast with my daughters and wife, and now I am going to war? Rasson thought bitterly.

“I forget nothing, Bain. But he is still my uncle and will bring with him a number of good fighters.” Fighters that act like a pack of rabid dogs.

Bain shook his head, “And Orath? Has anyone received word of Orath in the past couple years? It’s as if the city vanished off the map.”

Helane glared, “Lothar is Amire and Jora’s cousin, Jora will surely send a messenger asking his help. We must ask before Jora can.”

“Might I suggest we seek help from the Triumvirate? If we could prove-”

“Did they give us help when Amire and Jora took back the states? No. Nor did they give help to Haleth when Molothgar sacked it. We are on our own in this.” Then she gave Bain a cold embrace and  said, ”I must return to court.”

The General didn’t blink. Helane frowned slightly. “Come with me. It would be good to have your support on this issue.” Her arched eyebrows spoke volumes.

Bain bowed stiffly. “As you command, your grace.”

The queen smiled, then spinned gracefully and glided across the room towards the door. Rasson nearly cursed when he realized there were no servants in the room, and rushed to open the large wooden doors for her. She hardly seemed to notice him.

He walked just slightly behind her and to the left, as a precautionary defense against assassins. At this point, he felt strange, guarding such a dangerous woman. She didn’t seem to need  help.

They entered the courtroom, and some three dozen noblemen and women stood to hail Helane. Servants were also everywhere, but less today than usual. The Palace was taking every precaution, now. Six guards sat at each entrance to the large, pillared room, and another four guarded the throne itself.

Helane immediately went up the steps and set herself down lightly on the throne. She was a beautiful woman, but one would be a fool to do anything about it. The last man to take her hand was the King of Emyr, who now lay dead as of yesterday. Rasson tried not to think on it too much.

“All kneel for Helane, the Queen of Emyr, High Lady of the Western Wood, High Lady of the Southern Peaks, and Defender of the Realm of Emyr. All kneel for Helane, the Queen her Majesty, High Ruler of all Emyr, may her lineage reign a hundred years!” The court speaker quieted as everyone kneeled, heads bowed. Rasson realized he had forgot to kneel, and dropped down by Bain, nearly cursing again. He had never been good at playing court. Today was no exception, with everything that had been going on. My mind’s a mess.

The court speaker’s voice rang out again, and there was a shuffling sound as the Nobility, Servants, and Soldiers alike rose before their superior.

Helane stared down at them all, her eyes scanning the room. Finally, she spoke, her voice breaking slightly as she did.

“It is a sad day. Yesterday, my husband, the King of Emyr, was murdered at his meal.”

Several of the nobles murmured among themselves. Helane shot them a look of distaste.

“I know what all of you are thinking. Who did it? And what will our actions be in retaliation? You will have answers.”

“Your Majesty!” A round, bearded man stepped forward. He wore an extravagant fur coat, which hung down near his ankles. His stomach jutted out like a shelf, and his hands rested on it, fingers crossed. “What is the full extent of the story? I and many other Lords have heard no more than rumors. We know not what to tell our people.” His name was Gregory of Shauff. Rasson had been to Shauff once, a wealthy trading town, half of which was owned by Lord Gregory. Servants and slaves there called him the Lord of Cakes, as he ate voraciously and had a particular taste for cakes. Rasson could tell.

“General?” Helane said, her head turning to give the man a blank gaze.

Bain took a slow breath that only Rasson felt the weight of, and then approached the throne, his eyes lowered. “We have been searching through the night, your Majesty.”

“Searching for what, General?”

“Anything that would give us an advantage in finding who has taken our king from us.”

The queen’s flat gaze showed nothing at all, but once again, Rasson could almost touch the tension in the room, like a rope pulled taught and ready to break.

Bain continued. “From what we found, King Amire was dead before he took a bite from his supper. Poison. It looks Verysian, though we are not sure.” A few gasps were heard, but nothing more. Verys was a small village just east of the city of Orath, hidden in the Hiranian Swamps.

“The servant who did it was caught. He must not have expected the poison to work so fast. We have him in custody now, your Majesty.”

“And what did this servant, this assassin, say when you interrogated him?” said the queen. Her voice was quiet, and the entire court stilled to hear her.

Bain hesitated, his eyes shooting up to meet the queen’s eyes. It was only a split second, and he continued. “The servant broke after a few hours. He was weak. He told us that a man named Rodric was the one to give him the job. We found the man, Rodric, in his home last night.”

Another pause, and this time everyone noticed it.

“Rodric,” Bain said, “told us, after intense interrogation, that he was commissioned by Zanzar Alonan.” The court fell still. A few late gasps were heard, and Rasson was surprised.

He watched the nobles, and realized from their expressions that they were confused. This was not something they were expecting. Rasson recalled standing in this room when he was promoted, on his knee with the bearded King Amire standing over him. Helane had been there as well and Bain. It had been Bain’s idea. Now, Amire is dead, and these glorious four months are at an end. In all likelihood I will not live through this war, the bones of me and my men will litter the battlefields.

Helane wore a frown on her face, but to Rasson it almost seemed a smirk. One could never tell with this woman. She spoke again, loud and commanding, but her voice breaking now and then with feigned grief.

“Jora... Jora is behind this. It is the only answer. He will stop at nothing to bring an end to my reign, our only option is to take his head before he has a chance to take mine” she hissed, and then jumped to her feet. “General, you will assemble the armies of Emyr at once. Send word to Orath and to my Uncle Vidar, tell them I require their support. And then send a message to the murderer Jora, the head of his servant. The one that dared to poison my husband... the man I loved.” She fell back, her head in her hands, sobbing. A couple handmaidens nearly fell over themselves as they attended her.

Bain bowed, and turned as the court erupted in talk. People began moving about, and a few of the more powerful houses were called up to the front of the hall to speak with Helane. Rasson turned to Bain, who now started towards the door.

Rasson shook his head in anger as he followed Bain. The world fractures more and more everyday. Even the gods seemed to be at odds.

He caught up to Bain, walking by his side through the cold, stone corridors of the keep. These halls were old, and strong. The sounds of the court disappeared behind them, and Rasson sighed loudly.

Bain stared straight ahead as they walk, coming closer to the end of the hall, where there was a tight, winding staircase lit by torches. They entered the staircase, walking down for a couple turns, and then emerged near the officer’s quarters.

“They did not expect that turn of events.” said Bain, his hands behind his back as he slowed to a stroll, looking around to see if anyone was near. The hall they now stood in was empty. The walls were lined with doors to each Standard Captain’s and General’s quarters.

“Expect what? That Jora was responsible?” asked Rasson.

Nodding, Bain replied, “Yes. It came as quite a shock to the nobles, as I’m sure you noticed.” Rasson had noticed that the late gasps seemed forced.

“Helane did take them by surprise,” Bain said, forgetting not to let his opinions show. Rasson had known the man for years, and he wouldn’t betray his general even if his life was in danger. “They expected a great Emyran house to be blamed, which would spark a conflict within Emyr. A house war was what they were thinking would come of Amire’s death. But now, they have a war between two states that have long been close allies. Yes, Helane took them by surprise. Instead of splitting the nobility apart, she has forced them to unite.” The older man grimaced. “Under her.”

Rasson’s mouth hung slightly open. He hadn’t thought of that.

“What will come of this?” he asked, feeling a great anxiousness growing inside of him.

Bain stopped in front of his chambers, which sat at the end of the hall. The man shook his head, and then entered the room, closing the door behind him.