General Dayr and his son accompanied their army on the southward march back to Thelgaard. It was a grim, businesslike procession, with none of the celebratory chatter and cheering that inevitably accompanied the return from a victorious campaign. Men and officers alike seemed subdued and introspective.
They had about the same distance to march as Jaymes and his Freemen, but they moved without the emperor’s urgency. As a consequence-even though they marched across the plains instead of over a mountain pass-it took a few days longer for the Crown Army to reach Thelgaard than it did for the emperor to reach Palanthas.
Finally the long column of troops drew up to the ancestral home and castle. Despite being sacked by Ankhar less than five years earlier, Thelgaard had been restored as an impressive edifice. The outer wall and gates had been fully rebuilt, and several new towers added to the mighty keep.
“I’m going to spend one night at home and then go on to New Compound on a mission for the emperor,” General Dayr said to his son as they approached the castle gate. “Would you care to come along with me?”
“Certainly, Father,” replied Captain Franz.
“Good,” said the older man, invigorated as they rode into the cool shade of the great courtyard.
On arriving home the general signed the orders dismissing his levied troops, allowing them to return to their farms and shops for the summer. He took some time to set up a training schedule and duty rotations for his permanent garrisons. He and his wife hosted a homecoming banquet that evening for his knights and their ladies.
The next morning he and his son ate a quick breakfast while their horses were saddled and their traveling kits were freshened by servants. Lady Dayr made no complaint-she had seen darker days-and merely kissed her husband and son good-bye.
They departed for the valley of New Compound, in the northern Garnet Mountains, only an hour after dawn. The two men had decided to travel alone, partly to make the trip almost a vacation, but partly knowing they had private matters to discuss.
The older man had been watching his son, noting the darkness that seemed to envelop him whenever the emperor’s name was mentioned. After their first day traveling, with the responsibilities of army management and home behind them, General Dayr decided to broach the subject of what had transpired at Vingaard Keep.
“I picture the siege of Vingaard, even in my dreams,” he said frankly. “As clear as if I’m standing there, the smoke of the gun still swirling around me.”
The two men rode their horses at an easy walk, the flat expanse of the Vingaard Plains making for easy traveling. The ragged crest of the Garnet Range was visible on the horizon but still several days ahead.
“How can we ever forget?” Franz replied, the bitterness tightening his voice. “A year ago those knights were our friends, our allies. Blayne Kerrigan was a mate of mine when we were apprentices in the order of Crowns! How could it have come to this?” He turned in his saddle to regard the general with an almost pleading expression. “Father, we helped the emperor earn his place. At the time, it seemed like we were clearly doing what was best for the knighthood… and for our realm. Now I fear just the opposite.”
“Don’t rush to such a harsh conclusion. Keep in mind all that Solamnia has suffered over my-even your- lifetime: the Dragon Overlords, the Dark Knights, the sacrifice of our great god Paladine. One by one we fought through these challenges-and we survived!
“Then came the invasion of Ankhar’s horde. Remember what it was like to see our home sacked, my son? To watch the death of the duke I had served all of my adult life?”
“The duke was venal and corrupt, Father-you know that! And he was weak. He wouldn’t even fight, in the end.”
“All true, but he was my lord, and I grieved when he died. And think of what you are saying because Jaymes Markham may be many things, but he is not venal, he is not corrupt, and he is not weak! And he is the lord of our united lands now! We have lived through dark and trying times, and perhaps such times call for a powerful, even ruthless, leader.”
“But I thought the point of our striving was to lead us to a brighter future,” Franz protested. “And yet it seems as though we have ushered in a new era of darkness. After all, the great towers of Vingaard survived all of the scourges you listed-only to be brought down by the one who set himself up as our protector.”
“I don’t have an easy answer,” the general admitted. “But I plead with you: don’t give up on Jaymes Markham yet. I remember how he led us, when the dukes of the noble knighthood were allowing the country to crumble around them. Without him, we-and our women and children-would be Ankhar’s slaves, or dead.”
“I acknowledge the important role he has played,” Franz replied, “but I will not promise to follow him into the future.”
From that position the young captain could not be swayed, and his father was wrapped in gloom and worry as they finally made their way onto rising ground, following the paved, well-graded road-of dwarven craftsmanship- that led them up a verdant valley to the thriving mountain town of New Compound. The two men had not been there since the early days of the settlement, and they couldn’t help but be impressed by the many white stone buildings, the neat timber structures. A farmers’ market bustled in the main square, which they could easily observe from afar since no wall surrounded the town.
“I’ve never seen so many well-fed dwarves,” Franz remarked in some astonishment.
“Ahem, a tribute to their prosperity,” his father replied.
They were warmly greeted by Dram and his wife, and the veteran general was moved to chuck little Mikey under the chin, a gesture that provoked an explosion of giggles. Ever hospitable, Sally Feldspar set about preparing a dinner while her husband and the two soldiers retired to the sitting room. There, the general presented a letter of instructions from the emperor, and the two men sat quietly while the dwarf slowly read the missive. When he finished-it took Dram several moments, though there was but a short page of writing-he sat quietly, his expression blank.
“Do you understand his… requests?” Dayr prodded gently after some time of silence.
“Of course I understand,” Dram said impatiently. His irritation, Dayr sensed, was not with the messenger, but with the message. Abruptly, the dwarf looked directly at him. “So he has three bombards, but he wants a dozen more? And all this powder and shot?”
“Actually, two of the bombards were destroyed in the march on Vingaard Keep.” Dayr went on to describe, briefly, that encounter, realizing that Dram had heard nothing of the developments on the great river. Throughout his report of the events, Franz sat mute, staring out the front window at the pastoral town, the green, encircling mountains.
“I remember Vingaard Keep,” Dram said idly after the general had finished the explanation. “Quite a landmark it was. You don’t see too many places like that, not built by humans anyway. It’s a shame to think that it’s gone.”
“Well, not entirely gone,” Dayr said awkwardly.
“Scarred beyond recognition!” Franz spat, drawing a sharp look from his father.
“Well, I understand what he wants me to do. It wouldn’t be easy, mind you-my operations have slowed down quite a bit, and it would take some gearing up to build more of those bombards. I’m going to have to think it over. In the meantime, why don’t we go into the dining room? If my nose is as good as I think it is, Sally has got something special coming out of the oven.”
“Very well,” said the general.
His son, staring at the dwarf intently, rose to his feet immediately, and the older man followed more slowly. Together, they trailed Dram into his dining room, knowing that the matter of the emperor’s orders would not be settled the first night.
Blayne Kerrigan had no idea how he survived through that night, exhausted, numb, soaked to the skin, shivering uncontrollably, clinging to the root on the edge of the ravine wall as the raging flood cascaded and thundered below him.
When next he awoke, gray dawn permeated the ravine. The rain had ceased, and the flood had abated. There was enough ground for Blayne to slide down and brace himself on a couple of rocks, keeping out of the cold stream. He spared a few moments of regret for the loss of his horse, a loyal animal that the young noble had personally broken and trained some six years earlier.
