Chapter 10
Early the next morning, the secretary woke them, they ate breakfast, donned their new uniforms, and were soon on their way to the capital. Rolf was staying behind to collect more ‘recruits,’ but there were about a dozen men besides Tristan and Pallin that would be traveling to Capithia on various errands. The two men were given into the custody of a young Captain named Martog; he was also given a letter regarding the two new recruits addressed to Queen Almiria. Tristan and Pallin rode in the center of the column, just in case they decided to make a run for it. The journey to Capithia was rather unremarkable. They traveled along a well-kept road running north to south that wound through flat farmland and tame woodlands. There were many villages and small towns along the way. It was a prosperous, though heavily oppressed country. The only men they saw were young boys, grey beards, or cripples. Everywhere it was the women, the children, and the elderly who worked the fields or ran the inns. Nowhere did they see a grown, healthy man save in the uniform of the Westrian Army. After a week’s ride, they arrived in Capithia. Martog rode ahead and two junior officers rode behind Tristan and Pallin; the other men dispersed on business of their own. They rode through the streets of what seemed a vast city until they finally reach the castle itself. The guards at the gate stopped them, read Martog’s orders, and then told them to wait in the courtyard while a guard was sent running with Rolf’s letter. An hour later, an important looking man in a general’s uniform approached the group.
“Thank you Martog, I will take them from here,” said the general. The three soldiers bowed and left the courtyard. The general turned to face Tristan and Pallin. “Let us go inside and find somewhere to talk,” said the general. Grooms came running for the horses. Tristan and Pallin followed the general into the castle.
They found themselves very shortly in a small sitting room beside a roaring fire. Once the wine had been poured, the general dismissed the servants and faced his guests. “From Rolf’s letter I hear that you are foreigners from beyond the mountains, but that you also possess superior military skill and knowledge,” said the general.
“Yes sir,” replied Tristan, “we come from beyond the mountains and we have some military acumen.”
“What did you hope to accomplish by crossing the mountains?” asked the general.
“We hoped to learn more of your country and discover for ourselves which of the many rumors about this land are true and which are not,” said Tristan.
“And you had no idea we were preparing for war?” asked the general.
“None sir,” said Tristan.
“What do you know of the lands beyond the mountains?” asked the general.
“In what way sir?” asked Tristan.
“Her majesty and her advisors know little of the lands they hope to conquer,” he said, “and any information you may have would be of vital importance.”
“I have traveled throughout much of the civilized and not so civilized territory east of the mountains, but whether my experience is of use only you would know,” replied Tristan.
“We have contacts within your lands, but communication is tricky and slow at best,” replied the general, “but a first hand account by someone who is familiar with all that is happening east of the mountains would be immensely helpful. Her majesty hopes that perhaps you and your companion would be able to serve her as Advisors on foreign affairs.”
“You ask me to betray my people and my home?” asked Tristan.
“Not to betray,” said the general, “but to advise her Majesty on all sorts of mundane matters in the eastern lands. You might actually be doing them a great service. Whether the Queen decides to go to war or not may depend on your counsel.” He glanced around anxiously at the empty room, “there are those amongst her closest advisors that do not wish to go forward with this action. We fear it is already beggaring our country and if it does not succeed we may never recover. I myself do not completely understand why the Queen ever thought this a wise course to take. I and many others hope you may convince her otherwise.” Tristan stared at the man in disbelief; he was now responsible for stopping this war?
The general had risked everything in telling the strangers what he had, but he felt it was the only way to stop this ill-advised assault. For some reason, he felt he could trust them, though he had hardly known them for more than half an hour. If anyone found out his true feelings on the matter his life would be forfeit. The Queen truly needed their advice and insight on the eastern lands even if they did not manage to talk her out of the war. “Gentlemen,” said the general, “you must know that if you refuse you will be sent to the frontlines eventually and instead of just advising her Majesty you will either fight your fellow countrymen or die for refusing. You can do all of us a great service by ending this conflict before it begins. I have also placed my life on the line in telling you what I have. I am loyal to my Queen, and the only reason I speak so is that I do not think this war is in the best interests of her or Westria.”
Tristan decided to risk everything just as the general had. “Sir,” he said, “we are members of the Brethren and have been sent across the mountains to discover what great evil is stirring in the west. This war of yours must be the great evil we have been warned about. I fear there are darker forces at work here. It is our duty to discover who or what is fomenting discord and put a stop to it. We will do everything in our power to assist you in stopping this war.”
The general was speechless for a long moment and said, “the Brethren? I have heard of such a group. Several years ago, two of them crossed the mountains and appeared in our land. They spoke many words of wisdom and the people were encouraged by what they heard. The Queen allowed them to travel about and speak as they wished, and even had them brought before the court on several occasions to share their knowledge and insight. When Visca rose to power and became second only to the Queen in authority, he had them arrested for traitorous talk and arousing discontent among the populous. I do not know what fate befell them after that. I believe you are honorable men and I will do what I can to assist you. I am curious however; Rolf said a military uniform was found amongst your belongings. To what unit did you belong?”
Tristan exchanged glances with Pallin and began, “it is a long story sir, but the short version is this. Before my assignment to cross the mountains and find the evil lurking in your country I was assigned by the Lady to join the Order of the Unicorn and ferret out what they were up to. The Order is a paramilitary unit that holds allegiance to itself alone. For centuries, they have been a bother and a pest to the Brethren and everyone else. The Lady wanted to know what they were up to and I was chosen to find out. That is the uniform they found amongst my baggage. I do not know why I was to bring it, but I felt that I should.”
The general smiled as an idea crossed his mind. “This Order of the Unicorn is well known to us,” he said, “in fact they are the ‘contacts’ I was speaking of earlier. It is through this group the Queen, or more correctly Visca, hopes to ease our transition into ruling all the lands between the eastern and western seas.” Tristan nodded in comprehension; it fit in perfectly with the Order’s plans to take control of the known world. How else could Westria hope to conquer and control so much territory without some sort of local control in place? It was still insane, but it made a bit more sense.
“What are you plotting, if I may ask?” said Tristan.
“You will see very soon,” said the general. They sat up talking long into the night.
Tristan was not sure he liked this plan, but then he had not enjoyed much of this adventure since they crossed the mountains either. Once again, he found himself in the full uniform of the Order; apparently even near death could not separate him from the cursed thing. He was to present himself to her Majesty as an envoy from the Order, sent to advise the Queen on current happenings east of the mountains. Pallin was to be his faithful squire. Th
e Queen was delighted to have such knowledge and experience close to hand. That morning they found themselves in her breakfast parlor and General Trent was making the introductions.
“I am very happy to see you Captain,” said the Queen to Tristan, “it has been long since we had any word from beyond the mountains. How go the plans for the war?”
“My Lady,” said Tristan, “I am a mere captain and was never told more than I absolutely had to know. But may it cheer your heart to know that the Order is recruiting heavily and plans to greatly expand its current influence over the next several years.”
“Several years?” asked the Queen in dismay, “I had hoped things were moving much more quickly than that.”
“Your Majesty, if things were to move more quickly people might become suspicious and take a closer look at the Order and discover that which we are trying to hide. Progress must be made gradually so as not to arouse suspicion. Not to mention the fact that it takes time and significant resources to mount such an effort; the Order can only move forward so fast with the resources it currently has available.”
“You may not know all the details Captain, but your answers are well thought out and informed,” she said. Tristan bowed in acknowledgement. “Perhaps you came in the nick of time,” she continued, “General Trent, what is the current status of the army and the country?”
“My Lady,” he said, “the army is growing daily, but the country suffers under the loss of so many able-bodied men. I fear we must either strike swiftly or our economy will collapse.”
The Queen looked gravely at her general, “are there no other options?”
“We could return the men to their shops and fields, postpone the war until our allies in the east are ready,” he replied.
“I had no idea our timetable was so skewed,” she said, “Captain your counsel is not what I had hoped but perhaps it has averted disaster. General, you will write orders to all your commanders. The new recruits are to be allowed to return home, but they must remain on alert to move out at a moment’s notice. The regular soldiers are to be dispersed throughout the country and assigned areas in which they will oversee the continued training and supply of the reserves.”
“It will be done at once your Majesty,” the General bowed and left the room at a run. Tristan wondered at the ease with which he had at least postponed the war.
“Lord Visca,” announced a servant as a tall, dark man robed all in black entered the room. The Queen seemed entranced by his very presence. He approached her, bowed, and kissed her proffered hand. He scowled at Tristan and Pallin.
“My Lady,” he began, “who are these intruders that dare disturb your meal?”
The Queen mechanically replied, “they come from east of the mountains and are here to counsel me in foreign matters.”
“And what have they told you?” he asked.
She replied, “that the Order will not be ready to carry out their part of the plan for at least a few years.”
“And what is your response?” asked the man.
“Our country is on the brink of ruin. I have sent the farmers home, but have arranged matters so that they can be recalled and deployed at once,” said she.
“I see,” said the man irritably. “It was probably done for the best your Highness,” he said, “but next time may I advise you to seek my counsel before making such an important decision as this?” She nodded like a contrite child; Tristan thought she might cry. Visca turned his attention to Tristan, “I would advise you to speak to me on all such matters before bothering her Majesty with such trifling details. They weary her excessively and I will pass on anything she needs to know.”
“I understand sir,” said Tristan. Visca seemed to float out of the room and they were left alone with the Queen. The Queen seemed to start, as if she had caught herself daydreaming.
“Visca is my greatest advisor,” said the Queen, “though every time we meet he always leaves me weary. I thank you for your advice, but now I must rest. Good day.” They bowed themselves out of the room and a servant escorted them back to their quarters.
After Visca left the Queen, he headed straight to his own chambers in the shadowy depths of the castle. This sudden change of plans was regrettable but nothing serious; he would have things moving again very soon. His masters would not be pleased but that could not be helped for the moment. He did not like this new advisor to the Queen. How did one so new to Westria have such influence so soon? After all his work, the last thing he needed was interference from these outlanders. He had specifically told the Order not to send an envoy; he wanted to be the Queen's only source of foreign intelligence. The man's uniform was real and so was his knowledge of current affairs within the Order, but there was still something he did not trust about him. If he had this much influence over the Queen and had only known her for half an hour, he could become a real problem. The Order had been told to keep out of this; it was their own fault if they lost one of their agents. He entered his chambers with these thoughts coursing through his head. The room was dark, lit only by a guttering candle. "The Queen's new advisor needs to disappear. See to it," Visca said to the darkness. There was movement in the far corner of the room, a shadow ghosted by the candle, the door opened briefly, and then Visca was alone. With that out of the way, he began thinking about how best to deal with the sudden change in his plans for war.
Tristan and Pallin returned to their rooms briefly to discuss what had passed during their first audience with the Queen, "she seems an intelligent woman," said Tristan when they were alone. "She heard our advice and acted wisely. I just do not understand where this crazy idea to conquer the world comes from. Westria is far from strong enough to conquer so much territory, even with the help of the Order. It would be chaos!"
"She certainly changed when that Visca character came into the room," said Pallin.
"Yes," said Tristan thoughtfully, "the man radiates evil like heat off a stove. There has to be more to him than we have heard. He certainly thinks he runs things around here. No ruler in her right mind would allow her advisors to speak to her as the Queen did today. She should have the man's head on a pike! There is some evil at work here, but I do not know how to prove it or stop it." They talked for some time as to the best way to handle Lord Visca but could come up with nothing useful. A knock on the door ended their conference. A servant summoned them to attend the Queen. They followed the servant out of the room and into the hallway. For some time he led them silently on a long and winding path through the castle. Once they were thoroughly lost and seemed to be in a part of the castle no one had dusted in about a century Tristan asked, "are you lost?"
"No," said the servant blandly, "but you are." He took off at a run and disappeared into the darkness (there were very few lamps and no windows in this part of the castle).
Tristan and Pallin exchanged a startled look and turned silently to retrace their steps. As they turned, each felt the darkness grow heavier and an oppressive weight seized their hearts. Lesser men would have fled or fell to their faces in fear, but they drew their swords, ready to face the nightmare that approached.
"You do not cower before me?" asked a scratchy voice. "At last a worthy foe," it hissed in pleasure. Their opponent seemed to be a darker part of the blackness about them. It was about the size of a tall man, but that was the only impression they could get, unable to define its shape or any other feature about it. Tristan caught the flicker of light on steel as the thing raised its weapon and set themselves for its first attack. It lunged, Tristan dodged and blocked its blade. Pallin cut in and drove it back. It hissed either in frustration or delight, no one was sure which as it plunged in again. The thing was a good swordsman, but no match for two equally good men unaffected by the aura of fear it projected. It had overestimated its ability and underestimated theirs. It was soon over and their foe lay prone on the stony floor.
&n
bsp; Tristan used his sword to move the black hood off its face. The thing was a man at least, though draped in a shapeless black cloth that blended perfectly into the darkness. He no longer radiated fear; the aura of terror had disappeared as soon as the fatal blow was struck. A rent in the man's sleeve revealed a dark marking on his shoulder. Tristan used his sword to expand the tear and exposed a snarling, black reptilian head tattooed on the man's left shoulder. Neither man knew if it had any significance. Before they could explore further, the man dissolved into an oily, smoking stain on the floor. Tristan pulled back in disgust and ordered Pallin to immediately clean his blade, Tristan did the same. Both walked quickly away from the macabre scene and went in search of General Trent.
Eventually they found General Trent's chambers and thankfully, he was within. He listened in fascinated horror as they described their encounter with Visca and the assassin. Trent said, "the Queen was much more herself today than I have seen her in a long while. I was greatly encouraged by her change in attitude and her decision to at least postpone this war. But your description of her behavior in Visca's presence sounds more like her usual demeanor of late. I wonder if she has not fallen afoul of some vile spell of Visca's making." Tristan and Pallin nodded, it was the only theory that seemed to fit the facts. Trent continued, "you have certainly drawn the attention of someone and we need not guess who. I wonder if this is not the same way several other of the Queen's advisers disappeared. But I know nothing of this man or his tattoo. Visca is involved in far deeper evils than I ever imagined, but how do we prove it and remove his influence from the Queen?"
"You said the Queen was much more herself in our presence than she has been for some time?" asked Tristan.
"Yes," said Trent, "most of the time she seems almost asleep and only parrots Visca's words or answers his questions as if she were a child."
"What if there is some virtue or power in our presence that drives away Visca's influence, at least when he is not present?" asked Tristan.
"I do not understand," said Trent.
"When someone takes the Oath to become one of the Brethren they are imbued with certain gifts, one of which seems to be a certain resistance to the influence of evil, such as we experienced with the assassin. What if we could somehow amplify that effect?" said Tristan. "General," he continued, "would you let us bring a horse into the castle?" The general stared at Tristan as if he had gone mad.