Not everyone in the army reacted favorably to Ras’s victory. Some resented him even more; others looked at him as if he were a monster. While the Stallion had proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was fit to lead the Imperial Guard, his complete whitewash of the 2nd Division had heaped shame upon Central Command.
Fortunately, these disparaging voices were considerably fewer than Ras expected. Most soldiers were fascinated by the esoteric techniques Ras had used in his test match, and they spoke very highly of him. The reason for this, of course, was Ras’s victory over Hunlahan. Anyone who wanted to speak ill of Ras after that was indirectly insulting the major general’s prowess.
The maintenance crews, however, were less pleased. All in all, Ras had trashed six units, including a custom model, which were a real headache to repair.
Meanwhile, from Ras’s point of view, everything had worked out perfectly. He didn’t even have anything to feel guilty about, because he had been the aggrieved party in this scenario.
After settling the aftermath and returning to the palace, Ras let out a deflated sigh.
“What a slog this day’s been.”
Kanalayka looked over at him and smiled.
“That’s all you’d call it? You’re a fearsome man, Ras.”
“I ought to be getting paid for jobs like this, you know. At least the army should stay off my back for a while.”
“I should hope so. Nobody can say you aren’t fit for your position now. And they’d have to be mad to challenge you again after seeing what you did to Major General Hunlahan.”
“I’m just lucky he decided to show up,” said Ras, shaking his head wearily.
The two of them walked through the large, open hallways of the palace. Hunlahan was a respected officer, and the Ahajia a formidable Chasseur. There wasn’t a single man in the whole army who didn’t recognize that. The fact Ras had defeated them both was sure to discourage any naysayers from contesting his position for a while.
A court official passed the pair in the opposite direction. After seeing the look on his face, Ras leaned toward Kanalayka.
“Is it just me,” he said, “or are people back here giving me the stink eye, too?”
“They’ve probably heard all about your victory already,” Kanalayka replied. “There’s a lot of information traffic between the maneuvering grounds and the palace.”
“That doesn’t explain why they all suddenly hate my guts, though.”
“You’re right, that is a little strange. The people here shouldn’t have any particular reason to be on the 2nd Division’s side.”
Kanalayka placed her hand to her chin. Ras gave a carefree shrug. They didn’t look angry enough to try anything, so Ras figured he could forget about it. Just then he reached the Imperial Guard’s barracks, where an unexpected figure waited for him.
“Hello, Ras. Welcome back. And you too, Kanalayka.”
“Your Highness?” exclaimed Kanalayka, stopping in her tracks. “What are you doing here?”
Princess Fiarca was sitting in a chair in the waiting room, wearing a satisfied smile beneath her mask.
“Am I not allowed to be here?” she asked coyly. “I may not act like it, but I am technically a legate, too, you know.”
“R-right you are, ma’am…”
“As if I’d ever come here for business, though,” she admitted. “I’m here to give my thanks to Ras. You kept your promise, just like you said.”
“His promise?”
“Yes. You said you’d make a new name for yourself, and that’s just what you’ve done.”
Fiarca seemed even more cheerful than usual. Ras stared at her judgmentally for a second, then sighed.
“You placed a bet on me, didn’t you?” he said.
“Sh-she did…?” asked Kanalayka, looking over at him.
Fiarca gave her best nonchalant whistle, while Elmira, standing by her side, chimed in.
“The palace officials were taking wagers on the result of Sir Talion’s match,” she said. “The question was how many opposing units he could eliminate before defeat. Her Highness placed a bet for six.”
“And thanks to you, I won the whole pot,” Fiarca admitted without a hint of shame. “Perhaps I should pick up some lovely tea for the office. The budget cuts around here lately have been horrendous.”
Ras nodded to himself. Only Princess Fiarca would ever predict a 6–0 score for a 5v1 match.
“But how did you know Major General Hunlahan would compete?” asked Kanalayka, mystified.
“I didn’t,” replied Fiarca. “But I predicted Ras would wipe the floor with his opponents, and the Hunlahan I know would never take that lying down. If he won, he could claim the whole thing as a draw, and there’d be no hard feelings; whereas if he lost, it would only serve to prove Ras’s worthiness even further. From my point of view, it was a win-win, and it’s all thanks to Hunlahan.”
“If that’s what you think,” said Ras, “then consider sending some of your winnings his way. I tried to limit the damage, but custom repairs don’t come cheap.”
Most, if not all, custom models were built to arcane and nonstandard specifications. You couldn’t take them to any old repair shop and expect the workers there to know what to do with it. It took specialized expertise and, of course, a lot of money to get the job done. Far more than even a major general’s salary could support.
“Perhaps I’ll do just that,” said Fiarca. “He can consider it an apology for having you thrash them so soundly.”
As the princess nodded to herself, Elmira suddenly frowned. Raised voices were coming from the hallway outside. It sounded like someone was having an argument with the imperial guards protecting the door. Normally, the guards would remove any intruder without delay, so the fact the dispute was still ongoing must have meant that whoever was at the door was someone the guards didn’t know how to handle.
“What’s all this about?” Kanalayka asked, heading over with a hand on her sword. “Did something happen?”
The palace guards by the door hurriedly straightened.
“Apologies, ma’am,” said one. “It seems a priestess has arrived. She wishes to speak with Sir Talion, ma’am.”
“With Ras? Why?”
Kanalayka glanced back at the man in question. Priestess was a title given by the Argyll Empire to any female auramancer capable of performing healing auramancy. Even the imperial palace only boasted three of them. That was to say they were figures of some import, and Kanalayka could only guess what urgent business could possibly have brought this one over at such short notice.
“You don’t have to worry on my account,” said Fiarca to the doorman. “Let her in.”
A priestess was equal in rank to a count. It would not be a breach of conduct for one to meet with the princess.
“Your Highness, are you sure?” asked Kanalayka, shooting Fiarca a serious look. The last thing she wanted was for a fight to break out in the princess’s presence.
“It’s all right,” Fiarca answered. “I must say, I’m a little curious myself to see what this woman wants.”
“As you wish.”
Sighing inwardly at the princess’s complete lack of self-preservation, Kanalayka commanded the guards to show the guest in. The guards seemed highly relieved to not have to worry about it anymore, and they opened the doors to the waiting room.
In walked a petite woman whom Ras had never seen. She looked around his age, with a refined air betrayed by babyish features that made her seem rather more childish than she was. She was wearing the priestess uniform, a pure-white robe that resembled a nun’s habit.
“Your Highness? I beg your pardon!” she exclaimed upon entering. It seemed she hadn’t expected to find Crown Prince Auriol milling about the imperial barracks.
Still in her disguise, Fiarca returned a friendly wave.
“Good to see you again, Lisa,” she said. “Thank you for all you do for my father.”
“Your thanks are wasted on me, Your Highness,” the woman replied, bowing courteously. “Would that I were more skilled in the healing arts, so that I could do more for him.”
The emperor’s waning health was an open secret around the palace. Naturally, the priestesses were tasked with treating him, so it followed that Fiarca knew her name and face.