Displaced

Chapter 55

Hundreds of thousands of soldiers hustled about the savanna like tiny insects, carrying out their various functions for their queen, or emperor in this case. Emperor Haidar Batra paid them no mind. He didn't need to supervise such low-level subjects; he had people to do that for him, and people to supervise those people, and so forth. They might as well be insects, given how little he pondered their lives on a day-to-day basis. He had bigger things to think about, especially right now.

Surrounded by opulence, Emperor Haidar sat on his portable throne in full view of both his subjects and the Eterians far up atop the wall in the distance. Haidar knew that in many ways image was everything. He wanted his people to see him ruling confidently where the action was; legends were written about courageous commanders on the front lines, not about delegators who sent out others and stayed thousands of leagues away from danger. He also wanted his enemies to fall into despair, looking out from their pathetic hiding hole and watching as he moved about in comfort and freedom, just out of their reach. Not that they would be able to touch him even if they could get to him; Taras, his powerful bodyguard who almost never left his side, would easily be able to protect him.

Every day his army grew larger as reinforcements made their way from Ubrus, down the pass from Redwater Castle, and through the newly-conquered lands of Gustil before arriving here at Crirada. Even with the arrival of Kutrad's forces eleven days ago, Haidar's numerical advantage was overwhelming and only getting more lopsided. So why did he feel so sour?

"Summon my generals," he instructed a nearby page. "Tell them it's time for another war council."

The man bowed and ran off. Haidar took a sip of wine as he waited for his underlings to arrive. The first two to arrive were naturally the two closest generals, though they took longer than he would have liked. Rutgar Moiras was in charge of the western camp, where Haidar currently resided. Along with him came General Gala Inagorri, the woman who ran the Imperial Army's more clandestine operations. Haidar's other three subordinates, Peru Barcos, Luki Arrino, and Auriola Maldi, would take longer to arrive, as they were each in the eastern, southern, and northern camps, respectively. The two generals knelt down before him, waiting for permission to stand and look his way. He didn't give it.

"You're late," Haidar stated with a frown.

The two generals shared a glance. Rutgar coughed, before speaking. "Our apologies, Your Eminence. Word did not reach us immediately, as we were both visiting the Champion."

Haidar's frown deepened. "Any change?"

The man shook his head. "No. If her Batranala had not told me that she still lived, I would have taken her for a corpse."

"Yes, not even the greatest healer in the Empire has been able to help her. It seems that we are on our own from this point onward. Speaking of which, General Inagorri, I read your report earlier this morning. Do you stand by its findings? I find it hard to believe that, after everything that couldn't stop her, she would be felled by a child with an ordinary knife."

"As did I," the woman replied. "I double checked their findings myself. There was no poison the blade, nor in her wounds, and the blade itself was actually cheap and poorly made. The boy claimed to not know who he was attacking and even maintained the claim for a while under duress. In my judgment, were this a planned operation, it would require an unheard-of level of organization, resources, and capability that would have been better utilized killing somebody such as yourself."

As Haidar stroked his beard, pondering General Inagorri's answer, his other generals arrived. They kneeled beside the first two. Haidar sat there without speaking for a few moments, letting them sweat a bit and making his displeasure felt.