SAXEFALIA,THEcountry to the east of Hesse-Davia’s borders, was the great Satan that had dared to cross and claim a large peninsula which had been a subject of dispute for many generations between the two nations. As I had discovered from King Gregor in the sweat lodge, this country was the very one that had taken Aleksey as a boy and held him hostage for two years. I had expected him to be bitterer toward it, but he was not. He remembered his time there extremely fondly as, according to him, he had been treated as a favored prince and pretty much allowed to do exactly as he wished. Just as his life here, then, I pointed out. But he wasn’t in the mood for my sarcasm. He had a war to plan. He was clearly very disappointed by my lack of enthusiasm, and constantly appeared in my rooms to show me plans and maps and consult me, in a flattering way I suppose, about strategy. I told him that the only preparation I had ever made for war was to slap paint on. He liked this idea and went off to propose it to Colonel Johan.
I tried to impress on him the horror of war, the mutilated bodies, the emotional scars that never healed, but he was having none of this. And I had to admit, there was some justification to his argument that life was bloody and bitter and short for most men anyway, and that at least if they were at war, they died for some reason and with honor. Also, more importantly, as he pointed out, they died with a pension that went to their families.
I had frowned at this when he first mentioned it, not understanding the concept, and he had immediately tried to change the subject. We were poring over maps spread upon the table in his rooms—or he was. I was watching him and pretending to be interested in the calculation of rates of march versus likely weather constraints. But I did switch into his chatter when he mentioned this pension, just as he stumbled to silence and tried to change the subject to quantities of wine which might be carried.
When pressed, though, he admitted, “It was my first act when I became general. I had seen terrible things in battle that ruined a man’s body, but it seemed to me that a man’s soul was ruined when he was left behind—unable to fight. It’s such a contradiction. I wonder why clever men have not studied it. Anyway, I increased each man’s pay by one-third but kept that extra money back—and trust me, Niko, that was not easy to sell to the men. I think they thought I was actually keeping it all for myself. But it is there for them—when they are injured or too old to fight.”
I frowned. “But is that not motivation for you to see them killed outright in battle—not be treated so they might recover?”
He stared at me as if I’d performed a lewd act over his maps and replied haughtily, “If they die, the pension is paid to their families fortheirrelief.”
“Oh.” It was now explained why Aleksey’s army always appeared so well manned. I assumed it had its pick of the young men of Hesse-Davia desperate to join.
This conversation led me to stop my criticism of his war and take a more active interest in it. For, of course, it made me stop mypersonalwar with Aleksey. I don’t think he had actually realized that wewereat war, so that had rather ruined my fun anyway. But how could I hate a man who could think of something like that? Whenever I tried to return to my anger and jealousy, he would do something that proved he had hidden depths, which, for some reason, he kept well hidden under the guise of an idle, spoiled prince.
For the first few days after the declaration of war, I fully intended to keep to my resolution and leave. But two things happened that prevented me. Firstly, they closed the borders; that was the more practical reason. Had I forced the king’s hand, he would have let me go. After all, the closure was more to keep people out than in, but then the second thing occurred, and leaving became less attractive.
I was on my way to the stables to ready Xavier for a possible secret flight during the night, but before I could cross the courtyard, a messenger accosted me, informing me the king had summoned me. Assuming this to be official confirmation of my sequestration in Hesse-Davia for the duration of the war, I debated making a dash for freedom there and then, but something held me back. Pride? Possibly—I didn’t want an unseemly tussle with the servant. But it was more than that. I felt a sense of helplessness, as if I were merely one of the ships trapped in the harbor and my fate now was entirely beyond my control.
Whatever the reason, I followed the man meekly enough to the king’s council room.
I recognized many of the faces present, the courtiers who habitually surrounded the king like flies on carrion.
More to the point, I recognized one particular face. A pale one with freckles. Fifteen, to be precise.
I knelt and awaited my sentence.
The king bid me rise. He was smiling. Aleksey was grinning like a fool, but I ignored him.
“Doctor, as you are aware, we are at war. We are eternally grateful for your services over these last few months. What say you, sir, to now putting your skills to work with our men at arms?”
My brows rose for a second before I swiftly composed my features. The loon was grinning even wider, but I was not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing that anything he did caught my notice or interest.
The king, clearly not used to refusal, took my confusion and silence as consent to his plan and thrust a rolled parchment at me. When I didn’t examine it, he waved imperiously at one of his minions. “Surgeon General. Commission and rank accordingly. See the colonel has all he needs.”
I was outside the council room, parchment in hand, before his words made sense. I felt a nudge to my elbow, knew who it was, so began to pace away down the long gallery.
I was followed.
“Well, is this not excellent,ColonelHartmann?”
I made no reply, but the parchment got a little scrunched in my fist.
“I shall have to teach you to… salute.”
He could try.
“I shall have to teach you to salute…me.”
I gritted my teeth and swerved toward a staircase descending who knew where.
I heard an amused snort, and he was at my side again with the grace of a dancing partner executing a complicated step.
“You will look so fine in your uniform. I can’t wait to admire you.”
Uniform? This was something I’d not considered. “Will it be the same color as yours?”
If there was another amused snort, I ignored it.
