An Angel Called Eternity

To Bet on Losing Dogs - Lykourgos V: Thrice the Prince Did March

Lykourgos V: Thrice the Prince Did March

The Twenty-Eighth Day of the Third Moon, 873 AD.
The Woodsroad, Southern Teleytaios, Klironomea.

It had been ten days since the army had set out from the capital, and even by his standards they were making good time. Haestinghen had passed behind them a day or two ago, the men being allowed one day to rest before continuing on with their blisteringly fast march. Even still, they would be able to catch the enemy off guard and strike them down before they could reasonably have been expected to move.

His commanders and advisors rode around him in a loose knot, as well as Dreamwulf and Eros. The two guards, despite knowing the loyalties of every single one of the gathered advisors, were unwilling to take any more chances with his life.

Still, it was moments and events like this that made Lykourgos extremely happy that he had a man as talented as Elikoidi on his side. He wouldn't say that the scarred man ran the underground particularly, but he would be very surprised if his friend didn't have his hand on the tiller of more than a few criminal groups around the kingdom. Almost every informant, spy, and saboteur in Teleytaios was on his payroll, kept in line through a mixture of promises, gold, and favours. Threats as well, of course. Subtle, but threats nonetheless. Elikoidi had come very, very far since the prince had helped him out of that hellish situation he'd been in indeed.

The man was far from here, having remained back in the capital alongside the relatively new Master of Copper, but the prince was certain his influence would be frustrating their foe even now. No-one would be able to garner any information on the Teleytaian interior without Elikoidi's say so, nor could the enemy within move unnoticed, for the eyes of his friend remained unerringly on the pulse of the Teleytaian criminal underground. Nothing happened without him hearing about it, of that Lykourgos was sure.

Nothing except things that happened to him, that was. That was the deal they'd had, after all.

He was shaken from his musings by the approaching form of his dependable and trusted cupbearer.

"Your Grace, Ser, we have word on the new commanders of Lord Blackoak's forces."

He nodded at the man, bidding him to continue. It seems my musings on the work of my friend were actually rather timely, he thought with a small measure of amusement, for just as I finish thinking of him I receive a message that will no-doubt be in his hand. His young cupbearer rose to his feet, handing over the parchment with a graceful bow.

Lykourgos read through the message, then furrowed his brows and read it again. He read it once more as quickly but carefully as he could, then looked over at Ilias in surprise whilst handing the message over to Grandmaster Romanos. This was... well, it was certainly good news. Almost too good to be true!

"He can't be serious, surely? Lord Blackoak has really given command over half of his forces to that blithering fool?"

"Indeed he has. Master Elikoidi's intelligence is rarely wrong, your Grace."

Lykourgos nodded, his mind already moving a thousand miles a minute thanks to this new information.

Marshal Crowe spoke next as the Grandmaster handed the note to Rhema.

"Who has been appointed, your Grace?"

Lykourgos answered absentmindedly, already hashing out as much of a plan as he could in the moments he had to think.

"His son and heir, a glory-hungry, self-assured prick. An excellent swordsman, of that there can be no doubt, but not a commander. This changes things; Rhema, I'm giving you command of four-thousand men and entrusting you to draw the eight-thousand men of Ser Aerna Blackoak west. Harry him, insult him, raid him, but do not meet him in battle. It's a difficult task you've got, brother, for you need to stay close enough that Aerna thinks he can trap you in a battle but far enough to get away. You do that and I'll fall on the other army, then we'll take those you've drawn west between the two of us. A hammer and anvil, so to speak."