The Balance (First Draft | Discontinued)

Chapter 19 (Ari): Part Two

The nobles filed in, all in smart and kempt military uniforms decorated with rows of gleaming medals. Ari knew that they had never been near a battlefield in their lives, using their rank to spend their time in conscription well behind the front lines. His mother refused to let him see the front, and active service— even in a tent closer to the frozen north than actual combat— was out of the question. Of his mother's many, many decisions regarding his life, that was one of the few he would not fight. Even thinking of causing someone's death directly, or being around the dead and dying, was too much for him.

As the nobles took their seats, Ari noticed the way they glanced between him and his mother, taking in his position in her chair and how she sat beside him. What they could not see, and what he could, was how his mother's hands were balled into fists in her lap. He tried instead to watch his father out of the corner of his eye, but his father's gaze was focused elsewhere... on his mother, who was regarding the man with, as Ari saw it, a barely-veiled warning. His father gave the slightest dip of his head in return.

Like Ari had expected, his mother spoke first.

"Fältmarskalk Svennssen, I heard that your men recently took Javoršovka." She smiled at the older man. "In fact, I received the message this morning."

Ari hadn't known that there was a campaign near Javoršovka, a town not far from one of Moravsko's major port cities, but Svennssen nodded and said, "It seems that the local priest burned both the church and himself before the townsfolk surrendered, but beyond that, most buildings are intact."

His mother glanced over at him, likely to gauge his reaction, but he was determined to give her nothing. Even if he had to calm himself using his father's techniques, he wouldn't prove his mother right about his capability to stomach the war reports— if his father could cope at this age, then so could he.

"...best that way," Preses Perssen was saying, frail hand moving absently to the three interlocked triangles on a chain of gold around his neck. Of everyone at the table, he was the only one to wear robes, although his were the same dark blue as the military uniforms. "The priest would only serve to wind the town into a frenzy."

"And now he's a martyr," Ari's father interjected, voice cool. "The man who would rather die than surrender himself to heretics." Addressing Svennssen, he added, "I hope, Fältmarskalk, that your soldiers are prepared for the retaliation they will undoubtedly face."

"They are. Already they have separated the men from the women and children, and told both groups that the loss of one soldier's life will end in five of theirs shot."

Ari searched for any emotion on his father's face at that information, any flicker behind his eyes or tightening of his jaw. There was nothing, but the question was whether his father was simply all too good at hiding it, or if he truly did not care about the plight of the people in the country he had once called home. Regardless of which side of the war he was on, Ari hoped that it was the former.

Svennssen's left hand splayed out over the table. "In slightly less pleasant news, Akkarlund has been raided by..."

"A Voják Rovnováhy," his father supplied. "Kazimir Kozár, judging by the soldiers' descriptions."

"Yes. And after this... Kozár... left, his soldiers took some of the townsfolk with them. As usual, those who were young and relatively healthy."

It seemed as if he were about to say more, but a look from Ari's mother kept him silent. Ari bit back his frustration— why was she worried about him not being able to manage if she intended to censor the entire meeting anyway?