Maccail’s nose twitched with the desire to respond, but his mouth remained clamped shut with no adequate retort. Jularra stepped even closer to the table, tilted her head down to the still-seated Maccail, and conveyed her willingness to perpetuate the argument. But Maccail did not oblige.
She blinked and took a step back. “If I may continue?”
She looked around the table and then back to Korden. Confident in Jularra’s skills of debate and self-defense, Korden only took action if he believed Jularra was in immediate danger—at least when they were in the council chamber. Jularra took another visual pass of the table before returning to the map.
“As I was saying. The Crystal Expanse was returned to Yubik, and they have been benign neighbors ever since. But Torguria has been taking advantage of our abandoned defenses there for years, using it as an easy route into the towns outside of Kuspowik.”
She turned back to the table to gauge reactions as she finished her proposal.
“I think we should use the Torgurians' raids to our advantage. We can cite their raids on our ally as justification for an invasion, conquer Brinnock, and seize their resources. No trades. No loans.”
Some around the table rubbed chins or looked aimlessly to the ceiling, mulling over the queen’s suggestion. Jularra noticed Maccail scanning the table for the others’ reactions.
“My original objection, if you remember, was trading famine for war,” Jularra added. “But, as some of you suggested, I believe we have the numbers and the skill to give us a quick, decisive victory.”
Now that war was a very real possibility, the enthusiasm seemed to have drained from the nobles’ veins. All except for Maccail.
“While I wasn’t expecting you to come back to us today with this,” he started, “I suggested it yesterday, and agree that it is the best course of action.”
He let that simmer around the table for a few seconds before continuing.
“Like the queen, I am of the opinion that our people are uniquely qualified to wage war. Our men are stalwart and fierce. Our women are swift and relentless. And many within our borders have solid magical skills to bolster any of our actions." Maccail turned to look directly at the queen. "And on top of that, this cause is right.”
As he made his last comment, the few nobles that were still peering to the ceiling let their heads drop. Latham rubbed his lips in consideration. His eyes flicked back and forth as he closed in on his own opinion. He looked to Maccail.
“I took issue with you yesterday, and I still feel that war is always the last and most horrible option.”
He shifted in his seat to look at the queen.
“But I also feel we have no other choice.”
The table rumbled with encouraging thumps of flagons and fists. The room’s air lightened from the first burst of positive sound in days. The lords exchanged enthusiastic cheers and shouts.
While those at the table carried on with their earliest phase of battlefield motivation, Jularra glanced back to Korden. Neither smiled. Their silent exchange conveyed a shared confidence in her decision, as well as a confidence in their people and their chances. But the two old friends were under no illusions. Even a decisive victory would mean death for some, and torment for many others. Mothers and brothers. Fathers and sisters.
Jularra stepped up to the table solemnly after a glance up to Detsepera’s portrait. She waited for the noise to die down.
“We are all in agreement, then, that we will invade Torguria?”
She spoke deliberately so that each word sank to the bottom of each lord’s mind, to be unconditionally confirmed.
Side conversations dwindled as the men looked to their queen. The situation was understood. Faces hardened; smiles stilled under war’s lens.
“So be it.” She tossed the words out with a somber stoicism. The room was quiet with the gravity of their decision. With the plan now set in motion, irony found its way into the room. Those who desired war initially now doubted their passionate urges. Those who had wished for peaceful alternatives felt themselves filling with violent determination. Regardless, they were united in their motives.
Jularra turned back to the map. She rubbed her hands together absentmindedly, cranking the wheel of considerations in her mind at breakneck speed. In the steps it took her to return to the map from the table, she had already had dozens of conversations with herself. Time-frames. Forces available. Disciplines. Magic. Conscription. Strategy. Approaches. Terrain. Resources. Rations. Travel. The logistics of destruction. She defined how she wanted the war to be waged, but now had to convince the lords to execute her vision, or at least make them feel like they had a hand in its development.
“In order to achieve our swift and decisive victory, we need to completely overwhelm Brinnock. To overwhelm them, we will need to commit the vast majority of our forces.”
“Vast majority?” Drumean reiterated.
Jularra turned to Drumean with a glare. He held up his hand and bowed his head, silently asking for her indulgence.
“I think we should be careful not to leave our own homes and cities defenseless,” he said. “Just a word of caution. I’m sure it’s understood, but I still felt it needed to be said.”
“It is understood,” Jularra sniped after being interrupted. She then stepped in front of her pride and smoothed her tone. “But I do thank you for the sentiment. Let’s talk numbers, shall we?” Jularra held up her hand and mimed writing to Korden. “Let’s be sure to note this please.”
She walked around the table, closer to Robain.
“Robain, how do your forces look? And—”
She interrupted herself and turned to an advisor standing nearby.
“Do we have an estimate of Torguria’s forces and capabilities—and of the status of Brinnock’s defenses?”
“Uhh, yes ma’am,” the advisor said. He was already shuffling through parchments before Jularra had finished her question. An assistant flipped through another pile and shoved a few sheets into the advisor’s face.
“Right, let’s see,” the advisor began.
