Lerial doesn’t like the slight emphasis on the word “purportedly.”
“… but the information appears to be accurate from what various traders have reported and from other sources. The dispatch from Atroyan suggests that it might be to our benefit to send a force to Luba for joint friendly maneuvers.” Kiedron smiles pleasantly, although Lerial can sense from the chaos-order flows around him that he is not so composed as he appears.
“Do you think Atroyan is ill,” asks Lerial, “and that someone, such as Rhamuel, is using his seal to obtain the assistance that Atroyan would never request? Or is this a ploy to trap and destroy at least several companies of our lancers?”
“Those are good questions,” replies the duke. “We know that Khesyn is sending armsmen to Vyada. We don’t know why. The dispatch from Swartheld came by a fast sail-galley.”
“That means that whoever dispatched it did so with the approval of someone high in Atroyan’s counsels,” suggests Jhalet.
“There is also the fact that the Afritans have abandoned their Ensenla post and withdrawn all the Afritan Guards stationed there,” Lerial points out.
“That strikes me as offering no risk at all to Atroyan,” Jhalet points out. “He knows we won’t invade.”
“If he is threatened by Khesyn, that would be the first place from which he would withdraw the Afritan Guards,” Kiedron replies. “He knows that we know that. So that offers no evidence as to whether his dispatch is genuine or a ploy and trap.” He looks to Lerial.
“I think someone in Swartheld is very concerned, and I would suspect it is not the duke.”
Jhalet turns his eyes on Lerial but does not speak.
“Why do you say that?” asks Kiedron.
“Because when we know that Arms-Commander Rhamuel has been in command of the Afritan Guards, they have not attacked us. Only when he has not been in command have we been attacked. They have taunted us time and time again on the northern border but always retreated before we could come close to attacking. That would seem to me, at least from the perspective of a captain who only patrolled the border, that Rhamuel has been having the Guards act as aggressively as possible without provoking an actual fight. That means that Atroyan is the one who wants to attack, and that he has been restrained by his brother. They built a new post in old Ensenla … but they’ve pulled out? That, just in my opinion, suggests great need for those troops, but I have my doubts that even Rhamuel could pull them unless the need is very great or Atroyan is indisposed … if not both.”
“That may be,” replies Jhalet. “If it is, what happens if you dispatch a force, and Atroyan recovers and declares that we are invading Afrit? Or someone else takes power?”
“We would have to dispatch that force in such a way and under such a commander that it would be unwise for the Afritans to attack, regardless of who controls Swartheld.” Kiedron looks to his son.
Lerial understands immediately. “What forces would you wish I take? And what gifts will you proffer?”
“You are one of the heirs…” Jhalet draws out the words.
“My father is strong and healthy, and so is my brother, and I am not the principal heir.”
“There is also the fact that Lerial speaks perfect Hamorian, and any officer who is assigned to this duty must be able to understand it well enough to know what is not being said.” Kiedron holds up his hand to forestall any more discussion. “Commander, I would like you to come up with a plan for how the Mirror Lancers could support a force moving north along the river to Luba. I would also like to hear any reservations you might have, and the reasons for those reservations. Likewise, of any advantages such a plan might create. Lerial and I will discuss the other matters such an evolution might affect. We will meet tomorrow morning at eighth glass.”
Jhalet inclines his head. “Yes, ser.”
“Tomorrow morning, at eighth glass,” says Kiedron firmly. Then he stands.
Lerial and Jhalet immediately rise.
Once the commander leaves the study, Kiedron turns to Lerial. “Your mother and the girls would like to see you, but there is something else you need to attend to.”
“Ser?”
“I assume you heard about Majer Altyrn.”
“Yes, ser. I wanted to know more, but Commander Jhalet couldn’t tell me.”
“Maeroja is here. She brought the news. She is waiting for you in the small south salon.”
Lerial understands. His mother has never fully approved of Altyrn’s consort, and his father has given Maeroja the use of the salon as far from her as possible … and the one about which Xeranya cannot complain.
“She has indicated she wishes to speak to you first. I’m certain she’ll tell you what you need to know,” adds Kiedron. “All of us, including Maeroja, will be having refreshments in the main salon at fifth glass.”
“Did she come alone?”