January 2024: On the Adoption of the New Rifle
To my Esteemed Master Truscott,
I greet the news of your continued advantageous position with the greatest of joys. With the situation as unsettled as it has been of late, a great deal of once-certain realities now seem so easily upended, my own circumstances being so very obvious an example. As you may now know, we have had several most direct shocks here in Aetoria over the course of the past few months, not only with the turmoil in the streets following the Duke of Wulfram’s Pronounciamento, but with the upheavals which directly affected the membership and the premises of the Shipping Exchange as well. I fear that for the moment, at least, we are consigned to scratch quarters, while our more accustomed seats are refurbished and made once again suitable for human habitation. Perhaps in that regard, it might be seen as even convenient that the current conflict should so disorder the existing patterns of trade, for one could not imagine the utter chaos which might ensue should the Shipping Exchange be obliged to resume full trading without the Shipowners to ride herd over it.
Yet I must regret to inform you that even this is perhaps not the most unpleasant matter I must bring to your attention.
It has been quite some time since we discussed in person the folly of our dear young Master Garing. Though his undoubted genius for mechanickal design cannot help but imbue his suggested new weapon with some degree of merit by virtue of its clever manufacture alone, he has always been prevented from wagering the resources of the corporation upon such an enterprise by the simple fact that insufficient interest has been shown by any appropriate party to render such an expenditure worthwhile. Now, with the country seemingly at war with itself, he has been approached to consider the adoption of what he considers the most successful and efficacious of his designs by multiple involved parties.
While it is not yet written by the Saints that we must now wail and gnash our teeth as our young colleague surpasses us in prominence and carves for himself a place in history, I think it increasingly possible that such a destination might now be feasible for him. Thus, it is in the interest of our own abnegation and obscurity that I enclose the following document, being an analysis drawn up by one of my staff regarding a process by which Master Garing’s new rifle might be adopted by any interested party of sufficient resources while minimising the risk to the company and to our own assets. Thus we might take certain precautions, so that if the Saints should will that we die in the obscure shadow of our junior, we will at least die fabulously wealthy.
The adoption of arm now under consideration (to be referred to henceforth as “the new rifle”) makes for several considerable complications, stemming from the fact that its design and intended implementation is of a nature so radically different from the current mode that an army adopting it for general deployment might be considered to be creating from whole cloth an entirely new school of warfare. For centuries now, warfare has progressed along lines drawn by assumptions which seemed stern and unbending: that firelock-bearing infantry cannot fire more than a few times a minute, that such fire is best husbanded in volleys to ensure maximum shock upon the will of the enemy, that likewise such volleys are to be delivered at closest possible range by companies arranged in closest possible order to ensure both proof from the white arms of cavalry and opposing foot. As a result, we have created a means of warfare which requires a certain amount of shot and powder, in which men are ordered a certain way, and officers command to a certain rulebook.
If the implications of the new rifle’s capabilities are borne out, it would necessitate a complete rebuilding of these assumptions. Some will prove to be useless entirely, whilst others may instead find themselves more relevant than ever. Unfortunately, given the experimental nature of such an arm, its exact effect upon the established wisdom of battle is yet to be determined. Thus it becomes necessary to introduce the new rifle in a process of stages, to both determine the practickal limits of its function under the conditions of the field, and to test the old assumptions of war in a manner which will allow us to see which may be kept and which must be inevitably subject to revision.
The first stage of such a process must invariably the introduction of the new rifle to a company of evaluation, which may be sent into the field to provide information as to the basic mechanickal function of the weapon under the conditions of battle. Given the current state of affairs, it is unlikely that any interested party would be willing to expend funds to outfit such a unit, their resources being reserved for more reliable means of confronting the current crisis. Thus such a unit will likely have to be supported by the resources of the corporation, and deployed as a supernumeraries attached to the appropriate command possessed of a commanding officer amenable to such experiments. In the interests of minimising expenditure, such a unit will necessarily be as small as possible, while still capable of rendering the evaluations necessary.
These evaluations will at first regard the general function of the new rifle: if it is capable of functioning with equal or superior reliability to firelocks of the current type, whether it is able to sustain the rate of fire and accuracy which has been promised by the prototyping phase, whether its accoutrements and supply of cartridges might be as easily carried and maintained by a single man as those in current use. If these capabilities are established to satisfaction, then might come the time to evaluate the secondary requirements of the new rifle, especially regarding the expenditure and supply of ammunition in sustained action, the development of new means of shooting and reloading, and whether such arms are most efficaciously employed in volley, or in individual fire. The results of such evaluation will not only address long-standing concerns regarding weapons of this type, but will also assess the viability of the new rifle for more general issue.
It ought to be stated as a matter of course, that given the sensitive nature of the new rifle’s design at this stage, it would be strongly recommended that this company of evaluation be placed as far from a position of danger as possible whilst still being able to carry out its tasks. A point ought to be made to minimise the risks of the new rifle or its evaluators being taken captive by elements of an opposing force. Given the politickal circumstances of the current conflict, such a development would not help but prove disastrous. However, given the increased range and accuracy which the new rifle is said to possess, the avoidance of such a hazard ought to be well within the capabilities of any competent authority.
Once the initial capabilities of the new rifle have been quantified by the evaluation unit, an effort ought to be made to see the adoption of the arm on a greater scale, with the support and funding of the relevant authorities. Assuming the qualities of the new rifle are sufficiently evident to prove its superiority over weapons of the current type, it ought to be a matter of little difficulty to secure funds and resources for the establishment of an experimental unit within the structure of the regular army, perhaps along the same scale as that of the Experimental Corps of Riflemen established during the late War in Antar. This force would be maintained under military discipline, and its ranks filled by picked marksmen from existing regiments, to be attached to an army currently in the field, and to be applied to its intended purpose at whatever occasion the Commander-in-Chief of that army should see fit.
Such a measure will not only provide more useful intelligence regarding the mechanickal qualities of the new rifle by providing a larger test sample in which imperfections or unexpected qualities may show themselves, but it will also serve to offer some measurement of the new rifle’s utility in the hands of those who possess no special background or preparation in its use and maintenance. Through this process, we may determine the rate at which the new rifle malfunctions and must be replaced, as well as determine a means by which soldiers with no prior training may be instructed to use the new rifle most effectively. In addition, use on such a scale will be an ideal means of determining the most efficacious way to employ the weapon on the field, as well as best practises for the transport and supply of both replacement weapons and additional ammunition, which is sure to prove a major consideration if the new rifle is to be adopted in great numbers.
Up until this juncture, the furnishing of arms and ammunition for this enterprise may be a requirement still fulfilled by what is commonly considered artisanal or ‘piece’ work, with individual rifles and cartridges made up in the traditional manner, one at a time. However, further stages of adoption will necessitate the production of arms and ammunition at a much higher rate. While the processes for such operations are already well established, the physickal reality of implementing such a measure will come at considerable expense. Thus it would be in the interest of the Company to appeal one again to the relevant authorities for the funding to establish the necessary manufactories. However, even if such an enterprise must be funded entirely based on the resources of the corporation, it may yet recoup its outlay in the process of fulfilling the next proposed phase of adoption.
This phase would necessitate the establishment of further companies armed with the new rifle and furnished with ammunition for it. Initially, these companies would be attached to one battalion of foot within each brigade. Subsequently, if this measure should meet with success in the field, such adoption might be expanded to a similar arrangement in a second battalion. Ultimately, this process would conclude with every battalion of foot in the army possessed of a supernumerary company equipped with the new rifle, which might be deployed by their individual battalion commanding officers, or else combined into special purpose battalions by the order of the general officer commanding, in use for some particular exercise. These companies would be trained by those officers and men of the previous experimental force, who would serve as an instructional cadre for new rifle companies. As a result, the tactics and best practises already established would proceed directly into use by these new companies.
Through this process, several objectives may be achieved. First, the new rifle will be tested under varying conditions in service to multiple forces which are themselves possessed of multiple objectives and deployed in multiple environs. This will test the versatility of the new rifle under a great multitude of circumstances. Second, it will familiarise officers throughout the army of the capabilities of the new rifle, as well as its requirements. Given that we estimate that a single company of men armed with new rifles should expend the same amount of powder as an entire battalion armed with muskets of the current type, it would be adviseable to test extensively the ability of the army’s ability to furnish, store, and deploy the requisite ammunition – just as it would be wise to test our own ability to produce such munitions at the appropriate scale.
In addition, by committing to a programme of gradual adoption, we will limit the demands on the company’s own manufactories, allowing the production of new rifles and ammunition to increase at a relatively steady rate. This will prevent the undesirable possibility that overwhelming immediate demand should necessitate the creation of manufactory facilities which could in turn prove a superfluity once demand is met.
Through this process, the design of the new rifle might be extensively tested and refined in a manner to the satisfaction of both the Company and the relevant military authorities. Although the new rifle’s general adoption as the primary arm of the regiments of foot is beyond the scope of this memorandum, the process detailed above ought to provide a firm base of intelligence and confidence with which the Company may pursue that aim, if the circumstances should deem such a course of action feasible or profitable.
As you will have no doubt surmised, I have provided for myself a copy of the document enclosed and intend to put its recommendations to use when presenting myself before the Queen’s Majesty. With the Royalist cause so imperilled, there is little doubt that they will be happy to seize upon any potential advantage that they might be able to trial and profit from without immediate expenditure of funds or trained soldiery. As a result, I believe I will have little trouble prevailing upon Her Majesty – who is known now very broadly to favour the reform of all of the Crown’s institutions – to allow us the first step of the procedure enumerated here. The officers of Grenadier Square may normally be of more intractable mind, but based on my discourse with our good Master Garing, I am given to understand that several highly-placed officers have been, for lack of a better term, cultivated as supporters since the time of his sojourn to Antar during the war.
Some of these officers, I have been made to believe, have also ended up on your side of the canal. They may prove of some use in mirroring the process in your own enclosure. If nothing else, they may prove to of value as a conduit to their chief. With the Duke of Wulfram already known to be so enamoured of the advancement of mechanickal industry, it might be of some profit to appeal to him directly from your own offices in Tannersburg. As the majority of our gunworks remain under the control of his forces, you may find it easier to present such an argument than I, if you are able to do so in person.
I look forward to your reply, confident in the knowledge that if we here in Aetoria are incapable of securing some profit from the current crisis, you will.
-James d’al Gutierrez, Baronet.
February 2024: The Khorobirit Papers Pt 5
The Khorobirit Papers
5/11/617
Thus, it appears that I have outlived another Tierran King. This one has departed his kingdom in a state so very different from how he inherited it: divided, paralysed by in-fighting, nearly bankrupt. One could almost mistake it for an Antari principality.
Some would see such a state as a warning, that when one tries to alter the traditions upon which a state is built, one will only serve to shake its structure apart.
Perhaps they have a point. Tierra’s example is a warning, but it is one which recommends strength, not cowardice. The King of Tierra tried to work within the traditions of his country to remake it, and those who benefitted from those traditions opposed him, seeing as our own Lords of the Congress do, only that such changes might erode their own power. A naive fool in politics for all of his ambitions, he trusted in the goodwill of those who had every reason to oppose his interests, and as a result, all of his ideas of reform and self-strengthening have come to nothing.
I am not a King of Tierra, to think in the terms of one was the mistake of my earlier years. One cannot remake a state by using the very instruments one intends in the end to destroy. One can only forge one’s own new tools – strong enough and sharp enough to cut away the rotten timbers and rusted braces of the old.
I am not a King of Tierra. I am Prince Khorobirit, and if those who should seek to defend their own powers in contravention of the good of this realm should expect me to beg and cajole and scrape as a King of Tierra might, then they will find themselves very regretfully mistaken.
7/1/617
Transcript of Address to the First Classes of the State Academy
My most faithful and able subjects.
You have been called here to correct the great wrong which has been done to you. For centuries, it has been believed that all those born without the Divine Blood are fit only for brute labour, that men and women such as you are incapable of anything greater than the station which you have been born to. Now, we know that this is a lie. You are the proof of that lie – those handful born within the great mass of the people with the will, the ability, and the loyalty to transcend the limits of those around you, and to fulfil a potential which almost all others cannot dream of achieving.
For centuries, there have been men and women such as you, and for centuries, your potential has been wasted by ignorant and profligate masters. Those of you who were picked out by the Sainted Martyrs to be better than your peers have been left unacknowledged, the great good which you might have done for your people has been disregarded. Instead, you have been forced to live amongst your inferiors, to labour as they labour, your sharp minds left to wither, given no direction or purpose.
Beginning today, this changes.
Here, at the academy of sciences, your will be raised to the position you deserve, one in which your skills and talents will be cultivated to the advantage of yourselves and the whole of the Principality. In doing so, you will become the extensions of my hand and my voice. Your abilities will be trained to serve me, and in return, you will be rewarded as extensions of my own power, as my favoured servants.
Those who excel in their duties will be showed with honours. They will become the subjects of the envy of those above and below them. Do not heed such sentiments, for they are born of the anger of those who will remain in the past. They fear the loss of my favour – a fear which those of you who serve me well in the days ahead will never have reason to harbour.
They are the past. You, my most faithful and able subjects, are the future.
9/14/617
It is understood very well that the Blood is intended to provide powers of judgement and intellect, and that most of those without it are little more than animals.
However, there are times when this truth seems in doubt.
A judge was killed in the far north two weeks ago. The perpetrator was a minor lord of no account – even less account now. He saw fit to have my servant arrested and impaled, on the grounds that he was a serf who was away from his estate, never mind that he was one of my serfs, on my business, bearing my token.
A column was dispatched to chastise the offender and his chattels, as has been the case in the previous few cases. Only in this occasion, when the force arrived, it was reported that the serfs themselves had seen fit to arrest the Lord in question, for fear of the punishment which I was to mete out to them.
Unfortunately, this also places a dilemma before me. The serfs are, undoubtedly guilty of servile insurrection. The proper course of action would be to stake each and every one of them, as I have before. However, doing so would show that I would treat serfs who are more loyal to me than their immediate masters no differently than those who would remain obedient to a lord who commits treason against me. To offer clemency would reward this show of loyalty, but it may also encourage others to rebel, as many have in the west. This I cannot allow.
Thus, I must offer a reward and exact a price, but I must also determine the proportion of each. There is no question that some will have to die on the stake, and others will have to be honoured for their actions.
The question is whom, and in what numbers?
4/28/618
I have visited the canal project again. The main channel remains frozen over. The engineers tell me it will likely be another month before the passage is suitable for the use of small boats, and another two weeks after that before it might be useable for heavy shipping.
It seems that this affair has proven to be mere folly. A channel to a protected harbour will be of little use when it is only open to the sea for three or four months of the year. If I am to secure the means to assemble a sea-going fleet, then I will need to secure a port further south, an enterprise which will involve resources and plans of an entirely different kind.
Perhaps this project was always destined to exist in the realm of the fantastical. The Southmen may see the use of a canal for such a purpose, but their land is warmer than ours. No doubt that a Tierran Lord would find a canal project a much more practical solution. Here, we must salvage what we can, divert the resources to other projects, and leave what is left standing as a monument to the imbecility of copying the works and methods of foreigners without understanding them.
6/2/618
During the height of the war, there were those who prayed to the Saints and the Mother to reverse the fortunes of our respective sides – to sow the same disunity and confusion among the Southmen that we witnessed every time we entered the chamber of the Congress. We, the right-thinking, intelligent men, dismissed such supplications as the pathetic mewling of desperate cowards. The Saints, as it is well known, look to nothing but their own plans. The Mother of Ascension is not drawn to the sound of prayer, but to deeds of glory and courage. It was folly to apply to the Heavens in such a manner, the Heavens did not listen to supplications of such a tenor.
Apparently we were wrong.
It seems perhaps the Heavens do listen to such pleadings, they simply take a great deal of time to answer them. News has come to us that the Tierran kingdom has collapsed into a state of civil war, between the factions of the court and the throne. The Duke of Wulfram, son to the man whom I defeated at Blogia, now fancies himself a latter day version of Prince Ivan of my own illustrious line, calling for the overthrow of the power of their new Queen – who has evidently realised at long last that an edifice of government cannot be remade while maintaining its walls and pillars. Now the Tierran Congress – their Cortes – is broken into multiple fractious parties, each adhering to one side or the other, but in the name of different interests.
Word has come to me that the Takarans have involved themselves as well, after their embassy was stormed and its staff cruelly slaughtered by some mass of lowborn rabble. It is not the only account I have heard of such animals running free in that country. Perhaps now the Tierrans will understand the folly not keeping the mass of their serfs in hand.
It is said that among the Kian, the hatred of their great enemy is so deep that they rejoice whenever they hear of some Takaran misfortune regardless of cause or severity. I cannot doubt now that I am of a kindred spirit with such sentiment. This internal dissolution of the Tierran kingdom weakens those we hate, and serves as an object lesson to our own people as to how disunity and the pursuit of shallow interests may bring down even a seemingly strong government. More than that, it gives us time: time to strengthen ourselves, to bring those who still cling to the past to heel, time to position ourselves to our advantage.
Time to engineer revenge.
March 2024: A Chronicle of the War in the Northwest Pt 1
Written on the Third Day of the Fourth Month of the Twenty-Fifth Reign of the Annesouais Emperor.
Your Grace,
I have arrived now in the northern anchor fortification of the Outer Outpost Line. The voyage from headquarters passed mostly calmly over open waters. Unfortunately, as we reached the coast, our convoy was attacked by a small squadron of ships belonging to the Great Enemy. Initially, the officers of the ship were hesitant to allow me to observe the action, but they yielded to my authority when I explained to them the nature of my commission.
The enemy’s ships consisted of two small fast vessels of the common raiding configuration, with approximately 18 cannon on each flank. They approached as is their custom sailing against the wind, the better to drive our own convoy against them. Evidently, such tactics have become well-known to the men of the Northern Seas Fleet, and as a result, they proceeded very quickly to counter this approach, sending the escorts out as a screen, while bringing the Great Ships’ broadsides to bear. Thus the Great Enemy was greeted with heavy fire from our rockets, causing heavy damage to both attackers. However, in their customary disregard for safety, both enemy vessels continued to approach, even while burning. While one vessel eventually broke apart under continued fire, the other was able to close to the range of its guns. I must regret to inform Your Grace that two Great Ships were heavily damaged, and three escorts sunk in the ensuing close action. Loss of life is estimated to be close to fifteen hundred.
In subsequent conversation with the officers of the ship, I have been informed that such actions were very common in the early days of the war, with many raiding squadrons of the Great Enemy penetrating deep past the Foremost and Outer Lines. This evidently caused great distress amongst the people of the Northern Dominions, doubly so when the Great Enemy was able to establish outposts within the perimeter of the Foremost Line. While these outposts and those who collaborated with them were eventually scoured clean and the perimeter itself was re-established, it remains something of a mystery to me how the carefully plotted defences of four successive Emperors could be pierced so easily.
The explanation of this evident impossibility will likely serve as the main object of subsequent reports.
4/8/Annesouais 25
Your Grace,
Having established myself now in the citadel, I have had the opportunity to begin the mission of investigation with which you have charged me. Over the past three days, I have accumulated several observations which I will elucidate upon here.
Firstly, Your Grace will be very gratified to know that the fortification is in a state of high readiness, and the mechanisms which exist to facilitate the transfer of troops and equipment to the front function at highest efficiency. Already the convoy which I have arrived upon has been rearmed and repaired, to transfer its cargo further forward. The courier ships are even more efficient. I am told that as I am writing this message, my first letter of four days ago may already be sitting in your most illustrious hands.
I have also had the opportunity to interview the local military commander, the Count of Fananne, whose family has held this posting since the establishment of the fortress over a century ago. This proved to be a very worrisome occasion, as while His Excellency the Count provided every hospitality, his preoccupations seemed to be less with the wider war effort and his own contributions to it, but in regards to the well-being of his own fortress and its supporting settlements, as well as relationships with the indigenous peoples, which have grown somewhat strained with the current increased demand for firewood, food, and other supplies which the war effort is in great need of. He has complained to me that what was sustainable with a population of 4000 has become nearly intolerable with the addition of the wartime garrison of 2500, and the constant transit of up to 15 000 troops at a time.
Even more worrisome was His Excellency’s reaction when I prevailed upon him to offer his evaluation of the fortress’ role in the wider strategic conception. For this, he referred me to his staff, mostly made up of officers which were assigned to him directly following the outbreak of war. The fact that the commander of a military district should be so ignorant of the role of his command in the wider plans of the Grand Staff that he must rely on others to even so much as exposit their significance seems a most unwelcome sign of some form of laxity or derangement within the structure of the local authority.
4/18/Annesouais 25
Your Grace,
Having convened with the members of the Count’s staff, I must regret to inform you that my worries regarding the matter have only grown.
It seems that they too share my complaints regarding the limited perspective of the local command, and were able to elaborate further on how such differences in perspective have hindered the war effort.
Simply put, while the staff maintains authority over the direction of the fortress and its supporting facilities as pertains to the war effort itself, the Count not only maintains ultimate command authority, but also seems to be the only figure of authority capable of effectively directing the local population, whose cooperation is strictly necessary for the harmonious function of the fortress’ military roles. The staff may prevail upon him to carry out orders from the War Court, but they cannot prevail upon him to do so in the way which is not most advantageous for the local inhabitants, as opposed to that which contributes most greatly to the ultimate victory of the Great Kian and the House of J’ouwe.
Thus, cantonments are placed far away from docks to preserve the existing patterns of farmland. Ships’ crews on shore duty are made to dig ditches and defences for local settlements instead of improving the dock facilities. Surplus equipment and supplies are handed out to outlying settlements who are threatened only by the possible raids of the indigenous peoples, instead of being stockpiled so that they may be kept in the case of encroachment or reverse at hands of the Great Enemy.
As a result, a theoretically unified command is in reality two separate command structures, one subordinate to the other, creating a state of affairs where local priorities are of greater import than overall priorities. While rectifying this state of affairs likely requires time and disruption which is unavailable in a time of exigency such as this, such matters should be considered and revisited once the proper opportunities arise.
5/2/Annesouais 25
Your Grace,
I write with the confidence that my previous observations regarding the northern anchor of the Outer Outpost Line has been received and that the appropriate measures to rectify such faults as have been already enumerated are already in the process of being formulated by the relevant organs. As such, I would expect my work in this place to be more or less complete.
However, my findings here must raise a certain degree of concern independent of its immediate implications. Namely, it must be said that if matters of divided command and priority are so prominent here, in a position not so distant or disconnected from central authority, how might similar situations have developed further afield, in the environment of the Foremost Outpost Line? If one might speculate, it is possible that the greater danger and proximity of the Great Enemy’s forces may have led to a more acceptable form of command process. Alternatively, distance from central command may have caused similar faults as such as those found here, or other malignant deviations entirely. Thus, I would seek permission to expand the scope of my current commission to evaluate the situation in that quarter.
I would further request the authority to inspect the smaller settlements and positions which form the broad arc of the Outer Outpost Line. As it has become clear that the maintenance and reinforcement of such positions are considered beyond the remit of the current station by His Excellency the Count of Fananne, an accurate accounting of the readiness of such posts would require further inspection by a disinterested party. Thus, I would request the opportunity to make my way to such outposts by land. While this would be a slower process, it will allow me to gain a greater appreciation of local conditions. I will also admit that I am somewhat apprehensive about travelling by sea given previous incidents. I have received some news that the activity of the Great Enemy has somewhat increased in the region over the past few weeks, and I am loath to require your grace to send a replacement so soon after my own appointment.
April 2024: A Chronicle of the War in the Northwest Pt 2
6/1/Annesouais 25
Your Grace,
This message I have dispatched with the courier from your staff, who I had auspiciously encountered the day before. He had not been able to reach me before my departure from Fananne, and as a result he was obliged to follow along my route of travel over land for a considerable period of time, enduring much hardship and deprivation which was not included within the strict confines of his brief.
For this, I would see the man commended and rewarded, for his behaviour speaks well of his attention to duty and piety to the order of things.
I travel now along what has been officially described as ‘dispatch roads’, established early in the reign of the previous emperor. These were intended to facilitate traffic between the various posts of the outer and foremost outpost lines present on this island in case that the exigencies of war should make passage of communications by sea impossible. This is to say, that I am using these roads for their original intended purpose.
Unfortunately, I must regrettably report that the way these roads were designed clearly show that those responsible for carrying out the particulars of this scheme never intended the product of their labour to be used for that officially stated purpose.
While the Dispatch Roads were intended to allow the speedy conveyance of priority parcels and messages over land, the way they have been designed makes them unsuitable for the task. Instead of being cut straight and wide through terrain features, they wind and swirl through valleys and around hills. The designated rest stops are often empty of any of the amenities expected of them, and the roads themselves are very poorly maintained. It was understood to me that the original intention of the planners was that the local people would maintain them for their own use, but as the natives of this land constrain themselves primarily to the business of their own regions, they have little need for roads which travel great distances, and neglect the roads accordingly.
6/12/Annesouais 25
Your Grace,
I write now from a small port on the western coast of the island, where the dispatch roads terminate and passage across the Straits is made available through a series of mail ships. This coast is settled, but very sparsely, as the ground is very unsuited for farming and the weather very poor. The majority of those living here are migrants from the lands of the Santamorids, who have intermixed with the few natives already present here over the course of the past century or so. Some of these leaders – settler and native both – style themselves lords of various demesnes along the coast, using the title ‘Ealdor’, or ‘Earl’, which is apparently a sort of petty king amongst the native peoples. As they have proven cooperative in their dealings with the emissaries of the Grand Staff in the past and are hostile to the intrigues of the Great Enemy, they have been allowed to continue onwards unmolested.
The most prominent of these local petty kings rules a small island off the coast which translates as ‘Lion’s Court’ in his own language. This man, the grandson of a supposedly very infamous pirate king, charges tolls on traffic from his island fortress, which he enforces with a small fleet of vessels. This, the local commander of the Foremost Outpost Line has taken advantage of upon his own initiative. He has hired this local ruler to ensure the safety of traffic along the coast and across the straits. While his very minor forces are incapable of causing direct harm to the Great Enemy, his knowledge of the many hidden passages and coves in the islands off the coast ensure that the Eru-venne are incapable of penetrating these waters, rendering them almost entirely safe for passage by out own forces.
As a result, my own journey is expected to be swift and mostly secure, save for the normal hazards of sea travel.
6/18/Annesouais 25
Your Grace,
I write to you having made safe passage across the strait.
Our vessel was a small but very swift boat of local design, much reminiscent of the coastal craft used by the Castrians. This vessel was approximately thirty paces in length and eight in beam, but possessed two great triangular sails as well as a bank of oars. The hull was very narrow in profile, but was able to comfortable accommodate myself and my attendants.
This vessel belonged to our pilot, a man of the island fortress which I had mentioned previously. He possessed to me the bearing of a bandit, with clothing of many bright colours, which he wore with his chest and feet bare. He carried two short swords fastened to his waist by a belt of twisted multicoloured cloth, as well as four pistols which I could see and a small thin-bladed knife which he used for eating as well as prying open the shells of oysters and crabs. His crew was similarly dressed, though only half a dozen in number. Upon further inquiry, he explained to me that under normal circumstances, such a vessel might have a crew of thirty or forty men, sufficient to pull the oars with were carried alongside to give the vessel extra speed. I suspect that such a large crew would also be of use for overpowering and seizing merchant vessels, which I believe to be the primary occupation of these men.
Regardless, our pilot explained that in this case, he had reduced the number of his crew to render us more at ease and grant us more space for our luggage. Privately, he also intimated that by doing so, he reduced number of men he would have to split the payment with for conveying us, therefore granting larger shares not only to himself, but to the others of his crew, who were all his brothers or other sworn kinsmen.
While very coarse in manner and deed, the pilot and his crew served us well throughout the voyage, having proven themselves canny navigators and very familiar with the local waters. They allowed us as much privacy as were able and disturbed us only when necessary for the proper direction of the craft. I would commend them and those like them to you as useful allies, although I suspect I shall have to make further inquiries as to just how much the local commander is compensating them for such a service.
6/21/Annesouais 25
Your Grace,
I write to you now having made some acquaintance of the people of this island, who are called the Oi’boue and possess many settlements along the length of the land. Claiming descent from those who travelled from the Homeland many centuries ago, their customs and language are similar to some of the coastal districts of the Northern Dominions. They are well-formed and handsome in aspect, but very indolent, as the land here is very fertile and very little effort is required to render it sufficiently productive to sustain the numbers of people who live here.
As we share many similarities with these people, they are very friendly to us, and have perhaps inherited some hatred of the Great Enemy from their ancestors. As a result, the local commander has deemed it fit to allow these natives continued authority in governing over their lands, requiring only that they answer to him in matters of supply and defence, which they seem most amenable to. However, the Oi’boue are not united, and those who I have spoken to have intimated that other settlements have been hostile to outside interference. These peoples, the local commander has seen fit to ignore, on the grounds that his priorities lie elsewhere.
As for their settlements themselves, the Oi’boue build very handsomely, with stone and wood with great porticos which open the interior spaces to the island’s breezes and offers shelter from the heat. Their villages are well-ordered and very rarely walled, for warfare is rare here. Trade, on the other hand, is quite common, as many villages make a point of growing or crafting a single sort of crop or handicraft which they then trade with others along waterways and the roads, which here are in very good condition. The wine pressed here in particular is considered very good, though it is sweeter and heavier than that which I am accustomed to in Midi’haie.
6/28/Annesouais 25
Your Grace,
I have arrived now at the regional headquarters of the Foremost Outpost Line, and have applied to the staff of the commander here for an interview and permission to inspect the works. However, I have been informed on more than one occasion that the local commander cannot currently entertain guests at this time, and that such matters must wait until a less vigorous phase of operations.
This being said, I do not think I can find fault with the way which the local commander has organised his affairs. The cantonments here are efficiently laid out and well positioned for mutual defence, even though this area has not been under direct threat for some time. Picquets are placed both at land and on sea, and both shore and land batteries appear to be at a high state of readiness. Since my arrival four days ago, I have been challenged multiple times each day by sentries and other sentinels, even far away from the expected avenues of attack or threat. This, I think, speaks well as to the discipline and alertness of the soldiers here.
There is also here a very large civilian establishment, intended for the housing and care of those driven from the areas of active combat by the depredations of the Great Enemy. Having made some attempt to question the local authorities as to how such an establishment is funded and maintained, I received the curious reply that while this encampment exists with the permission of the local commander, it is wholly under civilian administration. I have thus applied to the relevant organs for permission to inspect the aforementioned premises, so that its nature may be better understood.
7/2/Annesouais 25
Your Grace,
The day after I sent my last letter, I received permission to tour and inspect the civilian encampment. This turned out to be a vast enclosure surrounded by a ditch based on what had previously been a hunting lodge maintained by the local commander prior to the war. The lodge itself now serves as a headquarters for a very great assemblage of tents, housing perhaps fifteen or twenty thousand civilians in all, with subsidiary encampments evidently hosting several thousand more. The encampment is well-laid, with rows of tents nearly organised, washing facilities for each row of habitations, cooking facilities, and organised latrines which have been placed appropriately to stave off disease.
Directing these efforts was an individual whom I had the opportunity to conduct a brief interview with. This is a Great Lady of one of the families resident in the M’hidyossi colonies north of Fananne, who was introduced to me as Lady Octavia of the House of Monteferro, the heiress of a family of great wealth in a city of that region. Evidently, upon the outbreak of hostilities, she proceeded under her own auspices to this island, with the permission and support of her family. From here, she devoted her resources to caring for and resettling those refugees driven from their homes by the attacks of the Great Enemy.
The manner in which this was done was quickly demonstrated, as soon following this interview, a convoy of small vessels came into sight, civilian vessels from one of the island chains currently serving as the forefront of battle. These ships carried with them perhaps three thousand individuals in all – far greater than they were intended to carry – many in condition of great hunger, thirst, or injury. The Lady Octavia quickly organised a space for these refugees, and mustered her staff – of which a considerable proportion is made up of her personal attendants – to prepare to treat the wounded and feed the hungry, hours before the ships carrying them pulled into harbour.
By nightfall, when I was obliged to leave, operations were well underway, and great numbers of the stricken were already being fed and tended to.
Perhaps it would then follow that I would commend this Great Lady to you. She has hitherto refused to accept official support beyond permission, on the grounds that she wishes to remain as impartial as possible. However, once the conflict is brought to a successful conclusion, I believe that some manner of honour may be suitable for one who has done much to alleviate suffering here.
June 2024: Tales of the Grey Riders
Little Misha thought he knew best,
with spritely feet he’d been blessed.
When called to work, he’d run away,
off to the woods to run and play.
When Misha’s father was called to Miir,
he called his son so he might hear.
But his father’s call he did not heed,
for such boring days he had no need.
Little Misha disdained such work,
any such duties, he would shirk.
Instead of Miir he went away,
off to the woods to run and play.
As he escaped he laughs and cheers,
the coming hooves he did not hear.
The danger then he could not see,
til Southmen rode out from the trees.
They glared and towered overhead,
with coats of grey and bloody red,
festooned with guns like iron reeds,
perched atop their jet-black steeds.
When Misha’s father returned from Miir,
the news filled both his eyes with tears.
For no more will his son run and play,
the dread Grey Riders took him away.
-A Southern Children’s Rhyme
—–
You say that the Grey Riders could not be beaten, well, I say now that this is nonsense.
Yes, go ahead, and laugh, I can wait. The Takarans have a saying, that he who laughs last laughs the loudest, and I say that I can prove that the Grey Riders could be beaten, not only that, I saw it happen – no, not only that, I was among they who beat them.
This was about ten years ago, perhaps two months after our bold Prince Khorobirit drove the Southmen back at Blogia. The invaders were on the run at the end of the day, but unlike a good Antari lord, who would have the sense to retreat to his castles and sue for terms, the Southman king refused to give up. He raised a whole new army, and shipped it all the way across the sea to join up with what was left of the old one. So instead of going home and celebrating the early end of a good campaign, we spent that summer patrolling the southern woods, combing the trees and the paths for devils in orange.
It was on one such morning that we found ourselves face to face with the Grey Riders.
When our scouts reported it to us, we were all shaken with awe. We remembered what they had done at Blogia not so long before, how they had held against six times their number of Prince Khorobirit’s light horse, and then charged into the teeth of the rest. Half of us thought they were spirits, or ghosts, or unkillable automatons made of Callindrian steel. But they were the enemy, and they were ahead of us, so we mounted our saddles and chivvied our serfs into position and prepared ourselves to fight.
When we first saw them, a ripple of terror shook through us. Some of the serfs made to run, and had to be beaten back into position. Ahead on the road they stood, in double-rank, with those terrible man-killing carbines which they said could go through an eye at three hundred paces. But still, we knew what we had to do, so we spurred ourselves onwards, drawing our sabres, putting our heads down, and waiting for the sound of musketry which had so doomed so many of our fellows at Blogia.
But when that volley came, it was ragged, sloppy, almost like a drunk man trying to beat a rhythm on drums. More importantly, it came at almost two hundred paces.
And it missed almost all of us.
I cannot speak for the men around me, but I was stunned at my luck. The enemy had fired, and I could only see one or two empty saddles. Yet that did not mean our battle was over. We knew that the Grey Riders had done great slaughter with their own sabres, and we braced ourselves, for we knew them to be deadly even on foot against mounted opponents. We all of us remembered what happened to Konstantin of Noribirit.
Yet instead of bracing for our charge, or even attempting to reload, the Grey Riders before us seemed to forget who they were. They did not stand, but wavered, then broke, then ran.
By the time we were thirty paces away, they were in flight. running into the trees like wild game. Some we caught in the open, and cut down like animals. Others we sped on their way with pistols. Yet even then, we held fear in our hearts, for we knew the Grey Riders were supposed to be masters of ambush. So we waited for the trap to spring, the one which would kill us all.
It never came.
We were shocked at our own victory. More than once, I saw men pick at the coats of the fallen Southmen, trying to see if they were the genuine article. Yet everything we saw proved that they were the same soldiers which had killed so many at Blogia: the colour of the coats, the plumes on their helmets, even the carbines and sabres they carried. It took almost the rest of the day to sink in, but when we finally were able to convince themselves of it, the feeling was like eating a ball of opium all in one swallow. We had met the Grey Riders in battle, and we had beaten them.
That night, we drank and drank and sang and drank some more until we were spewing from both ends. If the Grey Riders – the ones who were at Blogia – had found us then, they would have killed us all as easily as a grandmother kills a chicken.
But they did not find us then. They did not find us at all. They had fled, for true, and we had been the ones to put them to flight.
Three years later, we faced them again.
Once again, we rode into the teeth of them, but this time, we did so with confidence. We knew they could be beaten, we had beaten them once already. We knew that for all of their reputation, all of their legend, we only needed to close to within reach of our sabres, and they would break.
Only this time was different.
This time, their carbines spoke as a single thunderclap, and swept away a dozen men at once. This time, when we rode at them, they braced themselves in their stirrups, drew their sabres and charged us in return. This time, we looked into their eyes, and saw not frightened animals or even the ferocity of men, but the cold resolve of killing machines.
This time, on the banks of the Kharan, it was we who broke, and I do not feel any shame in saying it, because I know that every man in this room would have broken the same.
Men do not change readily. Some live the end of their lives with the same sentiment and attitudes as they began it with. They certainly do not transform so utterly in three years. It seemed as if we were not facing the same Grey Riders we had faced before, but their vengeful shades, ready to demonstrate in full measure the martial skill and virtue which they had lacked the first time.
So perhaps that is what I mean to say about all this: the Grey Riders can be beaten.
Once.
——-
How do you kill a Grey Rider? That is a complicated question, and one with a complicated answer.
It might be tempting to imagine that they can be killed from a distance, but you forget that from beyond a hundred paces, a shot will just as likely miss a man and a horse as hit him, even when sitting still. When at the walk, let alone the trot or the gallop, you may well not even try. You forget also that once you fire, you give away your position, and the carbine he carries on his back is far more accurate than any gun you could bring.
So, you think, best to make him waste his shot, and then close as he reloads. This too is folly, for you forget that he is mounted on a horse, whilst you are on foot. If he fires and sees you approaching, not even the fastest runner will be able to catch up with him if he decides to withdraw – and he need only withdraw four or five hundred paces to have the time to reload and try another shot.
No, if you mean to escape the ball of the Grey Rider’s carbine, you must get close without being seen. Use ravines and brush as cover, hide behind the trunks of trees, use the stones to mask your approach. If he is in tall grass, hide amongst it. If you know he approaches, conceal yourself before he arrives. If you are able to get within twenty paces of him, and you act with swiftness and purpose, he will not have time to spur his horse or bring his carbine to bear before you find yourself upon him.
But he will have time to draw his sabre.
Now, you may think it would be proper to fight your foe as if he were a man on foot with a sabre, but here, you would once again be mistaken. Never forget that a man on a warhorse has two weapons: the one in his hand and the one he is sitting on. If you allow him too much space, he will be able to spur his horse forward and run you down. If you linger too close to the front of his mount, it may lash out and strike you. There is no parry, and no riposte which might counter the blow of a horse’s hoof. Do not even try.
Instead, you must take advantage of the fact that a man on horseback only has two angles of attack available to him, instead of the customary four. By being high up on a saddle, he cannot thrust from below, nor can he easily cut down from the side opposite that in which his sabre is held. Use these openings to your advantage. Approach low and from the off-side, then thrust not at the rider, but at his horse, who cannot parry and cannot riposte.
But beware, a horse is not an easy beast to kill. It is larger than you, and at times faster. You must make a precise thrust to slay it in one stroke. Yet it might also be best not to slay the horse at all. You need simply cause it to panick in a way which throws off its rider. A blow at the head, or even the sudden seizing of the reins may be enough. It is enough to make the rider fall.
Now, at last, you have the advantage. If the rider has fallen hard on the ground, he is helpless for a spare moment, and this will be the moment in which you claim victory. You cannot afford to hesitate here. Move with purpose and with speed, and strike for the neck or the groin or the belly. The Grey Rider wears no armour save for his helmet, and while this makes him swift in movement, it offers little protection when he is lying on the ground.
At any point, things may go wrong. He may spot you from a distance as you approach, you may find yourself in the wrong place as he draws his sabre. You may find him too quick or too alert to close with him. His horse may strike you as it falls. You will have to be fortunate as well as skilled and swift and determined, but if you are all those things, then you may yet succeed.
That is how to kill a Grey Rider.
If you are lucky.
July 2024: Notes on a Crisis Pt 2
8/2/617
The Duke of Wulfram’s mind seems quite known to us as of late. He has reacted to the imposition of the Royal Veto with precisely the manner which was expected of him. By doing so, he has been seen in a great many quarters as opposing the rightful prerogative of the Crown and its unquestionably lawful bearer, a perception which will do us much good. By presenting himself as in opposition to the veto, he has also forced the drawing of lines. Many of those previously sitting astride the fence posts have come down from them – the majority on the side of the Crown.
As for the others, now we know where they stand – and now those of our own party might charge them quite rightly not with mere opposition to the Crown’s policy, but opposition to the Crown’s powers.
But that remains an advantage in the long-term. In the more immediate view, Wulfram’s refusal to discuss a budget places the Crown in a situation where it will be unable to meet its fiscal obligations. It has, in short, placed me under siege.
That is not to say I do not have time – time won by some of the precautions taken, and those which had previously been put in place by my brother. The essential functions of the state may be maintained by a careful management of obligations, both written and verbal. Certain parties may be prevailed upon to offer a degree of relief. Cunaris, in particular, will not allow his Dragoons to go without pay – he is too conscientious a soldier for that, no matter his personal feelings.
Yet these are stopgaps, not a solution. Should the designs and enterprises now in train to resolve matters prove unsuccessful, Wulfram’s party will hold the advantage, unless they might be waited out.
That is a luxury I may not have.
8/15/617
I find myself growing increasingly irritated at the Duke of Cunaris.
He is a man who ought to know his duty very well – indeed, he is a man who has proven himself an exemplar. In Antar, he proved ever an excellent fighting officer – one not unwilling to take certain unpleasant expediencies when demanded. Following his maiming at Blogia, he continued to serve more ably as a General-of-Brigade than four out of five men of his rank and circumstance might have done with full use of their legs.
Unfortunately, he seems manifestly unsuited for the situation which he is now placed in. Charged with maintaining order, he instead seems intent on acting as some manner of negotiator, attempting to restrain loyal bodies and seditious actors with equal force. It is as if instead of imposing the Queen’s Peace, he intends to create his own compromise betwixt the forces of order and chaos, to strike some balance between the Crown to whom he owes his commission, and to those who oppose it – a force which includes a great number of his own house.
This perhaps, might seem to offer something of an explanation, but if Cunaris were cynical enough to be driven by such naked familial interest, he would have surely already thrown in his lot with Wulfram and his allies. Instead, he has chosen to maintain the current situation in equilibrium, like a man attempting to hold a see-saw at perfect balance, as if he does not realise that this current balance is precisely the reason which the current situation grows increasingly more disordered.
I shall have to speak with him again. If he remains obstinate, then there are other avenues which I might avail myself of.
I have not spoken to A. for nearly two years. I do hope she has retained her charming proficiency for falsehood.
10/29/617
There are those who mistake the quiet in the streets for peace.
Alas, I cannot share in their delusion.
I could beat my head against the bedposts for a week, and still I would not be so dazed and confused by the blows as to think that Wulfram and his allies are not planning some fresh enterprise within the Rendower Club. Their proxies may not march the streets, but it is certain they are consolidating their positions, and sounding out those amongst their number which they believe to be reliable, in the case of some ultimate and unthinkable eventuality.
Given such a circumstance, I must answer. No precaution will guard against treason if I do not know who is loyal and who is not.
I have begun the work with Castermaine – who has long been enmeshed within the Duke of Wulfram’s party. Yet his service during the war in Antar and his previous loyalty to the Crown speak in his favour. There are many, I think, who would be comfortable enough in voicing opposition to the Crown’s policy, but would balk at taking up arms against it. I must know if Castermaine is one.
It is for that reason I have ordered him to take up a study of the various armed bodies of volunteers and so-called ‘defence-leagues’ within the city. In the meantime, I have sent my own trusted agents to undertake an identical study. When all these procedures are complete, I will be able to cross-examine one with the other. If Castermaine’s numbers match those of the others, then I may yet trust him. If they are not, then logic would dictate that he is concealing intelligence from his Sovereign to pursue some ulterior motive.
To know such a man to be definitively untrustworthy would be a hard blow, but it would do infinitely less injury if such a thing were uncovered on my terms, rather than his.
4/21/618
Something terrible has happened.
4/22/618
[REDACTED SECTION]
4/24/618
Wulfram is moving now, I am sure of it.
Some part of me could not blame him for doing so. In his current circumstances, he is likely to be much resistant to good counsel and much vulnerable to ill advice, especially his own – and he has shown himself very incapable of resisting that manner of impulse in the past. Rash action now would be within his character, but it might perhaps be in the character of any man in his position.
Yet the other part of me knows that the enterprise which he now embarks is treason. I may spare him the consideration he is owed as a grieving widower and father, but this offers him no allowance for treachery.
The Northern Fleet is involved somehow, E.’s report from Northern Pillars have made that very clear. I fear that by sending her there I have rendered her vulnerable to all manner of intrigues, which was the opposite of my intention, yet I cannot allow myself to be too worried. I have advance warning thanks to her, and paradoxically, I find myself more confident in Crittenden’s ability and will to keep her safe than I am of her own.
He has never charged in to take battlefield command of a battalion of foot in which he holds no commission, after all.
I must make inquiries. To have the fleet against me is bad enough, but there will be other forces moving. I must know what they are before they make themselves known un unwelcome fashion.
5/3/618
So it has come to this.
The militias which had laid dormant over the winter are once again on the streets in full force, no doubt claiming that I personally lit Wulfeam House ablaze. The Northern Fleet is offshore, against orders, which might only mean one thing. Agents report that Castermaine has called out the Houseguards of a great many places, something which he has no authority to do – though I will allow myself a moment of self-congratulation by noting that my precautions have ensured that he has brought a great deal fewer men than he might have hoped.
Then there are the Takarans. Their recent change in government has replaced poor good-natured vam Holt with a real ambassador in the classical imperial mold. He has seen the opportunity to advance his Empire’s interests here, and he has no doubt already taken it – in a way which allows both he and Wulfram to pat themselves on the back and declare to themselves that they have quite thoroughly swindled the other.
Of course, this is all supposed to be secret, the shifting of props behind a curtain before it is raised to the great astonishment of the audience.
But Wulfram is not anywhere near as subtle as he thinks he is. His insistence – for I suspect he still insists – on making a demonstration of force implies that he intends to deliver an ultimatum, not a blow. Perhaps he believes this matter might be settled without violence now that he has raised troops and ships direct against the Crown. That would be very characteristic, I should imagine. No doubt he shall feel very noble and high-minded when he delivers his demands, congratulating himself on the fact that he has allowed me every opportunity to roll over and present my neck for the axe peaceably before resorting to bloodshed.
But in serving his own self-righteousness, he has given me one key advantage: I know what my enemy intends to play, and he cannot boast the same. My forces may seem to be at a disadvantage, but by moving them carefully, I may yet be able to play counter-stroke to every single one of his own moves. Once the initial shock of the first round of blows passes, that shall leave me with the advantage.
Then he shall be in the position he believes I occupy now, and we shall see if he is any more capable of submission than I.
August 2024: The Confidential Papers of Princess Khorobirit
Misha,
I have, as you requested, sent you a summary of my files on the current senior officers of the Tierran Army, as of my latest information. As the Tierrans regularly shuffle their war leaders from posting to posting – a practice made possible by the supreme authority which their king wields over his army – I cannot guarantee that the information regarding their current positions within the army are current. This information, you will have to confirm with the Oberlinders which you tell me you have now engaged with your forces to supplement our own poor useless light horse – who you tell me is to be commanded by my poor useless brother.
I remind you that these are summaries, the originals being too cumbersome and too ponderous to be sent by courier. They are also full of information which you will likely find irrelevant, and written in handwriting which you have already before criticized as nearly illegible – your own fault for not ordering the training of these archival scribes earlier. I have copied out these summaries in my own hand, which you evidently find so attractive. I have also, against my own better judgement, arranged these summaries in alphabetical order of their family names, as you have requested, even though Tierran family names and titles differ because they are a race of drooling, money-grubbing imbeciles who glory in possessing extraneous names in lieu of anything useful.
I read your letters to Sasha now, and she reads them back to me. She is doing a fairly good job of it, but she insists that her father return soon to teach her to pronounce the words which she does not yet understand.
So crush these Southmen quickly, or I will have to take your place in this matter, and she will greet you upon your return speaking with a Noribirit accent.
Candless, Hector son of Alaric, Prince of Wulfram
I do not think I should need to go into too much detail about the Prince (or Duke, as the Tierrans call him) of Wulfram. You have met the man, I believe. He is perhaps the closest thing the Tierrans have to a war hero, although one can hardly call a moment of fortune during an incident nearly four decades ago a consistent record of victory, regardless of how great the odds were against him. Regardless, for the Southmen, who have precious few warlike men, Wulfram is uncommonly martial in his experience, education, and skills. He would have perhaps made a good Hussar, had he been born in a civilised country to the correct faith, but even as a heretic and a foreigner, we both know he is a man to be handled carefully.
Much of this capacity we may credit to his previous service as an officer of Marines, for unlike the land regiments of the Tierran Army, their Marines serve aboard their ships, and although they rarely go into battle in their peacetime duties, they are exposed constantly to the danger of storms, cold, and the other common perils of life at sea. This makes for hard men, who naturally become insolent as they grow prideful in their own sense of hardiness. To rein in such individuals requires leaders of stern will and strong character, and if Wulfram had not developed these traits in boyhood, he certainly did so as a young officer.
However, I believe his experience as a Marine has also shaped his weaknesses as well as his strengths. He remains deep down inside a man fit for the command of a hundred or a thousand men, not an army many times that size. In his capacity as the former Tierran King’s marshal, he proved no to have little eye for detail, delegating small but important matters to his clerks, who often bungled the affair in question due to their lack of martial experience. At war too, he prefers to leave matters of administration to his staff, while taking command of one wing – usually his heavy cavalry – from the front. On six occasions now he has done this, and on every one, he has left his plan of battle to his subordinates to fulfil.
Here, I think, is his greatest weakness. As marshal of his King’s armies, it falls on him to draft plans of campaign and plans of battle. Yet when battle is joined, he does not see fit to see those plans executed, instead abandoning them to lead from the front where he lacks the ability to adapt or improvise to changing conditions. This may seem similar to our own practice, but the Southmen, being servile and used to taking orders without question, do not require this of their generals, as we do. In this matter, he plays to our own strengths, for his own army is not fit to fight ours whilst led in a style reminiscent of our own. Were he faced with a competent enemy, he would no doubt come to grief.
I am sure you have some candidates in mind for the role of that competent enemy. I certainly do.
Eldridge, Tomas son of Carlos, Lord of Tourbridge
I think you would despise this one, if you knew him personally. Tomas of Eldridge has a reputation much like many of those which we have had the misfortune to find wanting in our own court: he is man fond of boasting and revelry. It is said that he can drink twelve glasses of the disgusting Southmen juniper vodka in a single sitting without retching. It is said that he was a great friend of the old King, and one of the few who was able to serve as an equal in that man’s contests of debauchery and dissipation.
Yet I would remind you that simply because a man is disreputable and dislikeable does not make him incompetent. I do not like your friend and brother-by-marriage Ivan of Jugashavil either, but one cannot deny that he is a masterful organiser of mines and ironworks. So too with this Tomas of Eldridge, who currently commands one of the infantry brigades within Prince Wulfram’s army. Though his countenance on the march is said to be very much the same as his behaviour in peacetime, and he is known for heaping great piles of luxuries amidst his baggage, it is also said that in time of battle, all gaiety and frivolity leaves his expression, and that out of all men, he is the most cool and composed in the sight of battle. Those who have survived previous encounters with the troops this man his led seem to concur with such an assessment, although given the calibre of the individuals in question, this proves only that Tomas of Eldridge is capable of beating mobs led by children.
Still, I would not seek to underestimate him. He certainly will not know the difference between an ill-led force and a well-led one when it appears before him, and he is likely to direct his brigade with no less presence of mind. He will not be overawed, only destroyed.
Englessea, Louis son of Ferdinand, Lord of Castermaine
He may not seem like it, but this man is the most dangerous of all of them.
The commands of the other generals of Wulfram’s army, I have been able to infiltrate, often with ease. The Southmen are not easy to suborn, so I have often made use of serfs, and other agents. For the promise of freedom or payment or better treatment, they have often been able to deliver useful and confidential intelligence on almost all of Wulfram’s forces.
But not the brigade commanded by this man.
Thus, all I have to report is through rumour: that he is an irascible, impatient, and short-tempered man who prefers to do things himself if they are to be done at all. They say he relishes the minutiae of administration, that he enjoys the work of tally and chart, that he does not only oversee the running of his own command, but offers to do so for those of others as well. They say that he lies little, and but hides many truths under a veil of complaints and vexations. They say he complains incessantly, but when confronted with a necessary difficulty, does not hesitate to attempt to master it.
He is, in short, the precise opposite of an Antari commander of the classical mould, and precisely the sort of man we would have on our own council, were he born in a place less accursed than Tierra. By all accounts, he is a conservative commander in the field, and often counsels against boldness – yet this also means he very rarely makes mistakes. If Wulfram heeds his counsel, then you may have a very difficult time finding an opening through which to defeat the Southman marshal and his army. I will endeavour to do what I can to ensure he does not.
Findlay, Johannes son of Laurent, Prince of Cunaris
This one mystifies me. The others, I understand well enough, but this Prince of Cunaris, I cannot say I truly understand. For all of the power and wealth which he possesses, he should be entitled to command of a far greater share of Wulfram’s army, but instead of doing so, he seems entirely content with the leadership of a personal retinue of not particularly great size. More than that, instead of endeavouring to increase this retinue’s prestige or prowess through superior equipment or prominence, he seems content to run them as a ragged band of skirmishers and mounted infantry, much like our own wretched light horse.
He is not incompetent, his record thus far is proof of that. It is clear that he possesses no small skill in the leadership of that retinue, and by all accounts, he is possessed of the requisite degree of physical courage. Nor does he seem particularly inept in the realm of political matters, nor is he uneducated – at least by Southman standards. He is, by all possible measurements, perfectly suited to responsibilities and powers which are both commensurate with his high status as a Prince of Tierra, and which are vastly above the current station which he seems to so stubbornly cling to. Whether he has some deeper reason for this, or whether it is merely some ingrained attachment to a posture of submission I cannot know. He has been thoroughly observed by my agents, and those who have been in his presence have likewise been brought to question. They have given me few solid answers.
He remains a mystery, though one which need disquiet us little. His junior position means he possesses little influence within Wulfram’s war council, and his unwillingness to assert his power means that he remains a far lesser threat than he would be in other circumstances. If nothing else, his current position could even be an opportunity. His retinue would be the easiest portion of the Tierran army to overcome, and should such a thing be possible, the ransom for such a man would be extraordinary.
Perhaps then you will be able to use the money to free a few serfs for that pet project of yours.
Havenport, Arthur son of Aethelwald, Prince of Havenport
They say the Kentauri are like our Oberlinders, with no horses, worse food, and worse poetry, but we both know that a people’s princes are not necessarily the representatives of their people. I do not think I would need to go into too much detail about Arthur of Havenport. We have both met the man before the war, and neither of us have gone so senile as to forget his character. From what I understand he remains short-tempered and overly fond of grand gestures, but likewise he has not grown any less canny, shrewd, or educated in the arts of war and peace. If anything, his years as ruler of his miserable little peninsula have honed these powers, and made him more likely to act rather than talk or gesticulate. He has grown quieter, but also bolder, which I suspect was a necessity given the reputation of the troops he commands.
You told me once, when we first met him, that he would be a dangerous foe. I hope you have not altered that assessment. From what I am told, he remains a dangerous enemy, one whose experience in leading men in battle in fact exceeds that of his overlord – and is discounted solely because it has been carried out against ‘savages’ rather than ‘real’ enemies like drunk Callindrian shipping clerks dressed up as soldiers. Were you in the place of his king, I think you would have long since replaced Wulfram with him. I recall you once saying that you had much respect for Prince Havenport’s judgement, and I think you would appreciate it more than you would Wulfram’s recklessness, especially as it comes with a far greater ability to account for detail.
You must also not forget that despite his clothing and his appearance and urbane looks, he is of an entirely different breed from the other Southmen, trained and accustomed to an entirely different type of fighting. While the others chase after the unattainable example of their precious Takaran Richshyr and look to fight those carefully arranged battles on open ground which they are so untutored at, Havenport will likely try to fight a different kind of war, if he is ever given the chance – one of ambush and misdirection. If the Tierrans offer you open battle, and it is he, not Wulfram in command, then you may be assured it is some sort of trap. Do not seek to engage him in such conditions unless you intend to trap him in return.
Such an outcome is entirely possible. Wulfram is an old man, older than any we would normally entrust with an army. His health remains robust, as far as I understand, but misadventure and misfortune are not uncommon things to befall those within an army on campaign. You are confident that you can outfox Wulfram, that I know – but I suspect you already know that Havenport is a different type of creature, and that he will require a different manner of approach to destroy.
This parcel has been double-warded and sealed. The courier and his escort know neither its recipient nor its contents. If they have been tampered with in any way, assume the worst, and dispose of those you suspect as you see best.
I await you, I kiss you, I embrace you.
Anya.
September 2024: The Confidential Papers of Princess Khorobirit Pt 2
Misha,
So the Tierran King has proven more resilient than anyone could have expected. I would say that I told you so, but if I must be truthful, then even I will have to admit that the boy has moved faster than any Southman – let alone any Rendower – has any right to. A country of clerks and boatbuilders! Are not those crafts supposed to be ones where a man must measure thrice before so much as moving his finger?
Well, if that is the case, then this boy-king of theirs measures very quickly indeed. While you were trying to convince the League Congress that you are not, in fact, plotting to kill them all and crown yourself Stanislaus V, he has made good all the losses you have inflicted on him, in soldiers and in leadership. Of the former, little can be said. They are conscripts and the dregs of his cities and workhouses – in other words, scum. Yet even among the scum of the Southmen, there are those who can read, who can tally high numbers, and who can understand concepts which most of our freeholders and even some of our fellow Masters of the League find beyond them. Perhaps there is something to be said about how the worst of them make for better soldiers than the best of our serfs, but I suppose that is a conversation to be had face to face.
The new leaders which the Tierran King has appointed to replace the ones which you have killed are of an entirely different breed. Most of them were junior officers previously, and have survived to be promoted solely because you and your army have killed all their superiors. These are survivors, battle-hardened now – more so than many of the Lords in your own army. They will be a different experience to contend with than the old men and drawing-room soldiers you have fought before.
I have assembled brief descriptions of some of the most skilled of these men – men to look out for and perhaps seek to destroy on the field and off of it. I have made some considerations in that regard, but those too, I suspect you would wish to hear face to face.
Ezin, Alaric son of Johann, Lord of Brockenburg
The new Prince of Wulfram is an interesting man. Instead of leading the army of his father, he has chosen to remain in the south, playing courtier in Aetoria and ruling his own estates from his seat. He evidently lacks the martial inclination of his sire, something which would have no doubt made his position shaky were he an Antari Prince.
But he is not such a man, much perhaps to our misfortune, for he seems to likewise lack any schooling in the science of war. Instead, he has appointed a deputy – his cousin, the Lord of Brockenburg. Yet he too has not taken command of the old Prince of Wulfram’s army in the new one’s name. No, the Tierrans promote based on wealth and seniority of service rather than consensus, which means Brockenburg remains outwardly a very junior officer, though I suspect he sits in higher councils than his rank would normally indicate, given that he serves as the homunculus of his powerful cousin.
Perhaps that is to our benefit. Brockenburg is, as far as I can find out, a very skilled leader of cavalry, and a very lucky one. He was the senior survivor of the old prince of Wulfram’s bodyguard, which means he felt the full brunt of your charge at Blogia and survived, having fought his way clear from your Hussars with only a few scars for his trouble. Since, he has distinguished himself in many minor skirmishes at the head of the old Prince’s former bodyguards, and proven himself quite bold in the use of those men.
However, despite these successes, the new Prince of Wulfram has not seen fit to restore the former strength of these guards. Indeed, he has withdrawn the great majority of them to their homeland, where they are used mostly for ceremony and parade, not battle. Perhaps he seeks to limit the fame which his cousin might achieve in hopes of preventing the rise of a rival? Perhaps he requires his troops close at hand for some other purpose. Perhaps he has some plan in mind which requires his agent to maintain as low a profile as possible?
Or perhaps the new Prince of Wulfram is simply an idiot, that too is also possible.
Lefebvre, Daniel son of Raimundo
This one, it is a shame that this one was not born Antari. You would have been able to make tremendous use of this one.
Prior to Blogia, this man was a junior officer assigned to a backwater assignment. Evidently, the old Prince of Wulfram had seen fit to scatter officers and men of his King’s bodyguard in such positions, either to prevent them imposing his sovereign’s will upon him, or for the purpose of maintaining the most effective possible control over his lines of supply – a matter which I believe you yourself have had a great deal of trouble with.
In this position, this Lefebvre was extremely effective. When local freeholders rose up against the invaders, he proceeded to act with exceptional decision and firmness, in a manner which is not unlike how you or I would respond in the same situation. For this, he was censured by his own weak-willed superiors, but ultimately exonerated and even subjected to praise by the old Prince of Wulfram. At Blogia, he was able to salvage much of the force under his superior’s command when that superior bungled a rash counter-charge into the teeth of your infantry.
Since then, he has been made commander of the Tierran King’s bodyguard, and acts as a member of his close council. I suspect it is he who is behind much of the boy-king’s sudden proficiency in the science of war, and that it is he who has been behind much of the rejuvenation of the invader’s armies. For this power which he possesses – far beyond his formal rank and his court position as a nephew of a middling Cortes Lord – he is resented by many of his peers. However, my spies tell me that many of his subordinates hold great affection and loyalty towards him, although I have been unable to confirm this as the King’s bodyguard is almost impossible to infiltrate.
Perhaps that in itself is proof of his ability.
Were he of your army, I have little doubt that he would have long since been promoted to high office and given a major command. Fortunately, the Tierrans do not understand the concept of merit, and as a result, he is incapable of dealing the damage to us which he might otherwise be able to inflict.
Palliser, Louis-Auguste son of Henri
Officially, the Prince of Cunaris continues to lead the Tierran cavalry. Unofficially, his wounds taken at Blogia renders him incapable of leading from anywhere but a desk. As an Antari commander, this would make him useless. As a Tierran one, who evidently does more scribbling than riding, it renders him still of some utility in the eyes of his master.
On the field however, his role is taken up by more junior officers, of which Palliser seems to be the most favoured, perhaps for good reason. As a man without title, who is son to a man without title, Palliser serves as no political threat to Cunaris should his glory eclipse that of his chief’s. Furthermore, as a man not of Cunaris’ own regiment or domain, any failure on his part will accrue the Prince no odium.
This, of course, would all mean nothing – even to people as self-centred as the Tierrans – were it not for the fact that he is also a very aggressive rider and fighter. Having survived Blogia almost untouched, he seems to be possessed of an uncanny degree of fortune, which has encouraged him to take otherwise reckless actions without great thought or consideration. Perhaps he believes that the Saints and the Mother have favoured him for some great purpose that he must remain breathing for – or perhaps he has merely failed to outgrow the impetuousness of boyhood.
Whatever the reason, he remains on a tight leash, his recklessness restrained by the caution of his superiors. Should that leash ever slip, however, this man may prove quite dangerous if left unattended. I would recommend that you take the opportunity to deal with him, as soon as you have the opportunity.
Reyes, Victor son of Ferdinand
Here is a mystery for you, Misha: what is an insignificant officer of junior rank, possessed of no great family, and of no particularly great experience or reputation doing with an independent command?
Of course, were he one of us, the answer would have been obvious: any Lord may choose to strike off on his own, that’s why we’ve had so much trouble with these boatbuilders these past eight years. The Southmen do not adhere to such ridiculous customs. They keep their lordlings well in hand, as you have done with your own underlings. However, this Reyes appears to be an exception. Despite everything, he has been given command of several hundred men, and put to work with orders which are not written down and not communicated in any way in which my spies are able to eavesdrop upon. The men in question wear special uniforms, and are given a wide berth by the other Southmen soldiers. I suspect this is due to their status as some sort of fearsome special-purpose formation, and given the arrogance with which the men in question supposedly behave, I find this possibility likely.
As to the precise operations of this formation, I suspect that it is employed in the hunting and the pursuit of the raiding parties and agents which we have seeded in the south, as well as the warbands which those agents have been ordered to raise. I had found much difficulty in securing reports from these bands, as might be expected, so I shall probably need more time to figure out more.
I suspect that there is some greater purpose to this particular formation – it may even be an attempt to do you some form of mischief directly. I am told these men are armed with rifles, and that this Reyes has drilled them particularly on the skill of firing at specific targets from a great distance.
I hope your Oberlinders are as watchful as they boast they are.
There is one final issue, one which worries me a great deal.
When the Tierran King arrived, he brought with them two women, both of approximately the same age, both reputed to be great beauties. At first, I considered the possibility that they were mistresses, as the Southmen are quite degenerate in their customs in that regard. However, nothing in the King’s behaviour supported that theory. Then, I suspected that they were the wives of officers, but neither appears to have been married. When I sent my agents to investigate further, all of them quickly disappeared or were found dead in short order.
Thus, I must conclude that they are likely spies, and that Tierra’s own network of intelligenciers has at last seen fit to counter my own operations.
I am afraid they are succeeding, the distance between us makes efficient operation of my network impossible. It takes ten weeks by relay courier to send orders, and ten weeks to send them back – assuming that secrecy is not an utmost priority. By the time I receive reports of some new danger, the threat has already reached fruition. If I warn of some new peril to my agents, they are already dead by the time the warning arrives.
To remedy this, I intend to move my household to your headquarters in Januszkovil. I know it is the closest you will allow me to approach the battlefield, and you know that a fortress like Januszkovil is safer with my bodyguard garrisoning it than Khorobirit is without it. So, I will be bringing Sasha with me. She will be safer that way, and perhaps she will be able to understand what her father is doing through something other than my own explanations, delivered ten weeks late and distorted by distance.
I look forward to seeing you face to face husband. We have far more than these letters can hold to discuss in private.
Anya
October 2024: The Regrets of Sir Renard d’al Findlay
The question turns over in my head in every waking hour. It stalks my days, it haunts my nights, it whispers when I can think of naught else.
Could we have done different? Could we have resolved matters?
Perhaps we ought to have done as Hugh or Castermaine or even some of our own officers had advised. Perhaps we ought to have forsaken neutrality and thrown the regiment’s might to one side or the other. Perhaps that would have avoided the disaster which has now befallen our kingdom.
But even in hindsight, I cannot but see such a course of action only hastening catastrophe, not averting it. To have committed the regiment would have meant committing the Duchy of Cunaris, and to commit so great a force in a contest so evenly balanced in the time before what transpired at Wulfram House would have only inflamed matters, placing one side in such a preponderance of force that they would have been emboldened to take drastic action, pressing the other into such a position of untenability that they would have been likewise obligated to opt for rashness instead of patience and compromise.
After Wulfram House…
When father left for Fernandescourt, I believe he was meaning to lead by example: to show Wulfram that it would have been better for him to retire to his own estates and grieve in private, to not allow his private feelings to cloud his judgement as a man of the publick. That is what my sister would have wanted of him. She had always counseled against allowing sentiment to incite one to rashness.
But she was not there when she was needed. When her voice was most in want, she was silent, ash in a desolate ruin.
So instead, Wulfram has brought this realm to the edge of annihilation. Perhaps I cannot blame him for acting as he has. In his place, I would have likely made the same decisions. The Queen is not an easy sovereign to love, and her actions as of late have not been ones well-tailored to solicit the loyalty of any right-thinking Gentleman of the Blood. Perhaps some action on her part might have avoided this precipice, but to imagine such a thing would be of little more use than envisioning cousin Wulfram doing the same.
Father remains of the opinion that nothing at all could have been done to prevent this, and that by removing ourselves from the board, we have only reduced the potential destructiveness of the calamity which is now at hand. I have always trusted his judgement in such matters, which has always seemed so clear and so wise.
But the man whose wisdom I so relied upon is not the man – not the Duke of Cunaris – who now sits in Fernandescourt.
——
I worry about father.
I have made a habit of it, ever since Blogia, but I do not think I have ever been so troubled as to his state of mind, and worried at his capacity to continue in his offices as I am now.
More than once, Laurent and I have impressed upon him the need to make ready the Duchy for the conflict which has now thrown the realm into disaster. He does nothing. More than once, I have made common cause with his council to urge him to create some body of coordination which might see to the defence of the Cunarian neutrality which he had first insisted upon, he does nothing. More than once, I have reminded him of the need to make some provision for the direction and supply of the regiment – his regiment – the greater part of which now operates independently. He does nothing.
He will not even address the Parlements to reveal his intentions to the lords of Fernandescourt and its environs, whom we shall have to rely upon so greatly should we be obliged to defend his policy against those now belligerent in other parts of the country.
I have never seen him so incapable, never seen him so consumed with grief – or guilt – or despair. Not even in the days after Blogia when I first joined the regiment did he fall so prey to ill sentiments as to come to complete indecision, and even then he seemed a shadow of the man he once was.
Perhaps I am simply disillusioned. Perhaps this is the man he has always been, stripped of all artifice and trappings of authority, when viewed no longer as the Red Saint on Creation which I once saw him. Perhaps those who have seen him at his lowest – Cazarosta or Wagar or even poor disgraced Keane – could have told me as much long ago.
Some have counseled me to take up the powers of the Duke in my father’s stead. It would be the expedient thing to do, but it would also be the usurpation of the powers of a man who still lives and breathes, who still possesses those powers by right. To take my father’s privileges in this world before he ascends to ride in the company of the Saints is not a thing which any filial son might contemplate with an easy heart.
For now, I must resolve to patience, and hope that crisis will rouse my father to action, as it has before. He has ever risen to the challenge when presented with great difficulty, I pray this time will be no different.
——
What has become of the Regiment?
I have heard all manner of troubling reports, chief among them that both Isobel and Wulfram have raised their own regiments of Dragoons – as Guards – to take for themselves the forces which we had left in Aetoria. I cannot blame them for doing so, they must be obliged to raise whatever forces they can, and the officers and men whom we had abandoned in the capital without direction, standing orders, or even pay and victualling must be hard pressed not to accept the offers of further employment, especially as part of a more prestigious regiment – even if such a regiment be part of an army at war with its own country.
There is still the semblance of the original corps left. It exists in the Old Fortress yet, though only as the shadow of three squadrons, the men whom Sir Caius left behind when he marched for the capital. They are the dregs of what had already been an unfortunate levy, and they will be of no use for some time yet, even if father does finally see the need to provision for their preparation, though even then, one must wonder as to the use of such an action.
The men who ride with the Queen or with Wulfram for the most part joined the regiment during the War in Antar. They are veteran troopers, who were inspired to learn their craft by the vital, and peerless soldier father once was. Now their successors are men grown desperate and scrawny by years of bitter peace, joined up for pay or to evade some pressing exigency at home. Their Colonel is not a paragon of the Red Knights, but…
But what of those veterans? How do they fare? Where do they go? What proportion of them now fight for Wulfram and what part now serve the Queen directly? There are those who say the old regiment has gone to one side and the other wholly, though these I do not credit. We would not have been able to do our work so well in that time before Wulfram House had the Dragoons been so bitterly partisan in one direction or the other. Others say that the greater part of the Regiment has gone over to Wulfram, and that in truth, the Queen’s Dragoon Guards consist only of the old Third Squadron.
This is a Wulframite narrative, I suspect – more believable than the claims of outright defection. A regiment seemingly split down the middle, but one wherein the meat and fat go to one side, whilst the other receives only gristle and bone: a depleted squadron commanded by a deathborn-bastard.
Yet Third Squadron was always the hardest part of the Regiment. Sir Caius is perhaps the best swordsman and first sabre I have ever known. His skill in the organisation of supplies, his temperament, his ironclad belief in his own sense of justice. These, I suspect are the qualities which will be most in need in this war which now comes.
But Saints guard us all if they are.
——
What choice have I?
The affairs of the Duchy mount with every passing day, and yet still, Father does nothing. Laurent does what he can as governor of Fernandescourt, but I fear that the crises now mounting are beyond the powers vested in him. Someone will have to take up the powers of the Duke.
Saints above, how I wish that someone were not me.
I spoke to Father again last night, hoping that he might at least offer me some command so that I might see myself as doing his bidding. He gave me none. I enumerated on the great number of threats which now face us from without and from within: the entreaties form Aetoria and Tannersburg, the calls to arms which now circulate the hinterlands, the armed Houseguards which now seek to push Cunaris one way or the other, to repudiate a declaration of neutrality now rung hollow from the inaction of he who would impose it.
He gave me nothing. Only when I pressed him for an answer did he give me one:
“Do what you must. My road is ended, what is it to the Saints if you should take up yours a few days early?”
A better man might have protested. A better man would have felt nothing but abject horror at such words, might have turned his thoughts solely to exhorting his sire to his purpose. A better man would not have felt relief at such words – the relief of a patricide knowing that he has done away with the last vestige of doubt which keeps him from his inheritance.
But these are not fit times for better men.
November 2024: The Confidential Papers of Princess Khorobirit Pt 3
Misha,
Januszkovil is proving to be a very useful place to be. From here, it is far easier to coordinate the actions of my agents in the south and react to the information they have been able to provide me. Do not worry yourself with the possibility that I would wish to ride further on. While I will admit that I have been tempted to join you in your army’s quarters, I doubt your camp would allow me access to the same resources and staff which I have grown quite used to here.
In that regard, I have gathered some information on the enemy officers which you have asked for. The reports are fragmentary at best, my agents have had little trouble accessing some, but a great deal of difficulty with others. Still, I have gotten what information I could, although I fail to see how such relatively junior officers would be of any great consequence one way or another. They may be remarkable in some aspects, but I suspect they are as many of your own subordinates are – replaceable despite their skills.
I will trust your judgement on this however, I suspect you know what you are doing better than I – and you certainly know better than the other Princes.
Alejandro, son of Atheslstan
It is tempting to think of the Kentauri as like the Oberlinders – as mercenaries who fight for whoever flatters them or pays them, or offers them the fattest promises. This is a mistake. In reality, the majority of the Kentauri see any affair outside their own grazing land as no business of theirs. Only the Havenports – the greatest of their clans by virtue of their relationship with the Tierran Crown – possess any interest in the lands outside their own. Thus, those Kentauri who the Tierrans have brought to fight for them in Antar are all scions or collateral relatives of that house.
A prime example of such men is this one, Alejandro d’al Neille, a second cousin once removed of the previous Prince of Havenport, a title which also brings with it the dignity of Chief-of-Chiefs and Warmaster – titles which only the Havenports themselves seem to respect. Having been raised in a station which approximates that of one of our retinue Hussars – in the household of the old Prince of Havenport and then his successor – Neille was picked to command first a company, then a battalion of the regiment which the Havenport sent to war on the request of his royal nephew.
From the reports I have gathered, he is very much the model of his people on the field of battle and off of it: aggressive, blunt, perhaps uncouth by the standards of any nation who actually bathe regularly. He is considered a very effective leader, especially on the attack, and led the force which relieved the Forlorn Hope that breached Kharangia’s walls. However, this characteristic aggression has also certain weaknesses: in a one month period, his battalion lost a tenth of its strength in men killed and wounded in skirmishes and minor actions. Likewise at Blogia, he is said to have lost a third of his command. By the standards of an Antari army, this would not be significant, but because all members of his regiment are also members of his clan or the clan of his master, this means that such losses are quire difficult to replace.
This leads me to a certain degree of speculation as to what might happen should this war leave Clan Havenport with a shortage of men trained and equipped to fight. It is understood that the Havenports are feared and envied by their neighbours for their power and wealth – much as we are – and those rivals would not hesitate to strike them should they sense weakness. Perhaps such a weakness may be provided or expedited, through capitalising on the vulnerabilities which the aggressive behaviour of men like this one provide?
Havelock, son of Francois
I was surprised at first when you requested information about a naval officer. I had been under the impression that whatever naval power the southern lords had possessed they had already squandered in trying to pick fights they could not win with the Tierran Navy. I had thought the naval war would have been irrelevant.
More fool I. The Tierrans certainly don’t think so.
We think ourselves so clever in fighting a land war against a sea-faring country, knowing that their ships cannot reach our towns and our castles, that the power they can truly project extends only as far as the guns of their warships. Clearly, nobody informed the enemy of this restriction, least of all this impetuous boy which proved to be so effective in his intentions.
He is, of course, of a certain pedigree. His uncle commands the Northern Fleet, and this has secured him rapid promotion in the Tierran Navy, as well as a degree of influence which far exceeds his rank. This was, perhaps, how he was able to secure command of the landing forces which sealed off the roads to Kharangia even as the Prince of Havenport’s army marched upon it. As a result, no message for support was received until the city was already invested and fully besieged – and no relief force could be sent before the city fell.
To have done this with fifty or sixty men is an impressive feat. To have done this while on unfamiliar ground, in an unfamiliar capacity is more impressive still. Though he may still be quite young, I think this one bears close watch. He will be promoted even more rapidly now that the effect of his influence and name have been compounded with success. He may prove a considerable annoyance in the future.
Eustace, son of Armando
I am told by my agents that the Tierrans believe their engineering officers to be wastes of air, little better than hapless clerks who would be better served anywhere except with an army on campaign. They call them bumbling, incompetent, unschooled, clumsy, and without any relevant experience. In short, they are seen as useless.
Oh if only we were to have such useless engineers in our service as this one.
Eustace d’al Diaz is the younger son of a minor noble house, which is likely why he was purchased a commission in the Engineers instead of a more prestigious regiment. However, he has created for the Prince of Havenport a siege train far more effective than any which I have ever seen accompany an Antari army. In the space of two weeks he was able to invest fully the city of Kharangia with a labour force of six hundred men – a task which took your illustrious ancestor over a month with five times as many hands. Within two months of that, he was able to force a breach in the walls with powerful siege guns which were transported from Noringia through hostile forest controlled by the partisans which the local lords insist on arming in lieu of doing something useful.
Kharangia was supposed to hold out until winter, it is much due to the efforts of this man that it fell before the end of fall.
This prodigy of siegecraft has won him the rare respect of his peers from other regiments, and even some recognition from higher offices. It is said that the King has personally ordered him promoted, and there is little doubt that any future siege operations will see him in control of the digging of saps, parallels, and the placement of gun batteries, a task which he seems particularly skilled in.
He bears watching, although as secretive as he is, it has proven difficult to gain any meaningful intelligence on his confidential papers or any other sort of useful information beyond what is commonly known. Still, I will have my agents look into his background further.
There are other benefits to Januszkovil as well. Sasha has always been a proud rider, but her skills in the saddle have grown so very greatly since you last saw her. She has become almost an Oberlinder in her skill, shooting from the saddle and practising with the sabre with her escort. In Khorobirit, with the weather as it was, it was always very difficult to get her time and space for such exercises, especially given the city you have so wisely chosen to allow to sprawl at the foot of the castle. Here, the weather is far warmer, the land is far more sparsely populated, and the dangers far less. She may ride and shoot and hunt as she pleases.
Not that this is entirely for the good, for which you must be blamed. When she read your last letter and its account of your victory at Blogia, she was inspired to recreate the feat of charging through the forest, as you had, with a lance and sabre. I have dissuaded her so far, but I do not think I will be able to do so forever. She is headstrong, as we all are, and eventually, she will find a way to escape her escort, trip her horse over a root, and break her neck.
I suggest you write to her directly regarding the matter. It will only take a moment, as opposed to the many months it will require to furnish a replacement should we lose this one.
Sasha has written a letter of her own, it is bundled with this one. I kiss you, I embrace you.
-Anya
December 2024: Common Blood, Common Struggle
IN ANTAR
The long-abused serf rises up, to overthrow the lords who have so cruelly used him for centuries, and to break the knouts and scourges which have so commonly scarred his back and broken his bones.
IN RATHKURIN
The wealthy and poor alike agitate for membership in the Assemblies, so that they may give voice to the great multitude who are so readily taxed and plundered by the nobility, the crown, and foreign opportunists – though the state would declare them criminals for doing so.
IN VARAHD
Common soldiers mutiny over poor rations and pay in arrears, while their brothers and cousins march against the unjust policy of conscription which has taken so many away from their families, farms, and workshops.
IN ALL CREATION, THE COMMONS STRUGGLE FOR THEIR JUST INHERITANCE
AND WHAT OF US IN TIERRA?
Are we not also abused by landlords as in Antar? Men who use their bloodlines to justify the most arbitrary of larcenies? Who might easily mete summary justice from no greater power than the name of his father? Who might bring down upon any commonborn baneless man the full might of the crown’s majesty solely by his word and his accusation?
Are we not taxed and plundered thrice over, as in Rathkurin? Are we, like them, barred from the holding of publick office, of command, and of a place in which we might voice our protest and our displeasure as foreign despots eye our lands and our supposed betters award them privilege after privilege over our stock and our enterprises?
Are we not conscripted and squeezed as in Varahd? By those who do not hear our counsel and our opinions, who do not share in our hardships, and who war with each other for their own ambitions and powers? Are we not made to pay for the privilege of watching our fellows drummed into uniform to fight battles which will win them no riches or promotion, and cost them all?
AND WHAT DO THEY SAY OF ALL THIS?
They tell us to be grateful for our position, to be happy in our inferior place. They tell us that Tierran Liberty is the envy of Creation, and the beacon of the Infinite Sea. They exhort us to glory in our right to learning, to exult in our right to win riches through trade, and to take heart in the legal protections which the baneblooded Cortes Lords have seen fit to grant us.
But what are these liberties?
What good is literacy and numeracy, if all it can do is illustrate the iniquity we live within, to allow us to see ourselves ruled by those more ignorant than we out of mere accident of birth?
What good is wealth gained through trade if it cannot buy power, cannot buy a voice, cannot buy command, and cannot protect itself when those who were born with such privileges may decide at a stroke to take it away?
What good are protections which are given, as if a favour to be rescinded at the will of the patron – and not asserted, as if the natural inheritance of every Tierran man born or come ashore?
So long as we have no voice in the laws which govern our prosperity, the tradesman, the solicitor, the sailing-master, and the yeoman are no better than beasts of burden.
So long as we must be compelled to fight and pay for wars in which we have no stake and will derive little profit, we are men oppressed.
So long as others reserve the privilege to void our human dignities at any time of their choosing, Tierran Liberty stands as a sham.
Until we are free of these shackles, we as wronged as the Antari serf, the Varahdi conscript, or the Rathkurini politickal outlaw.
THEIR FIGHTS ARE OUR FIGHTS, AND WE MUST FIGHT FOR OUR NATURAL-BORN INHERITANCES AS THEY DO!
Paul Wang 