"And why exactly should I support you two?" asked the recalcitrant clan chief of the Purlovo. "The war is over. The fighting has ceased. There is a new king."

Berimund took a deep breath and looked over at Adalbert. Their meeting with Mahdi of the Purlovo was not going very well, and even now he could see the tension on his countryman's forehead. It wasn't completely unexpected—most of their meetings in the past two weeks had gone in a similar fashion.

They still had to try however. Their very lives depended on it.

In response to the question, Adalbert raised his arms. The Swabian gestured around the magnificent and opulent tent of the clan chief. "I see the partnership between our two countries has been going well for you, Clan Chief. Don't forget that it is only through getting Swabian slaves that all this opulence has been purchased. It is only through our investment that has made you a very wealthy man. All of that is now threatened by the new king."

"So you say, however, I've seen no evidence of that yet," said Mahdi with a raised eyebrow. The clan chief sat on a cushy seat as his beady eyes appraised the two men. "My payments have not ceased in the time that the new king has taken the throne, nor do I see reason for them to."

"Only because this new king hasn't yet figured out his ass from a hole in the ground," said Adalbert, seething through his teeth. "He's shown a remarkable amount of hostility toward the Swabian Empire. Enough for us to believe he won't be a friend to our country. Don't forget, he just fought an entire war against your own countrymen."

"And he came out on top," insisted Mahdi. "As is with our custom. Another war won't change that."

"Even still, we've had a good partnership over the last couple years, Clan Chief," said Adalbert, his frustration rising to alarming levels. "I would hate to see your . . . misguidance lead to a loss of slaves and revenue."

"My misguidance?" whispered Mahdi as his nostrils began to flare. "How dare you insult me in my own tent?"

Adalbert looked about ready to snarl. In response, Mahdi's guards tightened their hold on their weapons. The situation looked bound to disintegrate soon, causing Berimund to throw his hands up and get between the two men.

"Peace between both of you," said Berimund cautiously. "Clan Chief, my countryman should've held his tongue and expressed himself more wisely."

Mahdi switched his gaze over to Berimund as the tension remained thick in the room. "Yes, he should have. You don't threaten a clan chief of Andalucia lightly."

"Agreed," said Berimund with a nod. "However, our point does stand. All we ask is support on your behalf. Already we have two clans willing to march behind us, clans that are becoming rich with support from Swabia against the foreign usurper. These clans are congregating to the north of this country in a show of strength against Jack Easterbrook. Can we count on your support?"

Mahdi shook his head all too quickly. "I will not support an uprising against a sovereign of Andalucia, especially given this man's status as the long-awaited Tur'hava. You do not have my support, and I ask that you leave my lands."

Adalbert made a move to protest however Berimund quickly silenced him. "It's fine," he whispered to the man, before looking back at the clan chief. "Then we will take our leave. I only ask that you keep our requests between us and yourself, Clan Chief. As a symbol of the respect between our two countries."

Mahdi regarded the question for a few moments before giving a reluctant nod. "Fine. I will not speak of this. Consider that the final courtesy you will have from the Purlovo. Now, you must leave. Be out of our territory by nightfall."

Berimund managed a short bow only for propriety's sake, however, it was Adalbert that stormed out of the tent, not waiting for him to catch up. The man took too many liberties with these primitive peoples, so much so that it was only because of who his cousin was that could explain why someone hadn't killed him yet.

"Can you believe these desert rats?" complained Adalbert loudly as they made their way out of camp. "I'll make all of them pay for their treatment of us."

"Keep your voice down, will you," hissed Berimund. "We're not even out of camp yet."

"Or else what? What will they do?" sneered Adalbert. In the next moment, he launched a small bucket of water that had been left near someone's tent. The bucket hit one of the slaves as he went by, the older man falling to his feet with a yell.

Berimund grabbed his countryman by the shoulder and began to pull him, his legs moving at a quicker pace. "You're going to get both of us killed if you keep that up!"

"My cousin will—"

"Your cousin isn't in this country," interrupted Berimund. "Not to mention, if he saw how you were acting right now, he'd just as much have your head as well. Calm yourself."

"Easier said than done, Berimund. He's likely to have our heads regardless. This entire country has fallen apart due to this Easterbrook nuisance. If my cousin gets word that the situation has spiraled out of control, we're dead men anyway!"

"Then let's work to turn it around," said Berimund carefully, as they walked out of the inner part of the camp. The two men came to the post where they'd tied up their horses, quickly readying them to get back on the main path. It was midafternoon, and if they rode hard, they might be able to make the next clan by tomorrow.

"What's the next clan in our path?" asked Adalbert after they had left the camp of the Purlovo.

"According to this map, the Turvada," said Berimund while waving it around.

"Why the hell do all these clan names sound the same? You'd think they'd come up with a little more originality in this forsaken country?"

Berimund started to chuckle. "I'm told it has to do with the history of their kings. Important ones in past history got entire clans named after them. Besides, do you really expect a lot of creativity to come out of a barren desert like this one?"

Adalbert grunted in response. "The only thing I expect of them is to do what they're told. And not to turn away gold." He gave a patting to the small container that rode directly behind him in the saddle, containing their entire spend. It was filled to the brim with Swabian gold coins, originally their cut from the slavery operation that had benefited the two countries for so long.

Yet, their portion of the cut was in jeopardy. Shortly after Jack Easterbrook took the throne, their payments quit coming. Not to mention, with the war being over, the country was starting to go back to normal. A normal that didn't involve the hard-fought deal they'd ironed out two years ago that made their Lord Avila much richer.

And just like anyone who lost a source of income, their lord was bound to be furious to see that revenue dry up. That's where their current orders came from. They had to remove Easterbrook from his newly-acquired throne as soon as possible. They needed payment for all the slaves that were being brought to Andalucia.

In short, they needed things to go back to how they were before the foreigner ever set foot in the country.

Adalbert let out a low sigh once they'd stopped for a brief meal. The path here was narrow, winding through the desert as they reached the northeastern part of the island. From the top of the highest dunes, the ocean could be seen, a bright, shimmering-blue surface that stood out in stark contrast to the ocean of grit around them. It was enough to drive anyone miserable with enough time.

"What are we to do if this next clan turns us down as well?" asked Berimund as their food cooked. "Most of them have turned us down."

"We keep pressing on, that's what we do," said Adalbert with a haughty expression. "We already have two clans with us. More will come."

"We have two of the largest and the furthest away from Septhada," said Berimund. It was technically correct. The Gartala and the Lapusa had been largely shielded from the recent war. Their ranks of warriors were large, and their clan chiefs were greedy men. It wasn't hard to set them to rebellion, yet they remained their only allies in a country that seemed bound to embrace peace.

"Others will swell to our ranks once they get the measure of this man. I'm sure of it. Either way, I won't lose my head for a lack of trying," said Adalbert.

"I don't think you would, regardless," said Berimund. "I think familial ties will shield you from Lord Avila's wrath. I won't be as lucky."

Adalbert didn't respond to that, long confirming Berimund's thoughts. He knew the crumbling of the Andalucian situation would fall on his shoulders, and he was desperate to turn it around. He rather enjoyed living, and would prefer to keep it that way.

Adalbert had the luxury of getting away with deeper transgresses. Lord Avila would not so willingly shed blood of those within the same family line, no matter the number of screw-ups. It was a good reason why Berimund suspected Adalbert was the way that he was. He could afford to be careless with his actions and his words.

Berimund could not.

"Part of me thinks we should expand our reports back to Swabia. Let them know the real measure of what we're dealing with here," suggested Berimund. "Even though I don't like the idea, it may be necessary to prevent a complete collapse of our position here."

Adalbert shook his head. "I don't care for that idea. You know how my cousin is liable to react to that. There's been too many disturbances in this part of the world recently. One more may cause him to froth at the mouth."

"And if we lose the country altogether? Then what? Don't you think his reaction would be much worse?"

"We won't lose the country, Berimund. More clans will join us soon, and with a large enough force, we'll be able to overthrow Jack Easterbrook. We just need to keep funding the willing clan chiefs in the meantime."

"You're forgetting something though, Adalbert. Easterbrook has advanced weaponry. I saw what they carry myself back when I was placed with the Muthada. Their rifles are more advanced than what even our best soldiers carry. I'm afraid that any battle that should happen between the forces we're assembling and theirs will be a repeat of the last war. Even with the high numbers of the Lapusa and the Gartala."

"You worry too much, Berimund," said Adalbert with a chuckle.

"Of course I worry. I'd rather like it if my head remained with my shoulders."

"No one is losing their head. Except perhaps Easterbrook. And don't worry about the weaponry, all right? I have one more card that I still have to play."

Berimund arched an eyebrow. "And what card was that? Were you ever going to tell me or were you just going to keep it a secret?"

Adalbert laughed. "Patience, Berimund. It would've been revealed in time. But let's just say that should we join battle with Easterbrook, his forces won't be the only ones with modern weaponry. I've secured a loan of an advanced fighting force. So calm yourself. Reinforcements will be here very soon."

*****

About a week after Abigail and the rest of the army arrived in Septhada, Jack had largely settled into his new role as king. With only a few exceptions, the country had begun to quiet down, and some semblance of a routine had started to take hold. Every day he had his briefings with Bazu, his meals with Vera, his weapons training with Greg (which had largely resumed even if absent from the Destiny) and at night, his bed was shared with both Abigail and Kat.

It was a life that would satisfy just about any man, even if part of him was still uneasy about his newfound status. For one, he had to remember that he was a Javan first, and for that matter, he was a naval officer before he was a king. The last thing he could do was pretend to play king for too long while forgetting about his formal duties to his country, especially during wartime.

That wasn't to say that Andalucia wasn't without its owns problems, and chief among them was the question of slavery. Even after his first meeting once everyone had arrived in Septhada, Jack had taken no such actions to end it, despite his objection to it. He just wasn't sure the best way how to do it without further compromising Andalucian society. There was no easy answer to it, especially when he considered how many thousands of them toiled away every day. Even still, he had to figure something out, especially if he was to move on eventually from Andalucia. There was no way he could leave the island with the current status quo.

It was a little after breakfast that morning, and Jack was preparing to get his morning report from Bazu. He had taken a detour to the grounds behind the palace when he heard quite the commotion coming from the area where he knew the kitchens to be. His curiosity stoked, Jack approached the kitchens to see what the uproar was about.

This portion of the palace was usually opened up during the day, a release for the intense heat that tended to build up throughout the day as the meals were prepared. Yet, as Jack stepped through one of the openings, his mouth fell open at the sight in front of him.

Two Sciavo could be seen beating a man on the ground in front of them. The man wore the metal clasp of the slave around his neck, even though it was hard to see at the current time. The rest of him was covered in blood. Jack could see he had a busted lip and a swollen jawline when he raised his head, only for the guards to once more beat him down.

"What's the meaning of this?" demanded Jack, scaring the Sciavo and forcing them to cease their movements instantly.

"Your Majesty," said the guard nearest to him. "We're just punishing this slave."

"Punishing? It looks like you were about to kill him!" That wasn't too far off the mark. Even though the beating had stopped, the man was still struggling to push himself back up. He wasn't in the best shape to begin with, and Jack could almost count the notches in his spine with how emaciated he looked.

"He should be used to it by now," said the other guard. "This is the third time this month we've had to beat him."

Jack could only retain his rage so much. He took two steps closer to the guard, getting in his face. "And what was his crime? Why in the world did you need to beat him to within an inch of his life?"

The guard gulped heavily. "S-stealing, sire! He's been caught stealing from the kitchen stores. We retrieved that loaf of bread that he had stuffed down his pants!"

Jack turned to look at the loaf. No more miserly loaf of bread could be found anywhere. It was barely greater than the size of his fist, and it looked moldy to boot.

"You were going to kill him for stealing a small loaf of moldy bread?" snarled Jack.

"Stealing is stealing, sire. We can't condone it, especially from a slave!"

"Look at the man," yelled Jack. "He hasn't had a proper thing to eat in days. You think it's worth killing him for this? Why didn't you just move him to another area of the palace?"

"Because he's a kitchen slave," muttered the other guard.

"No more," said Jack firmly. "You two go back to your post. This man is to receive no more beatings. Are we understood?"

"Y-yes, sire," said the guards quickly before making a hasty exit.

Jack then bent down to check on the wounded man. He had managed to push his way up from the ground, but he was still sitting on it, watching the entire interaction.

Jack looked around the kitchen to find most of the staff still watching him. He moved to the stores and grabbed a much larger loaf of bread and brought it back to the man.

"Here you go," said Jack as he handed it over. "This one will go a lot further than the last one."

The slave looked up at him as he nursed his busted lips. "T-thank you, Your Majesty."

"You haven't had anything to eat in a while, have you?"

The man shook his head. "I was hoping to bring that back to my wife."

"Where is your wife?"

"She works down in the city. She's a house slave for one of the families down there."

Jack grabbed a cloth so that the man could wipe his face of the blood. He started to sob a few moments later. "I'm sorry, sire. I k-know I'm not supposed to steal but I can't help it. My wife is sick, and she's not doing too good. I've been hoping to get her extra food to help her pull through, but I know I'm not allowed, and I don't have any type of real money. I deserved to get beaten."

Jack shook his head firmly. "No man deserves this treatment just for trying to take care of his family. How long have you served the palace?"

"Eight years, sire."

"Especially after so long in service to this place," said Jack. "I'll tell you what. Take this." Jack pulled his name tag off his uniform and offered it to the man. "This is proof that you know me. I want you to present it to the guard each day when you go back home, and we'll make sure you have enough food to feed your family, all right? I'll make sure all the guards know so that you're not questioned on it."

The man looked up into his eyes as tears started to flow from them. "Your Majesty, I can't tell you how thankful I am for this."

Jack put his hand on the man's shoulders. "Changes are coming to this country soon. I'm going to help correct the wrongs that are in place here. Just keep holding on, and if you need something from me, you know here to find me."

The man nodded his head quickly, not being able to hold in his smile.

"Why don't you go get washed up? The baths are that way," said Jack while pointing. "I can't have you going home to your wife looking like that. She'll be worried to death."

Jack helped the slave to his feet and gestured for another cook to help him on the way to the baths. As the pair walked away, the beaten slave looked back at him. "Thank you for everything, Your Majesty."

Jack could only bite his tongue and nod. No other moment more symbolized for him what needed to be done. He just had to find a way to make it work.

A short while later, Jack made his way into his morning briefing with Bazu, who was already prepared with a list of scrolls on his desk. Before he could even get started, Jack opened up with his own form of questioning.

"Bazu, how many slaves are present here in Septhada? Do we have a count?"

Bazu gave him a confused look. "I might have a count somewhere. Hold on a minute, sire." The small vizier went digging through his files, searching for an elusive folder that remained just out of reach.

"Ah, here it is," he said, pulling it out from the stack. "Let's see, we have approximately three thousand of them here in Septhada alone. Just shy of three hundred of them work for the palace while the rest are down in the city. Why do you ask, sire?"

"Because I have to do something about this slavery question, Bazu. And I'm going to start with them. I just need a way to free them. I need a way to make sure when they're free, they can purchase food and shelter. Basically, we need to pay them."

Bazu's eyes rolled up in thought. "Are you asking if we have the money to do so?"

Jack shrugged. "Is there any room in the treasury to pay over three thousand slaves enough money to start their lives?"

"Not at all, Your Majesty," said Bazu with a shake of the head. "Vertulis was a man of many tastes, and despite how much money flowed into the coffers, he usually found a way to spend it shortly after."

"Can we sell something off then? Surely a man that liked to spend had too many possessions. What can we sell to generate cash?"

Bazu shook his head. "Vertulis didn't like to spend money on things. More like on people. Money that isn't easily recovered."

Jack pursed his lips and then sighed. "There's got to be something we can use."

Bazu thought for a moment and then his eyes went wide. "Sire, what about all the gold that we requisitioned from the payments to the Swabians?"

Jack's head snapped over to the vizier. "The slave money, of course!" He then started to laugh. "How ironic."

"What's ironic, sire?"

"That the money that was supposed to go towards the purchase of more slaves will now go to free them," said Jack with a grin.

"I daresay it would add insult to injury for the Swabians though, sire. They won't like that they're not being paid. They will absolutely hate what you've done with the money too."

"The Swabians have been throwing their weight around this part of the world too much lately. It's about time that someone stood up to them," said Jack. "How much money is in that fund?"

"It's quite substantial, sire. They've brought a lot of slaves to Andalucia, and it was to be their monthly payment until we stopped it."

"Enough to get a few weeks of wages out to every slave in Septhada?"

"More than enough, Your Majesty. With some left over as well."

"Good, here's what I want you to do," said Jack. "We're going to commandeer that fund and do some good with it."

*****

The next morning, all the slaves were given their freedom in the city of Septhada. Early on in the day, Jack had drafted a proclamation to be read out across the city that detailed the change that was to be made. No more would anyone have to wear the metal clasp of servitude in the capital city. From that day forward, any slave that existed in the city, or crossed its threshold, was free and independent.

By midmorning, you could hear the celebration from the city all the way up to the palace. Roving bands of former slaves took to the streets to celebrate, the vast majority of them crying, dancing, and celebrating their freedom in any form of expression they could muster. The scene wasn't limited to just the city for very long either. Soon enough, the slaves owned by the palace were celebrating as well, especially given the fact that Jack had managed to have them all hired on as help moving forward. They not only had their freedom—now they had paying jobs as well.

It was not only the logical thing to do, but the right one as well. Jack still had a need for the help provided to keep the palace running, and the former slaves would need a paying job if they wanted to keep their freedom, so he had the former slaves added to the palace budget.

For every slave still in the city, they were to meet on the palace grounds the next day in order to receive a small payment of up to four weeks of wages. It wasn't a fortune, but it was enough to get them started with building a life free of servitude. All of the money was requisitioned from the Swabian fund, with orders to keep taking from it to free the rest of the country next.

It was only in the middle of the afternoon that Jack took a moment to relax for the day, spending the time on one of the many balconies that overlooked the city. Sounds of jubilation could still be heard from both the palace and the city, and he took in soothing sounds of freedom. He even had to go out of his way to cheer up the few Andalucians who weren't yet ready for the change, even though many of them didn't seem to want to hear his words of comfort. Their society was about to change forever.

"It's a beautiful sound, isn't it?"

Jack turned to find Vera watching him from the door. She had her arms crossed and a small smile on her lips.

"It sure is," said Jack as she joined his side. "I can only imagine what they're all feeling right now."

Vera giggled. "I don't think you have to imagine it, Jack. We can hear what they're feeling."

He chuckled with her. "I suppose you have a point there."

"So many times when I was enslaved here, I wished for a way out. Any chance to get my freedom back. For so many of them out there that were enslaved against their will, you gave that to them today. You gave them their lives back, Jack."

"It was long overdue," he said with a gesture out toward the city. "I couldn't let it continue here any longer. I just needed a plan, and I feel like I got what I needed only yesterday."

Vera looped her arm through his and rested her head against his shoulder. "You did really good, Jack. I'm so proud of you."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "I don't want anyone else to have to go through what you did. No one else should have to suffer for no reason. I wanted today to be the first day toward building a new Andalucia."

She turned toward him and smiled. "They're right about you, you know? About calling you the Tur'hava. You've changed their society. They saw that from the moment you stepped foot here."

"Let's just hope I changed it for the better," said Jack grimly. "The last thing I'd want is to be known for bringing chaos to this land."

Vera shook her head firmly. "I don't think that will happen. Not from that sound," she said while gesturing to the city.

Jack squeezed her tightly. "We can only hope."

*****

"Your Majesty, there's an urgent report from up north!"

Jack opened his eyes as Bazu slammed the door open to his personal chambers and slipped inside. Beside him, Kat shuddered herself awake, her eyes going wide at the intrusion.

"Bazu, what time is it?" asked Jack, blinking out the sleep from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, sire, it's only seven in the morning," said Bazu with an alarmed tone. "But I had to see you at once."

Jack leaned down and kissed the sleeping form of Abigail still before shifting his way out of bed. In the process, he slipped over Kat and greeted her the same way.

"I'll be right back," he promised.

"Hope so," she murmured before kissing him again and letting him by.

"Now what's so urgent that you had to wake me up early," said Jack peevishly as he and Bazu left his personal chambers and made their way down the hall.

"This report I just got, sire," said Bazu. "It concerns the clans to the north. The ones we've had our eyes on this entire time."

"Right, the Lapusa and the Gartala clans. What's in the report?"

"We had our own men scouting after these two clans after their unusual movements in the last three weeks. As you know, both of them have moved further north than their traditional lands for no apparent reason. However, they've begun to act hostile toward our scouts in the region."

"Hostile how?"

"In the beginning, it was verbal barrages to our warriors," said Bazu. "Then it became arrows. Any scout that got too closer was liable to be shot at. Now they've detained and put to death several of the men that we had watching them. As you know, those men are your envoys, Your Majesty. Such a move is unheard of with the respect that's due to the throne."

"Have we given them any reason to be hostile?" asked Jack. "I don't recall anything special about these two clans, and they never came up during the war against Vertulis."

"That brings me to my next report, sire," said Bazu with a heavy gulp. "This message just arrived this morning from Clan Chief Purva of the Turvada clan. It appears he was approached by a two man embassy of the Swabian Empire."

"Two men?" questioned Jack as his eyes narrowed. "Do we know who they are or what they were doing?"

"The clan chief states that their names were Berimund and Adalbert."

"Berimund. I recognize that name. That has to be the same man I met in the camp of the Muthada. Right when I first arrived in Andalucia."

"The name is known to me as well, sire," said Bazu with worried eyes. "He came to the court of Vertulis as well."

"For what purpose?"

Bazu's eyes shifted uneasily. "To rally the clans against you. This Berimund was the main force behind this."

Jack started to nod. "Well, that answers that question. And let me guess, he's up to his old tricks again?"

"According to this, yes. He's trying to rally those clans with promises of gold to anyone that will stand up to you."

"To what purpose though? I'm the king now, Bazu. Even if he's rallied two clans to his side, I still have at least a dozen more that would move against him if that was the case. What do they gain from doing this?"

Bazu closed the scroll to look at him. "Sire, I can see the point you're making, but at one point, you just had two clans against you yet here you stand. This situation can't be underestimated especially in this country. Not to mention, these are two of the largest clans, almost entirely untouched by the prior war. They would be formidable in any scenario."

Bazu had a point. Two clans could be dangerous especially if they were allowed to get momentum. Even though he had the advantage of having the marines with him, the Muthada and the Numratha had been significantly bloodied by the time he took them over, and it was still enough to propel him to the kingship. And with Swabian gold behind them, there was no telling what might happen.

"How long would it take us to get our army from here to the northern coast, Bazu?"

Bazu's eyes rolled up in thought. "Probably a week or more. It depends on how fast we could leave Septhada."

"We'll have to get moving right away," said Jack. "Put out a message to all the deputies of my clans, as well as to the clan chiefs nearest to Septhada. I want them to start moving in the direction of these clans. It's time we end Swabian meddling in Andalucia for good."

*****

Later that day, Jack called for a war council with all of his forces in Septhada. In addition to his Javan forces, all three clans under his personal command sent their deputies to be in attendance. Jack also had riders sent out to address the nearest clans, but due to their distance, they couldn't be present that afternoon.

After getting a makeshift map of the northern coast prepared by Bazu, Jack was able to point out the current positions of the two rogue clans as they dominated the highlands of that area of the country.

"I'm proposing we send not only our full army but also that of every clan within marching distance," said Jack after pointing out their positions. "Every clan that can offer assistance should do so in order to put out this rebellion."

"Isn't that overkill though?" asked Vera. "It's just two clans."

"So were we at one point," said Jack with a grim look. "We can't take this too lightly, especially knowing that the Swabians are spending gold to organize against us."

"Do we know who it is that's spending the gold?" asked Greg. "Is it Lord Avila again or is this a more centralized operation involving the emperor?"

Jack looked to Bazu who deposited some of the Swabian gold on the table. "It's impossible for us to tell at this time, as all of their coins depict their emperor. However, we know firsthand the interest that Lord Avila has in this part of the world, so I wouldn't doubt it's his influence."

"Lord Avila was the central figure behind the slave trade as well," added Bazu. "It wouldn't surprise me if this is his way of protecting his revenue stream."

"Nor can we allow him to get another foothold on this island. This rebellion has to be squashed," said Jack.

"We're ready to march with you, Your Majesty," said Masud of the Burlada. "Our people can be ready to move by first light."

"As will the Numratha, sire," added Samir.

"The Muthada will do their duty as well," said Abel.

"My thanks goes out to all of you," said Jack to the Andalucian deputies. "We'll surely need your men when the time comes." He then turned to Abigail. "We'll want the extra firepower of the Destiny as well, since they are so close to the coast."

"If that's the case, I should get back to the ship," she said. "I've been away long enough as is."

"I'll feel better with you at the helm," said Jack reluctantly. "Especially if the Swabians start sending ships instead of gold."

"We can only hope," she said with a small smile. "There's been a lack of action around here lately."

Jack chuckled. "You're starting to sound like Luke."

She let out a soft laugh but otherwise nodded her head in agreement.

"Jack, I can have the marines ready to go in the morning as well," said Greg after consulting with his two captains. "We're down in men, but we're still a significant force."

"What's the current count as of this morning, Greg? How many are ready to fight?"

"I have ninety-five men in fighting condition," said the major. "Ten are wounded and will have to be left behind, though. I think most of them will pull through, but they just need more time to heal."

"We'll leave them behind in Septhada," said Jack. "I'll leave half of my Sciavo guard here to watch the city just in case we have to deal with any threats to our rear. The rest of them will come with us."

"It sounds like we'll have a significant fighting force, Your Majesty," said Samir when they were all done. "I almost feel bad for those that are about to face us."

Jack chuckled. "I appreciate the confidence but let's not get too cocky about this one. At least until the battle is over. Something tells me that this won't be as easy as it looks. The Swabians are a wildcard here that we can't underestimate. Once we get our forces moving, let's spend some extra downtime training, as well as having them remain vigilant at all times. They should expect anything and everything just in case. I won't be caught by surprise again."

The room nodded and confirmed their acknowledgment as one being.

"Good," said Jack. "We move out in the morning. Let's get ready."

*****

As the sun rose that next day, a long column of Muthada, Numratha, Burlada, and Javan marines emerged from Septhada onto the northern road on their way for battle once more. It was a bitter feeling for Jack to have to know that he was once again heading to war. It was especially daunting that he didn't know what he'd find once he reached the north coast of the country. Would it still just be two clans? Or more? And would there be Swabians there too?

There was too much to ponder over, although the hardest part was saying goodbye to Abigail around midmorning. Once they reached a fork in the road, one of the paths led east to the coast, the shortest distance for her to meet up again with the Destiny. For that reason, she had to say her goodbyes once she separated from the column.

"I hate having to leave you," she said sadly as the small squad of marines prepared to escort her to the sea.

"I think I hate it just as much," said Jack. "It feels like you've only just rejoined me after our last absence."

"I just hope this one isn't for as long. Let's get up there and crush this rebellion, Jack. And then we can be back together again, okay?"

"Sounds great to me," he said with a chuckle. "Besides, I'll miss having you at my side every night."

Abigail gave him a coy look. "I'll make it up to you once I return. Let's not forget you still have Kat to keep you warm." She gestured over to the Galician woman, standing not too far away to let them have a moment of privacy.

"I was getting used to having the both of you. One on either side," he said.

"Well, you'll just have to get unused it for the time being," she said with a laugh. She then gestured for Kat to come join them. Kat gave them a shy smile as she joined them a moment later.

"Look out for him while I'm gone, okay? Don't let him do anything stupid," teased Abigail.

Kat giggled and wrapped her arms around his torso. "Don't worry. I'll keep him on the straight and narrow."

Jack let out a playful huff. "Why are you both talking about me like I'm not even here?"

"It's just because we love you," said Abigail, swatting at his stomach.

Jack grunted while the two women embraced each other. He watched as Kat whispered something he couldn't hear in the other woman's ear, only to see Abigail nod a moment later. Once they pulled apart, they said their own goodbyes.

"Keep in touch with me on the command radio," said Jack. "Let me know what's going on the moment you get out there."

"Of course I will," she said. "I'll check in with you every night too."

"Most importantly, stay safe. Let's hope these clans are as easy to take care of as they were in the last war."

Abigail grinned. "With the Destiny on our side, I'm sure they won't be too troublesome."

She pressed into his arms one last time, kissing him deeply. Jack let his fingers entwine into her dark hair, trying to memorize the feeling of her body against his. All too soon she was gone, just a speck on the horizon. He hoped it wouldn't be too long until he saw her again.

*****

Even traveling at a brisk pace, it took the army the better part of eight days to reach the northern bluffs where the rebel clans had congregated. By that point in time, the two starting clans had been joined by a third, a little clan that looked to the other bigger two for safety in numbers. The terrain here much reminded him of rocky territory they'd fought through when they first landed in Andalucia, and he had nightmares about fighting those same battles once more.

Despite his worry, the men were in good spirits. The main force of Javan marines sang their war songs on much of the trip north, many them all too happy to be going back to battle. Jack could never quite figure that one out, especially after the last war had taken so much of their current strength. Yet, Javan marines were a cut above just about every other warrior he knew of, and they gladly marched into the brimstone, usually with a smile on their face.

At this point in time, he had three clans with him plus the marines and half the Sciavo. Altogether, he had about twenty-eight hundred fighting men with him. Based upon old reports that Bazu was able to dig up, it was estimated that the enemy forces in front of him were almost half that size. The two larger clans had about seven hundred warriors apiece while the remainder went to the smaller clan.

Superiority of numbers was as important in war as ever, a small comfort to him despite not knowing what waited for him on the other side of the enemy lines. He was still nervous about the Swabians being involved, and wondered what form their aid would look like, especially to the outnumbered rebels.

He also worried about their current position. On the day that they spotted the rebel forces, Jack, Greg, and several of the marines and men from the other clans reconnoitered the position for weaknesses. Whoever was leading the clans had some semblance of military training, for he'd placed them on the highland hills that completely dominated the surrounding desert. To take the position, Jack and his army would have to march uphill on a completely exposed plain long before they even got close to the enemy's location. What was worse was that they would have plenty of time to see them and prepare for their arrival.

To make matters worse, the flanks of the position were largely nonexistent. On both the left and the right side, the hill dropped completely into two separate gullies, making any attack on those flanks completely futile. To the rear of the enemy position was another smooth rock face, a completely sheer wall of stone that led down some several hundred yards to a trench below.

The position was unassailable from all but the southern face. It also meant they couldn't use the Destiny to soften it up like they'd had in the Battle of the Peninsula that took out half the enemy clans in the last war. The enemy clans didn't look like they were about to budge either, completely comfortable with occupying the high ground.

"Surely they can't stay up there forever, right?" asked Greg while gesturing to the makeshift defensive wall they'd erected at the top of the hill. "They're bound to run out of water and food soon enough. I'd say all we have to do is just wait here, block their supply lines, and they'll start to think about fighting once they get hungry enough."

"That's only if they didn't bring enough food," said Samir of the Numratha while shaking his head. "They will have their entire clan up there, and it's the end of the harvest season here. I'm sure their stocks are well-supplied right now. They may be entirely comfortable with waiting us out until we want to attack."

"What do you think our odds are?" asked Jack. "We do have the marines, and I'm sure they'd be able to fight uphill to take that position. I just hate to throw them at it with how few in number they are."

Greg studied the southern face of the hill for a few moments. "It's not that I don't think the boys could do it. It's just I have to question how many of them would be left standing at the end of the engagement. That hill is steep, and it's plenty rocky at the top. They don't even need to fire their arrows at us, Jack. All they'd need to do is roll some rocks down on us, and we'd be shit out of luck."

"Fuck," Jack cursed. He studied the rocks at the top of the hill as well. Many of them were just large enough to be moved by one or two men. Once they got enough force coming down the hill, it would roll like a scythe through the front lines. Anyone lucky enough to make it to the top would be too exhausted to fight any further, becoming easy pickings.

"All right, let me sleep on this one for a little longer," said Jack. "Let's reassess the situation in the morning. I don't want to throw anyone's lives away needlessly for this position if we don't have to."

"Clan Chief, with all due respect, the longer this rebellion goes on, the weaker our position with the other clans," said Masud of the Burlada. "Now is the time when all of Andalucia is wondering what type of king you're going to be. To not strike quickly at a rebellion such as this is going to lead many of them to believe you to be weak. It would be inviting more trouble down the line. We should attack right now, while we still have some surprise."

Greg shook his head and jumped in. "Unless you're suggesting that the Burlada lead the attack, it's not wise to attack this position head-on. I'm not one to shy away from battle, but I also won't let my remaining men be thrown into the meat grinder of a frontal assault on that."

Masud raised his chin. "Casualties do not matter to Andalucians. Only results. Your men got a taste of that in the last war. How many times were your positions assaulted when it could have been deemed futile? Yet still the Andalucians pushed on. That is the measure of this country. We fight while we still have breath, until the last one of us is still standing."

"Okay, relax both of you," said Jack, coming between them. "Nobody is doubting the prowess of the clans, Masud. Let's just be a little more strategic on how we go about this. Let me sleep on it, and see what the situation looks like tomorrow."

Both men nodded only with reluctance and soon separated, heading back to camp. Jack let out a low sigh as he turned toward the position once more. This attack would be more daunting than anything they'd faced thus far. He just needed the right strategy to do it. Or he needed a way to convince them to come down from their position. Both ideas seemed to lead to an unlikely result. Squaring his shoulders, he marched back to camp to think on the idea.

It wouldn't be the only source of bad news that day.

Toward the evening, one of the scouts that Jack had posted along the eastern coast came running into camp. He was panting fiercely, having run a great distance to make it back in the shortest amount of time. Jack knew this man, Dula, as a member of the Muthada, and he was a trustworthy source, which is why he was set to scouting.

"Your Majesty," said Dula, bending at the waist and still panting heavily. "There's a bunch of great ships along the eastern coast. Big ones, sire. They are made of metal just like yours, but they are much more numerous."

Jack sat up from his desk. "You're sure about this? Made of metal, right?"

"Yes, sire! They were hugging the coast so it was easy for me to see them."

"What was the count, Dula? How many ships?"

"At least four really big ones. One bigger than the rest. There were about four of the smaller ones," said Dula, doing his best to describe something he was completely unfamiliar with. "They completely dwarfed anything I'd seen, apart from your own ship, sire."

"This is really important, Dula, so I need you to do your best to remember," started Jack. "But were they flying a flag of some sort? Something that would have been whipping in the wind off of their superstructure?"

Dula nodded his head eagerly. "Yes, sire, they certainly were!"

"Can you remember what type of flag it was? Do you think you could draw it?" He handed Dula a pencil and gave him the back of an old report. "It's really important that you do it accurately."

"I got a good view of one of the little ones that was closest to the coast," said Dula as he began to sketch it. "But all of them flew the same flag, even the really big one. It was a lot like this."

Dula sketched something rectangular that was split by a broad stripe down the middle and one that went across the middle as well. In the remaining fields in each corner, he drew a small flower, four for each edge.

"It looked just like that, Your Majesty. The flowers were colored white as well as the stripes in the center and across the middle. The fields left in the corners were colored blue."

Jack's face lost all of its color. His mouth dropped open, staring in disbelief at the sketch in front of him.

"Your Majesty?" asked Dula, watching him remain speechless. "Is this good or bad?"

"If this is the flag you saw, Dula, this is definitely bad. That's the Occitanian flag. What you saw is an Occitanian battle fleet."

For the next several moments, Jack made him recount the sighting two more times to make sure all the details were right. Based upon his best interpretation of what he didn't see with his own eyes, it seemed the Occitanian force was comprised of a single battleship, three cruisers, and four destroyers. Against which he only had the force of the Destiny and the Tiger, wholly inadequate in any sense of the matter.

What was worse is that they were on the way here.

"Abigail, come in," said Jack through his command radio. "Abigail, I need to talk to you at once." Her last position had been just off the northern coast, within range of rebel clans, but still too far away to do any damage to them.

He waited several moments until he heard her voice on the other end. "Jack, what's the matter? Your voice doesn't sound the same."

"Abigail, you have to get out of your current position and head west. There's an Occitanian battle fleet just off the coast, and they're headed your way! Get moving quickly before they get to you!"

*****

By the morning, the situation had gone from bad to worse. Not only were the rebel clans completely comfortable holding their position from the top of the hill, but now the Occitanian battle fleet had crested the northern shore of the island, precipitating Abigail's movement away from them. With the loss of naval support (not like it mattered much at this point anyway with the position of the rebel clans), Jack was at a loss for how to tackle and overcome both problems.

It had become especially apparent once he got a full report on the bearing of the Occitanian force. After his initial report from Dula, Jack sent with him Captain Bridge in order to go back to the coast and get another sighting of the enemy fleet. Bridge had spent enough time in the marines that he'd be able to identify the ships if possible and confirm the sighting. Not that Jack didn't trust Dula's report, but rather he wanted Javan eyes to confirm something they'd be more familiar with.

"There's a battleship with them, sir," said Bridge, making his report after getting back. "Three heavy cruisers and four destroyers, just like you thought."

"Goddamnit," swore Jack. "How the hell did they find us? Did they see you?"

"Negative, sir, we stayed low to the ground and hugged the terrain. No way they could've seen us. They didn't appear to be searching for anything either."

"How do you figure that?"

"They moved slowly, almost tentatively through the waters. They didn't come too close to shore nor were there any expeditionary parties. My guess is that they don't know we're here."

"We can only hope that's true for our own sake," said Jack. "We don't have the firepower to fight off a force of that size."

"Maybe they've just gotten lucky. Maybe they'll move on soon enough without any action on our part."

"I sure hope you're right, but we can't be caught unprepared. Especially if they get sight of either the Destiny or the Tiger. Then they'll know we're here, and they won't stop hunting us until we're dead," said Jack. "How far away is it from our current camp to the coast?"

"Maybe about six miles, give or take," answered Bridge.

Jack shook his head and started to swear once again. "Damnit. If we open up with our rifles, that sound could carry out to sea. Any officer worth their salt on their side will be able to recognize the distinctive sound of a mass of NT-12s, and our position would be given away for sure."

"Are you suggesting we hold off any attacks then?"

Jack nodded. "At least until today. Not that it does us any good, especially with their formidable position."

Jack had barely stopped speaking when Bazu flew into his tent, already babbling up a storm.

"Sire, we have another problem."

Jack groaned out loud. Were there no shortages of problems in this country?

"We already have enough of those already, Bazu."

"This one is serious, Your Majesty. It concerns the movements of the clans."

"The ones holed up on the hill?"

Bazu shook his head. "No, sire. The ones that are supposed to be coming to reinforce our position."

Jack squinted. "What do you mean?"

"Apart from your Javan allies and the Sciavo, we have three clans here with us today. We put out the word about the rebels and asked for any clan that could give assistance to send a force. I had three more moving in this direction."

"What do you mean 'had' moving, Bazu?"

The vizier swallowed heavily. "They've stopped, sire."

"How could they just stop?"

"Their reported movements haven't changed since yesterday," he said, showing their positions on a small, tactical map in front of him. "This clan has only moved a mile closer, give or take. These two haven't budged in two days now."

Jack studied the map in front of him. For whatever reason, all three of them had set a brisk pace in the previous few days but had stopped in their tracks.

"What could be the reason for it?" he asked Bazu. "Lack of supplies? Do we have an enemy clan in our rear?"

Bazu shook his head. "Our supply lines back to Septhada are perfectly clear. Worryingly enough, these clans are directly over our supply lines. My concern is that the Swabians may have gotten to them, or they may be slowing their marches down to see who comes out as the victor in this next battle."

"Don't they know I'd be just as liable to have their heads if they don't show up?" asked Jack with an angry grimace. "This is treason."

"This is a common move by Andalucian clans, sire. They won't want to be caught backing one side too strongly in case that side loses and that puts their clan in jeopardy. So they'll hold back until a clear winner emerges and then throw their support to that side. It happens all the time here, unfortunately."

Jack felt the urge to punch something. "Remind me to deal with those clan chiefs once this battle is over."

"So we have enemy clans to our front, Occitanian ships to our east, and treasonous clans in our rear," said Bridge, who'd been listening to the report. "It's beginning to feel like old times."

"Almost too much like old times," muttered Jack. "I'd hoped all this nonsense was in the past once I took the throne."

Bridge chuckled lightly. "It appears all these forces need a reminder of what we can do. Besides, do you remember the best part of being surrounded?"

Jack cocked an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"You can start fighting in any direction and still find the enemy," said Bridge with a grin.

"You've been hanging out with Greg too long."

"He has started to rub off on me, hasn't he?"

Jack managed a small laugh. "Go update him on the situation for me, will you? Make sure we don't start any engagements if we don't have to, especially while that fleet is still sniffing around."

Bridge gave a short salute and headed back out into the field, leaving Jack alone with Bazu for the moment. Between the two of them, he drafted up short but explicit orders for the three meandering clan chiefs, giving them one last opportunity to pick their pace up or face consequences.

At this point, it was more of an idle threat. With their combined strength, if they abandoned the fight in favor of the rebels, they'd match his numbers of men evenly. What's more, they could pinch Jack in against the coast where he wouldn't have the luxury of calling in for naval support for the Destiny. It was a tough situation for anyone to be in, and he hoped that at least their reported loyalty to their sovereign would outweigh the risk of defecting.

After he'd sent Bazu off to get riders for those messages, Jack slumped back in his chair, already exhausted despite it being only late morning. He needed something to take his mind off the trouble in front of him. He allowed himself to drift off for a brief moment, remembering one particular evening with Kat shortly after he rescued her. The memory brought a temporary smile to his lips.

Thankfully for his mood, Kat soon slipped into his tent, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind. She nuzzled against his cheek as her blonde hair tickled against his neck. The soft smell of her skin drifted across his nose, making him savor the moment.

"You always know just when I need you," Jack muttered quietly. "Your presence is so relaxing to me."

"That's why I'm here," she said with a slight giggle. "I sensed you needed me."

"You must be psychic then," he said with a chuckle. "It's exactly what I was thinking."

She turned his head softly and placed a full kiss against his lips. "What has you so troubled?"

Jack threw his hands up. "What doesn't have me troubled? That would be a much shorter list."

"We'll find a way to get through this," she said after listening to his complaints. "We've been in worse situations already and somehow pulled through."

"I'd really like to get my hands around this Avila character's throat," said Jack with a grim stare. "I feel like most of our problems come from his hand."

"I'm sure you'll get your chance soon enough," she said cryptically. "Besides, we're doing what we're supposed to do. We're building alliances we need to take on the Swabians. It just takes some time."

"Time is not on our side at the present moment," he said before turning to look at her. She looked so beautiful in the soft light of the tent, her blonde hair carefully framing her angelic face. "Perhaps we should just go to Galicia and see if they want to join our alliance next instead of Picardy?"

The look of tenderness on Kat's face dropped instantly. "That's not a good idea."

"Why not? I thought you said Galicians and Swabians instinctively dislike each other?"

"They do," she said with a nod. "But the Galician regent is a weak man, and I think he'd be more inclined to give them a free hand."

"You speak as if you know him personally, Kat."

Kat turned away from him, staring off at the floor for several moments. She didn't answer him nor did she make any attempt to turn around. Jack reached out for her hand. "Kat, what's on your mind?"

"It doesn't take long to learn about the current regent and where his strengths lay," said Kat ominously. "The current one, Eric Rosdahl, is very predictable, Jack. He wouldn't be an ally to us."

"Kat, it's okay," he said, pulling her to him. She had turned very tense in that small amount of time, her face filling with worry. "I know how you feel about your homeland. That was more a playful tease than a serious suggestion."

Kat nodded quickly. "I'm sorry. It's just that there's so much I haven't told you about Galicia. So much that you should know. You need to know. It's just that—"

In an instant, both of their heads whipped around to the north as the sound of gunfire rang out all across the front lines. The two of them shared a look of horror at the sound.

"Damnit, I told them not to fire yet!" said Jack as he launched himself out of his seat while grabbing his NT-12. "The sound of that much weaponry might carry out to the Occitanians!"

Kat hurried along by his side as the entire camp came alive at the sounds. "Jack, something doesn't sound right. That gunfire sounds too far away."

"If they've launched their own surprise attack against the rebel clans, I'm going to be pissed."

Jack crested the hill to see the front lines of his own army. Up until a few moments ago, it had been set up to have the more numerous Burlada in the middle and the Numratha/Muthada on the flanks, while the Javan marines were situated in bands and scattered throughout the line as a way to beef it up.

However, Jack soon saw that it wasn't his marines that were attacking out of the defensive line. Sure, they were firing at the current moment, but they were also being fired upon by a force coming down the hill from where the enemy clans were.

A force that was attacking in full speed on the descent while also using rapid-firing rifles and being much more numerous in number.

"What in the hell? Who the hell has access to that technology?" asked Jack as all his marines began to open fire on the attackers.

"Jack!" Kat yelled while pointing to the attacking infantry. "That's a Swabian battle flag! Those men attacking our lines are part of a Swabian regiment!"

Jack gulped heavily. "Get back to my tent!" he roared to her as he rushed forward to the line and began to take aim with his rifle.

The enemy in front of him had nearly the same weaponry and almost ten times their current number. They would overwhelm them easily as the current pace and firepower.

May the gods help us, thought Jack as he began firing.