The general’s stone expression cracked. “He was. But what sort of man are you, and how exactly do you think you can help here? You’re not a military man. You weren’t raised in our lands. You weren’t even trained for your role as king.”
Dimitrios looked forward to the day when these men stopped questioning his ability to use his own mind. “You’ve fortified all our key border strongholds? Mountain passes and river crossings?”
Here, the general hesitated. “All but one. We lost contact with a unit in the north some time ago.”
Dimitrios had vague recollections of the conversation between Nektarios and Leonidas, and something about this tickled at the memory—something about an abandoned outpost, and an entire unit of men who vanished.
“They never turned back up?”
Pateras shook his head. “What do you know about it?”
Dimitrios briefly recounted what he recalled about that conversation, but it had been weeks since, and he was still trying to put the pieces together. Hard to do without all the context. “Should we be worried?”
“They’re likely deserters. I’ve combed through Tassatos’s orders—there’s nothing there to suggest he had anything to do with them, even if it was via Leonidas’s command.”
“The orders could be unofficial.”
“True.” The general rolled his shoulders. “And if they were, how should I respond? I don’t know where these men are, nor do I have the resources to waste on chasing them down.”
Dimitrios exhaled, then nodded. “You’re right. We have to focus on what we know.”
If only that removed his concern. What were those men’s orders, and who will be affected? There was potential blowback, and he wanted to be ready for it.
At the same time, Soterra was on his doorstep, and heknewwhere to find them. This enemy, at least, stood in the light.
He even had a plan. “I’d like to build up the supply caches in border strongholds to sustain our men in case of a prolonged siege. Including theone up north. Until we know otherwise, those men are to be considered deserters.”
Pateras’s chin lifted. “I already have a unit headed that way. What else?”
“Form several cavalry units to hit Soterra’s supply caravans.”
Pateras froze. “You want to attackSoterrancaravans?”
“I want us to stop pretending like he’s the bigger threat. Orestis might have weakened our Navy, but our ground forces are still intact and more than capable of reminding Titos Demakis who he’s been playing with.
“Keep the attacks small and fast. Bleed them slowly until they’re dry.”
A corner of the general’s mouth twitched up. “Let’s break out the tactical maps.”
Dimitrios exchanged ideas with Pateras for several hours, the two standing over naval charts and geographical maps. Pateras used carved wooden pieces to represent different military units, and colored markers to indicate factions, allies, or enemy forces.
It was immediately clear that Dimitrios made the right choice in coming here. The general thought of several things on the spot to bolster and enhance the few ideas Dimitrios already had.
There would be trap and ambush sites set up wherever there was a natural chokehold on the mountain passes. Pateras named several people he trusted for the task of rooting out any further traitors under Titos’s control, and later, if necessary, they would infiltrate the Soterran court itself. Harbor defenses would need to be reinforced, and local alliances would be formed with the surrounding territories.
And that was only the start.
When he was finally exhausted of words, Dimitrios dropped into the nearest chair and let his muscles relax. He’d done it. He’d stepped up, and it was both frightening and exhilarating at the same time.
Pateras smiled. “I’m impressed. Dare I say, your father would be, too.”
“Maybe now you have an idea of the sort of man I am and who I can be if given the chance.”
“I think so, yes.”
Dimitrios rose. “I’ll leave you to it, then. And thank you for seeing me. I know you’re a busy man.”
The general grunted in response.
