Author's note: this chapter is a bit heavier on the plot and action, but rest assured there's plenty of debauchery towards the end.
The ashen stench of Thandor's latest crime washed over Caderyn and the army's vanguard. Hardened soldiers retched while others fought off angry tears. Some prayed to the saints to protect the souls of the fallen, while a few southern knights dared to pray to hungry northern gods, beseeching them to devour the souls of those responsible for the carnage. Most of the men, however, marched right on past the scene of slaughter, which was but one more drop of blood in the great deluge unleashed by Thandor.
The ruined town still simmered. The blackened, skeletal frame of a small shrine collapsed, smothering the ashen corpses that had burned within. Smoke drifted from sizzling bodies piled high in the market square. Due to the state of the corpses and the extent of the smoke, it was hard to guess the identities of the dead. The fact that nothing moved within the butchered town hinted that not even the young had been spared.
Pelagia and a few of Baron Florian's men emerged from a stone structure which had survived mostly unscathed. Leaning on the redheaded knight's shoulder was a young woman with soot on her face and ash in her wild blonde hair. Blood stained her threadbare, ashen dress.
Bloodshot eyes wide with shock, the woman looked too broken and traumatized to weep. Nonetheless she made it to the edge of the ravaged town with Pelagia's help. Ketrik rushed over to check her wounds.
After commanding Baron Florian to oversee the march, Caderyn dismounted. His nose wrinkled at the horrific stench of burned corpses. Caderyn himself had been responsible for much bloodshed, to include the sacrifice of prisoners to fuel Ketrik's ritual. But that dark rite had served the greater purpose of cursing Thandor's army so Caderyn's men could save the keep of Stonecurrent. What purpose did this fiery carnage serve?
He reached Ketrik's side as he wrapped bandages over the deep burns on the woman's hand.
"I am terribly sorry for what you have endured," Caderyn said softly, crouching down before the shivering woman. "What happened here?"
"A reward for our charity," she rasped, her voice so low he could barely hear it over the thudding of boots upon the road. "After the big battle at the river, some of the survivors sought shelter in our town. Some of them had that strange flux that wouldn't go away. Most could barely walk. They jabbered and chattered like madmen."
Caderyn's skin crawled, for the unleashing of that curse had been his decision. Did he regret it? No. Doing so had saved thousands of lives and won him a great victory. Would he ever be able to live with the burden? That remained to be seen.
"When the rest of the army came through, requisitioning supplies and men, they wanted to take the sick survivors with them. Baron Gaspard said Duke Thandor needed every soldier he could, and that the sick would recover quickly. We offered to keep the men in our care until they were ready to fight. Gaspard held firm."
She looked over her shoulder.
"I don't know what happened then. Someone started yelling. Somebody threw something. Perhaps an apple. Perhaps a rock. I saw a man draw his sword. Then it was blood and fire. They took all the food and wine and anyone who could fight. Burned the rest."
Scouting parties had reported a few similar scenes left behind in the retreating army's wake. Rather than grant valuable farmland and food to their enemies, Thandor's troops were scorching the earth behind them. The horrific scourge would deny Caderyn's troops valuable supplies and make future battles and sieges more difficult. Caderyn's army would have to rely on longer supply lines back to Fellhaven, which would be vulnerable to raiders.
"Unleashing all this chaos has to be slowing them down," Pelagia growled, her face as grim as it had been when she'd confronted him over the curse he'd unleashed. "We should catch them soon."
"Agreed," Caderyn said, before turning his attention to the wounded young woman. "Ketrik here will leave you with some supplies. You are welcome, of course, to make your way to Stonecurrent for safety until the fighting is over. Your people have nothing to fear from my men."
He'd given strict orders which forbade raiding or harassing the civilian population. Melisent, after all, would one day rule over Jadewall, and he could not afford to arouse the ire of the villagers and townsfolk. Moreover, he would likely need their assistance against Thandor. He'd dispatched several prisoners as emissaries, particularly to the shrine of Saint Acwald, hoping to turn the holy orders to his side so they could inspire a peasant uprising. The faster the people turned on their duke, the faster he could end this without greater bloodshed.
While Ketrik looked after the woman, Pelagia fell in at Caderyn's side as they returned to their horses. In silence they mounted up and rejoined the vanguard.
"Do you understand why I asked Ketrik to undertake that ritual?" he asked, not taking his eyes from the road. "This is what we are up against. A duke who threatened to kill his own daughter. A duke who engineered my father's murder. A duke who burns his own people alive. I thus require every advantage against such a man."
"And would you have done what he did?" she asked, turning her dark eyes back towards the smoldering village. "Would you have burned your own people alive during a frantic retreat?"
"The supplies and farms? As a last resort, yes. The people? No."
And yet the question gnawed at him, just as the crows had gnawed upon the corpses back at the great battlefield. If the war had been that desperate, if he'd lost the battle at Stonecurrent and had been forced to retreat, would he have inflicted such harshness on his own people?
No. Of course not. He was ambitious, yes, but monstrous? No. He'd kill soldiers, even unarmed ones, but he'd never harm his own subjects in such a fashion.
Solveig's mantra rippled through the air around him.
"One path of many..."
Other choices could have led him down that dark path. To his horror, he realized perhaps he could have given such an order had the circumstances been dire enough. He gritted his teeth and spurred his horse on ahead, eager to reach the vanguard and leave the stench of death far behind him.
**
The army's route took them past a few other ransacked towns and villages. Even those that had complied with Thandor's demands for supplies and conscripts had been stripped bare. Rather than waste time occupying the destitute settlements, Caderyn had instead sent emissaries with proclamations of Melisent's claim and his intent to dethrone Thandor, promising safety for all those who did not interfere with his army's advance.
Deep down he still hoped some of the locals might even rise up to support his invasion and Melisent's birthright. To that end, Caderyn led a small force that broke away from his army and made for the monastery of Saint Acwald.
Nearly a year before, he'd stopped there early on during his pilgrimage. The visit felt like an event from another lifetime, an echo of a half-forgotten dream, or a fragment of a story someone else had told him. So much had happened since his last visit that he did not even recognize the sacred farmland and the sprawling stone compound nestled amidst the holy pastures.
All the wheat had been ripped from the sacred fields. It remained to be seen whether that was the work of desperate monks hoarding food, or Jadewall's greedy soldiers. Thankfully the monastery itself was still intact, with no signs of violence.
To avoid frightening the monks, Caderyn rode forth only with Gwion and a dozen knights, holding up a flag of truce. Wide-eyed monks peered at him over the top of the compound's low stone walls.
"Sir Caderyn?" a voice called. "Or...
Duke
Caderyn now, I suppose."
Caderyn did not recognize the voice but nonetheless nodded.
"Aye. I am here to speak to Father..." Caderyn frowned, taking a few moments to sift through his memories for the correct name. "Medwin. Father Medwin."
The wrinkled, shriveled old priest popped his head up over the top of the low wall, his brow furrowing at the sight of Caderyn's large escort.
"We have no supplies to give, my lord."
"I am not here for supplies. I am here for...guidance."
Medwin vanished from view. Over the stone wall, Caderyn could make out a few murmurs as the priests debated amongst themselves on what to do. The older priest gave a brusque shout, silencing the dissent. As he waited, Caderyn stared at the wooden gate. During his first visit he had marveled at the intricate etchings of plants and fish upon the wood, each of which had been rendered with lifelike detail. Now he could only stare numbly, the stunning artwork now as meaningless as the dull, gray sky.
The gate creaked open and Father Medwin limped out, flanked by three other blue-robed priests. With the gate now open, Caderyn could see that the interior of the courtyard was bereft of the wheat bales he'd expected to see. It seemed Medwin and his flock had not in fact conducted an early harvest to hoard the food for themselves.
Caderyn dismounted and approached the priest.
"Duke Caderyn," Medwin said with a shallow bow, not quite stooping as low as Caderyn's own vassals would.
Due to the fact that Medwin was a holy man, Caderyn took no offense. He had far greater things to care about than decorum.
"Last week I dispatched messengers: loyal followers of Saint Acwald who had been taken captive during my battle with Jehan's army. Did any of them reach you?"
Medwin's eyes widened. One of the priests behind him let out a low growl.
"I told you it was no ruse, Father Medwin," the younger priest hissed.
"Ruse?" Caderyn asked, brow furrowing.
The wrinkled priest grasped his holy amulet and murmured a prayer.
"Yes, we received your emissaries, led by a man named Saebert. He claimed to speak for you, stating you would rescind the confiscations of our holy grain if we voiced our support for your invasion. We..." He closed his eyes and gripped the amulet again. "We thought it was a trick. A ploy by Duke Thandor to test our loyalty."
Caderyn bit back a curse, but he did understand why Medwin had interpreted it that way. As an infamous and ambitious schemer, Thandor certainly could have enacted such a ploy to test the loyalty of his subjects. Perhaps Caderyn should have chosen his emissaries more carefully.
