It had been quite a day, I'd watched the battle at Caine's side, as an aide de camp I was precluded from entering the fray, unfortunate, but one must follow orders. I was now in charge of securing the area of the beach nearest the command tents. My men strode amongst the vile black carrion birds that covered the land. Bodies of soldiers both of Amber and of Corraline lay dead, the noon day sun doing it's usual unpleasant tricks, the odour had set flies buzzing too. Not a pleasant job, count and check the dead, get aid for those survivors who would live. I was also temporarily perimeter commander for this sector, and as such it was my responsibility to challenge anyone who could be an enemy, in short let no one through unchallenged. I had also been told to look out for the Bastard's friend Mordred; he was due to meet with uncle Caine in the next hour or so.
Yes, a fine day, I was serving under uncle, sorry, Admiral Caine, and was waiting for the word to advance. Excitement filled me, battle at last. My only worry was that I might be cutting a slightly ridiculous figure dressed as I was in mother's gift, a set of exquisitely crafted plate armour decorated with designs in black and red enamel. Mother wanted me to wear it though so I obliged, damned if I'd give up my sword though.
After some time I spotted a short stocky fellow approaching, dressed in Amber's colours, but not in standard uniform, a little shabby for my tastes. Mordred perhaps? I wouldn't be able to recognise him by sight but knew of him by reputation. A Blood Mage, it made me shudder, damnable Vampire more like, having said that he was apparently an experienced military campaigner, he was at Patternfall, and would understand the usual forms and protocols, i.e. challenge, respond, advance, continue if a friend, you know the standard rigmarole.
I called out to him, as he appeared intent on walking straight past me.
"You there fellow, who are you, where do you think you are going?"
He was obviously a cocky little blighter, around 5'6", stocky and weighing in at 10 or 11 stones. He stood as though he did not think of himself as being small, very sure of himself. Yes, a typical small man with an attitude.
He answered thus.
"Brennus, isn't it? I remember your birth ceremony."
This annoyed me, yes I am named Brennus, but if he was well connected enough to be at my naming he'd know I was Dara's only legitimate heir, and thus a Prince. Obviously this man felt himself to be my equal. He was wrong! I changed my footing slightly to get a better more stable position on the sand, I stood feet shoulder width apart, arms akimbo facing him. As I'd moved I'd thrown back the right side of my cloak to free my sword arm should I need to draw my blade. For all I knew this scoundrel could be a lunatic or a play acting spy. I decided to give him another chance, yes let him know his poor choice of wording had not slipped me by, I needed to get an answer to my questions in any case.
"That's Prince Brennus to you. I asked you two questions, you have answered neither. I will repeat them lest you in you ignorance might not be capable of answering. Who are you? Where are you going?" I said then, let him chew on that.
He stood insolently before me and merely answered.
"I am Mordred, of Rebma. You really need to spend more time about the Court you know, if you expect to know who is who. If you wish to know where I am going, and why, you'll have to speak to my superior... and yours - *Prince* Benedict."
I noticed then that Maer was becoming upset at the tone of the conversation, he's a real stickler for etiquette and although I was slightly annoyed that he felt I needed his aid I can't fault his intentions. Yes, Maer had become decidedly red in the face and had taken the hilt of his sword in his hand, although he didn't draw it, he was perhaps awaiting my word to challenge the boor who stood before me. Maer is a fine swordsman and an accomplished duellist by the way.
"Watch your tongue when you address your betters, Rebman." Maer said.
I approved of the sentiment, but things would have gotten quickly out of hand if I hadn't act, I knew Maer too well you see. I gave Maer a short hand signal that he recognised and loyal fellow that he was he stepped down, figuratively speaking that is.
I spoke, attempting to give this bounder yet another chance to at least act as gentleman should.
"Maer, calm yourself please, this is Mordred, a mage of some repute but little breeding I fear, a lack of decorum is perhaps to be expected."
I turned back to Mordred, my smile now somewhat forced but I honestly believed that he'd be chastened enough to show some respect for my current rank and responsibilities if not my title. After I had introduced Maer to the Magus I had fully expected that he would in turn introduce himself, formally and in proper language, thereby defusing the situation. Now don't get me wrong I'd taken a dislike to the runty little twerp, but brawling and indiscipline is something I'll not have while I command. My dislike unfortunately caused my words to be perhaps overly harsh, heartfelt though they were.
"Do you know Maer by the way Mordred, he's the Earl of Varle, from a fine respected noble family. I'm afraid I'm not familiar with your lineage or indeed your rank. But yes, uncle Benedict is my superior, a fact I am quite comfortable with. Have you business here, a message for me perhaps?"
He failed to see the point, or perhaps deliberately ignored it. Did he think 'breeding' was a function of lineage? Surely not. Perhaps I should have explained that in the current more enlightened mode 'breeding' referred more to ones actions and ability to follow correct etiquette than the outmoded belief that one is born with perfect manners. In any case his answer was I believe in retrospect calculated to get a rise out of me, unfortunately he succeeded.
"So. Although you freely admit you do not know my Lineage, you feel free to disparage it. And I suppose that you are also of the opinion that 'good breeding' guarantees both intelligence and common sense, not to mention some ambiguous type of superiority. Fascinating."
He turned way, another breech of etiquette; yes a boor and a shameless seditionist. When he turned back his comment again was designed to enrage, not particularly subtle I now realise but I was already annoyed with his whole manner.
"Well I suppose it could be excused, given your youth and somewhat sheltered upbringing, but I doubt it will be. Good day."
He nodded once to Maer, deliberately excluding myself and walked off in the direction of the command tent, where he no doubt expected Benedict to be waiting, unfortunately he'd find only Caine, Benedict was elsewhere.
To my chagrin I must admit I allowed my temper to get the better of me, it was just too much. Who in hell did he think he was, Mage? Yes. Soldier? Yes. No excuse for insolence and flouting all civilised forms of behaviour. I must have looked angry, I certainly felt it.
I called out to him my voice tight, controlled.
"Hold there you damned oyl-kru! How dare you leave my presence without my permission? You will return and give account of yourself this instant."
The choice of the word 'oyl-kru' perhaps says more about my own attitudes to Blood Sorcery than anything else. Most people think it means something like 'Blood Drinker'. In a limited sense it can be used so, I'd first encountered the word on one of my sea voyages with uncle Caine. I've looked into the origins of the word however and it means something much worse and has somewhat embarrassing overtones. Let us just say it involves women and the cycle of the moon!
In any event Mordred responded to my enraged call by slowly stopping and turning, he smiled smugly and asked in a self-satisfied voice.
"On what grounds have you managed to fabricate the supposition that I am here for any reasons but my own and those of my superior? Further, as you and I are nowhere near each other in the chain of command, why should I answer in any way to you?"
He stood facing me apparently completely at ease waiting I have no doubt for me to erupt in rage. Instead I controlled my anger, and made a mental note to be wary of this one, not a fool, but not gifted with wisdom either. Dangerous, the sort who enjoyed baiting his betters. I strode forward keeping my face emotionless until I stood several paces away. The men had heard enough of this exchange already; it does no good for discipline to be flouted so flagrantly, especially in so visible a manner. I could now speak in a more private manner.
He really did feel that he was the equal in all likelihood of any of us, myself, the Queen my mother, uncles Benedict, Caine, Julian... In any event I could not believe what I was hearing, that this scruffy little vagabond would have such nerve. Did he follow those he felt best met his own ends perhaps, self-serving rather than providing honourable service? I virtually spat out my response, my contempt obvious in every word.
"I take it then you recognise no authority other than your own whim and the military hierarchy you have chosen to follow, that the varied rank of royalty and nobility has no meaning for you. Do you then consider yourself the equal of even the most distant scion of Amber?"
His response.
"When I am at war, I follow my military commander and none other. How else? Am I supposed to drop whatever I am doing in order to cater to the whims of anyone with a title tacked onto their name - half of them earned by no other means than birth? That would certainly play havoc with the established command, and is no way to run a war."
He continued, changing his tone and manner to ones more serious, perhaps feeling that this would give his treasonous talk more weight.
"Those due respect, I tender such. If you wish my respect, then you may earn it by deeds, not insulting language. If you seriously wish to know what it is I am doing and why, then you are more than welcome to apply to my commanding officer, Prince Benedict of Amber, or to the Lord Caine - also a Prince of Amber. To them I answer in this conflict and none other, unless it be the Queen herself."
The single most insolent and ludicrous piece of tosh I had ever heard. The only redeeming feature of his words was his proclaimed allegiance to Dara, Benedict and Caine, personal choice then for this man. No discipline; no attempt to ascertain if he was in the right; no honourable acceptance of superior rank or title. By the Unicorn, the whim of anyone with a title tacked on? These were words that could mean death for treason or sedition. I realised that he must really feel himself inferior deep down, no doubt of it, and had an envy of those who bore titles to which he had no right, regardless of the situation I felt that he would have opposed me. Yes, I must find out more about this man's birth and origins I thought then. Did this fool not understand the way the world worked? Would Mordred ignore the words of anyone but those whose deeds he was aware of; any whose deeds he decided did not meet his personal standards would warrant no respect? What colossal arrogance, did he think that he was an authority in these matters, with the right to apportion respect and honour as he saw fit? I listened in silence, my face devoid of expression. No more of this, there had been a surfeit of treason talked in front of the men already. When Mordred had finished I commented.
"You have said enough, be about your business."
Having said this I turned on my heel and walked away, Maer in tow.
As I walked away I realised that the little tyke had annoyed me more than I could fathom, nobody had been quite so blasé or disrespectful towards me for some time, not to my face at least. I'd have recompense one way or another, he probably thought me some bumptious ass, inexperienced, used to clinging to mother's apron strings, well he'd find out different. No stay calm, perform your duties I told myself. Around me the filthy carrion crows or ravens or whatever they be still awaited our departure to begin their unholy feasting. Despite my name I've never been fond of Ravens I must admit.
It took me almost twenty minutes to fully organise the troops, a junior officer who's name was I believe was Jared was compiling a list of the dead and wounded, as well as filling out a report that I'd have to give to Caine when I next saw him. Concentrating on my duties helped calm me and I almost forgot Mordred for the nonce.
When I found a brief lull though it all came back to me, damn the man. He'd been far too sure of himself and had felt himself immune to proper procedure, perhaps he was? I needed to know for sure, if he was simply a renegade and had acted inappropriately it was best I got in the first stone as it were. Benedict seemed the most appropriate person to speak to, the highest authority here in Corraline. I hesitated, Benedict does not take wasting his time lightly, but I felt it necessary, if I went in to condemn him to Caine and found that he was protected, in effect placing me in the wrong I'd look a total fool, a loss of face I had no wish to risk.
Mind made up I pulled out my Trumps, and quickly found Uncle Benedict's card - its surface was as usual cold, almost icy under my fingertips. It seemed to come to life almost immediately, but even so it took a minute or two for the connection to become solid. The illusion of two dimensions becoming three filled my mind and eye as I watched. "Who is it?" Benedict's voice insinuating itself into my mind a sensation I may never come to feel comfortable with, the voice sounded as if spoken just in front of me. The words spoken quickly without humour, I felt my resolve beginning to weaken but forced myself on.
I answered in as controlled and formal a voice as I could.
"Sir, it is I Brennus, forgive the interruption but I have to report a gross breech of military protocol. An officer of Amber's army entered the camp here and not only did he fail to identify himself correctly made what I can only describe as seditious and perhaps even treasonous comments. To make matters worse he did so in the presence of the enlisted men. I wish only for your guidance in this matter, how should I proceed?"
As I spoke Benedict began to become clear his expression was perhaps one of annoyance, though at what I couldn't tell, I hoped it wasn't me. I noticed that his clothing showed signs of action, dirt and dust, even a spot of blood on his collar, who's I don't know, I'm sure it wasn't Benedict's. Behind him, I saw soldiers of Corraline kneeling on the ground, in chains. Benedict's expression changed slightly, was he amused, a rare event if so.
"Who is this officer that has so offended you, that you feel forced to bring it to my attention?"
Not a good way of asking me a question. I paused uncertain now, had the Magus beaten me to the punch, had I contacted Benedict at an inopportune time, the group of bound prisoners in the background seemed to make this unlikely. I spoke slowly carefully, uncertainty gnawed at me, I mustered every ounce of respect I could.
"It is the Blood Sorcerer Mordred Sir. If it had been any other officer I would have dealt with him myself. Unfortunately I am unsure of Mordred's status or of his importance, I'd not have contacting you in this regard else."
"I know, Brennus. Mordred is not a regular officer. He commands no troops, and takes his orders directly from me, or your uncle Caine. As for the other matter, your aunt Llewella has claimed him. This is enough." Benedict answered almost immediately, he did not appear concerned in the least. I recognised the expression too, so I decided to cut my losses and end things here.
I bowed slightly, and spoke thus. "As you wish sir. My apologies for having wasted your time."
I passed my hand over the Trump ending the call.
I sighed inwardly before putting my Trumps away. So he was protected, no doubt secure in his knowledge of family connections he'd felt free to act and say as he pleased. Very well, let things be. My thoughts? If he wishes to continue his insolence let him, I can wait I've done it before. Llewella though, interesting, Rebma an obvious connection but is that all. A terrible thought occurred to me, what if he was of the blood but feared to reveal it for some reason. No, he had courage this one too much perhaps, I couldn't imagine him renouncing his birthright.
I returned to my duties, thoughts of Mordred a dim shadow. The briefing would be interesting at least, assuming he was to attend. Too many unknowns here, step warily I told myself. Act, don't react. Yes, and time, I had plenty of time.
The briefing with Caine was scheduled to begin in but a few minutes, on the upper levels of this now severely battered fort.
Amberite soldiers were still clearing the dilapidated fort of debris as I made my way there. The hallways cluttered with broken furniture and stained in the blood of the fallen. As I neared the command centre I checked I had all the paperwork I needed and in this absentminded manner rounded the corner. Damn it if it wasn't perfect timing. Mordred stood before me. I stopped short honestly surprised, I was conscious of the two guards who stood watching all who passed by. So stay calm, show nothing. No, he will be suspicious show contempt but subtly, yes.
I gave a short bow, appropriate to the situation; I afforded him the equivalent of a Ducal greeting not knowing his rank. Politeness, etiquette, how much did this boor know, or indeed how much was he willing to show.
"After you... Master Mordred? Your pardon if I have used a title which is in any way incorrect or insulting to you, had we been properly introduced I would of course have used a more precise nomenclature." I said, not at all amused, but allowing the appearance of such to show in my eyes.
His response was quite elegantly put I thought, a little strained but I will admit he surprised me somewhat.
"Master is appropriate, as is Magister or Magus. You may take your pick of them if you wish. Benedict and Caine have taken to referring to me simply - either by name or by title; Mordred or Magus."
His answering bow was a composite of the military and the more elegant society styles. I have to admit it was appropriate given the circumstances. He continued speaking after bowing.
"However, I do believe proper protocol at this juncture would say that Royalty or Nobility should precede 'Specialist'. Please - after you, Prince Brennus."
He was almost ostentatious in his lack of mockery or sarcasm he clearly meant to make a point by his action. Very well noted, you can act as a gentleman if you so desire. So, a game is it to be now master Magus, interesting.
I reacted with surprise, a raised eyebrow, not all feigned he did cut a reasonably respectable figure when he tried; I returned his bow using his own choice of styles and responses.
"Why, thank you Magus."
I allowed a puzzled look to appear, frowned, nearly speaking but not doing so. If it's games you want my man it's games you'll have?
I gave a nod and a smile before I entered.
I entered the briefing room, Mordred behind me as is fitting. The room was a shambles, the command table had only three legs, and books had been piled up to support it. Atop the table sat a large map of Corraline, arrayed with pins and such, denoting troop positions and so on no doubt. At the rear of the room was a slightly disturbing portrait, set to lean against a chair. A caricature of a beautiful woman made ugly by subtle use of expression, obviously the artist had some bone of contention with the lady whomsoever she was.
Mordred and I joined several officers who were already present. Most seemed to know each other and were engaged in conversations generally not related to the war. Uncle Caine stood behind the table examining that damned portrait, he was dressed informally, but he has the right, a true Prince and commander both. He cut quite the rakish figure too, darkly handsome, charming, he has a natural magnetism, charisma. I began to smile on seeing him but as he turned and spotted me Caine's own smile disappeared. What now? Thought I.
"No problems with your assignment, I trust?" he said, his eyes seeming to bore into me.
Interesting question, had Caine spoken with Benedict then? Best to give no advantage to any villain who might be listening. I stepped forward, saluted in as precise a military manner as possible and stood to attention as I responded.
"Nothing I couldn't handle thank you Admiral."
I took my reports from beneath my arm and placed them on the table before Caine. Again I spoke, control, precision, no emotion here.
"My reports for you sir; when you need them." I said, then stepped back into the partial anonymity of the crowd.
Caine took the reports, nodded in acknowledgement, and quickly perused the figures.
"Impressive." Caine whistled.
"These figures are even better than we anticipated. I suppose some of the credit goes to you, Magus." Caine directed this toward Mordred.
I watched Mordred through my peripheral vision, looking for any signs of reaction, saw none.
Caine was giving Mordred his horse trader look, the appraising stare; was Caine really surprised at the figures or was this for show, for Mordred's, or for my own benefit perhaps? Caine went on.
"The Queen was right about the potency of your magic. I'll see that she is notified of your efforts. Plenty of room for improvement though, but an excellent first showing."
Interesting that qualification, a small slap down? To put him in his place, to remind him that a war is won firstly by leadership, secondly by the sword or the spell.
Meanwhile the last of Caine's staff had arrived, Caine brought the meeting to order in his usual business-like style.
"Alright, I'll try to keep this short. I know the men are tired, but we're going to push, strike them before they have a chance to strengthen their defences. Lord Delany, you'll stay here with a small force to hold the fort, while the main force breaks into two parts."
Caine described the plan in depth. Lord Chantris was to take half of the force and march through Corraline, to meeting up with Benedict. Caine was to take the remainder of the force and continue to sail along the coast and intercept a portion of the Corraline fleet that had recently sailed from the capital.
Caine looked my way, grinned, "Prince, Benedict wants you to accompany Lord Chantris and his forces."
I stayed at attention but allowed myself a brief smile and an incline of my head in response to Caine's orders.
Well, I was to take part in the war at least, but the smile. A reprimand for me, albeit a light hearted one? What of Mordred I thought, where will he go? Had Benedict deliberately separated us, or would he force us together as a test? I was fully aware that Mordred had been given no orders as yet.
"Chantris, you should move out immediately. We're already running a little behind schedule. The fleet will depart first thing in the morning. That seems to be everything. Any questions?" Caine concluded.
Still no orders for Mordred? Interesting, but then Caine might deliver them in private, as the Magus' mission might be secret after all.
I was to accompany Chantris then, and immediately. So perhaps Mordred and I were to be kept apart? Probably just as well, but I decided to wait, to listen, perhaps the shadowling would speak.
But no, Mordred stood staring ahead, apparently at that vile painting!
No questions of any great import were raised, and Caine broke up the discussion. I left ahead of Lord Chantris and waiting in the hall in order to speak with him. It's best to set things in their proper place from day one. I admired Chantris, quite the old soldier, and a decent commander; I'd hoped I'd have some useful task to perform. As Chantris left the briefing I hailed him.
"Lord Chantris?"
I bowed, as Chantris paused and turned. Chantris bowed in response, as always the epitome of etiquette and correct behaviour. Yes, I think we will get on my Lord.
"Prince Brennus, may I assist you in any way?" he asked.
I'd really only wanted to find out my role in the force he was to command but the correct form and procedure must be gone through. I answered in a respectful and formal tone.
"My Lord, might I request a word with you?" I said.
Chantris nodded, his expression bland.
"Of course. Shall we?" Chantris responded, and with a gesture of his arm he made it plain we should talk whilst we walked.
I smiled and nodded in return, genuinely pleased to be commanded by a true gentleman. We walked from the briefing side by side.