Camp of the Legions, Growing Season, 6th rot., 3rd day

“Five hundred and two eagles and their riders, along with an additional ninety-seven mages, left here four days ago. Two days ago, only nine riders and their mounts returned, and five of the eagles were wounded." Marshal Lowawathas looked out over the rain-drenched camp from her balcony and frowned. “We are blind. We have lost most of our eyes in the sky and almost all of our mages. How bad are the roads between here and Toyatastagka?”

"It's not bad except on the south side of the bridge over the Wiksettset Stream," replied Captain Sakabean. The plank road is underwater there because of too much rain, too fast.

“Is there a way around for horses? I need scouts in and out of Toyatastagka, Captain.”

“The bridge that’s a wagon-day up the Wiksettset is clear; however, the road past the bridge and over the ridge is not the greatest.”

“Ah!” the Marshal’s sour expression lifted momentarily, “The old backroad into camp after curfew—it's not the greatest for wagons, but it's good enough for horses. Send me Captains Kokohegan and Waragankwonk. We’ll use horses and infantry scouts.”

“Excuse me, Ma'am?" Captain Sakabean asked before walking out the door. "The third prince is still in the anteroom, demanding to speak with you."

“After last night’s outburst, he can wait all he wants. I am not turning over four legions to a nineteen-year-old know-it-all who can’t even defend himself against a fat old lady like me. Even if the rest of the family is dead, my interpretation of the law is that he has no authority unless his sister grants it to him. She's with the Northern Border Legion. Slip some laudanum into his tea and get him out of my headquarters. Better yet, send him to his sister.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Captain Sakabean fled the presence of the displeased Marshal.

Emily, Growing Season, 6th rot., 4th day

One of my worst character defects is that I hate to lose an argument. I'm a sore loser. I must have pouted for an entire day after losing the argument with Uncohegan, Tom, and Twee about the next phase of the Chem liberation war. Tom and Twee would attack the huge legion camp inland of Toyatastagka while I took over four thousand freed Chem back to Sussbesschem, escorted by Uncohegan’s growing fishing boat navy. I understood their reasoning, and couldn’t find fault with their arguments. It doesn’t mean I liked it.

I get it. I really do. I'm little. I'm weak. My only weapons, throwing spikes and arrows, are ill-suited for war against Cosm, some of whom are mages. And I'm the stinking, god-cursed prophet, so my safety matters. Blah, blah, blah. Yada, yada, yada. Meh!

“You can barely defend yourself against Cosm, Mouse,” Tom told me, “and you can’t win any fights without using surprise and ambush, and that won’t keep you alive in a battle.” Then, he stabbed me where I was wounded. “You should have stayed with your friends in Foskos,” Tom said. “You aren’t suited for war.”

After I punched him in the gut, which had no effect at all, I stomped out on him, and I haven't seen him since. A couple of Chem swam me out to my ketch where I waited for the transports to finish loading.

What I don’t like is leaving Tom behind in a war zone. I lost him once. I don’t think I could bear it if I lost him twice.

Did I mention I hate this whole prophet gig? Well, excluding dinners at Spenger's.

Uncohegan was now included in our strategy meetings. She was one of the leaders of the underground of Vassu worshipers in Mattamesscontess, which was most of the non-noble population on the southwest coast of the empire. Nobles and Cragi clergy were falling victim to acts of insurrection in regions south of Shinakosettkut. The citizens of Shinakosettkut had attacked the city's citadel, bottling up the remaining garrison and nobles inside. The rebellion had now spread north toward Toyatastagka. Our new, unlooked-for allies were helping us. The populace of Mattamesscontess had been primed for revolution for many years already and the Chem invasion had provided the ignition source. In less than three rotations, most of the southwest coast was in the hands of the Vassu insurrection.

The Cosm, led by the Aspirants of Vassu, did not resist Vassu’s order to free all slaves. Mattamesscontess was different from Foskos. The empire restricted slave ownership to clergy and those of noble descent. As a result, Cragi-worshipping nobles owned almost all the slaves.

Starting during the fourth rotation of the Growing Season, the rebelling Vassu worshipers cheerfully freed every slave they found. It mattered not to the rebels if the slaves were Cosm, Coyn, Chem, and flying mounts. Yes, there were Cosm slaves in Mattamesscontess. They did the heavy manual labor that Coyn could not.

As the populace overran the manor houses and city townhouses of their slave-owning rulers, they helped all the enslaved to flee. The Cosm became the newly employed. The mounts escaped toward the mountains. The insurrectionists gathered Chem for transportation back to Sussbesschem. Since the cotton crop was already in, the Coyn were hidden.

The real problem would be the Coyn slaves in the valley of the Mattaheehee River, where they were used as the sole labor source for harvest on latifundi-style farms. Freeing and then removing all the Coyn from the bread basket of the empire could lead to a famine. It was a dilemma and I didn’t have any easy solutions for it. Uncohegan and I spent a lot of time trying to solve this conundrum. Our tentative plan was to withhold their labor as leverage for negotiation when the rice harvest started. My goal was to prevent the substitution of economic slavery for chattel slavery. The economics of Erdos were so primitive that markets were managed through taxes, guilds, sanctioned monopolies, and cartels. Cosm-run governments ruled through control of services through the Shrines and control of the land needed to produce food, backed up by the physical size and magic. Like everything in existence, might makes right.

Did those thick-brained gods even appreciate all the problems introduced by the sudden emancipation of so many people?

The Vassu underground had already concocted a plan to settle Coyn in their own communities south of the Cosm towns on the southwest coast of the Gulf of Chipagawkpaw, so Uncohegan told me. These would be interspersed with settlements of freed Cosm and silverhair volunteers to provide regional magic services, like healing and firefighting. The silverhairs of the insurrection were already thinking of how to tackle an emancipated population.

Of course, idiot that I am, I had to ask her how she knew of all these plans, given that she had been following the Chem fleet and not making landfall. She looked at me in disbelief and then said simply, "Magic." This conversation was on her fishing boat while at anchor in the ruined harbor of Toyatastagka, in front of her crew, so I had an audience to my embarrassment.

“You are the prophet, and you are so clever, Beloved,” Uncohegan had picked up the honorific from the Chem. She sat beside me on a rowing bench while her boat was moored next to my ketch. “You come from Foskos, where Cosm and Coyn live together. So, I don’t understand why you are sometimes so...so...”

“Clueless about magic?” I filled in for her.

She had the good grace to look abashed. “Well, yes.”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“I ran away from an illegal Coyn breeding farm as a child. I was seven or eight at the time. I ran as far as I could and lived in the wilderness alone. Because I raised myself, I never learned about Cosm culture and magic. The Queen of Foskos rescued me after I had an accident in my home and brought me back to Foskos for healing. Everything I know about Cosm and magic, I have learned in the last two years since then. I tend to be clueless about magic because I live most of my life without it.”

“How was that even possible?” Uncohegan was gobsmacked, poor lady. “A Coyn child living alone in the wilderness? Without Cosm protection or help? That’s unbelievable.”

"And yet, that's what happened," I shrugged. "My griffin friend Asgotl believes that the gods helped me stay alive without my knowledge. If that's the case, I wish they could have made it a little easier for me to survive because it sure was hard work."

That one of the first of many conversations I had with Uncohegan. After all, we spent four and a half rotations together sailing to Sussbesschem and back.

Camp of the Legions, Growing Season, 6th rot., evening of the 4th day

“They aren’t human, Ma’am,” Captain Kokohegan protested. “These Chem don’t appear to take prisoners. We found every one of my mounted scouts and two of the unmounted scouts on the north side of the bridge at Oglasett, dead. We found no sign of the horses, just the bodies of the scouts.”

Marshal Lowawathas swore softly. “How were they killed?”

“The healer who examined them said they drowned.”

“What?” the Marshal frowned. “Any sign of struggle? Wounds? Bruises?”

“None, Ma’am. The healer said their lungs were filled with water.”

“Send that healer to me, please," Lowawathas ordered. "I want to talk to her. Captain Sakabean, please get me Captain Wakahoatan. The remaining eagles should be rested enough to fly reconnaissance at a distance."

“Yes, Ma’am.”

After the two Captains left, Lowawathas contemplated the rain-drenched camp from her balcony. If the rain didn't lift soon, she would need to move at least one legion to higher ground. The Mattaheehee was close to jumping its banks, which would flood the portions of the camp next to the river.

The few reports from elsewhere in Mattamesscontess indicated the rain was everywhere. The camp wasn't suffering from a passing Growing Season storm. Observations suggested that the monsoon arrived early this year. The wet, warm weather favored the enemy Chem and not her Cosm legions or the eagles of the flying cavalry.

She sat down at her desk and began drafting a letter to the Infanta Moo’upegan, the senior surviving member of the imperial family and titular commander of the sixth legion, which guarded the empire’s mountainous border with Impotu. The Empress Presumptive needed to know everything about the invasion of the vindictive amphibious Chem.

The Marshal was worried. News from both East and West suggested the other gods—whose existence any rational person could not deny—had picked a Coyn prophet and several revelators from the lesser races. The prophet was set on the abolition of slavery everywhere. At the prophet's direction, Foskos was taking steps to become a slaveless kingdom. Lowawathas could not imagine how the world could work without slavery.

With no slaves, who would supply the labor for the thankless jobs Cosm found unacceptable? Paying wages for that menial work would destroy the economy everywhere slaves were used, which was everywhere. She knew there was a supposed nation of just Coyn far out on the west coast, but she was sure it was just a tale. No one had ever been there. Some said that the brown-skinned Coyn from that nation traded on the island nation of Kara-Kor, but she never met anyone who could confirm that tale.

She could confirm that Foskos had invaded Impotu after the latter’s attack failed last year. Mattamukmuk was now under a Foskan millstone as a vassal state. The empire's intelligence agents reported that Foskan scouts were moving through the remaining Cantons of the once great Jutu Federation. The formerly defenseless Chem were now armed with strange weapons and invading the empire. They had already destroyed the fleet at Shinakosettkut. She felt adrift in a world that was changing too fast.

A handful of messages from the southwest coast stated the populace was in revolt against the clergy and nobles. It looked like a repeat of the rebellion from forty-four years ago when the followers of the false Vassu rose up against the true faith of Cragi. The rebels were burning the temples, executing higher clergy, and freeing slaves. Lowawathas suspected that the apostate followers of the false Vassu had been planning a second rebellion and that the invading Chem had triggered a revolt already in the making.

For a short moment, the Marshal entertained the thought that Cragi might be a magic monster impersonating a god. Then, she put it out of her mind. Her own grandfather had seen Cragi destroy over half of the southeast coast. To think that Cragi was fake was to doubt her own grandfather.

Lowawathas needed better intelligence. Since the battle in the city harbor, information had dried up. One civilian on an eagle landed and related that Toyatastagka was now a lawless, lifeless ruin, half of which was still burning. One sailor who walked from the city to the legion camp reported the fleet was destroyed down to the last oar. Tens of thousands of sailors were dead. Uncounted civilians were dead or refugees. The imperial family was presumed dead except for the teenaged brat now drugged into a stupor in officers' quarters.

Lowawathas wondered if the Infanta Moo’upegan would forgive her if she sent the brat prince to the sixth legion on the north border.

She resisted the temptation to pour herself a beaker of strong alcohol.

Camp of the Foskan Northern Army, Growing Season, 6th rot., 5th day

"You look unhappy, Mighty One," Lord Skalta, General of the Right, remarked. He sat down and poured the glum King a fresh glass mug of beer.

“My son has picked his shrine,” Imstay pronounced with all the enthusiasm of a child confronted with icky vegetables.

"Wait! My precognisance tells me the Prince did not choose the Peaceful Shrine of Erhonsay!"

“Very funny,” the King growled.

“Why did you not insist?” Skalta asked. “He is the Prince, after all. He will be King, Galt permitting. He must learn the ways of war if he wants to rule.”

“He chose to do things the hard way and train elsewhere.”

“Landa or Galt are not bad choices, Mighty One,” Skalta reasoned.

“He chose Giltak, with double consecration at Tiki,” Imstay sounded like his closest friend had died.

“That’s...that’s...” Skalta took a long pull on his own beer. “Gods. Giltak? We’ve never had a mekaner king before. You aren’t going to overrule that choice? You are the King. You have the right to send him to the Peaceful Shrine regardless of what he foolishly wants to do.”

“They outnumbered me,” Imstay groaned and considered drinking himself into a stupor, "that damned woman I married, and my traitor of a cousin, and my aunt, the High Priestess of Erhonsay herself, told me by mindcast about the plans for Heldfirk's training." Imstay emptied his mug. Skalta got up and poured the miserable King more beer. The King would be like this until he woke up the following day with a hangover.

"Heldfirk will go to Giltak and cross-train at Tiki. Going to Tiki is unavoidable. Heldfirk can use the Great Crystal, you see. He's taking after that monster I married. It's perfect training if my boy wants to be Queen!"

Skalta shook his head. All he could do was play the role of sympathetic ear to the King’s disappointment that his son wasn’t the warrior he wanted him to be.

Skalta knew it would be a long evening until the King fell over.

Camp of the Foskan Southern Army, Growing Season, 6th rot., 6th day

Lord Bobbo read and reread the message from the Queen, who was coordinating communications between Foskan forces. The account of the battle in Toyatastagka harbor intrigued him. In his mind, he could see that little Coyn Emily setting pots of sulfur on fire to smoke out the Mattamesscontan flying cavalry. He was fascinated by the Revered Huhoti's analysis of how it worked. He saw great potential in the tactic, especially if the enemy was clueless about how it was done.

“Aide!” Bobbo called out.

A young silverhaired noble in the dark blue flying coat of the cavalry came running in and saluted. "Lieutenant Uskfumruts, I want to know if we have any sulfur. If we don’t, find out if we can get any.”

“How much, my lord?” the young man asked.

“As much as possible,” Bobbo said.

Bobbo moved on to the next message in the despatch pile. It was from Pinisla. He broke the seal. When he finished reading, he smiled nonstop until he went to bed. Both his wife, Tyoep, and his adopted daughter, Kayseo, were pregnant. He was so happy that he allowed an extra beer ration to the troops, in shifts, of course.