We began with a review of the day’s events, followed by a reevaluation of our expected marching progress. These were part of the preestablished agenda of the council, and since there weren’t any major issues, we proceeded through them swiftly.
Present at the table were myself, of course, as the leader of the emperor’s host, as well as Timona, my personal attendant and secretary. On my left was my cadre of commanders. In order: Joel de Bourgault-Ducoudray, deputy general of the emperor’s host; Salomon de Barbetorte, battalion commander of the mage unit; and Balthazar Chevillard, battalion commander of the imperial guard.
For the record, Joel de Bourgault-Ducoudray’s title of deputy general was limited to the context of this army only. By all rights, the mantle of command for an army was worn by a full general, and above that were the imperial grand marshals who directed multiple armies simultaneously. It was these ranks that possessed the right of command, which meant—well, the name was self-explanatory. Without it, one could not instruct the imperial army to budge a single finger.
Incidentally, since the private forces of the nobility were just that—private—they followed their lords’ commands and were not considered a part of the imperial army. Thus, while a general occupied the same rank as said lords, they could not issue directives outside the bounds of their own army.
However, imperial grand marshals, in addition to the right of command, also possessed the right of control, which granted them the authority to issue commands to the lords’ armies too. Currently, I had only appointed two imperial grand marshals: Duke Warren and Count Chamneau. That was actually why I’d entrusted the imperial capital to the former; if the need arose, he would be able to direct both his personal forces as well as the city’s garrison.
Incidentally, while I had appointed two imperial grand marshals in order to ensure a decentralization of power, Count Chamneau had been doing his best to avoid association with the role. It was something to do with the hierarchy of the nobility—the kind of unspoken agreement that only those who were a part of it fully understood.
Back in the imperial capital, when we’d held a council involving Count Chamneau via the use of the Chapelier’s earrings, he had addressed Duke Warren as “Your Excellency,” while the duke had addressed him as “General.” In non-blue-blood speak, that meant Duke Warren had been announcing his intent not to view Count Chamneau as an equal, which the count had accepted as though it were perfectly natural.
I’d only realized this after the fact, because nothing had felt wrong about addressing an imperial grand marshal as “General.” After all, aside from the rank, the word was also a universal term to refer to the commander of an army. The count addressing the duke as “Your Excellency” had seemed perfectly natural too, since the latter was of objectively higher rank. But in reality, it had all been a sophisticated and subtle method of establishing pecking order. Nobles were scary, man.
But I digress. My point was, while a general was outranked by an imperial grand marshal, they still had the tremendous authority of being able to command the imperial army. Thus, seeing as Joel de Bourgault-Ducoudray was a foreign noble whose family had fled here from the Imperium, it was difficult to appoint him to the role.
Given that he’d been a general in the past, I had honestly wanted to give it to him anyway. However, that was a line that I had to be careful crossing, lest I cause unintended insult to the rest of the nobility.
That was why I had settled for appointing him deputy general. Throughout history, there were many examples of the emperor directly accompanying an army, and when he did, he had absolute command—not even a general could gainsay him. However, whether he was actually competent enough to lead was a different question. An emperor who didn’t know his military ABC’s taking command would only risk exposing himself to danger.
To prevent that, the Empire had created the rank of deputy general—a rank that granted one command of the imperial army as the emperor’s, well, deputy. Of course, since emperors hated being ordered around, the rank had seen little use. Granted, part of that was because unlike olden times, recent emperors tended to avoid the battlefield in the first place.
Incidentally, it had been Charles de Agincarl who’d dredged the rank up from the forgotten corners of history. The Minister of Ceremony’s third son was being quite cooperative with me, despite still being in confinement, and when I’d asked him for his opinion, had recalled the old law that allowed for deputy generals on the spot. Honestly, I was beginning to take a shine to him.
He was the calculating type—the proof of that lay in how he’d discarded essentially his entire life for the sake of self-preservation. That made him someone to keep a close eye on, but it also meant he was highly competent. All the nobles who had come crawling back to me lately only knew how to kiss ass, and each such encounter only made me want to accept Charles into my service even more.
At any rate, that was why I’d appointed Joel de Bourgault-Ducoudray deputy general and given him de facto command of the emperor’s host. True to his reputation as an equal to the Twin Champions, everything from his training methods to his command seemed to be remarkably efficient.
Next up was Salomon de Barbetorte, battalion commander of our mage troops. The reason he had the role was simple: Who else was I going to put in charge of our mages? While he was also a foreigner, his case differed from Joel de Bourgault-Ducoudray’s in that he was officially participating as a mercenary element, due to our agreement with the Kingdom of Belvére—and the highest rank a mercenary could hold was battalion commander. For obvious reasons, you couldn’t have any random leader of a sellsword band making it to the rank of imperial grand marshal.
I supposed another way to put it was that Salomon was a guest general from an allied country, given the diplomatic significance in his presence. He definitely had the skills to back up the role, and as an experienced commander of battle mages, would be invaluable to have around; all the individuals on the Empire’s side who matched him in skill set were in the service of either Raul or Agincarl already.
Finally, in the furthest seat from me was Balthazar Chevillard, battalion commander of the imperial guard, the force tasked with my personal protection. Since the imperial guard was considered a part of the emperor’s host, and Salomon, who held the same rank on paper, was a visiting general, Balthazar had the least political importance of the three commanders present, hence his position at the table. Not that he particularly seemed to mind.
Incidentally, while the imperial guard was hierarchically subordinate to the emperor’s host, only the emperor could issue orders to its commander. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Joel de Bourgault-Ducoudray; it was just that it was better to be safe than sorry.
Next we came to those sitting on my right. In order, they were Nadine de Van-Warren, daughter of Duke Warren; Hervé de Cédolin, who was the legate of Duke Warren’s forces; and Arnoul de Nunvalle, the commander of Count Nunvalle’s forces.