The Crimson Campaign

“Damn it, man, go get them food. They’re soldiers, just like you.”

The guard scurried off.

“He’s getting you some food,” Tamas said in Kez.

Mernoble nodded gratefully.

“Why were you in Deliv?” Tamas asked again.

Mernoble took a deep breath and returned to staring past Tamas.

Tamas scowled. “Do you know who I am?”

The man shook his head.

“I am Field Marshal Tamas.”

Mernoble swallowed. Hard.

“Come with me,” Tamas said. To one of the other guards, “Where is General Beon’s tent?”

“Are you sure that’s wise, sir?” The guard seemed confused.

“What do you mean, man? Where is the general’s tent?”

“Just over there.”

Tamas walked through the camp until he found Beon sitting beside a low fire of twigs and old horse dung. The general struggled to stand when he saw Tamas. At the sight of the prisoner, his eyes narrowed.

“General Beon,” Tamas said, “I have gathered by your demeanor that you would be greatly interested in knowing who has been burning, raping, and robbing their way through the bean farms on the plateau.”

“I would,” Beon said. His tone was icy. “I discovered it last night, in fact. These men are Kez officers, pretending to be Adran.” He looked down at Mernoble’s feet. “Who gave him back his boots?”

Tamas looked from Beon to Mernoble. The lieutenant’s eyes were wide with fear, and suddenly Tamas understood. It had been Beon who ordered Mernoble’s boots taken away. Likely, he’d ordered the lieutenant be left unfed as well. Tamas’s own men would have been more than happy to go along with it. “I did.”

“I demand that this man’s boots be removed, and that you organize a firing squad. I want these men executed tomorrow morning for crimes against the people of Kez.”

Tamas bit back a reply. He’d not be ordered around by a prisoner, even if he did respect Beon. Instead, he turned to Mernoble. “It seems time to explain yourself, Lieutenant.”

Mernoble’s hands were shaking. “What would you like to know?”

“Everything,” Beon said. For his youth, his demeanor was commanding.

Tamas put a hand on Mernoble’s shoulder. “First, tell me where Gavril is. He was a big man. Captured by your unit two days ago, before you chased my ranger back to my camp.”

“They took him back to Alvation,” Mernoble said.

“Alive?”

“Yes.”

Tamas let out a small sigh. That was the first thing he needed to know. Now to find out the rest.

“Is that all, sir?”

“No. Start with your brigade,” Tamas said.

“I am with the Thirty-Fourth Dragoons, attached to the Nineteenth Brigade of His Majesty’s Grand Army,” Mernoble said. “We were sent north…”

“Who?” Tamas asked. “How many?”

“Two brigades. The Nineteenth and the Twenty-Fourth. We were sent north seven weeks ago with the aim of capturing the Deliv city of Alvation.”

“For what purpose?” Tamas asked. Now was his chance to ask questions. This man might clam up once he realized how his answers benefited the enemy.

“So that we could besiege the Mountainwatch above Alvation. We were to take Alvation, then the Mountainwatch, then come over the Charwood Pile and down into Adro.”

“And the uniforms?” Tamas asked.

“A ruse. To make the Deliv think that an Adran army had sacked Alvation.”

Tamas’s breath caught in his throat. If the Kez attacked Deliv while masquerading as Adran, it might force Deliv into the war on the Kez side.

“Have you succeeded?”

Mernoble looked at Beon, but only got an icy stare for the effort. “We took Alvation,” he said. “About a week and a half ago. The Mountainwatch commander saw through our disguise, so we haven’t entered Adro yet. The Mountainwatch is under siege.”

“How do you explain this treatment of my people, Lieutenant?” Beon asked. “Of our people?”

“I’m not proud of it, sir,” Mernoble said, casting his eyes downward. “When we left the Grand Army, we were ordered to travel lightly and quickly. Live off the land with a limited supply caravan. Conscript as needed. The order came from His Majesty himself. When we found the Adran rangers, we were on a scouting mission, looking for more food and conscripts.”

“My father sanctioned this treatment?” Beon growled the question.

Mernoble nodded.

“Who is the general in charge of the Nineteenth?”

“It was Field Marshal — I mean, General Tine,” Mernoble said.

General, after being demoted because of his failure to take the South Pike Mountainwatch. “Was?” Tamas asked. Tine was a capable commander, but pragmatic and often cavalier with his men’s lives. Tamas would not have been surprised to see him act in this manner.

“He was hanged, sir. For treason.”

“Hanged?” Beon said.

“That’s what I heard, sir. And I saw the body. Last week.”

“He was a general,” Tamas said. “The orders would have had to come straight from Ipille.” He stepped away, taking a deep breath of the evening air. This was strange. Very strange. Ipille was a tyrant, but he was no idiot. He wouldn’t have wanted to provoke war with Deliv.

Tamas returned to the pair. “Who the pit would convince Ipille it’s a good idea to attack Alvation?”

“I don’t know sir, I…”

“Yes?”

“Well, I’m not privy to that information, but I had heard rumors.”

“Go on.”