Sadly Sings Destiny

16

"There’s still no word from Lotherania.” the messenger said. Heather looked over at the young girl from across her desk. It had been five years since she had fled from her home in Maranthia. For the first couple of years, she had been able to work with the Elsiderians and with her queen in Lotherania toward improving the situation between the two countries and their refugees, but she had reached a stalemate. Every time Heather had sent for word on changes in Lotherania, the Queen or one of her advisors would reply with a letter that did nothing but attempt to stave her off. Heather had not been able to make any progress on bringing her people home, and when she failed to have anything to report, it only served to annoy her Elsiderian friends and cause problems with them and their willingness to assist.

She sighed as she threw the newest letter into the fire. There was no point in wasting her time any longer. She had worked at every chance she had to be a reasonable woman, but the government had pushed her to be unreasonable. That same afternoon Heather made a speech to the people of her camp, where she asked for their support in marching on Lotherania to take back the homes they had been forced from. She took her time laying out the dangers and rewards as she understood them, and after two weeks had passed, she had her answer from the vote. Her people were willing to fight to return home. Armed with this information, Heather traveled to the other major refugee camps along the Tyne river and repeated to process. It was a time-consuming endeavor that took up over three months, but there was something Heather had remembered reading when she was a schoolgirl, something about how no person had the right to declare war or sentence soldiers to death.

When the time had passed, and the votes had been cast, and the people had voiced their support for taking control of Lotherania once more, Heather traveled down the Tyne River to where it met the Hartt River, the confluence holding the capital of Elsideria, Tyrsere. Heather had sent a letter ahead requesting a chance to meet with King Charles the Twelfth and the four Beasts and the ambassador to Sabbistahn. On the day she was to leave her camp, she was happy to receive a response that told her the King and all other requested parties were looking forward to meeting her.

Heather was met with no troubles as she traveled down the river with a small number of Elsiderian soldiers. It was a two-day journey that brought her to the riverside docks in Tyrsere. She was promptly escorted by a runner to the castle in the center of the city. When Heather reached the front door to the castle, she was beyond shocked to be greeted by King Charles himself. Despite his age, he still held a commanding, regal presence. Charles welcomed her into his palace and took her on a brief guided tour, including a quick stop at her room that he had offered for her to use during her stay. Heather was more than happy to take the rest of the day to relax from her journey down the river, and she was allowed to do so as King Charles worked at gathering the others who were needed for the meeting. It was mid-morning the next day when King Charles invited her to the selected room to meet with himself, the Boar of the South, the Serpent of the West, the Bruin of the East, the Lion of the North, and with the Sabbistahn ambassador, Ivan Petrovich.

“Thank you for meeting with me today,” Heather said as she joined them and sat at the long table under the candles burning in the chandeliers overhead, “Forgive me, I’m not used to speaking in front of people of your station, or in front of many people at all. I’m also embarrassed to say that I am here asking for help. My people have been taking up too much space in Elsideria, and on Verdempt too, for far too long. I’m tired, we’re all tired, of taking up space and standing around being useless. We are ignored by our Queen and forced from our homeland. I think it’s high time we take back our homes, but we need your support. I don’t care if it’s only in the form of equipment or even a rowboat to get me across the Tyne again. I just want to go home.” There were a few moments of silence as those gathered waited from more, but it quickly became evident that Heather had nothing else to say.

“Short and to the point. I like it, you all could learn something.” the redheaded Sabbistahni man said, “Let me send a wireless to Yastern, and I’ll tell you what our position is on it in the morning.” The Eldierians shared a glance, and the Burin was the next to speak.

“If I have the King’s blessing, I’ll be happy to fight by the side of you and your people. My men will back me and help you reclaim your land,” he said, leaning forward and looking at King Charles.

“We will wait until we hear from Grandmaster Tretyakov.” King Charles said simply as he looked over Heather, gauging her reaction to his words, “Once we know what he says, then we’ll make a real plan on how to deal with it. But for now, I’ll let the Boar handle this as it is his region that is affected.” Heather nodded and thanked the gathered dignitaries for their time before excusing herself to wait for the word from across the sea. They set themselves a follow-up appointment for the next morning, and Heather spent the day exploring the city with a servant from the castle as a guide. The next morning came, and she returned to the same room she had been in before.

“I have word from the Grandmaster.” the ambassador to Sabbistahn said, leaning back in his chair and kicking his worn boots onto the table, obviously enjoying being the center of attention, “I have word from Yastern via the wireless. Valerian does not see anything in Lotherania. Remember that bank robbery four years or so ago? Valerian isn’t pleased with the way that Verona handled it, and he isn’t pleased with much of what she’s doing in that country. He does, however, say that he doesn’t have the power to just get involved in a war that doesn’t threaten his soil. We need twelve months to put the issue to a vote, and if it passes, send our troops overseas to meet with yours. But, pending this coming vote, we will fight with you.”

Heather nodded grimly upon receiving the news. She thought she would be happy to finally have something set in motion to return her people to their homeland, something set in motion for her to go home herself. But, she remembered the speech Andretti had given that she had read when she was in school. There was something to that speech that resonated with her. As Heather spent the rest of the day working with the Elsiderian comrades to plan their next actions, she couldn’t help but feel a weight welling up in the pit of her stomach. She was the one responsible for the coming war, not Verona, not Charles, not Valerian, it was her. She decided early on that she would continue to try to work with Verona to resolve the matter diplomatically, without any bloodshed. All of the Elsiderians and the Sabbistahnian were hesitant to consider that course, as it would give Verona ample warning and confirmation that there was a coming war. It could allow her to better prepare her defenses, which would result in the conflict being drug out. In the end, they relented, they may have been supporting her, but it was still her battle.

After a week of preparations and planning done in offices in the castle in the center of Tyrsere, Heather left to return to the Oak Hollow refugee camp. She began spreading the word through all of the people she had working under her and helping her manage the matters of the camps. She was shocked and horrified at how well the news of the coming war was received among her displaced followers. The people were almost too eager to march to fight and kill for their homes. Heather was, in truth, afraid of the bloodthirstiness of the refugees, and was quick to remind them at every chance she had that she was continuing to work with Verona in the hopes of a peaceful resolution.

But, her dreams of a peaceful resolution were ended when she received her first letter from Rachedale after her meeting with King Charles. The note was handwritten in Verona’s script, and it was quick to denounce her and demand she step down from her position and even went as far as to call her a terrorist. Some of the older people that worked alongside Heather to guide the admittedly young woman were quick to remind her that the same things were said about Verona. That detail did little to encourage the young leader, and she often took to taking long walks on the river banks to clear her mind. After three months of the preparations and training on the north side of the Tyne, an attempt was made on Heather’s life as she took one of her walks. A sniper on the south shore attempted to kill her, but the inaccurate Lotheranian musket failed to find its mark. After that incident, Heather was forced to stay in the camp and wait for word from Sabbistahn.

Life in the camps continued as the months passed. Unlike the previous years, the time seemed to slip by as quickly as the waters in the river flowing by. Early on, Valerian approved the use of three hundred Sabbistahni soldiers in assisting with training the Lotheranians in military tactics and helping them get into a fighting shape in both physical build and in temperament. The Elsiderian soldiers were able to help train them, specifically in how to deal with Telmathri landscapes and mentalities to properly fight Verona’s soldiers. Eight months after the initial meetings, word came from Sabbistahn. The vote had been narrow among the qualified voters in that distant country, but it had been in Heather’s favor. Almost as soon as the word came by messenger, so did the caravans full of Sabbistahni weapons and uniforms and other supplies designed to ease both life in the refugee camps and make the coming war easier to fight.

A month after the support from Sabbistah began to come, Valerian himself arrived on his privately owned airship. When Heather had asked him what he was doing there, he had replied that he didn’t feel comfortable declaring a war that he wasn’t willing to fight himself.

“So, Grandmaster, what role exactly do you play in your military?” Heather had asked him when he came to her tent to announce his presence personally.

“I am a pilot,” he said, and Heather almost laughed when his chest puffed out perceptibly, and his hands came to his hips in what he must have thought was a heroic pose.

“So you guided naval ships into the harbor? How will that help?” Heather asked in a deadpan tone, though her question was innocent and sincere. She almost laughed at the way Valerian had deflated, it was almost like a poorly made souffle. All he could do was promise to show her what he meant when the time came to march on Lotherania. The final three months seemed to drag on as transport airships from Sabbistahn brought thousands of foot soldiers, hundreds of the armored horseless wagons that made up the armored cavalry and the legend steeped panzerkampfwaggen division commanded by dwarven engineers, and the crowning gems of the forces that were to help the refugees, a thousand canvas flying machines and three airships built for was. Heather shuddered at the reports. Twelve thousand Lotheranians would fight alongside another ten thousand Elsiderians and fifteen thousand Sabbistahnians when machines and ship crews were taken into account. The battle was yet to come, but she could already feel the blood on her hands.