By the time Varre’s army made it to the Elster river, Clement was safely on the other side. His troops stood in lines, threatening anyone who even thought of approaching the bridge, while his wagon train was hidden safely behind the soldiers.

  After a brief discussion amongst the commanders, the army decided to stop for the night here. It was already afternoon, so the soldiers couldn’t march for much longer today. The infantry came to a stop a few hundred yards away from the river and began setting up the fortified camp. Archers from both sides lined up in front of their respective armies. They kept out of each other’s range for now, but the bridge was threatened by both. If anyone attempted to build fortifications too close to the crossing though, the archers could simply walk forward to prevent that.

  If Varre wanted to force a battle now and charge the enemy straight through the bridge, now was the best time to do it. Clement’s troops were tired after the march and they didn’t have time to fortify their positions in Elstercross yet. Still, all of his commanders agreed that it was best to discuss it first.

  The strategy tent was quickly set up to provide the leadership a semblance of privacy as the soldiers worked around them. Royal Guards made sure that everyone stayed out of earshot, while the commanders stared down at the map of the area.

  “Let’s get this out of the way,” Jan began, “attacking them right now is suicide.”

  “I agree. As much as it pains me to say it, they have a huge advantage your majesty,” Gregory closed his eyes, “we need to let these bastards have Elstercross for now.”

  “Humor me,” Varre replied, “what would happen if we tried attacking them now. Charge straight ahead?”

  “The bridge is narrow,” the count looked to the baron, more familiar with the local territory, for more details.

  “Two riders could fit side by side. Four infantry, maybe five or six if we really squeezed them in,” Gregory answered for him.

  Jan nodded. “I thought so. We’d be packed in there like sardines, then. The bridge is uncovered, just some simple wooden boards. The side barriers would help a bit, but the enemy archers would have a field day. Our men would need to hold shields above their heads, but we’d still lose many to enemy arrows. And as they fell, the dead and injured would only get in the way of the others.

  “Then, once we make it across, we’d be hemmed in. Clement would surround us on three sides,” he drew it with his finger on the map, “and our men would get in each other’s way. Barely enough room to hold up a spear. There’s be no space for the knights to line up for a charge either.”

  “We do have twice the men though,” the baron added, “and they’re much more valiant than the rebels. Plus, many of their knights were used in the Northern diversion that tricked us and have not returned yet. We could probably cut our way through the rabble, but the casualties would be high.”

  “I doubt it. Even if we could overwhelm them eventually, our men would turn and run before that could happen,” Jan shook his head, “even if we blocked the way back, urging them forward under pain of death, I’d say many would abandon their weapons and jump into the river. It’d be a disaster. We’d lose more to desertion than the enemy.”

  “I thought as much,” Varre nodded to himself, “but worth a shot. Now commander. If this position gives Clement such an advantage, why, pray tell, haven’t you warned me about it before? You didn’t even consider it.”

  The count’s expression soured a bit. “While it does give them a defensive advantage, it’s no different than having them hide in a castle. If it’s a position we cannot take, we siege it. And the river is a double edged sword. We cannot cross it, but neither can they. We’re both stuck here. He’s not achieving any objectives right now. He may as well have stayed in Quendon. Or Tresannes.”

  “Well, he is achieving one,” the king pointed back to the map, “he just cut off our only supply line.”

  “We’ll just have to do what we’ve always done,” Gregory shrugged, “we’ll requisition food from the local peasants. They’re rebels anyway. It’s a fair punishment for treason.”

  “Which peasants?” Jan crossed his arms, “everyone’s gone.”

  “N-not everyone,” the baron stammered.

  “We have that whole wagon train with us, don’t we? How much food do we have?” Varre asked.

  “We’ll need to do a thorough review, but probably about a week,” the count estimated, “if we start heavy rationing, foraging in the forest, and looting the countryside, we might stretch it to two weeks.”

  “That’s not a lot.”

  “It isn’t,” Jan concurred, “but Clement isn’t in a much better position. His men can raid the nearby countryside, but they can’t get too far away. If all the cavalry is sent out to distant villages, they won’t be back in time for the battle. And there’s only so much food around. He might intercept a shipment or two intended for us, but it won’t be long before Banbury realizes what had happened.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Will he outlast us?”

  “He might. Depending on how much food he’s brought in his wagon train,” the count sighed, “since this was his plan all along, then it’s probably enough.”

  “Then what? Do we have to choose between attacking him or starving?” Varre tapped his fingers on the table, “even if we somehow manage to call for reinforcements from Banbury, how many people can we bring from there? Five hundred? Will that be enough?”

  “It’d help, sure, but we have more options,” Jan started pointing to the map, “there’s a ford up North. Clement’s diversionary force is probably heading for it right now. We could cross there and then attack overland.”

  “The rebels can just follow us,” the baron grimaced, “they will just block us again.”

  “The ford should be much wider than the bridge, but I agree. The battle would be easier, but still risky,” the count moved his finger South, “there’s another option. It’s much farther, but we could ride for Navenby. Cross there.”

  “And Clement won’t follow there?” Varre inquired.

  “He can’t,” Jan replied, “it’s a fortified city. And so’s the bridge. He could overwhelm Elstercross easily, but Navenby would need to be sieged first.”

  “That’s a lot safer,” the king nodded to himself, “how far away is it?”

  “Depending on the roads we take,” the count snaked his finger over the map, “five days, maybe slightly more. We can make it.”

  “We’d be wasting a lot of time,” Varre commented, “and can we even be sure that it’s on our side? It’s right on the border between us and the rebels.”

  “Absolutely,” Gregory answered, “while I’m grateful that Banbury was selected as the temporary headquarters, even I’ll admit that Navenby wouldn’t be a terrible choice. Some of our scouts operate from there already, investigating the Southern areas of the province.”

  “It’s a large port city on the coast,” Jan added, “I doubt Clement could have influenced it easily. The merchants have no reason to join him. The merchants would rather stay out of the conflict and continue doing business.”

  “A choice which I am very much encouraging,” the king suppressed a smile.

  “Exactly,” the count nodded, “from their perspective, they want the war over as soon as possible. They’ve got no stake in the game. And you’ve turned a civil war into a small rebellion. I have no doubt they’ll let the rightful king cross. They know the consequences if they refuse you.”

  “I hope you’re right,” this time, Varre mentally added. He studied the map carefully, trying to come up with more alternatives. Finally he spoke up. “Alright, so we can cross the river safely in Navenby. We can restock our supplies there and then return here in about two weeks, this time on the other side of the river,” he paused for effect, “who’s to say Clement won’t just cross the Elster again as soon as he sees us coming?”

  Jan opened his mouth, but then shut it again. He hadn’t considered that. “At least we’ll have secured our supply lines,” he offered.

  “Indeed. But we’ll be right back to square one. We’ll have wasted two weeks with nothing to show for it,” the king tapped his foot on the floor.

  “Neither will the rebels,” Gregory suggested, “they’ll be stuck here, in Elstercross. Perhaps we should resupply, prepare a larger wagon train and settle in for a prolonged siege instead? We could head for Tresannes, or perhaps straight for Quendon. Hit them where it hurts.”

  Varre looked up at Jan expectantly.

  “It’d take months,” the count replied, “no way to bring enough supplies for that. We could set up a supply chain all the way from Navenby instead, but we’d still have an entire army breathing down our necks. They could just move South and block both routes. Perhaps we could then try to force a new battle on this side of the Elster, but it’d be risky. And take a long time. It’d better to return here, on this side, and force Clement to stay on the other side of the river. We could probably outlast him with a new supply chain. We could even ship grain to Navenby by water, avoiding any risk of cutting off that line.”

  “Perhaps we could draft more soldiers. I’m sure people are just itching to have a go at that snake,” Gregory palmed his fist, “we could hit him from both sides with two different armies, your majesty!”

  The king grimaced. This army was already costing a hefty fortune. Even if he could afford it for now, he had no intention of blowing his entire budget on doubling his forces just to win a single battle. “It’d take months to gather everyone. Besides, we’re already outnumbering him twice over. I don’t think growing our numbers further would make that big of a difference.”

  The baron coughed and looked down on the floor. “Of course. You’re right, your majesty. If only that traitorous snake wasn’t so slippery, we’d have crushed him already.”

  Varre scratched his chin. “You know… you might be right about something Gregory.”

  “I am?” the baron asked incredulously, “I mean, of course I am. Could… could your majesty elaborate please?”

  “Clement sure is one slippery bastard, isn’t he? No matter what we try, he’ll find some way to slither away again,” the king looked back to the map. The longer he looked, the more certain he became.

  Jan nodded. “That’s the issue. Perhaps if we weren’t outnumbering him by so much, he could be more liable to fall for subterfuge. We could force him into a battle, try to ambush him…”

  Varre raised his hand to stop him. “Why bother? We’ve managed to catch him already.”

  “Yes…” the count said slowly, unsure of where his monarch was going with this, “but attacking across the river would be suicide. We’ve already discussed this. I understand your frustrations your majesty, but there’s no need for such…”

  The king raised his arm again and smirked. “Did you forget something, Jan? We’ve got wizards.”

  It took a few minutes to find her, but after a few minutes Elvira entered the strategy tent. She was involved in many meetings like this one, but considering the circumstances, she stayed out of it. Clement’s army was less than a mile away. She needed to be ready to repel any magical attacks that might come through from their side. At least until the fortifications were finished.

  “Your majesty, commanders” she curtsied as soon as the flap closed behind there, “you’ve called for me?”

  “Indeed. Come here Elvira,” Varre waved her over, “take a look at this map.”

  “Have you determined what strategy you’d like to employ in the coming battle?” she looked from one person to the next, “I hope we won’t be blinding charging across the bridge. Even I know the casualties would be heavy!”

  “Don’t worry about that,” the king smiled, “we’ve got other options. We have a ford we could use up North. Or we could head for Navenby and use their bridge.”

  “I see,” she said slowly, “have you already picked one? Or do you think I can help you decide somehow?”

  “Better. I think you can help us create a new route.”

  “How so?”

  “Tell me Elvira. Do you know any spells that could freeze a river?”

  Instead, the rebels were happy to cut off the loyalist supply lines and draw them into this mess at Elstercross.

  The snake may be slippery. But it just fell into its own trap.