Chapter 16

Baroness Zahradnik remained in the Second Legion encampment long enough to receive the patrols that had set out the previous day. She debriefed each group – including the Death Cavaliers participating in the exercises – collecting feedback on their experience and suggestions for its improvement. Based on those, potential amendments to the army’s processes influenced by the integration of the new Undead forces were constructed.

To a man, the officers she spoke with seemed pleasantly surprised at her familiar, accommodating manner. Rangobart supposed that the surprise was dulled somewhat since rumours should have spread around the camp of the identity of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s liaison officer by that point. Still, with the prevailing perceptions of the Sorcerous Kingdom and its apparently one-sided position as suzerain of the Baharuth Empire, they likely believed that whoever the Sorcerous Kingdom sent would be far more domineering and inhuman.

Rangobart continued to serve as her attaché, explaining aspects of the Imperial Army’s practices and culture when she required it of him. Their discussion from lunch the previous day was still fresh in his mind, fostering new thoughts and ideas as he observed the interactions between the Baroness, the officers of the Imperial Army, and their men.

Being a student of the Imperial Magic Academy, Rangobart was transferred to the Imperial Military Academy to begin his officer’s training after the Promotional Examination. So far, however, he found that those studies were not dissimilar to what he had undergone in the Imperial Magic Academy. In a word, he would say that it was functional: theories were put into practice and he was given a better idea of how mages fit into the grand scheme of things.

His training and education focused on three broad aspects. The first was the mundane, daily content that dealt with the processes of the military, being a soldier, doing paperwork and understanding his position. Secondly came arcane studies where a set of standardised spells for War Wizards was gradually added to his previously sparse repertoire.

Thirdly was what Rangobart’s father and the rest of the nobility would privately call ‘indoctrination’. As with the Imperial Magic Academy, the Imperial Military Academy and the Imperial Army constantly worked to instil the idea that their loyalty should first and foremost go to the Emperor and, by extension, the Baharuth Empire. They were all brothers in service to a righteous cause. Personal and even familial interests were at best a distant second to that service.

Only the most naively idealistic of students and recruits earnestly adhered to what was presented in this ‘curriculum’, though the majority did identify with various values. This was especially true of the martial nobility, which led to what Rangobart considered the first problem that should be tackled.

Rather than a problem in itself, it was more a deficiency symptomatic of a broader issue that he was already vaguely aware of, but Lady Zahradnik had defined in more comprehensive terms. Rangobart was a Noble and thus was lumped in with the martial Nobles who made up the vast majority of the aristocrats in the Imperial Army. They dominated the aristocratic culture of the Imperial Army: its martial traditions were forged in their image.

Civilians, be they Noble or commoner, worked to fit in, adopting their practices and attitudes. The Army wasn’t belligerent about it – in fact, they were inclusive in their generally brusque way. This inclusivity, however, only worked to reinforce the issue: in their eyes, you were one of them. Or at least would be, eventually. Most people were naturally obliged to reciprocate their presumably well-meaning efforts to turn strangers into comrades.

It did help to build a sense of camaraderie, but its broad ‘success’ in creating a military culture also created a sort of blindness when it came to addressing the needs of the few. As both a civilian Noble and a Wizard, Rangobart was served a double helping of this.

He considered their attitudes towards personal achievement and honourable conduct a breath of fresh air from the heavily interconnected and often convoluted, murky workings of the civilian nobility. The ‘emptiness’ when it came to being an arcane caster in the Imperial Army, however, was untenable. There was something important missing that no one had made any effort to identify and address.

As a mage, one cast the spells expected of them and collected their pay. ‘Well-compensated tools’, as was so succinctly put. He did not fully understand the depth of this statement until watching Lady Zahradnik at work. The holistic way by which she approached everything seemed to defy the way that imperial Nobles were taught to prioritise certain things over others. Everything was subject to her care; no one escaped her consideration.

More than just a martial Noble, she was a leader that weighed every aspect of command and the true needs of those who found themselves in her keeping. Though her efforts did not solely involve Humans – it even extended to the Undead and her enemies, somehow – Rangobart thought that the best way to describe the ‘emptiness’ that he couldn’t quite qualify from before as a lack of humanity.

In the Empire, this lack of humanity was actually the least pronounced in the Imperial Army; it was commonly accepted as the norm in the Empire at large. All things in their nation were held to a cold standard: one fashioned out of technicalities and held physically tangible practicalities above all else. The cost it incurred was the ‘imbalance’ that Lady Zahradnik had pointed out to him.

It was a difficult problem to approach and, if viewed from the ‘technical’ standpoint of the Imperial Administration, a nonexistent one. The Baharuth Empire’s average citizen enjoyed a high degree of stability and security. Their nation advanced economically, technologically and militarily. Individuals were recognised for their contributions to society. Asking for anything more spit in the face of the achievements that had been made by the nation and its people.

Rangobart did not think he could change the entire Empire, but he could at least begin figuring out how to improve the lot of mages in his little part of the Imperial Army. It was strange to think that the person who pointed him in that direction was a former Noble of a nation well-known for its disparaging attitude towards mages.

The sun was peeking through the clouds over the distant peaks of the Azerlisia Mountains before Lady Zahradnik finished her tasks. Wing Commander Burke arranged for a pair of Hippogriffs to deliver them on the hour-long flight back to Enz.

Rather than immediately heading for the stairs upon arriving at the garrison keep’s aviary, the Baroness walked over to the edge of the parapet. The young noblewoman turned her gaze out over the River Islein, waters aglow in the evening light.

“Enz doesn’t appear to have a harbour,” she said. “Why is that?”

“Though the Islein might be navigable around Enz,” Rangobart replied, “most of its course is not. There are many stretches upriver containing rapids, while a canyon with turbulent waters lies between Enz and Lake Allag to the north. The run becomes smooth between the lake and Norford, but that’s of no use to this city.”

“I see. How does one usually reach the lands on the far bank?”

“Those in Oberislein go west to Oestestadt. There’s a bridge over the canyon for the road that goes up the spill which is employed by the frontier villages northwest of Enz.”

“The lords of Oberislein and Mittelislein do have infrastructure planned for the river itself, however.”

They turned at the sound of the new voice. Rangobart raised his right hand in salute.

“Commander Enz,” Baroness Zahradnik dipped her head in greeting. “I hope the evening finds you well.”

“Baroness Zahradnik,” the tall Commander of the Second Legion’s First Division nodded. “Welcome back.”

“You were saying something about river infrastructure?”

The Commander’s gaze went past them to follow the river.

“A half-dozen locks will someday facilitate river traffic between Enz and Oestestadt,” he said. “With the success of this operation, we can safely push back the frontier. The locks will be crucial for industrial development and the resulting flow of goods.”

“With the efficiency of river transport,” Lady Zahradnik noted, “I’m surprised that this hasn’t already been done.”

“Yes, well…while it’s of clear benefit to everyone involved, the fine details of everything have caused delays in the project for close to a decade. There are nearly a hundred fiefs that stand to gain from the river trade. Twenty of those fiefs lie directly on the banks of the River Islein.”

“Politics, then.”

Commander Enz’s boots sounded over the floor as he came forward to join Lady Zahradnik. He placed a hand on the dark stone of the parapet.

“Politics,” he nodded. “A century of stability and steady development comes with issues of its own. Back when things were not so prosperous, this project would have been carried out far more swiftly. As it is, everyone has the wealth to contribute and now the project is bogged down in negotiations over operational minutiae, rates, and revenues.”

“The Empire’s central administration doesn’t involve itself in regional public works?”

“They are overburdened as it is,” Commander Enz smirked. “For the time being, they can only issue broad directives for the nobility to follow. The Count of Enz – my lord father – and the Margrave of Oberislein have been tasked with heading things. In all honesty, the two of them could do it themselves, but the Emperor commanded us to promote a sense of imperial solidarity with this project by involving our vassals.”

Listening to the conversation behind them, Rangobart shook his head. There were probably a dozen and a half major projects across the Empire that were in a similar state. His father and brother often spoke of House Roberbad’s problems with their own.

The Emperor was a shrewd and ruthless politician whose talent both commanded the respect of the imperial aristocracy and earned their ire at the same time. Veiled behind the guise of a well-meaning and understandably popular decision amongst the common citizenry was one of the methods by which the Emperor undermined the power and influence of the aristocracy.

Without the Emperor’s ‘intervention’, what Commander Enz said was possible would have happened: Count Enz and the Margrave of Oberislein would have simply financed, constructed and operated the planned system of locks through the vassals with territories along the relevant stretches of the river. The Emperor’s order to ‘promote imperial solidarity’ was effectively a licence for vassals to oppose their liege.

Everyone suddenly had a say and everyone wanted the biggest slice of the proverbial pie they could get. A painfully predictable quagmire ensued. Relations between members of the aristocracy were damaged and the attitudes of the common folk turned sour as progress and prosperity were bogged down by ‘politics’.

Even when things were finally settled, commoners would question the outcome. They would wonder why their liege hadn’t negotiated a better deal to broadly improve the quality of his subjects’ lives and would scrutinise the outcomes, wondering what sort of underhanded and corrupt dealings went on to finally settle the matter and which Nobles had benefited the most.

The true winner in everything was the Emperor and the central administration. By reducing the power and influence of the nobility and interfering in development that would further enrich them, the Emperor bought time for the central administration to recover from his bloody purge and further entrench themselves. At the same time, he garnered the favour of the common citizens for his ‘progressive’ decrees while also turning sentiment against the nobility for ‘selfishly’ impeding them.

Protesting this interference was, of course, not an option. Doing so gave the Emperor justification to act against one’s house. Nobles simply had to suffer the central administration sticking its nose in anything it deemed significant, playing the game that the Emperor told them to. The martial nobility probably didn’t even realise that they were being manipulated, steadfastly forging ahead in their stubborn and earnest way. Even if they were informed, they would probably consider such perceptions of the imperial throne treasonous sentiment.

Rangobart silently wondered what Baroness Zahradnik thought of such ploys. It was entirely possible that she was unable to detect them: she was a martial Noble, after all.

“Shall we head down, my lady?” Commander Enz said after a few more economic and administrative topics unique to the region had been discussed, “The General and his staff will be gathering soon. We should have dinner before then.”

“Of course, Commander,” Lady Zahradnik replied. “Have things remained as they were before my departure?”

“As far as we know, yes,” the Commander said as he led them down the stairwell. “Unfortunately, ‘things remaining as they were’ includes the lack of an effective plan for dealing with our adversary. And you? Has your time with the men offered any inspiration?”

“It’s been very enlightening when it comes to regular operations,” the Baroness said. “I think your men will come to appreciate their new allies once our main adversary is vanquished. As for this Dragon, I can still think of no straightforward answer within our power to employ.”

They reached the ground floor of the keep, heading out and across the yard towards the garrison’s mess hall. Activity in the yard was limited, mostly consisting of soldiers headed in the same direction. Commander Enz gazed up at the flags fluttering over the walls as they made their way.

“I see,” he sighed. “It’s strange – as horrifying as the result might be, this task carries with it a fresh feeling.”

“How so?” Lady Zahradnik turned a curious look at the Commander.

“The Imperial Army has always had a ‘place’ when it came to the defence of the realm. It was derived from the way that the martial nobility of the past – and I suppose yourself in the present – functioned to defend their territories. Though we consider it a place of honour that is essential to the security of the Empire, by and large we operate on a very broad and mundane level.

“The projection of strength through numbers; training men to a certain standard to meet the everyday needs of our lands. Beyond this threshold lay a place that has always been the purview of Adventurers. Now, we find ourselves in a position where our dependency on those who have stepped beyond the realm of the common man will not avail us. The Second Legion now stands where Heroes and Legends should rightly be.”

“Do you consider this a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I’m not sure,” Commander Enz admitted. “It just is. More than anything else, it is a reminder: those who utilise their strength for selfish pursuits – Adventurers; Workers; Arena Champions and others like them – can only be trusted so far as their personal interests are served. When calamity comes calling, they are likely to flee. In the end, it is the Imperial Army that will stand in defence of the Empire. We must learn how to fight these battles that we have for so long left to those beyond our authority.”

“It seems that you’ve found your resolve,” Lady Zahradnik said. “But we still have our work cut out for us.”

“That we do,” grim determination filled the Commander’s expression. “But our success will pave the way for a stronger Empire.”