By Schism Rent Asunder by David Weber Page B

Group of Four may think, this is only beginning. Even if they manage to completely crush Charis, it’s still only beginning. This isn’t God’s will, it’s theirs , and that’s going to be obvious to everyone, not just to someone like me, or like Greyghor Stohnar in Siddarmark. And when it becomes obvious, do you really think the other princes and kings are simply going to go back to sleep, as if this never happened? As if Trynair and Clyntahn hadn’t proved no crown is secure, no city is safe, if it’s foolish enough to rouse the ire of the Group of Four or whoever replaces them on the Council of Vicars?”
    He shook his head slowly, his expression grim.
    â€œThe one thing in the entire world the Church simply can’t afford to lose is its moral authority as God’s voice, His steward among His people, Trahvys.” His voice was very, very soft. “That’s been the true basis for the world’s unity—and the Church’s power—since the Day of Creation itself. But now the Group of Four has just thrown that away, as if it were so unimportant, so trivial , that it wasn’t worth so much as a second thought. Only they were wrong. It wasn’t unimportant; it was the only thing that could have saved them. Now it’s gone, and that, Trahvys— that —is something they will never, ever be able to get back again.”

.VII.
    Breygart House,
Hanth Town,
Earldom of Hanth
    â€œMove, damn you! I want this street cleared! ”
    Colonel Sir Wahlys Zhorj reined his horse around so angrily that the animal sunfished under him. He reacted—predictably, in Captain Zhaksyn Maiyr’s opinion—by pulling the reins even shorter and leaning forward to slap the back of the horse’s head.
    Sir Wahlys (only Maiyr wasn’t supposed to know that the “Sir” was self-bestowed) snarled and jabbed his index finger in the general direction of the waterfront.
    â€œI don’t give a damn how you do it, Captain, but you get this street cleared all the way to the wharves, and you do it now! ”
    â€œYes, Sir,” Maiyr replied in a stony voice. Zhorj gave him one more fulminating glance, then jerked his head at his small party of aides and went cantering back towards the center of town, leaving Maiyr to his own devices. Which, in a lot of ways, suited Maiyr just fine.
    Of course, in other ways, nothing about this entire bitched-up situation suited Zhaksyn Maiyr at all.
    He turned a glare of his own towards the shouting, smoke, and general hullabaloo of the street Zhorj had ordered him to clear. It was going to be an unmitigated pain in the arse however he went about it, he reflected. And whatever “Sir” Wahlys might think, it wasn’t going to make the situation any better.
    He isn’t really idiotic enough to think it’ll do any good, Maiyr thought angrily. He just doesn’t have any better ideas. Which isn’t all that surprising, either, I suppose .
    The truth was that Colonel Zhorj was a reasonably competent field commander, with a genuine talent for managing the logistics of a mercenary cavalry company, which happened to include Maiyr’s mounted arbalesters. No one knew exactly where he’d come from originally, but his reputation as someone prepared to ask very few questions of his employer had preceded him. And for the last couple of years, he’d been Tahdayo Mahntayl’s senior troop commander here in the Earldom of Hanth.
    And mightily unpopular he’s made himself … and all the rest of us , Maiyr thought bitterly.
    â€œAll right,” he told his troop sergeant, “you heard the Colonel. If you have any bright ideas, this is the time to trot them out.”
    â€œYes, Sir,” the gray-haired sergeant said sourly. He was a highly experienced man, and his expression was even sourer than his tone as he looked past Maiyr at the defiant riot and shook his head. “As soon as