The ship rocked beneath the General's feet. Thirty-Six-year-old Baxter Colemen placed his hand on the railing, feeling the grain of the wood brush against his palm. He took a deep breath, smelling the salt in the air, and breathed the first calm breath he had taken in eight months.
He watched the sandy shores on each side of the large channel as they traveled further inland; other ships, frigates, and brigs following behind each flew the proud flag of Alvonia, with its striped banner and crown fluttering proudly. It would have once been a sight to make the old General's heart burst with passion, but now he only wished the fighting was over.
Each vessel was filled with fresh troops and supplies from the main camp at Asilir’s point.
How long have we been fighting this war? He thought, leaning forward and resting both hands on the ship's side. How long have I been fighting this war? Six years now, since I was in my early thirties, all of the men who fought with me when this first started are dead now, bones and skeletons hidden in the dunes of this desert. Or sent back home hardly men slaughtered to keep Sunmen dogs in line, butchered and maimed no longer the men they once were.
He shook his head, feeling the weight of his sword on his hip. The old, worn thing had been with him for years.
“General, Councilor Enright wishes to speak with you.”
Baxter turned, looking at the youth who had spoken to him.
He wore the yellow and black military-tight tailored uniform of House Enright. They had given up on wearing the bulky armor they had once worn, as the sun's heat made wearing iron plate unbearable.
“Does he now? I thought he was having breakfast before we arrived in Sujen harbor.”
The young man nodded. “Yes, General, he has asked for you to join him and wishes to speak with you before we arrive. He wishes to speak.” the young man paused, then looked further down the ship at the sailors working at the Riggins and lounging about. “He wishes to speak to you before Councilor Elmend gets word that you have come back with news from the Council.”
Baxter nodded slowly and brought his hand to his beard, scratching at it. “Ah yes, politics. I had not missed that on my trip home, where the only thing I needed to worry about was what color uniform I would wear to the grand balls those fools back home threw every week.” He shook his head. “Lead on then, young man. My bones are aching, and I fear the heat will do its best to kill me before the day is done.”
The young man bowed and turned, walking down the steps underneath the prow. The ship was a newer kind of beast, almost as long as a city wall, meant to carry one thousand armed men along with horses and supplies.
He huffed as he followed, having gained some weight from dining weeks on end on the plentiful food that the halls of Alvonia’s many Keeps held.
He looked down at his uniform, noticing it had gotten snugger, but he huffed, blowing out on his mustache. The weight would fall right back off him once he was in command.
Military rations hardly tasted better than a solid block of salt. And the stress of dealing with foolish Councilors who thought this war was about personal glory instead of keeping a beast at bay would drain the health and weight of any man who dared to lead it.
The ship's inside was fine, with oak trees from the forest of Alvonia sanded and cut down into planks. He followed the young man down the hall past doors and portholes until they came to a guarded door where two men in House Enright uniforms stood, swords on their hips.
They saluted the one on the right, looked at the old man, and smiled. "General Baxter. Councilor Theodore has been expecting you.”
“Then let me in. We have less than an hour before we arrive in Sujen, and I need to ensure all my men and supplies are where they need to be.”
The young man who led him here knocked on the door, waited a moment, poked his head into the door, nodded, and held the door open as the Baxter entered the room.
It smelled of bacon and biscuits, a rare commodity in the lands of the Sun Legion. It would have cost almost a fortune to supply even a single man with a meal like this.
Councilor Theodore was a slim man despite his love for food; he had that solid blond hair and tan features favored by those who had moved to Alvonia from Ghalbraithia many centuries ago during the times of the Sages. He sported a thin beard across his face, kept clean around his neck. He lounged back, his right boot crossed over the other, and raised his glass to the General. As he walked in, Baxter did not fail to notice the golden sword propped against the side of the table, the legendary blade of House Enright that was now in the hands of a chivalrous fool.
“I see you have started celebrating the news from the Council,” Baxter said, eyeing the table.
“This, General, it is nothing, just a small breakfast and drink before we arrive on those Hethens shores when food like this is only a forgotten thought.” He motioned to the chair beside him. "Come sit with me and have a bite to eat or a drink.”
“I’d rather not have. I've found a slight allure to the fine wines and ales with my time in Alvonia and wish not to touch that stuff. A General must have a clear head, especially with the task set out before me.”
Theodore grinned at him. “Ah yes, your task of uniting the five Councilors who have decided to play war as if this were some kind of game,”
Baxter looked at him, put his hands behind his back, eyes impassive. “yes, I have to get each of you in line and bring the Sun legion into a final tactical battle. That is what must be done.”
“They will not want to share the glory, Baxter, and I want to be the man to bring those slavers down with their false God. It would make a man a legend just like the three Sages.”
“We are not here to become Legends. We are here to end this hostility for all the men, women, and children who have died in the past six years,” he said, his voice rising louder than he had meant it to.
Theodore sat his drink down and leaned forward in his chair. ‘I know that General and I want to help you. This is why I wanted to speak with you before we arrived in port and the news spread of the council's decision to entrust you with Command of the five houses across the sea, not fighting in the old Kingdom’s succession war.” He stood looking the General in the eye.
“I want to be the first Councilor to offer you my men and my service and to swear to do anything in my power to ensure the Sun legion cannot threaten Ghalrainia.”
Baxter watched the man with that grin, his eye twinkling. He knew this man had even met his son, a young, rash, and reckless fencer, not long ago, just like his father. He knew this man was trying to lick his boots to get on his good side.
Baxter shook his head. “I’ll accept your pledge, Theodore, but I will not allow you to lord this over the other Councilors. They are stubborn men who each want to bring down the Emperor to have their house rise in the ranks and return home in glory and honor, but I will not have any politicking if you are to come under me; you will do as I say when I say.” Baxter leaned forward his hands still behind his back and gave a slight smile “is that understood Councilor.”
Theodore had a flicker in his eyes, a fire of defiance, but he took another sip of his wine and then sat back down. “that is Understood, General.”
“Very well then, be ready and dressed. We will soon parade the troops of this ship, fresh men from Alvonia, men who have yet to see the horrors of true war. They need their Councilor sober and ready to fight and lead now that you’ve come under me; there will be no more wine.” Baxter said, stepping forward and taking the bottle of wine.
Theodore nodded glumly, his eyes looking longingly at the bottle as he sipped his wine. “Very well, General, you are in charge.”
Baxter let his gaze linger on the man, then turned, still clutching the bottle of wine. He pulled the door open to the surprise of the three soldiers who stood to attention.
“Easy lads, save the fear, for when you're in the desert, you’ll need it.” he strode past them and up the hall, hearing the sound of the wine slushing about in the battle stuck in its course like the army of Alvonia was straight towards disaster. He found his way to the prow and looked out over the harbor that was now in the distance, seeing the tan clay and stone houses and the large docks where hundreds of vessels were anchored, some from Alvonia, many commandeered from the Sun legions fleets or fishermen and wealthy merchants and slave owners.
He saw the giant flag of house Tecal flying up higher into the city where the Emperor's warlords would have lived. He sighed and brought the bottle of wine up to his nose, smelling the sweet stench of apple. Then, finding he had a thirst, he brought it to his lips, took a sip, and then looked at the bottle. “I reckon I best follow my own orders. A drunk cannot lead an army.’ he tossed it overboard down into the ocean and watched it disappear into the waves that carried it back out towards the sea and felt as if he was just as lost as the bottle as the sound of shouts and bells ringing signaled that they have arrived to Sujen to the frontline of this ruthless war.
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