lost in thought, brow creased with troubles.
He will make a fine king, Luia thought as she left him to his concerns.
SALPHORIA
Late Autumn, 211th year of Askh
I
The wind flapped at the fabric of Ullsaard's pavilion and brought a pattering of rain. The king sat in his campaign throne, brow knotted as he stared at the large map spread out on the rugs before him. To his right and left sat two of his First Captains, Anasind and Jutiil, and two others, self-appointed army commanders who had raised their own legions for the war; the first was Arrak Maalus, head of one of Askh's oldest noble families, a squat man in his fifties with a clean-shaven chin and head, but with jutting side whiskers that reached to his shoulders; the other was a Maasrite fleet captain, Lukha, who had arrived with three thousand legionnaires and twenty Nemurian mercenaries.
Ullsaard liked neither of the men, but suffered their amateur suggestions in silence, knowing it was the price he paid for having them help to finance his campaign. Of the five extra legions so far raised by the nobles, two had been all but destroyed, and the other three had achieved little except to spread fear and confusion amongst the Salphors. It did not matter; as long as the Salphors were under constant attack they would never have the time to gather their forces. In the wake of the ad-hoc invasions of the others, Ullsaard would sweep duskwards and tidy up, until he was camped at the walls of Carantathi. He felt some guilt at the legionnaires' lives being wasted in this way, but in the long run the campaign would prove to be less costly.
"Enough squabbling," said the king, stepping down from his chair. "Maalus, you will take your legion coldwards of here, the Aaglios River. That secures these forested hills. There are likely to be tribes in the forest itself, so don't try anything spectacular, you'll simply be ambushed. Lukha, you need to keep moving duskwards along the Aaglios, until you take this group of settlements here, at this fork in the river. I have it from my Salphorian allies that there is a town on the lake island. I figure with your expertise with ships that shouldn't be too much of a problem."
Lukha looked sourly at the map.
"So, Maalus gets hundreds of miles of the finest fir trees, while I have a lake and an island? What am I supposed to profit from? Fish?"
Ullsaard wanted to strangle the man, but fought the urge.
"We don't know where the Aaglios leads, but it is bound to be an important route duskwards to the sea," Ullsaard explained, not entirely hiding his irritation. "That island will be the perfect place for a dock. It'll be as large as Geria; maybe even as big as Narun if there's as much land to duskwards as I think there is. Maalus will be paying your port fees to ship that timber to the coast."
Maalus was about to object, but was stopped by Ullsaard's raised hand.
"And before you complain, Maalus, consider this," the king continued. "Docks mean wharfs and ships, and that means timber. This stretch of river could be the centre of Askhan expansion in Salphoria, and there's going to be enough coin for everybody involved."
The two men exchanged a glance filled with suspicion. Maalus looked at the map again, rubbing a hand over his scalp.
"That is quite a way from Magilnada," he said. "I would not want to be sticking my neck to the block. Perhaps another legion or two would make the situation more secure?"
"No," said Ullsaard. "Winter's coming, and there's no time for you to raise any more legions. We need this advance to happen as soon as possible."
"I know I cannot raise a legion overnight, but you have five of them sitting here with nothing to do…"
"No."
Maalus frowned and stood up with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"I am not going to wander into the heart of Salphor territory with just one legion." The noble took two steps towards the tent door before Ullsaard grabbed
He will make a fine king, Luia thought as she left him to his concerns.
SALPHORIA
Late Autumn, 211th year of Askh
I
The wind flapped at the fabric of Ullsaard's pavilion and brought a pattering of rain. The king sat in his campaign throne, brow knotted as he stared at the large map spread out on the rugs before him. To his right and left sat two of his First Captains, Anasind and Jutiil, and two others, self-appointed army commanders who had raised their own legions for the war; the first was Arrak Maalus, head of one of Askh's oldest noble families, a squat man in his fifties with a clean-shaven chin and head, but with jutting side whiskers that reached to his shoulders; the other was a Maasrite fleet captain, Lukha, who had arrived with three thousand legionnaires and twenty Nemurian mercenaries.
Ullsaard liked neither of the men, but suffered their amateur suggestions in silence, knowing it was the price he paid for having them help to finance his campaign. Of the five extra legions so far raised by the nobles, two had been all but destroyed, and the other three had achieved little except to spread fear and confusion amongst the Salphors. It did not matter; as long as the Salphors were under constant attack they would never have the time to gather their forces. In the wake of the ad-hoc invasions of the others, Ullsaard would sweep duskwards and tidy up, until he was camped at the walls of Carantathi. He felt some guilt at the legionnaires' lives being wasted in this way, but in the long run the campaign would prove to be less costly.
"Enough squabbling," said the king, stepping down from his chair. "Maalus, you will take your legion coldwards of here, the Aaglios River. That secures these forested hills. There are likely to be tribes in the forest itself, so don't try anything spectacular, you'll simply be ambushed. Lukha, you need to keep moving duskwards along the Aaglios, until you take this group of settlements here, at this fork in the river. I have it from my Salphorian allies that there is a town on the lake island. I figure with your expertise with ships that shouldn't be too much of a problem."
Lukha looked sourly at the map.
"So, Maalus gets hundreds of miles of the finest fir trees, while I have a lake and an island? What am I supposed to profit from? Fish?"
Ullsaard wanted to strangle the man, but fought the urge.
"We don't know where the Aaglios leads, but it is bound to be an important route duskwards to the sea," Ullsaard explained, not entirely hiding his irritation. "That island will be the perfect place for a dock. It'll be as large as Geria; maybe even as big as Narun if there's as much land to duskwards as I think there is. Maalus will be paying your port fees to ship that timber to the coast."
Maalus was about to object, but was stopped by Ullsaard's raised hand.
"And before you complain, Maalus, consider this," the king continued. "Docks mean wharfs and ships, and that means timber. This stretch of river could be the centre of Askhan expansion in Salphoria, and there's going to be enough coin for everybody involved."
The two men exchanged a glance filled with suspicion. Maalus looked at the map again, rubbing a hand over his scalp.
"That is quite a way from Magilnada," he said. "I would not want to be sticking my neck to the block. Perhaps another legion or two would make the situation more secure?"
"No," said Ullsaard. "Winter's coming, and there's no time for you to raise any more legions. We need this advance to happen as soon as possible."
"I know I cannot raise a legion overnight, but you have five of them sitting here with nothing to do…"
"No."
Maalus frowned and stood up with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"I am not going to wander into the heart of Salphor territory with just one legion." The noble took two steps towards the tent door before Ullsaard grabbed
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