Oathbreaker ch. 10.9 - Sworn To Glory (Patreon)

Myrice and I went to the small council chambers directly from our dinner. It was by no means a small room, merely another space for the High Queen’s advisors to meet when the weather didn’t allow them to gather on the terrace. In addition to the regular group of dignitaries from allied realms, there were also more soldiers present, mostly Karlesian captains and commanders from the garrison. Messengers went in and out in a mad rush.

“Reminds me of the night the Vykes made their move back in Garihelm,” I said to Myrice as we walked in and saw the chaos.

She nodded, all her usual irreverence gone as she took on the role of Accord dignitary. Her serpentine eyes narrowed as she saw something. “That’s Ser Garuman of House Blaze. He must have just arrived.”

The man she pointed out was older, a broad-shouldered veteran in brass armor with hair the color of iron. He’d obviously traveled some hard roads. He was covered in dirt and dried blood, not all of it his own, and an ugly gash on his temple needed treating.

“I’ve heard that name,” I muttered.

“He’s a disciple of Konrad Rubek,” Myrice whispered into my ear. “A sworn brother of the Blessed Calefac.”

Konrad Rubek was the knight-commander of Burncastle, a great fortress built on the face of a volcano in the subcontinent’s western mountains. They were famous warriors, almost as much so as the Alder Knights. I’d fought Ser Konrad in the Emperor’s tournament.

The Empress stood at the head of the room’s long table. A map was laid out on that table, a beautifully inked representation of the subcontinent with key fortresses, rivers, and geography done in painstaking detail. Pins were stabbed into a number of spots, most of them in the northeast, with colored ribbons to indicate what they represented.

Myrice and I took our place with the other councilors. Tzanith stood across from me, and she noted my clothing and Myrice’s as well, and how we’d arrived together. The expression on her face seemed sad, and I felt a stab of guilt.

“We are all here,” the Empress said. She still wore the formal regalia from the gathering in the throne room earlier that day, and her rings of office gleamed as she pointed to the map, her finger hovering over a cluster of marks between Reynwell and Lindenroad. It was a web of rivers, marshes, forests, and fertile croplands that represented the City-States of the Baerns. The royal finger pointed directly at one of the largest of those settlements. “The Emperor has been trapped with Oswald Pardoner and Roland Marcher here, in the city of Isengotta.”

There were mutterings from the gathered nobles at that. Oswald Pardoner was the High Judge of the Baerns, sometimes called the Prince of Gavels, and he was for all intents and purposes the leader of the Baern Cities. Roland Marcher was King of Venturmoor and a close ally to the Emperor, and he’d taken a great portion of his troops to help relieve the stasis in the Baerns.

“Several of the cities are in open revolt,” Rosanna continued. “The demon lord in Seydis has brought an army of creatures and traitors through the eastern valleys and made a swathe of destruction across this region, effectively encircling the Emperor inside an island of enemies.”

“How did the Gorelion do this?” Arlock said. “Graill should have made a buffer between the Baerns and the Ignited Lands.”

“Graill has been broken.”

Every face turned to Garuman Blaze, who’d been the one to speak. The old warrior looked harrowed, a statue covered in blood and ash, but his tired voice hit the room like thunder. “Kyne Farram is dead. The demon paraded his corpse before the walls of Isengotta four days ago. We believe there is still fighting in the mountains, but the north lays open to the enemy.”

Princess Snoë looked like a ghost of herself. I guessed she’d already heard this news before our arrival.

“How did you arrive so quickly, Ser Garuman?” The question came from the councilor from Losdale. “We’ve struggled to get any messengers through the heartlands.”

“I traveled through the Wend with a small company,” Garuman said. His eyes, which were a shade of red close to gold and seemed to give off a very faint light — the mark of a very potent awakened soul — went distant with some memory. “I am the only survivor. We had elven guides, and if not for that I would not be here either.”

“What of Lindenroad?” Another councilor asked. “Does the Crown Prince of the Linden still hold?”

Ser Garuman lifted his armored shoulders as though to shrug, but the effort seemed too much and he dropped them. “I cannot say. Lindenroad has suffered attacks from the sea.”

“We thought they were pirates out of the southern islands,” Moonbrand said to the Empress. “Seems an odd coincidence, now.”

“And what of Talsyn?” Asked Sasan Cymorin. “Has the Ghoul King joined forces with our enemy?”

He looked at me as he said this. I met his stare, and he cleared his throat and turned his gaze back to the map.

“We have no indication that House Vyke has made any move one way or another,” Moonbrand said.

I followed his gaze to the map, where Talsyn lay inside its ring of hills south of Reynwell and west of the Baerns. If Calerus did make a move here, he could destroy us in one act of betrayal. The Emperor was trapped, and we couldn’t send help through Osheim.

“This was planned,” Rosanna said bitterly and chewed at her thumbnail. “The rebellion in the Baerns, the stasis in Osheim, the coastal raids on Lindenroad… it was all so we cannot send relief during this stroke.”

“There’s also my country,” Arlock said with a grimace. “Many of the clans in Duranike remain loyal at heart to Rhan Harrower. My father cannot commit any forces without risking rebellion.”

“The Emperor isn’t helpless,” Leo Herder said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of the fact. “The King of Venturmoor and the Prince of Gavels are with him. They have forces from across the whole of the northern realms. Perhaps they can hold out?”

“Winter isn’t far off,” I said as I studied the map. “And this isn’t just about armies. The enemy is a monster from our myths.”

And the worst of all the Magi is behind him. Reynard never cared about wars and armies, they were just a means to an end. I foiled him at Tall Carreweir, unless I’m far off my guess. Is this another elaborate diversion, like the last war was? Is he about to do something?

“What about the Onsolain?” A voice asked.

I looked up and found the one who’d spoken. The question had come from Ser Garuman, who was looking directly at me.

“I know you,” he said. “You are the Headsman of Seydis. What say you, Doombearer? Where are our gods in this hour, when their ancient enemy is at our gates?”

Everyone turned their gazes on me. I caught Tzanith’s stare, her doubt reflecting my own and her mind carrying the memory of my last encounter with the Choir. Behind the Empress stood the wizards, Gallow and Wynn, who were watching me intently as the rest.

These people needed hope, but I was no good at speeches.

“The Choir engaged the demon lord at Tol,” I reminded them. “But I’ve heard nothing from them in months.”

Telling them I’d effectively cut that correspondence off didn’t seem wise, but I couldn’t lie to them.

Garuman’s shoulders slumped. “So the heavens are silent? We are alone…

“You have faced a difficult road and seen horrors,” Rosanna told the knight gently. “But this is not time for despair. We have heard the Emperor’s message. And we will answer.”

“We cannot send forces to the Baerns,” Snoë insisted. “And what of my people?”

“We have no force that can relieve my husband at present,” Rosanna said. Her face, drawn with worry and strain, hardened. “But in a week’s time, all the clans of the southern realms will gather here at the house of Harren Lupercal, mine ancestor, during the festival of Harvestrest. They will bring their knights and their priests. I have also been informed that those Magi still loyal to our nation have not been idle.”

She gestured to the two wizards. There were murmurs throughout the gathering.

“Eight days,” the Empress told her vassals and allies. “In eight days, enough strength will gather in the Karledale to strike back at our enemy. Lady Tzanith?”

The elf bowed. “I am at your service, Queen of Queens.”

“Can you get a message to Maerlys Tuvonsdotter? The Accord she helped build requires her aid.”

It cost my queen much to say that, but she did it without blinking.

Tzanith nodded grimly. “I will bring the message to her personally.”

“In the meantime, I want every scrap of information we can get. Firstly, I’d like to know why the clans of the Westvales have sent no messengers.”

Nasher Loss bowed. “My House will see to that, Amaranta.”

There were more orders and a flurry of activity. The following days would see no idle hands as the southern realms gathered to war. I watched Desmond Wake speak with Princess Snoë off to the side. He put a fatherly hand on her shoulder. She tore herself away and left the room.

Lisette was there, having heard something was amiss and come with parchment and tablets in her role as my personal scribe. She’d taken down much of the meeting in her cramped, neat hand. At some point, the rest of the lance had also sidled in. Kaia’s doing, I expected, as the guards wouldn’t have let them in otherwise. Rosanna noticed them in the middle of taking a report and then caught my eye. She nodded to me and beckoned.

I’d thought I was ready for this earlier that week, but now that the moment was here in the middle of an impending campaign I found myself filled with terror. What if she isn’t ready? I thought. What if none of us are ready?

The last war nearly broke us. It did break me. For every bloody skirmish and horrible thing I’d fought through these recent years, open war was an entirely different demon.

But I couldn’t stand in the way of her destiny.

“Emma.”

She’d been chatting with Myrice, trading some joke, and turned to me with laughter in her eyes. None of the doom and gloom seemed to bother her much.

“Yes?” She asked.

I nodded to the Empress, who waited by the head of the table with her clericon and my father, the chief-of-staff. Emma frowned, seeming not to know what was going on, but she followed me willingly enough. Ser Moonbrand was there, and he offered a sheathed sword to his monarch. Rosanna drew the blade, a thin needle of gold with a jeweled hilt, in a single fluid motion.

“Kneel, Emma Orley.”

Emma’s eyes widened. She looked at me, and I nodded. Behind her, the others traded looks of surprise and excitement. Hendry grinned, and Lisette clasped her hands nervously. Penric watched on with his false silver eyes, impassive as the dead.

My squire knelt, doing so with none of the liquid grace she usually carried herself with. She trembled slightly.

“I’m not in armor,” she complained. Of all the things she might have said…

A smile touched Rosanna’s lips. “Would you prefer to go get properly dressed? Our destinies do not wait for us, young lady.”

Looking paler than usual, Emma bowed her head.

Rosanna’s voice became stern and she spoke loudly enough for the whole room to hear. “Emma Orley, daughter of these realms beloved by our God-Queen, you have embarked on the arduous road of Knighthood. You have elected to dedicate the days of your life to service to the Heir of Onsolem, to the peoples who dwell beneath Her light, to those given the burden of governance over Her subjects.”

She paused and waited.

Hendry mumbled, “You have to agree.”

“I know that!” Emma snapped. “Yes, I have done so.”

“Your Grace…” I prodded.

Emma cast me an immolating look, but she said, “I have done so, Your Grace.”

Rosanna nodded gravely. “Do you, Emma Orley, pledge yourself? Do you pledge your body, your sword, your heart, and the blessed spirit within you? Do you pledge to defend these shores with life and soul from this day and through all days, until death or your liege release you?”

Emma squared her jaw. “I do.”

“Do you swear to forgo reward, to seek justice for its own sake?”

“I do.”

As my queen spoke, I closed my eyes and let myself remember. My mouth formed the same words that had once been spoken to my bowed head.

“Do you swear to live with temperance in times of famine and in plenty? To keep love in your heart, be it in peace or in war?”

Emma hesitated, but after a moment’s pause she said, “I do.”

“Do you swear to act always with wisdom, or to seek council from the wise when the path is unclear?”

“Yes. I swear it.”

Rosanna’s voice rolled on inexorably. “Do you swear to act always with fortitude? To never allow cowardice to stay your hand, and to never turn your back on an enemy?”

Emma nodded, all of the doubt in her face melting away. “I swear it.”

“Do you swear to protect those weaker than you? The innocent and the infirm?”

“Yes.”

“To allow none to abuse such persons, and to challenge tyrants? Do you swear to treat those less fortunate than you with grace and aid any just cause?”

The rest of the room had fallen silent. Those nobles and knights who remained were watching the ceremony with rapt attention. Moonbrand looked on approvingly at my squire. Ioannes was praying. Gallow said something into her husband’s ear.

“I do!” Emma hissed.

Rosanna came to the final oath. “Do you swear to act always with honor?”

I waited, but to my surprise Rosanna did not finish the vow. It was meant to be an oath of loyalty to one’s fellow knights, but she did not add the second half and let the words hang. Emma had read the classics on chivalry since she was a girl, and she didn’t miss it either. She faltered a moment, but then her head dipped and her voice, while quiet, was fierce.

“I will.”

“Then I dub thee a Knight of Urn and a guardian of the Accorded Realms.” Rosanna tapped Emma on both shoulders with the golden sword. “From this day forward I am your benefactor, and I will forgo the status of Liege-Mistress. You may take an oath of service to an order of your choosing or a clan of your preference.” She slid the sword into the scabbard still held by Moonbrand, who bowed and took a step back. Rosanna folded her hands in front of her gown and smiled down at the still-kneeling young woman. “I dub thee Glorysworn. Your mistress is the code of chivalry with which I have just bound you, and your enemies are Aureia’s enemies. Go with Her grace, good knight.”

Emma stood, and the room broke into applause. She blushed furiously, but her back was straight and her amber eyes were alight. Hendry put a companionable hand on her shoulder. Even Lisette flashed her rival an encouraging smile.

Myrice threw an arm around the younger woman’s shoulders. “You need to get drunk. Let’s make a celebration of it.”

“Shouldn’t I do a night of vigil or something?” Emma asked weakly.

Rosanna’s smile returned. “Some do, but this is your day, young woman. Make of it as you please.”

“Then… getting drunk sounds good,” Emma said.

“Will you be joining us?” Myrice asked me. She clearly hadn’t forgotten our interrupted dinner, and I understood the offer there.

I hesitated. There was so much to do. We’d just heard terrible news, and Rosanna hadn’t done this just to lighten the mood. We needed more knights because we were about to ride to war.

“Go,” Rosanna encouraged me. “You need rest as well, and there’s not much that can be done tonight. Celebrate your ward. She’ll only have this night once.”

She was right. I turned to the others. “Then let’s celebrate.”