XII. A Greater Call

Aichlan watched with relief as the last of the Rhodarcian mercenaries left the conference table, leaving empty platters and bottles of expensive wine in their wakes. He finished off the dregs of his glass with a grimace and slammed the glass onto the table. As expected, they had been insufferable. Still not satisfied, he poured the last drops of brandy into a glass and knocked it back with hardly a grimace.

Siegrun unbuttoned her jacket and fanned herself with an exhausted sigh. She had gotten the worst of it, more than half of the meeting, though he couldn’t understand the tongue, was relegated to crude sexual innuendos and inappropriate touching of her person. Regardless, she handled herself admirably, and was able to secure a contract that was only somewhat of a rip-off.

Siegrun ran her hand through her hair, pining it up into a lazy tail. “And you wonder why I haven’t gone home General.”

Aichlan halfheartedly raised his empty glass in a toast, he was spent. He turned his gaze towards the clock, it was well after midnight. Ashe would not be pleased. The closer her due date grew; the less time he could stand to be around her.

“It is late Lieutenant, we should—“

A knock at the door stopped him mid sentence, he hoped it wasn’t the Rhodarcians coming to renege. Given her exasperated sigh, Siegrun likely held similar concerns as she crossed the room to see whoever it was off. To his surprise, she opened the door wide to let in a somewhat familiar, if not unexpected visitor into the cloying air of the chamber.

“Lord Aichlan, I hope I am not disturbing you.”

A smile crossed his lips as he motioned for Rémann to join him. “The hell are you doing here?”

Rémann bowed and handed him an envelope, badly creased and water stained around the edges.

“I’ve come at the behest of king Céolsige to return yourself and the Lady Alice back to Aes Sidhe.”

Though severely smeared, the envelope held the kings handwriting, jagged and rushed. Using an unused spreading knife on the table, Aichlan sliced open the envelope and withdrew the three sheets of stationary folded therein. He turned a quizzical gaze towards Rémann, who remained impassive. The letter was a commission.

“Hell of a time this.” Aichlan said as he waved the papers before him.

“I can think of no more appropriate time really.”

“So, you knew?”

Rémann shrugged. “I had an inkling, my lord.”

“Riiight.” Aichlan smiled and read the letter over once more. “Naturally I’ll accept.”

Rémann tipped his head. “Naturally.”

“Once this whole sordid affair with Xanavene has been dealt with.”

A crack formed in Rémann’s cool and collected façade. “Pardons? My lord?”

Aichlan reached across the table with a groan and refilled his glass with the last remnants of a wine bottle. “I’m on a mission, swore oaths and all that. Can’t very well abandon it half finished. The Order has made it abundantly clear they don’t want me and I’m of a like mind, but I still have my pride.”

Rémann cleared his throat. “I see then, and the Lady Alice?”

Aichlan laughed, nearly spitting out his wine. “Oh, she’ll not be going anywhere. She’s enjoying this all too much.”

Rémann bristled, he was told it would be a difficult task, but thought the hardest part behind him now. He knew Alice would be stubborn, but had expected Aichlan to be more lordly, especially when confronted with a directive from his king.

“But is she not your patron my lord? Are you not sworn to guard her and follow out her directives?”

Aichlan’s eyes narrowed. “I am.”

“If she were to order this army back to Aes Sidhe— “

Aichlan held up his hand. “I’m going to stop you right there. My mission is…ordained and I’ll continue alone if I must. Not that you could convince Alice to pack up and leave regardless.”

Rémann frowned. “I see.”

“I certainly hope so. Whilst everyone else twiddles their thumbs east of Tear, we stand poised to end this madness, and I’ll not retreat just to dive back into bureaucracy.”

“We are under orders as well my Lord,” Rémann snapped back, “from the King himself.”

“Aye, I realize that.” Aichlan drained the last of the wine and set the glass back on the table. “I suggest you and your men settle in. I won’t ask you to fight, you’re meant to guard the heir to the throne, I’ll leave you to it.”

Rémann bowed. “Apologies my Lord, that was not my intention.”

“Twas mine though.” Aichlan grumbled. “Siegrun!”

The woman jumped with a start, Rémann had forgotten she was even there. She had an odd habit of blending into the shadows, a habit that came far too effortlessly.

“Introduce Master Rémann and his men to his majesty, explain their mission and request lodgings within the palace.”

Siegrun paused, flummoxed. “Of course General, but surely we can simply—“

“No, we can’t. We are to deal with the king directly, these are his countrymen after all, bearing word of congratulations from his former king, now peer.”

Rémann cleared his throat, the smug grin that crossed Aichlan’s lips was rather infectious. Siegrun forced a smile and bowed before gliding out of the room to carry out her directives.

Aichlan motioned towards a chair. “Have a seat.”

Rémann obliged and glanced about the table, the only drink remaining were two half empty pitchers of water.

“The brutes can drain a river if it has yeast and hops in it.”

Rémann nodded. “So I’ve heard.”

Aichlan withdrew a cigar from his breast pocket and struck a match, lighting it. His demeanor and carriage was very reminiscent of Céolsige, who in turn favored the late General Garrick as he was told. Easy going to the point of almost being carefree, but eyes that exuded confidence and competence.

“Is it true?” Rémann leaned forward conspiratorially. “That the new king of Duvachellé is a Hillman?”

Aichlan laughed, coughing on the smoke. “Aye, tis true.”

Rémann cocked his head to the side, still in disbelief. “Named Odell?”

Aichlan nodded. The name Odell was both a name and a pejorative for little boys who constantly fiddle with things they ought not to. Much in the same way a mischievous child would be called a brat or a little devil. It was also the word for Aes Sidhe’s national animal, the common otter. Not a bad name to have by any means, just terribly common and ill-fitting of a king.

“He’s putting the sea rat in his coat of arms. His wife has no idea.”

Rémann clucked his tongue and shook his head. “By Dawn, strange times these.”

Aichlan exhaled a cloud of smoke. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“How did this happen then? I’m not sure if I should be proud or embarrassed.”

Aichlan chuckled. “He’s a fine lad, quick study, with good tutors and a circle of advisors that care for him. I’m sure he’ll do us proud.”

Rémann poured a glass of water and waved off the offered cigar. While royals marrying common folk wasn’t too unheard of, those commoners usually had some pedigree, at least a foot in the courtly life. It was also more often than not the male royal who dipped his toes outside of the family gene pool. Never had he heard of some farmer, particularly a foreign farmer, ascending to the throne.

“But how?”

Aichlan shrugged. “They’re in love, what can I say?”

“The ice princess?” Rémann said with unchecked skepticism. “The one who had her previous suitors flogged as a test of devotion before sending them home without so much as a ‘thanks but no thanks’?

Aichlan pointed the cigar at the Squire. “Ice Queen now, Master Rémann. And as I said, they are in love. She really and truly loves this boy. Her calculated demeanor crumbles when he comes around.”

Rémann ran his hands through his hair. “Bloody…”

Aichlan chewed on the cigar butt as he bounced his knee impatiently. “Hasn’t kept her from stonewalling me though.”

Rémann took a sip of water before replying. “Stonewalling my lord?”

“Aye, she’s trying to keep me here for some reason,” Aichlan ashed his cigar on a serving tray, “idle. Laelianis tried to do the same.”

“If there is something you need done, you need only give the word.”

Aichlan shook his head and waved him off. “No, I’ve got a detachment out in Sorn now, problem is getting reinforcements to her. I can’t mobilize the main force without supplies, nor do I want to blindly march into enemy territory without some proper reconnaissance first.”

“I’m not sure I follow…”

Aichlan smirked and took a hit from the cigar. “I have an army of light infantry Master Rémann, no horses, few bowmen, and even fewer who were actually soldiers.”

“I see. If you can manage a dozen or so horses—“

Aichlan shook his head. “I’ll see about your mounts, Master Rémann, but I’ll not be sending you to the front lines. Ceolsige would have my arse if you bit it now wouldn’t he?”

“You aren’t left with many other options I am afraid.” Rémann persisted.

“Aren’t I?”

Rémann bowed his head. “Apologies my Lord, I meant no disrespect.”

Aichlan stamped out his cigar on the platter and stood with a stretch. “None taken. I’m just not keen on you risking yours when Marquez can’t be arsed to do the same.”