Sword point diplomacy 40

She didn’t waste time regretting much after the odd band left camp. Rose went to administrative work with grim determination. For now, she needed to understand the full scope of the situation. Ending this campaign was going to be a nightmare of coordination.

She wanted to wrap this up before the end of the 40 days of mandatory conscription ran out. If she could pull off a 40 day war, they didn’t have to invest any more in supporting an army.

Etienne, Aunt Aime, and her cousin were all too far afield to solely get by on carried rations and supply lines. Their armies would have been emptying local fields, if not worse. They might already have to pay reparations to get out of this without an extended conflict.

Five days. She could afford that long. If she stayed here two more days to sort things out, she could be in the capital by day 4. On day 5, she could have the coronation. That would give her just under 10 days with the full authority to turn the war machine around.

The sounds of camp filtered in as she worked. Heavy steps in every direction, although not too close to her guarded tent. The flutter and flap of flags and fabric in strong wind. Distant thumps and voices and clangs.

A wet shlunk and a sharp inhalation.

Rose pushed her desk away and lunged at her shield and sword where they sat on her trunk. She pulled the sword out and accidentally let the sheathe fall to the ground. She kicked it to the side rather than bend.

She barely had them in hand when the assassins came in. Eyes met her and fell with disappointment when they saw she was prepared.

“You're my men,” she said, outraged. They were kingsguard.

“Usurper and kinslayer!” One of them shouted, and then did his level best to kill her. The other man hung back and hollered more of the same for camp to hear.

This was to discredit her. They couldn't possibly think they'd kill her, although that wouldn't stop them from trying. But the goal was to spread dissent.

Shit.

She caught the first blow on her shield and pushed back with vicious force. The other was approaching her flank as the camp woke up with shouts. Rose viciously dove forward, caught his blade on her shield, and kicked his leg out with her full strength. She heard a crack as she danced back to her first opponent.

Should she stay here? She played defensively for a moment,  trying to gauge the skill of her opponents rather than bull through. She'd never fought elite guards. For all she knew it was a trap and they were keeping her busy while someone set the tent on fire. Tactically, she should get clear.

The second guard got back up. He was limping, slow. He hung back and looked at her with hate. That was an annoying distraction. It was dangerous to let her eyes off of her current opponent, and it was just as dangerous to lose track of the wounded man.

Hells.

The obvious exit would be guarded if they were hoping to use the tent as a trap. At the very least there was a corpse there to trip over.

It was only a tent. But she couldn't spend time lifting the edge to run out or turn her blade away from an opponent to cut through the fabric.

Rose skirted away from the boundary of the tent as she slashed and blocked, cautiously holding back at openings she would have taken in other fights.

She instinctively wanted the wall at her back. But it was mere fabric and someone could easily stab through it. That might even be the plan.

“Drop your swords!” Celestin’s voice cut through the air in a hot rush of fury.

Neither man did. But the one fighting Rose turned towards the voice as Celestin burst into the tent.

Rose took advantage. She bashed her shield against his head. He fell. She pulled his sword clean from his grip and threw it to the ground behind her.

The other kingsguard dropped his sword.

Rose made eye contact with Celestin. He stepped aside to allow someone to follow him in. “Restrain them,” Celestin ordered. A muscle flexed in his jaw. He was white with anger. “My sincerest apologies.”

Rose looked at the men being arrested. She turned her gaze to outside, where there was a significant murmur of panicked voices. “They have accused me of killing the King.” It came out steady.

Celestin inclined his head. “ It seems so.”

She was so tired. She put the sword back in the sheathe and buckled it on. So much for safety in camp. Rose looked at the situation again and again. Her only conclusion was- “I must make a speech, and then go to the capital immediately.”

Celestin turned to watch the disgraced kingsguard being hustled out. One of them spat at Rose's feet. “I believe so.”

She sighed. She slung the shield onto her back. They walked out together, past only one corpse. She made a mental note to ask where her other assigned guard had been. Part of the conspiracy, or a victim elsewhere?

“There's no time better than the present. Let's gather.”

That was what they did. The rumor had clearly gone around camp. Celestin stood pointedly at her side as the army gathered as closely together as possible.

Rose kept it simple. The king was dead. The rumors were false. She had been confirmed as the queen apparent, and her coronation was being planned. There was no cause for concern, thank you.

There was an uneasy moment where the reaction was undecided. Then a cheer rolled across the camp. It caught on and became a roar of approval.

Rose let out a sigh of relief. She lost some tension. Her hand strayed a little further from the sword at her side.

“Do not feel confident.” Celestin kept his smile on and his voice sotto as he cautioned her. “That could have been more enthusiastic.”

“Yes,” Rose agreed. She waved a dismissal at the gathered soldiers. “Few would be foolish enough to express disapproval, if they felt it now.”

Celestin watched the crowd begin to file back to their tasks. “When do you leave? Who do you take?”

Rose sucked in a long breath and thought it over. She couldn't really trust anyone. She would take Avoie, he was her responsibility. …Speaking of, those prisoners. Shit, how was she going to transport-

“A small group,” Rose decided. “About 5.”

Celestin turned to her. “Who can you trust?” He asked.

“No one, really,” Rose said. It was the truth. The people who liked her had mostly been dispersed on errands for the coronation. Anyone in the royal army could consider her a traitor. Anyone from her aunt, brother, cousin, or one of the nobility’s armies could wish to secure the throne for someone else.

The prisoners certainly didn't like her. But they had a vested interest in seeing her survive long enough to end this war, didn't they.