Chapter 4
Oaths
“Huzzah, Sir Valkyr”, cried a fresh voice as the Knight pulled off his helm and, panting, pushed sweat from his eyes trying to see. The image of a horse and rider shimmered through his blurry eyesight. It was a white horse of quality and well commanded, based on how still it stood. The rider's armor glinted in the sunlight with red plumes dancing on the crest. He couldn't make out the face through the pushed up visor, but the coat of arms on the shield slung from the saddle was unmistakable.
“Majestus?” he said, questioningly and then quickly bent his knee. He had no idea why his monarch would be out on this dusty road in no-man's land but it wouldn't be the strangest coincidence in his life. Not by far.
“Enough of that”, Jesca laughed, dismounting easily and raising him up again. He felt this was somewhat inappropriate, but lacked the energy and wits to protest. “By the bodies piled up, you've been quite about your duty enough to be afforded a little less etiquette.” She pulled a water skin from her horse and doused him liberally with it.
“Unh”, he said, trying to protest. “My liege!” A helping hand was one thing, being hosed down by your Queen was quite another. Besides, that water was magically chill.
“Fie”, Jesca admonished. “Campaign rules. No formality. Just Jesca and Coral. Like it used to be. Sit against the tree here.” She steered him into the shade, although he was still clearly uncomfortable with the situation. He slid down the trunk until he hit bottom. Often it had been the other was around. He was the minder and she was the tag-along kid. Too eager and unaware of risk. Burning through her energy too quickly. But she kept her side of the bargain and made sure she wasn't a drag on the unit's efficiency, and he kept his side and didn't send her back to the camp followers. Ironic now that she was administering his own lessons. “I'll assess the battlefield”, said Jesca and left him to the shade.
Fatigue and deja vu made him fuzzy and he popped all the straps of his armor and let it hang loose. He found the water skin and drank liberally from it. Blearily he watched as Jesca grunted, dragging the nearest bodies to him, stopping to bind the one with the chest wound first. After a few whistles and cries she found Coral's horse and used the two horses to drag the rest.
“Eight felled”, said Jesca when the last was accounted for. She sat heavily next to Coral and pushed some stray sweaty strands of hair back in place. He passed her the water skin and she pulled heavily from it. “Quite impressive”, she said, gesturing to the lined up figures. “I only saw the end as I approached otherwise I would have helped.”
“Then I apologize!” said Coral. “That was the worst of the fighting. I am ashamed. It was not worthy of a knight of the empire!”
“Fie”, she admonished again. “I read the rest of the battle from the positions of the bodies.” She gave a quick review of the combat as she had interpreted it. Coral corrected a few points, but for the most part Jesca read it right. “I maintain it was quite impressive. Well worthy of a knight.” There was a string of expletives from the wounded soldier that distracted them. “Hmm. We should deal with the wounded.”
Coral placed her hand on the hilt of her pommel and concentrated briefly. “I only have five souls accounted for. I can take them for processing when I report in again.”
“Let’s triage the rest”, said Jesca standing and then helping Coral stiffly to his feet. She nudged a body with her foot. “This one died of his wounds. His soul has gone beyond. We'll have to tag the body to send it back for processing”, she moved to another one lying prone. “He's still alive, but is pretty far gone. I'd say it would be kindest to send him on his way. But if we're ordering pickup for the other, they might as well take him as well. Which leaves...” the sitting captive spat at her. She side stepped the spittle. “Well, at least I'm here personally and can administer the oath.”
Jesca directed herself to the captive. He had been stripped down to his gambeson which was stained with dirt and blood. He glared at her sullenly through his sweat plastered hair. “Sir”, she said. “Do you know who I am?”
He glowered at her. “Some imperial dog”, he grunted. “Doesn't matter.” The cast of his face and his accent marked him as a local to Coral. His haircut, callused hands, and tattoos marked him as a professional. Probably a mercenary. Maybe even an actual soldier from the defeated Republic. Their enemy's troops ran the gauntlet from summoned magical creatures to impressed citizens.
“I am Queen Jesca, Emperor of Romitu, ruler of the civilized world.” The solder looked surprised, but quickly masked it with defiance. “Our policy is mercy to even those who stand against us. You must, however, swear an oath of magic upon my sword, never to take up arms against the Empire, give succor to enemies of the state, nor work against our interests, under threat of the pangs. Do you understand?”
“I have seen the pangs”, he said gruffly, eyes narrowed. “A good man I fought with could not even pick up his sword no more without it burning him. He had to beg for a living after that. I'll not swear your oath.” Coral sympathized with the man. The Oath was, they hoped, something to turn the tide of the war. They had been lenient on people forced to take up arms against them. But too many times they had returned to fight them again. This was a humane method of taking them off the battlefield permanently. Except for the professional soldiers. Then you were taking the livelihood away from them. As a man of the sword Coral did, indeed, sympathize. But not enough to think twice about doing something that might end a war that should have been over long ago.
Jesca looked down at him sadly. “Be aware the alternative is to die by my sword. Your Soul will be taken and revived later, and bound by the same magical oath.” He looked at her dubiously.
Coral, free of his armor, came over. He had unlimbered the wineskin from his horse and offered the wounded man some. He did not refuse. “You fought brave and valiantly today”, Coral said graciously, and meant it. Many would have lost their head at the beginning, where they appeared to have overwhelming odds, or at the end when they appeared to be overwhelmed. “It was but luck that you are my prisoner and I am not yours. Clearly you have spent much of your life learning this profession to be so skilled. We have need of soldiers like you. The oath does not prevent you practicing your art on our behalf.”
The soldier looked at Coral long and hard. “You aren't human”, he said suspiciously.
Self-consciously Coral brushed his sweaty hair from his ears. They were slightly upswept. He hadn't been entirely expecting that. It was hardly noticeable among the Empire's Armies, where Amazons brushed shoulders with Orcs. If this fellow was from the countryside he had probably never seen an Elf before, nor a half-Elf. “Nor am I entirely Elfin”, Coral answered, and slipped into proselytizing mode. “But my loyalty is entirely to the Empire. They accept all, forgive all, and work for the betterment of all. Please join us! I would be glad to fight alongside of you rather than against you.”
The soldier shook his head. “I've got family. The Romitu Republic isn't forgiving of turncoats. Either way your oath will kill them.”
“Damn the bastards”, swore Jesca, stamping her foot. “Coercing service by threatening civilians is despicable. There is no honor in this war anymore.”
Coral was disgusted. There were many low points in this war. This wasn't the lowest, but it was down there with the rest. It was the sort of thing that should be stood against. Fortunately, that was his job. He went down on one knee to bring his eyes level with the soldier's and put his hand on his shoulder. “I will swear you this. If you will take our oath and fight loyally for our Queen I will, personally, seek out your family and bring them under our protection, with eight acres of good land as pension.”
The soldier's eyes widened. The intent was clear in Coral's face. No one would boast idly in front of their Queen.
Jesca drew her sword. “I swear this too”, she said, taking them both aback. “The sword you swear upon will be that which liberates your family.”
“Majestu
s!” protested Coral. “You have an empire to run! Leave such things to your knight errant!” In his eyes she had become that child again, pledging her sword to capture the hill he had just vowed to win.
Jesca shrugged. “I'm on furlough. The Empire is covered. If this is a task worthy of The Queen's Champion's time then it is a task worth of The Queen's time.” She placed the blade to the earth and her right hand on the pommel. Wisps of magelight eddied from the sword, barely visible in the high Sun. Her stature seemed to increase, her eyes to glow, and her armor shine. Coral had seen this many times. But being a loyal solder of Romitu, it still always moved her when the Majestus descended upon her. “Sirrah”, Jesca said. “Will you so swear?” Coral put his hand on the Queen's.
The soldier stared at her, awed. Hesitantly he lifted his hand to the sword as well, and stumbling, was lead through The Oath.