Libro tensed. His grip on the quill tightened. Bad news? But the siege against the rebels had gone swimmingly so far, in his opinion. What bad news could the Captain give at a time like this? His eyes trailed across the table, over towards the maps and charts and stone figurines, before finally settling on the letter.
A cold shiver ran up his spine. Of course it was about the letter. It had spooked Dux well and good that morning. A difficult thing to do to a Centum. Anyone who'd survived a hundred battles was hard to startle, but all it had taken was one letter—written in the Empress's hand.
"Three hours ago, an imperial courier arrived with this on his person." Dux picked up the parchment and held it up. Even in the dim lantern light, the blood-red ink shined. "New orders from our esteemed Empress. We are to take the hill by week's end and return to the capital immediately."
An uncomfortable silence settled over the tent as everyone digested what was said. "But that... that's," Libro stuttered.
"That only gives us three fecking days!" Civis slapped his palms against the table. "Captain, you can't be serious!"
"I'm afraid I am," Dux said, his face settling into the iron mask, betraying no emotion. Even then, Libro could see the cracks in the Captain's façade. His eyes were hard, maybe even a little afraid. The thought alone left him feeling queasy, much less the bad news.
"How does she expect us to take it? It took months just to root them out of the nearby towns for Nido's sake."
"The Empress told us to take it, and so we shall." Dux's voice was iron hard, the muscles in his jaw feathering with every word. "There are no other alternatives."
Civis shrank back into his chair. "Then she has signed our death warrant."
"She signed yours a long time ago." Libro pointed out. "I don't see why you're complaining."
"Why you little son of a bitch." Civis shot up from his chair as if someone had set his ass on fire. He placed a hand over his sword, fingers gripping round the handle.
"Sit down, Legate," Regis growled. Without so much as a word, Civis obeyed. "So, I suppose you have a plan then, Dux?"
"Nothing solid, that's for sure. Our most recent orders were to wait and let the rebels lose morale and surrender. The Empress, however, has made that all but impossible now."
"Then let us simply take the hill," Regis said, rising from his seat with the unnatural enthusiasm of a man half his age. "We outnumber the bastards four to one. A single charge would break them in an instant. I'll even lead it myself if I have too."
Libro felt his breath catch. A charge? Against a fortified hill? It was absolute madness to consider such an option.
"No." Dux shook his head as if he'd read Libro's mind. "A charge is too costly. The rebels have dug themselves in deep and are armed to the teeth with flatbows. We'd lose a quarter of our men just trying to ascend the hill, let alone breaking through their defenses. I'm not going to throw away lives for an easy answer."
That blew the wind out of Regis' sails. The man stood there deflated before sitting down. Libro gave an audible sigh of relief, ignoring the ugly look Civis was giving him. He could glare all he wanted too, a charge was still suicide.
Dux turned his attention to the other Tribunes. Nox, as expected, said nothing on the matter, his curious eyes scanning over the room. Culter merely shrugged. Not surprising, Libro thought. The man wasn't exactly known for strategizing. Most often, his plans consisted of the Captain pointing in a direction and saying get them.
Magus had fallen asleep again. The magician leaned back against his chair, snoring softly with the hood drawn up over his eyes, beard twitching. Libro nudged him under the table with his boot. The magician snorted, sat up, blinked bloodshot eyes.
"Uhm?" he grumbled.
"The Empress has given us three days to take the hill," Libro reminded him.
"Oh, I knew that already." Magus scratched at a fuzzy patch of hair on his cheek.
"Do you have any ideas on how we can accomplish such a task?" Libro asked, his voice quavering slightly.
Magus smacked his lips, grimaced, and pulled at his collar. "Not a clue."
"Come on, Wyrdling." Regis crossed his arms and leaned back far enough to make the chair groan in agony. "You must have something up your sleeves that can help us. Why else would you even be here?"
"I could probably whip something up," Magus mused. "It'll take a lot of magick, though."
"How long?" Dux's tone had grown a shade darker. He leaned forward, steepling his fingers together.
Magus counted silently on one hand. "More than we have now."
"Pass." Dux swiped his hand from forehead to jawline. "If only our dear Empress had sent the letter two weeks ago before the rebels had dug themselves in. Worse than fleas it seems." Dux spat onto the dirt and stomped it out with his boot.
"I'm telling you," Regis pressed. "One charge up the hill, and we'll have the bastards running."
"If I hear you suggest a charge one more time, I'll have you do it alone," Dux threatened.
"Why does the Empress want us back in the first place?" Civis pointed out. A good question, Libro begrudgingly had to admit. "We've been squashing this rebellion for three years now, and the Empress suddenly wants us back? We were in Austerland seven years prior, and we didn't so much as hear a peep from her. Something isn't adding up."
Dux drummed his fingers against the table, face stern, mouth working as he gazed over the charts and maps. There was something else, Libro realized. An unknown factor that the Captain either didn't know or didn't want to say.
"There's more, yes?" Nox piped up, his words slow and deliberate as he sounded them out in the Byzan tongue.
All eyes turned to the Captain. He gave a withering sigh, hard and deep that caught in the back of his throat. Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, he sat down, eyes fixing on the letter. "There's been a coupe at the capital."
Libro gasped. "What?"
A nervous tongue darted out from Dux's lips. "The Black Ministry have declared themselves soveriegn to her majesty."
Libro's blood turned cold as ice water in his veins. He dropped his quill, iron pinging against the scarred wood. "You...you don't mean—," Dux confirmed with a simple nod of his head.
"I knew that evil cabal of Sorcerers was trouble!" Civis roared. "Those bastards should have had their organization dissolved years ago. Gather enough magick together, and it's always bound to corrupt in the end." He glanced over at Magus, realized too late on what he'd let known. "Current company notwithstanding," he added sheepishly.
Instead of anger, Magus merely smiled, seemingly amused by the statement. "No offense taken. I'd even go so far as to agree with you. Give anyone enough power, and they're bound to abuse it."
"This is bad," Libro said. He sucked in a tight breath, tried his best to hold back the jitters in his hands. "This is really bad. It doesn't matter if we take the hill in three days or not. It'll still take months to get back to the capital from where we are now. The Ministry might already take the city by then."
"There will be resistance," Dux reminded him. "Magick or not, there are still those loyal enough to buy us time. The Caligati. House Hallan." He wrinkled his nose. "Maybe. Unless the Ministry is suddenly swimming in gold dwans, I doubt that miser would turn traitor just yet."
Libro's mind raced from one thought to the other. He felt the familiar anxious heat creeping up his neck, as it always did whenever he started to panic. A shameful act he still couldn't fully control. He was a Tribune damn it, and a Chronicler too boot. He shouldn't have felt scared. Shouldn't have to panic. But no amount of denial could keep him from these feelings. He screwed his eyes shut, wondering if everyone else could see how pathetically childish he was being. Gods, why couldn't he just be brave? Why couldn't he be more like the Captain? It was all just too much, though. The rebels. The coup. The god's damned Ministry. The entire world felt like a vice clamping over his throat, squeezing the life out of him.
"Breathe." Dux's voice cut like a knife through the fog in his head.
Libro inhaled, held the air tight in his chest before exhaling. The terror slowly crept out of him. He opened his eyes, half expecting everyone to stare at him with pity or mockery, but no one was paying attention. Culter was to busy picking at his cuticles with the stiletto. Civis and Regis were arguing over what to do next as Nox silently watched them. Magus was, as usual, asleep.
Libro looked over at the Captain. He nodded at him knowingly and said nothing else. The law, of course, Libro realized. One of the few rules the Vangen held onto. What's past is past and nothing else needn't be said. Even your own weaknesses.
"Since we can't reach a consensus, I think it would be best if we adjourn for now." Dux stood up, stepped around the table and picked up one the figurines. "We have three days to take the fort. No more. No less. Our focus will be as such. I don't care what happens after. Whether the Ministry succeeds or not is not our problem for now." He slammed the stone figure down on the map, directly atop the hill. "Three days, men. Make it happen."
Libro was the last to leave as the rest of the Tribunes filed out. Civis and Regis were still bickering over what to do. Magus left in a glamorous whirl of violet and gold hues that surrounded him before he disappeared into thin air. Nox stood there transfixed at the sight of the magician's magick before Culter shoved him out.
As Libro peeled back the tent flap, a cold gust of wind slapped him hard across the face. His legs felt like jelly as he stumbled out, stomach a queasy, roiling mess that left the back of his throat tasting sour. Three days. How in the seven hells were they supposed to take the hill in three days? It was impossible with how dug in the rebels were. Instinctively he ran a hand over the spine of the Archive belted to his side, its cold, sturdy leather grounding him back in reality.
What the hells were they going to do? The answer occurred to Libro a moment after. If he did not know, then perhaps the other Chroniclers would. So much history lay written within the pages of the Archive, treasured words just rife for the taking. The Vangen had done the impossible before. The Keevan Rahs, the founders of the Guard and Libro's ancient ancestors, had driven the Voshtok Hordes out of Aquila and founded an alliance with the Empire that still remained to this day. If they could do the impossible, then so could he. His pride demanded it. His ancestors depended on it. Steeling what little resolve he had, Libro marched back to his tent, hoping, praying, that the answers he needed lay within.
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