“Do you admire them?” asked Roper.
“I do, lord. Either they did not know what they would find when they advanced north, or they knew it was a frozen wasteland and came anyway. They made our home and now, we cannot even retain it. The Black Kingdom burns and the Sutherners are rampant.”
“Perhaps you can help me with that,” said Roper, as the two began walking around the track. “I would like nothing more than to unleash the legions and gain revenge on the Sutherners.”
“Forget revenge, lord,” said Gray firmly. “But I can certainly help you regain this country.”
“I wonder if you’d say that if you knew what it will take.”
Gray looked shrewdly at Roper. “It will take one of two things, lord. The easier option by far is for you to flee the Black Kingdom. Perhaps defect to Suthdal? Head for King Osbert’s court. I hear he is obsessed by Anakim and would surely welcome you as an advisor, no doubt shower you with land and titles as well. Wherever you go, it would leave Uvoren unchallenged as commander of the legions. Then he could not afford to delay, as the considerable heat currently being directed at you would turn to him.”
Roper did not speak, knowing that Gray had more to say.
“That might well save this country. As your father will no doubt have taught you, the Black Lord is the ultimate servant of the realm. Regardless of the personal disgrace; regardless of your thwarted ambitions, that is the honourable course if you believe it to be in service of this burning nation.”
“Do not presume to tell me my duty,” Roper managed.
“The option evidently does not appeal,” observed Gray. “Understandably, lord. Which brings us to your other choice: you stay; you acquire allies and you break Uvoren. And then, perhaps you can see to the task at hand and reclaim our eastern territories. But to justify such a course, you must truly believe that you are a markedly better leader than Uvoren. Otherwise, it is far easier to give him command.”
“Uvoren is a self-serving snake,” hissed Roper. “He would be a disastrous leader.”
“Do not hate him, lord,” said Gray, echoing Jokul’s advice. “He has many qualities. But he will ignore yours; do not return the favour.”
“He wants to kill me. He has extracted every possible advantage that he could from the death of my father. He keeps the legions in the Hindrunn and allows our country to burn because he knows I will take the blame. If he does not deserve my hatred, nobody does.”
Gray looked disappointed by Roper’s vehemence. “As it happens, I want what you want.” A pack of legionaries ran past them on the track but Gray did not bother to lower his voice. “Your house is not spent yet and I will die before letting Uvoren sit on the Stone Throne. He and I are not friends, but I do not hate him. Soldiers master their emotions. Hatred would only cloud my ability to fight.”
“Uvoren is a cancer of this country,” said Roper firmly. “And together, you and I shall cut him out.”
“Yes, lord,” said Gray, and there was suddenly a touch of darkness in his voice. “Well, for that, you have me at your back. Pryce too.”
“It doesn’t seem as though Pryce will follow me,” said Roper dryly.
“Pryce will follow me, though,” said Gray. “He is my brother.” He meant brothers in the way that men who fight together in the battle line are brothers. Who have seen each other at their most terrified and their most exhausted under the great pressure of the fray. Who, having seen each other stripped to the very core, know every wrinkle of each other’s character; have relied on one another utterly, placed their lives in the other man’s hands and found their comrade up to the challenge. Brothers by choice.
Roper had two blood brothers of his own: twins, the effort of whose delivery had killed their mother. They were further north, in one of the haskoli: academies set amongst the mountains to train the young warriors of the country. Prospective heirs to the Stone Throne were no exception: at the age of six they were taken from their mothers and transferred to the haskoli, deliberately constructed in areas as cold and steep as possible. The boys would learn to use the sword and spear, but, most of all, the haskoli taught grit. The strength to take punishment again and again without complaint. The fortitude to face overwhelming force and not indulge in the luxury of panic. To bear the burdens and expectations of being part of the finest army in the Known World. In short, to create the kind of character whom you could call brother.
Roper had not thought of his brothers for weeks. No doubt they would have heard the news of Kynortas’s death by now, but they were probably in considerably less danger than he. There would be no sense murdering the second and third in line to the Stone Throne while its primary still lived.
“So I can rely on your support when I speak in Uvoren’s war council, Gray?” asked Roper.
“Certainly, lord,” said Gray. “But I would suggest that you shouldn’t play your hand too soon. Currently, Uvoren does not believe you can seriously challenge his leadership. Make sure that the first he knows of your gaining influence is when you have enough power to force his hand. You need to marry and gain the backing of another of the great houses. Even then, this is a near impossible task. The influence you have at the moment may persuade some to back you, but to take on Uvoren directly, you will need to prove yourself as a leader. And it is difficult to see Uvoren allowing you an opportunity to do that.” Gray
