War and Hope, in the Skies, on the Horizon ( Nivansrywyllian & Dreamless)

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"But the nerve of such a letter, Sir Vega!" One of the princess's closest maidservants huffed as she changed the wrinkled sheets on Vega's bed. "Who does this blasted mercenary think he is, gushing such feelings to someone of your stature? What disrespect!"

"Like I explained, Ellah, the message was hidden." This was the third time Vega was forced to explain the letter that Volan had sent back with the Skyknight whose assistance she had lent him. It was a clever tactic on Volan's part, and it had certainly worked; he had successfully fooled everyone whose eyes had fallen upon the message. "War breeds the necessity for clandestine correspondence... Have you seen my breastplate? Why isn't it with the remainder of my armor?"

Ellah bit her lower lip. "It is being polished, Sir Vega... But you shouldn't need it now, at any rate."

"And why not?"

"I have... His Majesty told me... We are not to forget the festival."

Vega felt heat rise to her cheeks. "We can't afford the distraction. We--"

"Sir Vega. Morale is dropping, and fast; we are struggling to keep our men fighting for us." Ellah sighed, shaking her head. "We need a reason to smile, and His Majesty promised our troops that we would not lose ourselves or our culture to this fear. And your presence... You can raise spirits, in your very demeanor. So His Majesty hoped you might spend the day in town to help prepare for this evening."

She was right. Much to her chagrin, the focus on war was fostering fear and dwindling spirits. The Solstice Festival... It was not so frivolous when you considered how it strengthened spirit through its culture. Caris was correct in his judgment. They couldn't afford to forfeit this chance to nurture was little morale and faith in the monarchy was left.

"I don't like this... we can hardly spare a moment of preparation," the Skyknight sighed. "But... I can see your--and Caris's--reason. We have already forfeited so much self-care and celebration out of fear."

Leaving her armor behind for perhaps the first time in as long as she could remember, the Skyknight left her chambers. "Should anyone need me, our men or the mercenaries alike," she said with a sigh, "Tell them they can find me in the village."
 
It had been just a day since he'd sent Vega the letter, and already the skyknight he'd been using as rapid correspondence had returned. The value of such a fast flier was unequaled. It was a wonder that Eyrialle hadn't conquered the world with this sort of battlefield advantage. Of course, the tidings the messenger had brought were somewhat less thrilling than the speed at which they arrived.

Volantaris' eyes scanned the page again. it was written in a flowing script, and signed by the king himself. The message bade him to return to the capitol as quickly as he could manage, and to leave his men afield. Ever the paranoiac, Volan had sent for five of his irregulars to return to the city with him. He dared not spare any more than that for his own personal guard, lest he weaken his already tumultuous position. For the Moonshadows, aid was slow coming.

Volan charged Dolgan with the army's reins, and gathered with his company of five to return to the city. Each was human this time. A strange coincidence. Each of the men was standing by a mount to the rear of the pallisaide gate, the one nearest the gate holding the reins of a second for Volan. Each snapped a crisp salute, as he approached, which he returned with vigor, and they all mounted up without a word.

The ride back was somewhat uneventful, and it took far longer than Volantaris would have liked. Four days from his men while battle was being waged was exactly the last place the commander wanted to be. That was why -when the group arrived past sundown of the third day- it was a rather dour commander that thrust the royal missive at the gate-guard that stopped them on their way, and gave the man a tongue-lashing he'd not soon forget.

It was on to the castle then that they rode, the six of them leaving their mounts with the royal stables as they made for the throne room. Runners went ahead of them to inform the king of the commander's return, and the men were each disarmed outside of the audience chamber as they waited.
 
Calling Volan back from where he was positioned with his men had been Vega's very last resort. That was something (one of the only things, of late) upon which she and Caris could agree. But when neither of them had had any luck mitigating the desertion of their own soldiers, and suddenly their initial army had been reduced more significantly than they'd anticipated, the Sorde siblings found that they had been left with little choice.

It wasn't Caris that the runners ended up informing, however. The king was absent at Volan's return--and Vega had been happy for that. For while they had agreed that the Skyknights would be of better use on the offense, she hadn't told her brother that she'd be accompanying them.
He'd never have agreed to let her. But enduring his ire, or the end of what little trust he had left for her, was still better than staying behind to look on helplessly if Eyraille crumbled under the weight of an enemy.

She was pacing, both dreading and anxious for everything she would have to explain, when a pageboy announced Volan's presence. "Good. Have him come in," she told him, and not moments later, the doors of the counsel chambers opened to the commander.

"Save whatever frustration you might have for later, for my calling you away from your troops," she began, anticipating that he wouldn't be happy with the abrupt change in plans. "I don't know how you are faring in the out and beyond, but here, we have taken a turn for the worst. Morale is low; a fraction of our own army has deserted us, despite our efforts to retain their loyalty. No one seems to think that this will be a battle Eyraille can win, even with your help, and that of your Moonshadows."

Expelling a slow breath from her lungs, one she realized she'd been holding for a while, the Skyknight commander made an effort to compose herself. "Caris has gone to look for help in the city, from whomever might offer it. But I know whatever help he manages to find will not be enough... Which is why I need to ask you, that if you've any men left upon whom you can call, then to do so. Furthermore... after a good deal of contemplation and consultation, we have decided that the Skyknights are of better use on the offense than to remain here. We cannot wait for the threat to fall upon us, for if we do, then it will be too late. When you leave the citadel again to return to your men, so will mine--and I, with them."
 
The dour human's face only grew sterner as the woman spoke. The situation wasn't good. His Moonshadows weren't enough to stop the army from reaching the gates alone. That meant a siege. Already, plans were beginning to hatch in his head. He was going to have to send the skyknights ahead of himself, to get the news to Dolgan, along with a change of orders. Desertion. The idea made Volantaris' guts roil with disgust, an he felt a strange pang of loss at the idea. How would he feel if his men ever began deserting in droves? He'd had a man or two go missing on the rare occasion, but largely the Moonshadows stayed on 'til they either died afield, or retired.

He gave his head a slight shake, not looking to the men standing at his sides. He regretted gathering them for a guard already, but there was no looking back to decisions already made. "I can draw in my siege-workers, and mage corps. I left them behind. They will not be here before the city is under siege however. This will be a war of attrition, one which you are -luckily- well equipped for. I will be sending my heaviest units back to the city to help in the defense, and training of new recruits. They are largely dwarves and humans. The rest of my army will remain afield to harry the army. With luck, they will get tired of sticking their faces into a prickerbush, and return to the siege."

He glanced to the men, "Ride back to join the irregulars immediately, and send word of the news to commander Stoneboots." Each man snapped a crisp salute again, and rapidly strode to re-arm and exit the audience chamber.

"Your messenger is at my camp. I would appreciate it if one of your number flew ahead to warn my second that he will be receiving no aid. I advise you to keep your army buttoned up behind the walls. You'll need every warrior you have to repel the attack. My mage corps, and siege-workers will be here within a week's time, as long as I can send a message to them. Less, if you have messenger pigeons that can fly to Velen," A small city in a border-kingdom to the west. "Or one of your knights. If those aren't available, I'll send a centauri runner. Have your strategists dealt with a siege before?
 
"Thank you for your cooperation in this dire crisis," the Eyraillian princess sighed heavily. Vega's gratitude was not feigned; this meant that additions would have to be made to their original contract, grave alterations to which Volantaris had no obligation to agree. At the news of abandonment on the part of the original Eyraillian army, it would have been within his rights to up and leave them, and take his men to safety as opposed to risking them in a massacre.

That he chose to remain spoke words for his character. Perhaps Vega needed to reevaluate her opinion of the mercenary.

The Skyknight nodded in agreement to his suggestions. "I will gladly send one of my knights ahead to deliver this message," she said at first. "And we have indeed discussed keeping our heavier defense close to the citadel's walls. We might not be fully prepared for siege, but we do anticipate it, and are putting whatever precautions we can to use." This was no fault of her strategists (at least, not the ones who she dard to trust). They could only work with what they had, and with the propensity of men who had walked away in this time of need, they were left with little else than a means of damage control.

"One of my younger Skyknights can be sent to Velen to notify the remainder of your troops. I am not convinced all of them are ready for the throes of battle, in any case... it would keep them out of harm's direct path for the moment." Glancing at the empty chair where Caris sat, Vega pressed her lips together. "Caris has gone to the cities in an attempt to recruit more soldiers. Eyraille does not draft unwilling men into our army... That was a law that he lifted when he first assumed his position as king," she explained. "This was all, of course, on the assumption that there would be some willingness to fight on the kingdom's behalf... And I am not confident that he will find it. But we had to try."

Lifting her shoulders in a shrug, she folded her arms across her breastplate and clasped her elbows. "If you have any other advice that I should impart to others before we leave, then let it be known, now. These are moments that cannot be wasted."

|O.o.C: I am so sorry this took so long and this post is so crappy. :( I had a reply written for you but then my computer decided to reboot and I lost it all. I can't remember what I wrote the last time, but I wanted to get you something... :( Sorry again|
 
"Emergency levies will be next to useless I'm afraid." He said, grimacing. "Fighters can't be trained in a month, much less a week. But they will be better than nothing." Volan grimaced, and turned to his irregulars. "Hendrick, Fole, fetch me writing utensils, a desk, and a stool. Iverson, prepare my horse with the stables." He glanced back to the skyknight.

"I will pen the missive as soon as the contract is adjusted." And as soon as he had one of his irregulars check on the veracity of the state of Eyraille's army. It was Volan's job to be paranoid, after all. "I can't say how long my army will be able to engage the oncoming army, but -with luck- it will be long enough to get my mage, and siege corps into the city."

"I assume you have men to teach and arm your levies." The statement was a hair shy of a question, and the pause afterward invited correction. "Is the king under guard while he levies troops? Properly protected? And can your riders carry any extra weight in the sky?" Ideas ran spinning through his mind, as he played with the possibilities of flighted combat. "As much as a child? Or a small sack of rocks?"
 
"I know. You think I haven't considered this?" Vega sighed, watching as Volantaris' men left under his orders. "Too many of my knights, let alone brand new recruits, are underprepared for the mere fact that they are young, and/or they are inexperienced. They have not been awarded the time they need to be fully prepared, but... what would you have me do? We need numbers. With their help, they may very well not make a difference. But to leave them aside, they will surely not make a difference... These are desperate times, mercenary."

Not that the death of Vega's knights, particularly those so much younger than her, would not resonate. There would be no end tot he guilt she felt in coming days, should those days come. But what was more remorse, when such an extensive piece of her identity was governed by other sources of guilt?

Stop being so defeatist, she silently chided herself. He has magic at his disposal, and Ilandria will not expect that of us. Not with this kingdom's rich history of prohibitions... That was, perhaps, the only small advantage that they could glean in light of this crisis. There remained the possibility that it would not be enough (and Volantaris' lack of certainty for this matter was disconcerting, to say the least). But if Ilandria thought they'd be the only one to put mages on the front lines of battle, and their strategies revolved around that assumption, then there was an edge to be had. And calling in the sellsword's magic wielders at the last minute, potentially after the enemy nation had surveyed what Eyraille had in store, well, then they would be in for a surprise that they would not soon to forget.

One of the mercenary's men returned just moments later with the items he'd requested; or, at least, with ink and a quill. "You may find a desk in the adjacent room," the Skyknight explained. "And of course Caris is traveling with guards. Some of the veterans that did not abandon us will take care of training new recruits, as best as they are able. As for my Skyknights: a Roc, at its strongest, is able to carry two grown humans. Though you might have noticed that the lances they carry are lightweight in nature, as are the riders themelves--many of them being human woman, such as myself. The logic is not difficult to comprehend; the more weight, the slower the bird. And speed happens to be one of our greatest advantage." And, at this point, Vega was not willing to lose or compromise any small advantage that they might have in this pending battle.
 
"I would have you maintain a level head, and lead with certainty." He responded, with a wry tone. "And to remember that the mercenary upon whose back you've placed your realm's safekeeping has a name."

The inkpot and quill were taken in hand, and the young mercenary made for the mentioned room. "Speed is good," He acknowledged, over his shoulder. "Mobility is better. And the high-ground is even better still. I have plans for your skyknights. Plans that may very well save this city, and the lives of your men. Come with me, and I will speak to you of these ideas as I write."

The commander strode to the room adjoining the antechamber, ignoring the surroundings at large with the exception of the table upon which he planned to write. "There is no way to keep Ilandria from a siege." He said, as he set down the utensils, and grabbed at a sheaf of paper. "Scorched earth tactics would devastate the land, and turn your people farther from you than they already are. This is going to be a bloody fight."

Quill dipped in inkwell, blotting before turning to the paper. "It seems to me that there could be considerable advantage to arming your skyknights with alchemical weapons. Bombs and poisons. Acids. Drop them over enemy positions, well outside of archer fire. A volley or two, and then away into the sun, or the clouds. Until my siege corps get here, we won't be able to outfit many of them. This is -of course- if you're willing. It could be advisable to send your smallest, lightest knights to retrieving food and supplies for the city."

Scritch-scritch-scritch went the pen.

Volantaris's gaze remained stuck on the words. "Have your knights trained with bows? Firing from the Rocs would be the same as firing down from a tower. Perhaps more difficult to pick targets, but if you're shooting at a mass, the odds are in your favor. The farther from melee they can stay, the fewer casualties they'll take."
 
"I will not delude myself or my people with a guise of certainty," she said quietly, afraid of the false hope it might garner, given the dire circumstances. "But I will continue to lead with hope, as will my brother. It is all that we, and the shards of this broken kingdom, have left." But it might just be enough. Where hope remained, there was no room for defeat. Not yet. "And I apologize--I did not mean to disregard your name as identity... I don't think I need to express with words how valuable your help is to us."

Vega followed him into the adjacent room with the worn oaken desk, lit by a sconce on the wall, flames dancing behind its glass sheath. "I am listening," she nodded, keen on hearing what he had in mind for her Skyknights. As to whether or not they alone were capable of saving the city, let along the broad expanse of the kingdom, remained to be see. But Volantaris did not strike her as one to pitch a vote of confidence without sound reason to be confident in the first place, and his experience in battle and war far exceeded her own. Without a doubt, he had plans in mind that never would have occurred to her or her veteran generals. Such was partially why she had hired him in the first place.

"Alchemical weaponry...?" The word felt as odd on her tongue as it settled in her mind. No, this had not occurred to her, for the fact that the Skyknights had already trained very traditionally: with spears and lances, weapons that allowed them at least one hand on the Roc's saddle to maintain balance. But bombs and poisons... "I did not consider this," the leader of the Skyknights admitted, "but I do think it impossible, either. The Skyknights have traditionally trained with lances and spears. Bows, on the other hand... I am not so sure. We are indeed harnessed to the Rocs for safety, but that alone does not prevent us from falling. Single-handed weapons have always been preferred, so that we may maintain balance. A bow is not a single handed weapon... I fear even those with a decent sense of balance will not suffice. And I can't put my men and women in a position that would endanger..."

She trailed off. No, this was not something that she could demand of her Skyknights. Their lives and safety were their own. But that didn't mean that she needn't take any risks--or put the option on the table for anyone willing and able. "But my life is my own, and another story." Pressing her lips into a tight line, she furrowed her brow in contemplation. "My skill with a bow is satisfactory, but upon a Roc, who knows. I've trained longer than many, though, and I am able to maintain my balance in the air with little effort. I will see if I can take up the bow for aerial assault, and I will pose the option to any other who feel confident that they might be able to do so as well. We'll need to begin training as soon as this conversation is over, but I think you are on to something, Commander Volantaris."
 
Volantaris wrote as the woman spoke. "Once," He said, "I was hired by a lordling. A cripple, paralyzed from the hips down. He loved riding, but couldn't keep himself in a saddle to save his life. Not without his legs. So he had a saddle made into which his legs could be strapped, so that he could securely ride, no matter how incapable he was of gripping the beast with his knees. Perhaps the city's leatherworkers could mock up a prototype. It might allow for a more secure firing position."

He waved the pen at the idea. "It might not be practical to use immediately, but it might be something worth looking at for the future. If you have your doubts, I'd be willing to test the idea myself, once you teach me how to tame the rocs. There remains the issue of the armaments falling out during areal acrobatics, but-" He glanced up, coloring. "I am getting ahead of myself." At his heart, Volantaris was a tinker. A problem-solver. A puzzler. It made him dangerous on the battlefield, and somewhat socially standoffish.

"I would suggest target practice for areal bombardment as soon as you're able. The bombs, and the potions I'll have your fliers dropping will weigh approximately two pounds each. We don't have the equipment or means to make them yet, but..." His eyes went distant for a moment. "Presuming that each of your fliers can carry at least half a man in addition to their riders while maintaining their mobility... That should mean that each of your fliers can carry up to sixty of the charges each. I don't know that we'll be able to outfit each of your fliers with that sort of armament, but it will make the Ilandrians think twice before assailing the walls. I'll have my tinkers figure out safety parameters for handling the more volatile mixtures before we send any with your knights."


He focused again, and continued to scribble on the paper. One of his men returned from their mission, stepping through the door from the antechamber, to cut a brisk nod at the commander, who only glanced up fractionally. "Alright." He said, setting aside the quill, and setting aside the letter to dry.

"If you have any alchemists in the city now, I can begin to show them how to create some of the poisons we'll be using. I dare not try my hand at the explosives, though I'll get you a list of the ingredients my men will need to create them." He pushed himself to his feet again, turning to regard the knight in full.

"Are you ready for this battle, sir Vega?"
 
"Alchemists... are few and far between, yet, in Eyraille," Vega informed him with regret. "Prior to my brother taking the throne, magic and all related arts were prohibited. We have, of course, encouraged it to re-emerge, but that will take some time. If we have any time left, by the end of this..." The Skyknight shook her head and scratched the back of her neck. "But let me know what is required to make these potions. I will equip some of my less experienced fliers with the ammunition you're describing; for those of us with more experience, we will practice with the bow."

Volan's question was a dreaded one which weighed on Vega's shoulders like lead, but faced with it as she was, she could not back down. "I am ready to defend my brother and my kingdom in every way possible, commander Volantaris," was her ultimate reply, inconclusive though it might have been. "Come what may, Eyraille will not fall without a fight that Ilandria will never forget."

Following their conversation, the Skyknights were immediately alerted to the change in plans and strategy. Vega, fortunately, found no resistance from them, and the more capable of the lot were eager to take up the bow at the expense of discarding their lances. Sadly, there was little time to practice before they left for the battlegrounds with Volantaris and his men. Vega left a note for Caris explaining her whereabouts; the young king would be sorely unhappy with this decision, but it couldn't be helped, and she would not back down. Not if her presence on the front lines meant the difference between victory and defeat for the kingdom that she so loved.
 
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