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Four Months Before The Time of Meeting
- Almost two months after the Explorer’s departure from Lubec in the Hansic Alliance…
- Almost two months after Cain announced that a Teivan, Jehorom Galaddi, might be the Savior of Order…
- Almost two months after Cain, Quinn and the other Inner Members discussed their plans for preparing for the Dark Champion’s return to Halcyon…
- Almost six weeks after Captain Duncan Milius and his group arrived at the Palladum…
- Almost five weeks after Cain, Quinn, Kahanne Arlyne Corbonne, Captain Duncan Milius, and every Circle Member experienced the Dark Champion’s visions of destruction…
Court Martial
Part 1
The vulturn was the largest predatory bird in Halcyon. Its primary habitat was in the dense regions of the coniferous forest that blanketed most of the northern half of Halcyon, though a variant species also lived among the leafy trees of Hunter’s Forest on the Isle. It used cunning and stealth as well as brute force to bring down its prey. When hunting, it stood motionless on a branch so that its brown feathers melded with the color of the bark around it. By the time its target realized its presence it was too late. It could swoop down from the trees and pluck a large rodent from the ground with its powerful talons. Sometimes a vulturn could be spotted catching smaller birds right out of the air. On rare occasions, vulturns had been known to skim the surface of a river and snatch fish out of the water. Vulturns were graceful and elegant yet dangerous and lethal. They used a variety of deadly methods to achieve their objectives, and thus they were chosen to be the symbol of the Praetorship.
A vulturn clutching a bow in its talons with a sword and a pike crossed behind it: this was the Praetorian standard that appeared on every uniform, in every camp, and which accompanied the Praetorship into battle. Its likeness was depicted on a hundred standards that adorned the outer walls of Valor’s Keep, the Praetorship’s stronghold. That this place was called a keep was a misnomer. The outer wall boxed in an area that was large enough to accommodate a small city.
Duncan Milius’ weary platoon approached the north gate. They had marched nonstop from Bolzan, where they had disembarked from their galleasses at the end of the River Saar. They hadn’t even paused in Solodor for a rest. It was more than three weeks since they set out from the Palladum and everyone, especially Duncan, wanted to get the proceedings here over with quickly so they could return to regular duty.
The gatehouse had a small portal built into the heavy doors to allow for convenient passage to those on foot. Duncan’s group stopped a dozen meters before the sealed north gate and waited as three Praetorians approached them from the portal. The guards had their swords drawn and their shields raised in a non-provocative yet defensive posture. Their steel armor gleamed dully as the sun hid behind a thick sheet of clouds. A pair of archers on top of the gatehouse had weapons trained on the newcomers.
The sergeant stepped forward, leaving the two privates a few paces behind. He studied the newcomers and noticed the ragged condition of their armor — the patches and stitch lines were quite visible. These troops had obviously seen a lot of action. Rumors were just reaching them now about a rout of Praetorian forces in the Federated States. Supposedly, it had something to do with misinformation and an alliance between Teivan extremists and a grimal tribe. Perhaps these were the survivors. The sergeant shrugged. He found the rumors hard to believe. What kind of person — even a Teivan — would want to deal with grimms anyway? The stories of a Praetorian failure were probably concocted by a local militia unit.
The sergeant stopped a couple of meters away from Duncan and noted the rank insignia on his shoulders. This had to be him.
“State your business.”
“Senior Captain Third Rank Duncan Milius, commander of the remnant of the eighteenth Federate battalion.”
The sergeant and his two privates sheathed their weapons immediately, snapped to attention and saluted. The archers on top of the wall let down their guard.
“Sir!”
“At ease, sergeant.”
The soldiers dropped their salutes and relaxed. “Thank you, sir. We’ve been expecting you. The privates will lead your troops to their barracks. If you’ll follow me, the Grand-General ordered that you and Captain Eliss Blaine be taken to him right away.”
“Very well.”
Duncan looked back at Blaine, who nodded at him. She turned back and called for the Lieutenant.
“Yes, sir?”
“Follow these privates to your barracks. Remain there until you receive further instructions from either Captain Milius or me, or a ranking officer. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“On your way, then.”
The lieutenant and the rest of the troops followed the two privates through the portal. The sergeant led Blaine and Duncan through a moment later.
“This way, sirs. The Grand-General ordered me to bring you to his study.”
The sergeant led the two captains inside. Duncan always felt overwhelmed whenever he was here. The place was so enormous that it was easy to forget they were inside a fortress. They walked past several training grounds where cadet hopefuls were being introduced to the Praetorship’s basic training course. Duncan chuckled at the memory. Nothing in all his time with the Federate militia prepared him for what he endured as a cadet here at the Keep. Of a recruitment unit of two hundred, only a handful stayed on to join the Praetorship’s ranks.
The sergeant led them to a large administrative complex. They entered the unremarkable wood structure and ascended a flight of stairs to the second level. At the end of the hallway, the sergeant held open a door for them.
“Sirs, if you please. The Grand-General will be along shortly.”
Duncan and Blaine entered and dismissed the sergeant.
Duncan looked around. The study was bright and well furnished. There was a large window on one side to allow the sun to filter in. On days like today when the sky was cloudy, several lanterns sufficed. The room was about the size of the antechamber at a district court.
Duncan and Blaine stood at ease in the middle. It was improper to sit until their commanding officer permitted them to do so, and since he hadn’t arrived, they waited patiently. They had exchanged little more than a few words to each other since their arrival — they were too wrapped up in their own thoughts. Neither of them knew what kind of reaction to expect from the Grand-General. Blaine had never even met him. All she knew of Grand-General Bowen were stories about his sternness and abrasiveness. Duncan, on the other hand, knew better. He had personal dealings with the Grand-General on two occasions, one of which resulted in his promotion to junior lieutenant first rank a mere seventeen months after his cadet service.
The captains scanned their surroundings. Blaine recognized the thick rug that covered the stone floor. She had seen a similar design in a gallery in Bakkar, where she grew up. It was a hodgepodge of streaks, wavy lines and blotches. The realization came suddenly that she was not staring at a rug, but rather at a wall tapestry. She smiled to herself — it was probably for the better that the Grand-General had chosen to cover it up with furniture instead of throwing it out. At least this way he wouldn’t offend Khadashite sensibilities.
Duncan was busy admiring the wall hangings that decorated the room. There was a commemoration of the siege of Mildurn, which took place two hundred and fifty years ago when Federate forces relieved a provincial outpost in the Alpas Mountains that was under grimal attack. Nearly two thousand militia troops died that day, but the mission was successful. It was a pivotal moment in the history of the Federate because it led to the induction of the province of Valandov into the federation.
There was another tapestry depicting a landscape with a city of exquisite beauty — marble buildings with gold-trimmed roofs and shining spires. A rising sun cast an elegant yellow hue over everything. It was an awe-inspiring sight unlike anything he had ever seen before.
“It’s an artist’s rendition of the Golden Age.” The voice that came from the door was soft, belying one of the keenest strategic minds in Halcyon.
The captains snapped to attention. “Sir!”
Grand-General Dorian Bowen strode into the study. He wasn’t an imposing man like General Hawkwin, but his otherwise average build was toughened by decades of hardened military service. He took a seat in front of the hanging that had caught Duncan’s attention.
“It was a gift from Padishah Cedric IV Deis upon my instatement as Grand-General. But that one behind you is even more impressive.”
The captains turned around. Before them was an exquisite oil painting. Lush greenery framed the foreground of a scene featuring a rich forest that spread through a valley. There were rolling mountains in the background. This was all silhouetted against a sky bright with swirling colors that melted into each other. “This one came to me by way of the former Khadashite premier. The Creation of the Universe.”
“Ganeden,” murmured Duncan, using the Teivan word.
Bowen nodded approvingly. “You know the myth.”
“The One True Deity created the universe in six days.”
“Very good, Captain.” He pointed to Blaine. “Why do you think I keep it here?”
She glanced at Duncan, her gray eyes questing for an answer. Nothing was forthcoming.
Disappointed, the Grand-General turned to Duncan. The captain thought for a moment before clearing his throat.
“It’s a myth from the ancient world, before our people came to Halcyon. Before the Golden Age.”
“And…?”
“And all that knowledge is gone. All the history, all the achievements… Demeter Ahenak made sure of it. Six hundred years ago, he made sure that the only writings people studied were his own Codices. He destroyed all the rest. Because of him, all we have left are vague stories.”
“So why do I keep a picture of Creation in my study?”
“It’s a reminder of the past, of what was lost during the Age of Ruin. It reminds us that the Praetorship exists to prevent such a thing from happening again.”
Bowen addressed Blaine. “Do you see, Captain? History tells us why we’re here. It’s because of History that we do the things that we do. That’s why it’s a required course for our cadets. It’s a relationship I expect all of my officers to understand.”
He motioned to the chairs in front of his desk. “Please, sit.”
Duncan and Blaine did as they were told. Bowen stood back up, removed his weapons belt and placed it on a hook near the door. He then resumed his place opposite the junior officers. “You’ll find that I don’t stand on formalities when I’m meeting my officers privately in my own study.”
The Grand-General eyed them critically while they shifted nervously. He took a deep breath before beginning. “Several weeks ago I received a report from one of the most respected commanders in Halcyon. In it, General Cyril Hawkwin informed me that not only did I lose nearly an entire battalion of troops, but that the battle itself was not won. In addition, he reported the following acts: ignorance on the part of the commanding officer, insubordination on the part of a senior officer —” at this pronouncement Duncan averted his gaze “— and the order to retreat from combat.”
Bowen stood back up and faced the wall behind him. When he spoke, he sounded angry and ashamed. “Insubordination… ignorance… retreat… These are words that are utterly foreign to this organization!” He stood there for a few moments with his back to them. Duncan and Blaine gripped their seats nervously. Neither dared speak. Finally, the Grand-General turned around. His expression was cold and hard. “Does either of you deny these charges?”
Blaine shook her head somberly. “No, sir.”
Duncan squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. “No, sir.”
“This is the first incident of its kind in three hundred years. I’ve consulted with my advisory council and we’ve reached an unanimous decision. I will head up this investigation personally. Officials from the military court are interviewing your troops as we speak. Nothing has been determined yet. No blame has been laid, no punishment meted out. My council and I will interview to each of you privately and at length. As of now, you’re ordered to say nothing of what transpired at Ravelin. You’re not to discuss the issues at hand with each other, with your platoon or with anyone else. Failure to comply will result in court-martial and imprisonment. Do you understand these terms?”
Blaine nodded solemnly. “Yes, sir.”
Duncan hadn’t shifted his gaze. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Do you have anything to say off the record before I begin? If you do, this is your only chance. You will be held accountable for your actions and your testimony from this point on.”
Blaine shook her head again. “No, sir.”
Grand-General Bowen looked at Duncan, waiting for a response. The captain’s hand absently grabbed a hold of the pouch at his side that held the claw from a grimal that killed a Praetorian — a reminder of what went wrong at Ravelin.
If I fail them now, they’ll have died for nothing.
He then thought of Jarren. How he wanted her at his side. He only wished that he could express half as much confidence in himself as she expressed in him. Finally, after taking a deep breath, he answered.
“No, sir.”
That was it. The most critical moment in his life had begun. He opened his eyes and looked directly at the Grand-General for the first time, facing the challenge with uncertain courage.
Stay tuned for the next chapter…
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