“What is this?” I asked.
“The current state of the war, according to the aggregate of our information and what imperial intelligence agents have reported,” Deflotte explained, putting a slight emphasis on “our.”
Now that was a surprise. I never would’ve expected the Rotahlian Watchmen to share information with Ein’s Storytellers, given they got along like cats and dogs. Don’t get me wrong—it was a good thing, and it actually would’ve been a problem if they weren’t capable of cooperating at least that much, but it was still a surprise.
“The map is color coded based on held territory,” Deflotte explained. “It displays that of our emperor’s faction, so to speak, as well as Raul-held territory, led by the self-proclaimed Duke Raul; Agincarl-held territory under the control of August, who has claimed independence as the Grand Duchy of Agincarl; and Agincarl-held territory under the control of Phillip de Agincarl.”
After the deaths of the Chancellor and Minister of Ceremony, the only son of the former, Sigmund, and the second son of the latter, August, had called their forces to arms and declared independence as the Grand Duchy of Raul and the Grand Duchy of Agincarl respectively. Naturally, I refused to recognize their claims and ordered their subjugation. This was the primary reason behind the ongoing civil war.
In order to oppose me, both factions had put aside the deep-seated grudges they’d held for each other since their time as the Chancellor’s faction and regency and formed what they had called the Archducal Alliance. In response, Phillip de Agincarl had proclaimed himself to be the true Agincarl heir and raised an army of his own, splintering the Agincarl forces in two. This meant that currently, there were four notable powers within the Empire, including my own.
While it appeared as if our emperor’s faction had widened our influence considerably over the past two months, I knew it only seemed that way because the map didn’t make a distinction more granular than the territory level. There were, for example, viscounts and barons in holdings directly possessed by the throne who were still ignoring my commands.
“However, the intra-Agincarl conflict has become messy and protracted—a state of affairs only worsened by the old Agincarlish nobility running amok,” Deflotte continued. “It may be that this information is already sorely outdated.”
That was unavoidable—wars could change wildly by the hour. It was probably best to interpret the map’s color coding as an indicator of which power was most dominant in each territory, and nothing more.
“Regardless, our current focus should be on Raul,” Viscount Cédolin said.
I agreed. For the time being, we could ignore Agincarl. It had always been my plan to leave them to their infighting; I had seen evidence of the old Agincarlish nobility’s grudge against the Empire with my own eyes during my tours. I couldn’t even blame them for it—the fault lay with the emperor who’d secured their vassalage with a set of generous conditions, only to go back on his word later.
Peaceful rule over any given territory would be difficult for as long as the old Agincarlish nobility existed as dissidents within it, so it was better to lance the boil and let the pus drain out all at once. Pitting them against the Agincarl factions would (I hoped) be enough to exhaust them and weaken their influence.
As for the Raul faction, not every holding under its control was in conflict with us. Broadly speaking, they could be sorted into three categories: territories under the direct control of the self-proclaimed Duke Raul; territories that were in vassalage to the self-proclaimed Duke Raul and engaged in hostilities with our emperor’s faction; and territories that were in vassalage to the self-proclaimed Duke Raul but whose nobility were in contact with us.
The self-proclaimed Duke Raul controlled basically the entirety of the eastern Empire, which was also where his influence was the strongest. However, his vassals’ territories in the Empire’s northwest near the Teyanavi border were less secure; we’d made overtures to the lords there. Their responses varied, with some sending diplomatic envoys, others sending a son, and so on, but the common through line was that they all seemed to wish to avoid full-blown conflict with us. My suspicion was that, if circumstances had allowed, they would have stolidly declared their neutrality.
What had surprised me was the Marquessate of Arndal, situated at the Empire’s northern border. Marquess Arndal, who had been one of the nobility we’d released relatively quickly after imprisoning them all during my coronation, had declared his loyalty to us, resulting in a force of his former allies’ troops—those of the self-proclaimed Duke Raul included—establishing a siege around his castle.
To give a bit of historical context, Marquess Arndal had originally been a member of the regency together with Count Vadpauvre, whose holdings neighbored the marquess’s to the south. But while the count had readily submitted to the self-proclaimed Duke Raul, I had not expected the marquess to exhibit such do-or-die resistance in the face of the Raul army. After all, he had no close ties to me or any of the emperor’s faction nobility. It seemed that he’d simply decided to gamble the fate of his house on us winning the civil war.
“As for the County of Copardwahl, while allied forces have managed to establish control over all major cities, interference from both Agincarl factions means the situation remains highly unpredictable,” Deflotte reported. “Meanwhile, Duke Warren’s forces have established nigh total control over the County of Buhnra. Their intention is to use it as a staging ground to invade the Marquessate of Lufini, in order to provide us a distraction.”
“That’s welcome news, but...” Arnoul de Nunvalle trailed off worriedly. “Do they have the reserve strength for that?”
“There should be no issue,” Nadine answered. “Their commander is the surviving Twin Champion.”
“The Twin Ch—?! I see... It may very well be possible, then.”
While one of the famed generals who’d made up half of the Twin Champions of Crown Prince Jean had already died, the other was very much alive and kicking. From what I’d heard, he’d gone straight to Duke Warren after the crown prince’s death.
Salomon used the break in the conversation to point out a location on the map. “I see here that the Marquessate of Dozran has been singled out with its own color,” he noted. “Why is that?”
Marquess Dozran... He was one of the nobles who’d ignored my command to return the capital, but in his case, it was notable because he’d maintained an almost eerie level of silence on the matter.
“A letter arrived on the eve of this column’s departure,” Deflotte explained. “It stated the marquess’s intent to participate in the battle at Chelán Hill.”
“But we have given him no such order,” I objected.
While I had instructed Marquess Mardrusa and Count Ethaiq to send forces for our cause, I had not done so for Marquess Dozran. In other words, he was coming of his own accord.
“I imagine he sent a very similar letter to Raul,” Deflotte posited. “In the worst-case scenario, he may betray us once the battle has commenced.”
There was a ripple of unrest among my lords. As far as we were concerned, the Marquessate of Dozran was positioned extremely dangerously. It was north of the Duchy of Warren, south of the emperor’s direct holdings, and west of the Marquessate of Ramitead. If Marquess Dozran decided to betray us, it would create a new front for Duke Warren, prove to be a major thorn in the side of Marquess Ramitead (who had only recently stabilized his territory and had deployed almost all of his forces to Chelán Hill—on that last point, he’d even contracted mercenary forces totaling around a thousand to join him, out of the concern that he hadn’t brought enough), and I probably didn’t even need to explain to you what a danger it would pose to my directly held territories, given we hadn’t even established complete control over them yet.
That wasn’t even going into how a betrayal during the battle itself could throw a massive wrench in the works—one that would shift the battle in a disadvantageous direction for us, I was sure.
“Do we have the option of eliminating him first?” Viscount Cédolin asked.
I could understand why Duke Warren’s subordinate would be extra sensitive to any risks posed to his liege lord, but unfortunately, that would be impossible. The conniving marquess was, by all appearances, not yet our enemy. As his liege lord and emperor, I was within my rights to rake him across the coals verbally for his actions, but that was a far cry from having the justification to attack him outright.
“No, that would be a poor plan,” I said. “We do not have the resources to spare. He would not have taken such a brazenly provocative action if we did.”
It was a similar case with Raul and Agincarl. The only reason I’d been able to raise an army for the purpose of subjugating them was because they’d done so first, and had declared open rebellion against me.
I didn’t know what Marquess Dozran’s true intentions were. It was just as likely as anything else that he was trying to make himself look like a valuable investment to me. We didn’t have a choice but to wait and see.
“If he defects at Chelán Hill, then all we must do is ensure we win the ensuing battle,” I declared boldly.
Of course, that was the only thing I could say, if I wanted to assuage my lords. Marquess Dozran had left me with little choice but to take up the gauntlet he’d thrown down. Honestly, even I wanted to reply to myself with an “If it were that easy, we wouldn’t be having so much trouble.”
I forged on, pointing at a spot on the map that had piqued my interest. “Sir Moissan,” I said. “It says that we are engaged in conflict here in the County of Nunmeidt, but we have not heard anything of the sort. What has happened?”
“The count’s offspring—male and female—are squabbling at the moment,” he explained. “However, it should not be long before the more ‘prepared’ party achieves victory. It should be of no concern.”
For Deflotte to say that meant it had to be... Ah. Them.