“Come again?” Varre said, hoping against hope that he may have misheard the message.

  “Duke Charles,” Marna repeated with a nervous tone, “your relative. He… he was the eighteenth in line to the throne, remember? If you hadn’t miraculously survived that terrible tragedy, when the assassin poisoned the royal family at the birthday dinner, he would be the heir, your majesty.”

  “I take it he’s accusing me of poisoning my uncle, then?” the king asked.

  “Yes,” the steward shut her eyes, as if afraid of looking into her monarch’s eyes, even through the illusion cast by the communication mages, “I mean, probably. We haven’t received any official message from him. Not even a call to surrender. But we can guess that he believes that your accusations of Alderman Fedlow’s and by extension, Count Clement’s involvement are merely a deflection. And he plans to take you down. At least that’ll be his version of the story.”

  “How convenient,” Varre grimaced, “and what excuse does he have for skipping that party?”

  Marna cleared her throat. “I’m afraid it’s well known that Charles and Mikkel never really saw eye to eye. The duke was never invited and stayed back home.”

  “Did he now? I find that suspicious don’t you?” the king suggested, “isn’t he a likely suspect then? I mean he had the motive.”

  “You’re right, your majesty. You’re right. It is suspicious,” she was clearly struggling to speak, “but I’m afraid we’ve discussed this already. All those months ago, just after you were crowned. If he truly planned to take the crown back then, he should have marched for the capital immediately. Or arrived shortly after the murder, as a lucky coincidence. Instead he stayed back home. It was all very strange.”

  Varre rubbed his eyes. He hated to admit it, but she had a point. Charles gave him precious months to consolidate his power and stabilize the situation. Was he really involved in all this? “So you think that he isn’t working together with Clement? That he just decided to use this opportunity as his own, independent power grab?”

  “Yes,” she agreed, though her voice almost broke, “if I had to guess, I’d say Charles probably started this plot around the time Clement first made his official announcement. Perhaps a bit earlier, when he found out about the murder. But he needed time to secretly speak with his vassals and gather support. He didn’t want to risk starting a civil war by himself. He didn’t know ahead of time.”

  “Unlike Clement, who was ready to rebel before the heralds even brought the news of the murder out West,” the king continued for her, “I guess, that’s yet another piece of evidence that the count is guilty.”

  “It certainly looks that way.”

  “Tell me then,” Varre commanded, “what is the situation at the capital?”

  “We’ve just received the report. Earlier today in fact. Charles has secretly gathered his troops and moved out immediately. I guess he didn’t want to risk us finding out ahead of time. He is marching straight at the capital as we speak.”

  “How far away is he right now?”

  Marna leaned away from the illusory screen. Most likely to look at the map at the center of the table in the Council Room. “Considering where they’ve been spotted, and how long that knight took to arrive here… less than a week.”

  “Damn it. It’ll take us nearly two to get back to you. You’ll have to shut the gates and prepare for a siege!”

  “We feared as much, your majesty,” the steward replied, “but the good news is we started preparing already.”

  Lester’s face appeared behind her shoulder and he gently pushed her to the side. “Hey Varre. I’ve taken the liberty of redirecting as much grain shipments as possible to Westbridge. We don’t have a lot of time, but we’ll do the best we can.”

  “Good thinking. There’s enough stocks in Banbury to last us a while already,” the king assumed, “how long will the city hold?”

  The Head Merchant couldn’t be certain. “A while. It’s a good thing the harvest season ended a month ago, though. We’ve been independently shipping grain to the city to refill our granaries. And so have many of the local merchants. Plus, we’ll gather as much stuff as we can, so we should probably last a month, maybe two. I’m sure some of the nobility will flee as well, reducing the strain on supplies. I’ll get you a more accurate report later.”

  “Do that,” Varre nodded, “now Marna, do we know how many men Charles is brining?”

  The steward returned to the screen and nervously fixed her glasses. “The knight couldn’t be sure, your majesty. I’m sorry. But he said ‘thousands’.”

  The king sighed. “Don’t worry, it’s not your fault. But it is a vague answer. We can’t even be sure if it’s more than I have here.”

  She popped a barely perceptible smile when she heard his encouragement. “We’ve dispatched some more people to get a better assessment. We should receive more accurate reports the closer Charles gets to the capital.”

  “Good. Keep me updated,” Varre started getting up from his seat, “I’ll discuss this with my commanders, but you should prepare for the siege as best you can in the meantime. Don’t worry, we won’t allow the capital to fall.”

  “Thank you, your majesty. We have no doubt about that.”

  The king gestured to the communication mage and cut the connection. He dropped back into his chair and sighed, but he couldn’t leave it there. He had to discuss the news with his officers immediately.

  A new, urgent meeting was called in the strategy tent. Everyone had gathered within half an hour, the delay only caused by many of the commanders busy inspecting other areas of the siege camp.

  Varre began the meeting by bringing everyone up to speed.

  “Damn that bastard,” Jan slammed his fist on the table, “we’ve had Clement on the ropes! He just had to stage his little coup now, didn’t he?”

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  “They’re colluding!” Gregory agreed, “the rebels knew they’d lost and had to go for the hidden ace up their sleeves! How else would you explain this lucky coincidence?”

  “I’m not certain about that,” the king argued, “it seems strange that Charles would wait this long before making his move.”

  The count grit his teeth. “You’re right. It takes weeks to send the message all the way East and ask for help. We may have won the battle of Elstercross two weeks ago, but Charles would still need even more time to organize his men and begin an invasion. I’d wager he hasn’t heard of this latest battle yet.”

  “Really?” the baron crossed his arms, “I think it’s far too suspicious. These snakes must have been working behind the scenes the entire time, just waiting for the right moment.”

  “Perhaps,” Varre tilted his head, “but perhaps not. If this was always the plan, then why did they wait so long to make their move? Why didn’t Charles join the rebellion as soon as he received the Clement’s original call to action? We’d be forced to fight a war on two fronts.”

  The count slowly nodded. “Good point. We’ve already destroyed half of Clement’s army by now. If they’d combined their forces from the very beginning, the war would have gone very differently. At the very least, we’d be forced to spend much more resources building up an even larger force. Draining our supplies.”

  The king narrowed his eyes. “If what you’re saying is correct, then Clement must not have been aware of Charles’s plan either. He wouldn’t have needed to do anything about Tresannes. He could have even attempted to flee Eastwards after Elstercross, instead of back home.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Jan countered, “Tresannes was a mistake, but the East is weeks away. There was no guarantee that Clement could have made it. And even if he had, with a tiny, depleted force, he’d be forced to play second fiddle to Charles. Goodbye to his ambitious plans.”

  “It doesn’t matter either way,” Varre cut the air with his hand, “the capital is in danger. And I doubt it will last longer than Quendon.”

  “We can’t leave Westbridge alone,” the count agreed, “even if we had the time, leaving it under siege for months would be a terrible signal to our remaining supporters.”

  “Your majesty, you must call on your loyal subjects,” Gregory urged, “they will honor their oaths and fight against these rebels!”

  The king pinched his nose. “I’ve been trying to avoid a civil war the entire time. And now this? How can I be sure who will even side with me at this point? The whole goal of hiring soldiers in the first place, was to prevent this exact situation!”

  Jan’s tone softened. “For what it’s worth, I still think it was a wise decision. We could have been dealing with a far more difficult war without it. Besides, it’s too late now. Your supporters need time to gather. And time’s the one thing we don’t have. And where would they rally anyway?”

  “At the capital!” the baron replied bluntly.

  The count raised an eyebrow. “The capital? Really? The one about to come under siege? Maybe the closest nobles will make it in time, but what about everyone else?”

  Gregory didn’t let up. “Banbury then, or some other city. Doesn’t matter.”

  “Think of the optics lad!” Jan shouted, “what will they think when they see our capital under siege and the king calling for every bodied man at some distant city? It’ll look like a disaster! Like we’ve lost already!”

  Varre crossed his arms. “Do we even need more troops? We’ve still got thousands of soldiers. Trained and experienced soldiers at that. Can you estimate how many men Charles might have?”

  The count needed a moment to think about it. “If he managed to keep it under wraps, then it can’t be too many. Only his own people and the most trusted, closest supporters. Yes. One, two thousand at most. Of course, now that the cat is out of the bag he could cast a wider net. They’ll need time to gather, but they’ll join his capitals within weeks.”

  “Which is?”

  “If we can keep it contained,” Jan mused, “a small, local conflict… maybe another thousand or two.”

  “That’s a wide range,” the king protested, “two to four? So either our match or half.”

  “That’s the best I can do for now,” the count grimaced, “hopefully those scouts of yours will come up with a clearer number.”

  The tent fell silent while everyone thought the news over. Either way, this new development completely changed the dynamics of the war in an instant. Turning a clear victory, into a complicated mess again.

  “One thing is clear,” Varre finally said, “we cannot stay here.”

  Gregory spat to the floor.

  Jan sighed. “Unfortunately. As much as it pains me to say it, we have to abandon the siege and head back home.”

  “Clement will have time to gather his forces again. Maybe we can leave a portion of our army, say one thousand or so, to continue the siege,” the baron suggested.

  The count shook his head. “It’s too risky. We don’t know exactly what force Charles is bringing to bear. And if we split up, Clement might have some hidden trick up his sleeve. He just needs to find a couple hundred warriors to match the people we’d leave here, and if they attack the siege camp from behind…” he trailed off.

  “If there’s no other option, then we do what we must,” the king said, “give the orders. We pack up tomorrow morning and return to Westbridge!”

  Though no one celebrated this decision, they all understood it needed to be done. Word passed quickly around the camp. The army had to abandon yet another siege. At least the men wouldn’t be idle. Though the unexpected turnaround would damage their morale slightly, they would get over it on the road. Besides, a longer war meant more time to accumulate their generous salaries.

  The next morning, on September 13th, a prodigious sign, if anyone was to ask Varre, the army packed up their camp. The king wondered what effect this might have had on the rebels. Were they shocked? Happy? Or was this all a part of their plan after all.

  He wouldn’t need to wait long to find out. To his own surprise, the rebels did something completely unexpected. Around six hours after the loyalists left Quendon for good, Clement opened the gates and his one thousand men strong army marched after Varre. Or so did the latest reports say.

  This was a cause of much discussion between the commanders. What reason could the rebels possibly have for such a rash move? Rather than lick their wounds and replenish their forces, they threw all caution to the wind and went back to war.

  Gregory was eager to turn the army around and attack Clement, but Jan dismissed that idea quickly. Both sides had plenty of scouts keeping an eye on the other side. Especially at this relatively short distance. As soon as the loyalists stopped to even attempt a turnaround, the rebels would do the same and hide back in Quendon. It might have even been their actual goal! The more time they wasted here, the more time Charles had to gather his own support, continue his siege, and prepare to receive Varre. As much as it pained everyone, they had to let the rebels tag along.

  They just hoped that the loyalist castles along the way harassed them enough to force Clement to back off. Or at least fall behind too much to support Charles at Westbridge.

  Three days later, the loyalists camped out at Tresannes. The city was happy to receive their king again, though they certainly gossiped about the situation behind his back. It was too late for them to back off though. Now, they were Clement’s enemies. And from how he treated his own men after Elstercross, a fact that Varre made sure to spread far and wide, the locals would be very hesitant before rejoining the rebellion ever again.

  Besides, the small contingent of loyalist guards would make sure the gates remained shut. If Clement still decided to siege the city down, that was even better. It would at least ensure his absence at the battle of Westbridge. And the city might just have enough supplies by now to last until Varre’s heroic return.

  Regardless, after a short night at the town, the army continued onwards. Half a day’s rest wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing. Time was of the essence and the troops could enjoy a longer break at Banbury, where the situation was much safer.

  Just as expected, Clement stopped a safe distance away from the city while the loyalists rested and made sure to give the walls a wide berth when he continued onwards.

  The next stop was Elstercross. But just as the troops arrived there, a messenger appeared carrying yet another disastrous piece of news.

  Charles was no longer the latest threat to Logres. Perhaps sensing the growing chaos within the country, or perhaps merely attempting to capitalize on the latest battles between Clement and Varre, a new force decided to throw themselves into the conflict.

  A new army was spotted in the North, heading in this direction. Langogne decided to enter the fray.

  All of this is speculation of course, but the big question on everyone's mind is:

  Duke Charles was bad enough, but he is no longer the latest threat to the kingdom.

  And what about the other pretenders? Will they abandon their claims in the face of this new threat?