SWORDPOINT DIPLOMACY 4

CHAPTER 4

There were three prisoners to question, but only two made it until morning. Rose waited at the command tent with freshly washed hair and tired, resentful eyes.

"Celestin," she greeted, the second he entered the tent.

He gave her a cursory bow. "Princess," he rasped. "Forgive the delay."

"I understand," she said, wishing that polite society involved less apologizing. She wasn't interested in rushing his work, especially because she knew she didn't understand how interrogations were done. "What did you learn?"

The old general sighed and pulled out his chair. "Not much, not yet. We got some bluster about an improbable number of soldiers garrisoned in the city. There was a bit of patriotic drivel about how Prince so and so will drive us off. The interesting bit was the implication that they intend to keep attrition at nighttime."

"It makes sense," Rose said darkly. "They know the area, and we have numbers. Just a few of their soldiers spent every night can keep most of our army from resting. A tired army-"

"is a dead army," Harrod chimed in. He ducked underneath the hanging fabric over the tent entrance. "I apologize for the delay."

"Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to come here," Rose said blandly. She didn't know what she meant by it. On the one hand, Harrod was genuinely capable and loyal to the crown. On the other hand, she felt a little off-put about respecting his superior experience when she got the feeling he didn't truly consider her to be in charge.

He wasn't disrespectful, of course. But the fact that he hadn't reported to her directly when he arrived had left a bad taste in her mouth, and the implication that messages from her aunt were being redirected through him…

'I don't like it. It might just mean he's being a little inappropriate in stepping on my toes because he's more qualified than I am and he likes to have control. That's annoying and a problem for the chain of command, but not malicious. It could mean something worse, though.'

Harrod gave her a courteous bow and an open smile, wholly unaware of the suspicious direction her thoughts had taken. "Something must be done, of course," Harrod said. He patted a rolled up scroll he carried. "I have some suggestions. Would you consider a more  offensive approach?"

'Of course I've already been thinking about that. I'm not comatose.'

Rose avoided reacting. "What did you have in mind?"

He'd clearly assumed she could be talked around, because all of his suggested tactics were fairly direct. It was possible to build siege ladders or to have Aunt Aime bring trebuchets with her reinforcements.

'I'd love to see her, but I don't need her for this,' Rose thought to herself. She kept her expression impassive as Harrod and Celestin wasted their time discussing the details of a theoretical plan that she was not going to approve. 'She's going to be able to go right past us to the next target. I don't want this to drag on. And I definitely don't want anyone to have a reason to say I'm incompetent.'

If Aime had been at the head of this army, the city might have surrendered already. She had that kind of reputation. It didn't hurt Rose's pride any to admit that she had basically no international reputation to speak of.  She and Etienne were freshly 22, of course they had accomplished basically nothing.

"My Lord."

The voice was vaguely familiar. Rose looked up to see the soldier who'd caught up with her before her bodyguards. He was waiting with a bland expression, holding a deep bow. He was apparently playing at being a messenger hawk.

Rose frowned as the moment extended a little too long.

When Harrod finally looked up, his expression was dismissive. "Ah. Thank you." He reached out his hand without stepping closer.

 forward to cross the distance and hand over his letter without letting up from his bow. "My Lord," he said again, coolly unaffected by the indignity. by the indignity.

Rose watched as he left.

'That looked like a power play. Why's Harrod petty enough to make his underlings hold bows and back out of rooms?'

Granted, the interaction had been subtle. Celestin didn't even appear to have noticed.

'Harrod is too socially attentive to for that to have been absentmindedness.'

Well. Odds were very good that he didn't want to talk about it, but she was a princess. That had to be good for something.

"Who was that?" Rose asked.

The way that Harrod jerked at her question was deeply satisfying.

"I've seen him before," she continued. "Not one of your knights, is he?"

Harrod let out a laugh and gave her a convincing smile. "That man? Oh no," he demurred. "He's nothing like that."

"He bows like a knight," she said lightly. "Surely he's been trained."

Celestin shot her a sideways look with a squint, but he didn't comment.

Harrod's smile turned just a little strained. She felt her own smile grow as she patiently waited. Harrod really didn't want to talk about this… It must be embarrassing in some way.

"He is from my wife's first marriage," Harrod said, tone carefully civil.

"Ah." She let it go, not least because she didn't know his family tree well enough to know who his wife had been widowed by.

'I wasn't wrong. Someone's unwanted noble son, on track to inherit nothing.'

He might be relevant, she decided. He probably didn't like Harrod much. If he was playing messenger, he would know quite a bit. She resolved to talk with him. Collecting contacts was never a bad choice.

"When we take the city," Rose interrupted. Both men turned to look at her. "If my cousin doesn't arrive, who should hold the city?"

Harrod smiled at her warmly, eyes crinkling. "Of course it should be you," he enthused. "A jewel for your crown- metaphorical, of course."

Rose laughed politely and pretended to be flattered. She caught Celestin looking between the two of them, a shadow over his eyes, but he didn't comment.

'Absolutely fucking not. Is he trying to sabotage my place in the royal family, or does he only care that he could get more glory if I'm out of the way?'

Her Father would be happy when she took the city, of course. But he would be deeply unimpressed if she chose to stay and manage it. She didn't crave her father's approval, but she didn't want to be branded as a coward or sent from the line of succession.

The meeting resolved nothing, except Rose's determination not to rely on Harrod and Celestin too much. Celestin played his cards close to his chest. He had been one of her teachers for a very long time, and she trusted his judgement. But he was also a wartime contemporary of both Harrod and her parents. She couldn't assume his first loyalty was to her.

Her chance to talk with the white-haired soldier came sooner than she'd hoped. After the worst of the day's heat had passed, she had followed the sounds of clacking and thuds to peer at how the squires and pages were doing in their practice. They were in a pen that she suspected had been commandeered from enemy pigs. It was a useful barrier, though, to keep anyone from whacking the wrong person with a wooden sword.

When she arrived, the children didn't notice. But her mysterious soldier lifted his head across the pen immediately and made eye contact. He nodded at her in greeting.

One of the students noticed the movement and followed his gaze to see Rose. She smiled slightly, conveying that this was a casual visit. But the child's eyes went wide and he elbowed a friend in the ribs.

She snorted. Her eyes went back to the boy and girl in the ring. The girl was faster, a wiry little thing with short braids. The boy was pink-faced with the effort to keep up. But they were both grinning.

"Come on, you can get her!" One of the watchers heckled. He was leaning halfway over the fence, toes dangling. "She won by five points yesterday, are you really gonna lose two days in a row?"

'Is this really training or are they playing?' She rested her elbows on the fence and covered her mouth with a hand. 'I don't remember laughing like that in my training.'

Maybe it was more fun to be a page in military camp than at the palace.

Flustered, the boy drew back a few steps and wiped some sweat off his face. He glanced at his friends, and then darted to his sparring partner again. With a yell, he raised his sword up high to chop down.

The girl faltered then jerked her body forward to meet it. The other children went wild yelling, cheering on one or the other.

Rose sighed. She could see the girl's arms were shaking, but the other blade didn't come down.

"Alright." She nearly straightened at the sound of the soldier's voice. He did know how to project his voice like an officer. "Caden, take this seriously."

"I am," the boy protested. He redoubled his efforts, grunting.

"Stop," the white-haired soldier said, sounding bored.

The children obeyed immediately, looking put-out.

"That was sloppy," Rose observed. Her tone was mild, but the squires still turned white when they noticed her.

She did not sigh. They'd probably take it as some terrible sign of royal displeasure.

"Soldier," she called, vaulting over the fence into the ring. "Do you know the block they were just demonstrating?"

He glanced between her and the teenagers. His eyelashes were as white as his hair, Rose noticed. The contrast with his dark grey eyes was interesting. "Yes, I do." If he also expected some kind of royal bullying session, nothing came across in his tone.

"Demonstrate it with me," she said. Rose hefted a wooden practice sword, adjusting to the different weight. She took a little round shield at the same time. "Boys and girls, look at his grip. See how he isn't stiff." She looked over at him to check that he was getting a practice sword out. "When I bring my sword down. Is an overhead swing a good move, squire?" She directed the question to her fluffy headed duck of a squire.

"...it's powerful?" He ventured.

"If you have upper body strength for it, yes," Rose agreed mildly. "But assuming you don't cut your enemy's head in half immediately, your sword is way up here." She demonstrated the start of the swing. "I usually have a shield, yes, but this isn't ideal, is it?"

"Your body is exposed," her soldier said quietly. He took up a spot at a respectful distance.

She nodded, lowering her blade to a better waiting position and then whipping it back up to the ostentatious move the children had been practicing. "One."

He lifted his sword in time to catch hers. Instead of devolving into brute strength struggle, he turned his grip and pivoted inside her guard. Her sword slid forward uselessly for a critical second in which he made a mock strike at her abdomen, snaking behind her shield.

"And I'm dead," Rose announced. She took a step back from where the wooden blade was resting above her hipbone. "Practice that instead. Someone who doesn't keep their sword close to their body is very easy to disembowel. It's a mistake to avoid on your part and to take advantage of. Understand?" She barked the last out with nostalgia, in the cadence that palace teachers used.

"Yes, ma'am," came the reflexive chorus.

She did snort, both at the textbook call and response, and the looks of sheer horror on the children's faces.

"At ease," Rose said, putting her practice sword back. "Soldier, a moment?"

The faintest hint of an insouciant smile curled up his lips. "Yes, ma'am," he mocked. She could barely hear it over the renewed scuffling of the trainees.

Rose narrowed her eyes at him. It was one thing for children to do that on accident.

The amusement didn't leave his eyes.

That should have been annoying. Rose had to choose not to smile back at him.

She shook her head and turned away, a little confused by her own reaction. She should have corrected him, because that was deliberate disrespect.

'I might know why Harrod isn't overly fond of him.' Rose strode off without looking back and trusted that the man was following her. 'Harrod is a bit proud. Not getting sufficient deference from his ward would probably rub him the wrong way.'

"I don't suppose you know my name." He drawled out.

She glanced back. He was keeping up, a step behind her on her right. "No," she said. "We haven't been introduced."

"Do you know your squire's name?" He dug.

Rose snorted. "Also no. Why, do you?"

"He's my half brother, so I ought to," he mused.

"Yes, you really should," Rose said breezily. "Here." She let the guard outside her personal tent hold the door open.

"This is…"

For the first time, he hesitated.

Rose turned enough to give him a predatory smile. His dark eyes were a little wide. He looked rather good, actually, back lit by the setting sun. One of the guards was giving him a distinctly unfriendly look.

"I'm not worried," Rose said. She lifted an eyebrow. "My virtue is hardly in danger from a common soldier."

His face twitched. "As you say, princess."

He seemed, she thought, less smug now.