Tarrence paced while Griff, Benjamin, and I sat at the table. His normally calm demeanor was showing cracks.
“We cannot give Baron Sophis the secret to the armor, my lord. There are too many other secrets wrapped within that one,” he said.
“He is right, my lord. No matter how bad things are down there, none of your men would want you to give up our one advantage to potential enemies of the crown,” Griff said in agreement.
I nodded. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on it. The reason I told you about this conversation is actually that it brings up another problem. If the baron knows not just that we have superior armor but also superior cloth, then who else knows? John warned me not to let that secret get out, and now it is—in the worst way possible. We have six hundred men running around in armor that can sometimes stop an arrow. Now, to be fair, it is not as good as what we can produce with the improvements we have made since they left. We now have a tighter weave and better glue. Also, we cut a lot of corners in order to fit that many men in such a short period of time. But what Everyone in the kingdom now knows is enough for the nobility to come for our heads.”
“So even if we give him the process, others will come for it,” Griff said thoughtfully.
“Yes, I imagine the king will be sending a messenger soon. If he hasn’t already. The king's men may also be on their way down to the border to seize our people's armor. I doubt he would be so brash, but it is a possibility.”
Tarrence stopped and clenched his fists. “So we are back to giving away our secrets to Baron Sophis in order to keep our men safe.”
“No, the secret to the armor is worth much more to him than something as simple as getting our men back. He came here because if he doesn’t secure something now, it will all go to the crown. If he can get our men home, then as they pass through the barony of Ridgeland, we will give him 100 pieces of the armor.”
“Will he take the deal?” Tarrence asked.
“Most likely not, but that is where we will start the negotiations at. Which leaves us to deal with the king.” I turned to Benjamin. “You will write a letter to the king explaining that we have just finished testing a new method of making armor, we sent it with our men to the border, and they have just reported back that it is effective. It can stop arrows at times and is cheaper to produce than armor of comparable strength. This should counter any accusations that we are hiding things from the king."
Benjamin finally spoke up. “I recommend sending some armor with the letter. This may make it seem as if we were ignorant of the fact that he already knows about it. Well, at least we can point to our gift as evidence that we were.” He then looked at me straight in the eyes. “We are all dead men if this is not handled carefully. We need the backing of the king."
“I am aware, Benjamin. We will have to come to an agreement with the king concerning the production of the armor. Let the king know that we will discuss the production of the armor when I arrive after the harvest. I'm not happy about it, but as I have come to learn, no plan survives contact with the nobility. We have to play by their rules until we are powerful enough to make our own. And with this particular secret, we are going to need protection from the top.”
Benjamin nodded. “I will send the letter immediately.”
"Will the king not request we send the information to him now?" Terrance asked.
"We cannot risk sending a courier with it, and a larger force would draw too much attention. I need to get him the information privately, and the best way to do that is when I go there. At least that will be my excuse if he sends someone. Now, let us discuss what to do about Baron Sophis and how to get our men back."
*****
“Amos, I have no idea where you found such incredible cooks, but I am jealous. And the way they present the food is almost as delightful as the meal itself. I have to admit that when he first listed the ingredients within the sauce, I was hesitant. But the shen and star anise were indeed balanced by the honey.” Baron Sophis said after finishing his second helping of glazed duck.
“Sebastian, these are all local people of Bicman. I brought them with me when I came North. They were farmers and housewives. before they became my chefs."
He shook his head slowly. “Such talent is hidden away in a remote location. How do you find them all?”
“Your question is the problem. It is why so much talent goes to waste. Much like mushrooms, if you have the right soil and enough water, they will spring up on their own. I took those who had a passion for cooking and were recommended by others, and told them to try new things. To experiment and write everything down. Eventually, they created new flavors. I stripped them of the fear of failure. A peasant who fears his actions will get him punished will never truly accomplish anything. The reason this incredible meal sits before you is that my cooks have destroyed more precious food and a ridiculous amount of imported spices in the last month than most peasants will see in their lifetime.”
Baron Sophis paused for a long moment. “Growing people. An interesting way of putting it.”
“It is how all of this came to be. Point people in the right direction and give them reason to no longer fear the dark, and they will walk until they achieve the destination.”
“You talk in riddles, Amos.”
“Analogies.”
“It makes me wonder if you truly believe in the things written in your book of fables?” He said while stroking his beard.
I paused, waiting for inspiration. None came, so I said the first thing that came to mind. “I believe truth is found through application. If you apply what Asop says and it works, then it is true. If it doesn’t, then it is not.”
He thought for a moment as he dabbed the cloth against his lips. “I suppose that means you have applied some of these things.”
I nodded, “Some.”
“And what do you think?” His gaze penetrating.
“I think you will be surprised when you try them for yourself and I also I believe we are off topic.”
“The topic of your armor?”
“The topic of trade. The secret of cheap, effective armor, something that would change our very world and is considered a miracle, is not something I can give to you. Those above both you and I would never forgive me.”
“I agree, but I had to try. It is a shame that your men’s life is not worth the secret,” he said without apology for his brashness.
“I value my men’s lives greatly.” My tone sharp. “You came here, knowing that I could not give you the armor, so let us move on to what I can give you. in exchange for my men.”
He leaned forward. “And what is it that you can give me?”
"The armor itself. If you bring my men home, then they will be passing through Ridgeland. They will give you 100 of the sets of armor on the way home.”
He frowned. “Your men are only worth 100 sets of armor?”
“That armor is worth quite a lot. This may also be the last time you have the chance to get a hold of it. I am guessing the reason you rushed here so quickly is that right now, the king is sending a message down to the border to have my men stripped of all their armor. Then you would get nothing. The king will send a man to me shortly, telling me I must turn over the secret of the armor to him as something the king must keep secret. Then he will decide who gets the armor and who is left without. Are you confident that you will be part of that group?” I asked, challenge in my voice.
“That is why I need the actual method.”
“Again, I cannot get it to you.”
I kept his gaze. Not flinching. Allowing him to feel my resolve.
“200 sets of armor, and I want the best.”
“You may pick any armor except for my generals and captains. Those were given by me personally as an honor.” I countered. Those also had steel inserts in them, poor quality steel, but still definitely something I could not let others see.
“Deal.”
“Excellent, now on to what I need from you.”
“And what can I offer you?”
“Information, of course. I need to know my enemies and how to counter them. Yarbeth is a thorn I cannot remove. Not just a one-time thing. I need a commitment for information over the next two years.”
“You are asking for quite a lot. My information network is quite extensive. There are not many who can afford such a high price.”
“I am aware. However, I believe I have something I can give to you in exchange. It is the first step in the process of making the cloth necessary for the armor. Something no one else has yet. Your people have analyzed the thread I made. So they must know it is consistent and strong as well as thin. But what they do not know is that one woman can make the same amount in the time it takes ten others to do it.” I said with a slight smirk.
This got a look of surprise from the baron. "Actually. I knew none of that. I suppose nobody bothered to pull the cloth apart and look at all the threads.
“Imagine what you could do with your starlight wool. Imagine the value it would be to others. Especially if you can sell the information.” I grinned.
“You are not willing to anger the king with the cloth, but you are willing to do so with the thread.”
“It is the armor he wants, and there are more stages to that process than just the thread. If the secret of the thread has slipped out, then the king will not mind.”
He silently deliberated for a while. “I will give you foreknowledge of anything that may be detrimental to your county for the next five years. I think your new bride will be able to help you navigate the court without my help.”
It looks like he was casting out a line to see if I would take the bait.
“And what do you know of Erica Herron?”
“I have brought quite a bit of information.”
I smiled, “I am sure you have. I have my cousin looking into the matter, so I should get most of the gossip in court.”
“You may want to dig deeper. I can assure you that she knows as much about you as there is available.” You have become a topic of interest among the nobles in all the courts."
That was a freebie for me. If she were digging into my background, then she may not be a fool. It could be that others are giving her information without her asking, though. Her father and grandfather for sure. I am sure that they are passing on that information.
“The thing I am most curious about is why a cousin of the King is not already married. I do not know her exact lineage either. I will give you a small gift in exchange for it.”
He was going to love the socks.
He nodded. “Very well, I have never been disappointed in your creations. And anyone familiar with the gossip of the courts knows this. Your bride is the granddaughter of Duke Herron. It is through his second wife.”
My eyebrows rose involuntarily. “What is the duke’s relation to the king? My steward has tried very hard to keep all that information in my head, but I forget.”
Baron Sophis looked at me sternly, “That is a failing you need to correct before you go to the capital. He is the half-brother of the king.”
I was so shocked I almost choked. “That cannot be right. Why in the world would they marry me to such a close relation to the king? I was surprised before, but now I am completely confused. She should have been engaged almost as soon as she was born.”
He actually looked a little uncomfortable. “She was, but unfortunately… she is cursed.”
Vance
The morning mist clung to the borderland scrub, and Vance kept his eyes on the treeline. Behind him, five men moved in loose formation, their armor rustling softly with each step.
This was routine and exhaustingly boring. In the months since they had arrived, not a single incident had occurred along the border. The few times the scouts had ventured deeper across the Yecter border, all they found were starving peasants and headmen who were no more suited to run a town than those they governed. According to them, they had no idea there were Turabe in the Vassal Kingdoms or that there was any sort of rebellion in Yecter.
It was the utter boredom that caused his men to become lax. Discipline was waning, and even the rigid morning training was performed half-heartedly. It was this that caused them to be caught unaware.
The arrow hissed out of the morning fog.
"Down!" Vance roared, but two more shafts were already in flight.
Thunk. Thunk. Thud.
The first two hit Privates Dalton and Reed square in the chest. Both men staggered, cursed, but stayed on their feet. The armor held. The thought flashed in his mind that the bow's string had not been taken care of if a direct hit didn't penetrate. Thank the Endless One for Lord Amos's desire not to lose a single man, protected by this remarkable armor.
The third arrow found Private Marsh.
It took him in the lower back. Marsh made a sound—not quite a scream, more like the air being punched from a bellows and crumpled, proof that the armor was not perfect or the bow had been better maintained.
"SHIELD WALL!" Vance's command cut through the shock. The men's training took over. They snapped into formation, shields up, spears leveled, backs to each other in the defensive square they'd drilled a thousand times at the North Point academy.
Twelve figures burst from the treeline.
Vance's mind immediately analyzed what he saw: rough-spun tunics, mismatched weapons, two wearing the unmistakable burgundy sash of Baron Hector's household guard. Hector. Vance wasn't surprised.
"Hold formation!" Vance's voice was iron. "Breathe through it. Let them come to us."
The attackers charged with the wild energy of men who thought their numbers alone would gain them victory. They'd never faced soldiers trained by the best North Cove had to offer. They had no coordination, no discipline. Just fodder to be sent out in front of the true soldiers.
The first man hit their spear wall and died on Hendrick's spear before he could raise his own. The second tried to flank but left himself wide open and caught Vance's spear in the throat. The impact jarred up through Vance's arms, but he twisted and withdrew in one smooth motion, just as Baron Malcomp had taught him.
"Rotate!"
The battle became a rhythm. Thrust, withdraw, step, rotate. Their attackers fought like individuals, each man seeking an opening. Vance's unit fought like a single organism, each soldier protecting the man beside him, every movement coordinated.
An attacker slipped past Dalton's spear—fast and skilled. It was one of Hector's trained men. Raymond, who stood to the right, pivoted, bringing his shield up to catch the descending blade, then drove his spear under the man's arm. The burgundy sash turned dark with blood.
"Sir!" Reed's voice cracked. "Marsh is—he's bleeding bad!"
Vance risked a glance. Marsh lay in a spreading pool of crimson, his face gray as old parchment. Reed had torn his own tunic trying to stanch the wound, but the blood kept coming.
"Get up. Focus. Stay in formation!" Vance ordered, forcing the frustration down. Marsh needed them to win first, mourn later.
Two attackers broke and ran. The rest pressed harder, desperate now. A club glanced off Vance's helmet, leaving his ears ringing. He returned the favor with a spear thrust that dropped his attacker in a heap.
Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. Eleven bodies littered the ground. Two shadows disappeared into the forest. Vance's men stood panting, a few with nasty cuts but whole.
Except for Marsh.
Vance knelt beside the young man. Marsh's eyes were open but unfocused, his breathing shallow and rapid. Blood soaked the earth beneath him.
"Hold on, Private," Vance said, though they both knew it was a lie. "We'll get you home."
Marsh's hand found Vance's arm, gripped with surprising strength. "Did we... hold?"
"Like a wall of stone. We held."
Something like a smile touched Marsh's lips. Then the grip loosened, and the light left his eyes.
Vance closed them gently, then stood. His hands were shaking with pure rage, not fear. He turned to survey the carnage.
"Sir." Hendrick stood over one of the bodies, nudging aside the man's cloak. "You need to see this."
As he had first thought, the dead man wore Baron Hector's livery. Not just the rabble, but an actual soldier. A knight, junior rank, but noble-born.
This wasn't opportunistic banditry. This was sanctioned.
And he knew why.
Three months of escalating incidents. First were the few thefts of their armor. Probably to see if it was any good. Then came the bribes. Men are offering large amounts for a single coat of the North Cove armor. The sums became increasingly ridiculous. A few soldiers had cracked under the pressure. Those men were now locked away, given much worse jobs than Amos's road crew duty for their treason. Some had even quietly disappeared. The deaths were most likely from the other soldiers whom they had betrayed.
Then came the threats and attacks. Bold attempts to ambush lone soldiers, to beat them senseless, and strip them of their gear. That's when General Draves had issued the standing order: never fewer than six armed men, never venture past the safe zones, and patrol the Githum border as the only duty worth the risk.
Still, this was the first time someone had come with killing intent while they were out. It was not surprising with the amount of money people were offering for the armor.
"Strip them," Vance ordered, his voice cold as winter stone. "Document everything, every scrap of identification."
"Should I take two men and backtrack their approach? I want to know where they camped, how long they've been watching us." Hendrick's said
"So do I, but now there are only five of us. We need to stick together and report this. Let the leaders decide if a larger group should be sent out to investigate.
"Marsh comes home with us. Wrapped in his armor and carried with honor." Vance's jaw tightened. "And when we get back, I'm writing for North Cove. Lord Amos needs to know this has moved beyond theft."
They worked in grim silence. What they had taken off the dead filled three sacks. Junk compared to the North Cove Standard issue. The only evidence that was worth anything was the livery of the two dead nobles, who were so confident in their victory that they didn't bother to hide their identity.
By the time they started back, the sun had burned away the morning mist. Marsh's body lay wrapped in canvas across Dalton's shoulders. Two others carried the men in livery.
Vance looked back at the killing ground one last time. Blood still soaked the earth. Crows had already found the bodies.
He was a fool. He had let his guard down, thinking the other camps would never do something so dishonorable.
"What's next, sir?" Reed asked quietly, reading his commander's thoughts.
Vance didn't answer immediately. He thought of Marsh, twenty-two years old, who'd survived the academy's brutal training only to die for wearing good armor.
"I don't know, General Draves will have a council with the leaders," Vance said finally. "If Baron Hector wants our armor badly enough to kill for it, he may decide his larger force might be able to take us. A man who sends knights to murder border guards won't stop until his house gets what they want."
"Will we still patrol?"
"Possibly not." Vance shook his head. "The general may send a complaint and hunker down until we get a response. We should prepare for a siege. They have double our men and may bring in more. Best thing to do is pray for a miracle, because we're going to need one."
They marched in silence after that; six men now carried a burden in their chests much heavier than the ones on their shoulders.