Besides, standing armies were expensive propositions, and they were only useful if one intended to go conquer someone else or expected someone else to attempt to conquer one’s own realm. Given Mother Church’s views on that subject, the creation of large standing armies prior to the current unpleasantness had been discouraged by the Council of Vicars.
Prior to the Sword of Schueler, Siddarmark’s standing army, with a troop strength of 1,200,000, had represented just under one percent of the Republic’s total population, which, given the size of the Republic and the sheer space its army had to defend, was a lot smaller than it might seem at first glance. On the other hand, that army had been highly professional and well equipped, especially its renowned and deadly pikemen, and it had been supported by an organized militia half again as strong, giving the Republic a theoretical troop strength of just over three million.
But then the Sword of Schueler had struck, and more than two-thirds of the Republican Army died, disintegrated, or went over to the rebels. At the moment, the army total strength stood at under four hundred thousand, supported by only nine hundred thousand militia … including militias still in the field against the Temple Loyalists in the disputed provinces and those still waging their own guerrilla resistance in places like Tarikah and Westmarch. Of that available troop strength, by far the largest single portion—roughly seventy thousand regulars and ninety-six thousand militia—were concentrated in Old Province, whose pre–Sword of Schueler population had been twenty-three million, almost twice that of New Province, the Republic’s next most heavily populated province.
Given the population numbers, and the fact that Old Province and New Province had absorbed by far the largest proportion of refugees as well, it was little wonder Stohnar had concentrated his forces to protect them.
“At the same time,” he continued aloud, “we can’t ignore the threat coming out of Dohlar and Desnair. Stohnar had to hold the north to survive the immediate threat, but Glacierheart, Shiloh, and Trokhanos are just as critical to the Republic’s ultimate survival as its northern half, and Rahnyld and Emperor Mahrys are going to be able to invade the South March no later than the early part of March. Our agents’ reports”—he didn’t mention that the best of the “agents” in question were Owl’s SNARCs—“suggest that between them, they’ll be able to commit around three hundred and sixty thousand regulars.” More than one face blanched at that number, but he continued unflinchingly. “The Army of God and its contingents from the Border States will be able to commit at least that many troops, and probably more, although they’ll be heading into Westmarch, Tarikah, New Northland, and Mountaincross, too far north to coordinate closely with Dohlar and Desnair. Then there are the Republic’s own Temple Loyalists. Our best estimate at the moment is that there are somewhere around a half million of them already under arms and in the field. And, finally, it looks as if the Harchongian contribution to the invasion is going to come to somewhere over one and a half million all by itself.”
“My God,” someone murmured, and Merlin couldn’t really blame him.
The Imperial Charisian Army’s total strength, even after transferring the bulk of the Marine divisions which had been raised for the invasion of Corisande to it, was barely four hundred and fifty thousand, and the Imperial Charisian Navy’s strength was roughly three hundred and twenty thousand, including everyone assigned to various shore stations. The remaining Imperial Charisian Marines added fifteen thousand more warm bodies, but the total of the Empire’s military strength was barely over seven hundred and eighty thousand … little more than a quarter of the forces poised to crush the Republic. Even with every single man in the Imperial Army and Marines added to Stohnar’s regulars and militiamen, they would be outnumbered by two to one, and there was no way the Empire could pull its garrisons out of Corisande or leave its own homeland completely unprotected, lest some mainland raiding force manage to somehow evade the navy.
“The good news,” Merlin continued, his eyes focused on Cayleb and Sharleyan, pretending he wasn’t actually telling the rest of the councilors things the emperor and empress already knew entirely too well, “is that Rahnyld and Mahrys detest each other. Even with the Church and the Inquisition getting behind and pushing, their field commanders are unlikely to cooperate very smoothly. And while the Harchong Army is huge, it’s also very old-fashioned, not to mention ill-disciplined and worse-officered. The Harchongian contribution will have a lot of weight behind it, but it’s going to be far clumsier than the Republican Army would’ve been, and a lot clumsier than Duke Eastshare’s troops. They’re also not going to be as well equipped as our troops, and as you and General Chermyn—I mean, Grand Duke Zebediah—demonstrated in Corisande, that’s going to make an enormous difference.”
He let that sink in, then raised his right hand, like a man releasing a wyvern.
“As I see it, based on my own observations of Duke Eastshare, Baron Green Valley, and the rest of the Army’s officers, our people ought to be able to handle two or three times their own number of anything they’re likely to meet. Our agents do report that at least half the Army of God’s infantry and the bulk of Desnair and Dohlar’s infantry will be equipped with rifles of their own, but they’ll all be muzzle-loaders, which will be at a significant disadvantage against Mahndrayns. Our people’s tactics and training are going to make the other side’s disadvantages even more pronounced, and I’d expect Lord Protector Greyghor’s troops will be at least the equal of their opponents, assuming we can get them equipped with rifles. The problem is going to be that the Group of Four’s proxies have the initiative, and we’re going to be forced to divide our available—and limited—strength to oppose threats along several different lines of approach.
“The Lord Protector’s reserves are well placed to cover the northern and eastern Republic against internal Temple Loyalists, but he doesn’t begin to have the troop strength to stop the Army of God. The state of its equipment, its training, and the fact that it’s under a truly unified command, rather than two theoretically ‘cooperating’ armies which hate each other almost as cordially as they hate heretics, make it far more dangerous than the Dohlaran and Desnairian armies. That’s why I believe we’d be best advised to send Duke Eastshare directly to Siddar City, where he can support the Lord Protector against that threat. At the same time, however, I’d strongly recommend landing as many Marines and armed seamen as we can in Trokhanos. I’d actually prefer to land them even farther west than that—possibly in Tabard Reach or even Thesmar Bay, if Thesmar’s still holding—but that might be too risky. Eralth Bay’s probably the safest place, at least for an immediate destination. From there, we’d be able to barge them up the Dragon Fish River faster than the Desnairians or Dohlarans can march overland, or we could use our sealift advantage to move them farther west if that ended up seeming like a good idea. And even if it turns out Thesmar’s fallen by the time we could get there, there are probably somewhere around thirty or forty thousand militia in Trokhanos alone. If we send in our Marines to stiffen them and give them at least a small force with new model weapons, they’ll fight hard to defend their homes and families.”
He closed his raised hand into a fist.
“For the moment, Your Majesty, my recommendation would be to concentrate on covering the Lord Protector’s southern flank, especially given the way our sea power will increase our mobility in the Gulf of Mathyas and along the coast. Let him—and Duke Eastshare—stabilize his northern flank against the more serious threat coming out of the Temple Lands. After they’ve done that, they can dispatch additional forces to our support.”
He lowered his hand, and Cayleb looked around the table. Not everyone looking back at him seemed equally reassured by Merlin’s analysis, yet while he saw more than a little anxiety, hesitation seemed to be in very short supply.
“All right,” he said. “Assuming we follow the seijin’s advice, Domynyk, how many Marines could we sent to Eralth? And how soon could we send them?”
“That’s a good question, Your Majesty.” Rock Point frowned, rubbing his upper lip, his eyes thoughtful. He stayed that way for several seconds, then shrugged. “We’ve already sent the bulk of our available Marines to other points in the Republic, Your Majesty. I believe I could probably squeeze another seventy-five hundred men—two-thirds of them will be armed seamen, not Marines, I’m afraid—out of the ships here in Tellesberg and at Helen Island.” He smiled crookedly. “After all, we’ve got the Marine contingents from those Navy of God galleons we’re going to be using as transports, don’t we? And I believe—I’ll have to check with Captain Braisyn to be certain—that we could equip all of them with Mahndrayns out of the weapons we’re crating up for shipment to Siddarmark. We won’t have much in the way of field artillery to send with them, but I imagine we could scare up a few dozen naval guns for them. Have to cobble together field carriages for them, but if we load the wheels and ironwork for the carriages aboard ship, I imagine the ships’ carpenters mates could run those up during the voyage.”
“And how soon could we send them?” Cayleb pressed.
“I could have them ready to board ship in … two days,” Rock Point replied. “But it’s nine thousand miles from Tellesberg to Eralth. That’s over a month’s voyage, even with favorable winds.”
“I see.”
It was Cayleb’s turn to frown. He turned to gaze out a window at the sun-drenched treetops for perhaps a minute, then looked back at Rock Point.
“What if we went overland to Uramyr?”
“That would cut the total travel, wouldn’t it?” Sharleyan said, then grimaced. “Or would it? I should know the Old Charis maps better than I do, but wouldn’t you lose several days in the mountains? And you’d still have to get transports there to meet you.”
Uramyr, on the coast of the Barony of Crest Hallow on the southern edge of Westrock Reach, lay on the far side of the Styvyn Mountains, the narrow but very mountainous isthmus separating Howell Bay from The Cauldron.
“The roads through the mountains are a pain in the arse,” Cayleb conceded. “But it’d cut the voyage to Eralth by more than half. And if we sent word to Admiral Shain immediately via semaphore, he could have galleons from Thol Bay there to meet us within—what, Domynyk?—a couple of five-days?”
“No, Your Majesty.” Rock Point shook his head. “It’s over four thousand miles from Thol Bay to Uramyr. You’d lose most of the time you’re trying to save. But”—he continued, raising his index finger to punctuate his own point as the emperor’s expression fell—“we’re not talking about an enormous force. We’ve got a small squadron in Brankyr Bay under Commodore Sarforth. I’ll bet there are enough galleons in the bay, if we authorize Sarforth to impress them for the Crown’s service, and Brankyr’s less than fourteen hundred miles from Uramyr and the wind would favor him. He could make the trip in only a five-day, which would get those ships there about the time you could arrive overland, I imagine. From there, it would be another three five-days or so to Eralth. Overall, you’d cut your transit time almost in half. With a little luck, you could be in Eralth by the first five-day in May.”
“No, you couldn’t, Cayleb,” Sharleyan said in a firm, no-nonsense tone. The emperor—and his councilors—looked at her, and she shook her head.
“One of us has to go to Siddar City to deal with this.” She tapped the message from Greyghor Stohnar pointedly. “You remember, that little matter of the formal treaty we need to sign? And since I’m leaving for Chisholm in three days, that leaves it up to you.”
No one around that table doubted for a moment that Sharleyan Ahrmahk was hugely relieved to be able to point out why her husband wouldn’t be leading an outnumbered force of Marines into combat any time soon. At the same time, that didn’t make her wrong.
“All right,” Cayleb conceded. “I’ll go as far as Uramyr with the Marines, and then Commodore Sarforth can put me aboard one of his galleons and send me off to Siddar City. Will that work?”
He sounded the tiniest bit snippy, but Sharleyan only nodded with the air of a woman who knew when to accept victory without rubbing it in.
“In that case,” Cayleb returned his attention to the others, “I suppose we should look at the details of how we’re going to get our reinforcements on the road to Uramyr as quickly as we can. And while we’re thinking about movements, I think we’ll also want to consider ordering Admiral Shain to move a heavy squadron to Eralth immediately. If he bases on Eralth Bay, he’ll be much closer to the Gulf of Mathyas, and I think we should take Merlin’s suggestion and commence raiding operations in the Gulf of Jahras as quickly as possible. Let’s make that bastard Mahrys go overland the whole way instead of ferrying his troops across the gulf.”
Heads nodded, and Cayleb pointed at Rock Point.
“You’re the High Admiral around here, Domynyk, so why don’t you start?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” If Rock Point was perturbed by being put on the spot, he showed no sign of it. “The first thing—and I think we should probably call in a messenger and do this right now—is to get the movement orders off to Shain and Sarforth. I think Admiral Hywyt’s at Thol Bay now, so I’d recommend his squadron for the Eralth detachment.”
Cayleb nodded and made a summoning gesture at the footman in the black and gold of the House of Ahrmahk seated beside the council chamber door. The footman rose, bowed, and vanished silently. He returned an instant later with Lieutenant Haarlahm Mahzyngail, Rock Point’s flag lieutenant.
“Yes, Your Majesty?” the fair-haired, blue-eyed Chisholmian inquired, bowing gracefully to both of his monarchs.
“High Admiral Rock Point has an errand for you,” Cayleb replied with a smile while Rock Point scribbled a pair of short, concise dispatches on his own notepad. It didn’t take long, and he spent another moment glancing over them to be sure they said what he needed them to say. Then he handed them over to Mahzyngail.
“The semaphore station, Haarlahm,” he said. “I want them dispatched within the quarter hour.”
“At once, My Lord!” Mahzyngail saluted sharply, bowed again to Cayleb and Sharleyan, and disappeared as quickly as he’d come. More quickly, in fact: he was half-trotting by the time the door closed behind him.
“Now,” Rock Point continued, “with that taken care of, the next point of business will be to get a dispatch boat off to Helen Island and then make sure my memory’s not playing me false about which ships are here in Tellesberg. After that—”
.XV.
Green Cove Trace, Gray Wall Mountains, Province of Glacierheart, Republic of Siddarmark
“Your Eminence, you shouldn’t be up here!” Byrk Raimahn glared at Zhasyn Cahnyr. “That bastard Fyrmahn has small parties creeping all over these mountains. Can you think of a single person they’d rather kill more than they would you? I only ask because I can’t, and what they may do doesn’t even count broken necks on miserable trails! With all due respect, Your Eminence, what the Shan-wei were you thinking?”
Archbishop Zhasyn only leaned on his staff, returning the younger man’s glare with mild eyes. Cahnyr was much frailer than he’d been when he set out from Siddar City, mostly because he’d refused a ration any more nourishing than they could feed anyone else, but his thin face was calm and the constant shivering of his starvation-gaunt body was scarcely noticeable under his thick coat and gloves. It was as if the power of his spirit was substituting for the flagging energy of his flesh, and Raimahn’s obvious anger glanced off the armor of his serenity without so much as a scuff mark.
“You’re not saying a single thing Father Frahnklyn and I haven’t already told him, Captain Raimahn.” Sahmantha crossed her arms and turned her own glare upon the recalcitrant prelate. She, too, had lost weight. It was readily apparent, despite her fur-lined parka, but her face wasn’t as gaunt as the archbishop’s. Partly that was because she was less than half Cahnyr’s age, but the archbishop and her husband had also managed to bully her into accepting a slightly larger ration in recognition
of the endless hours she spent hiking from one refugee tent or jury-rigged hut to another, caring for the sick and dying.
“No, you aren’t, Captain,” Cahnyr agreed. His voice remained stronger than his body, and he tilted his head to one side, considering Raimahn much as a bird might have considered a particularly tasty worm. “And since it didn’t do Sahmantha any good, and she’s known me a great many years longer than you have, young Byrk, perhaps you might save your energy and spare both of us a great deal of wear and tear.”
“Your Eminence!” Raimahn began, then threw up both hands.
“I give up,” he told the mountainside. “The man’s obviously a dangerous lunatic!”
“I assure you, I pose no threat to anyone,” Cahnyr replied with a small smile, clenching his teeth to prevent them from chattering in the sharp-edged, icy breeze.
“You mean you don’t pose a threat to anyone else,” Raimahn said grimly. “And the truth is, Your Eminence, that you do. Pose a threat to someone else, I mean.” He jabbed an index finger at the archbishop. “As long as you’re up here, I’m going to have to assign an escort to you, and you know perfectly well that if anything looks like happening to you, whoever that escort is, he’s going to jump straight between it and you. I hope you’ll still think this trip was worth it if that happens, Your Eminence!”
Cahnyr winced at the underhanded blow, and Raimahn noted his reaction with a certain satisfaction. He didn’t really think he could convince the archbishop to take himself back to a safer position, but it would seem he’d found an argument which might make the crazy old man exercise at least a trace of caution while he was up here!