Knights of Aralia Book II: Evil Rising

Chapter I: The Conqueror

Lord Nikolai Alexeiovich Caritus cast a fleeting glance in the mirror to ensure that everything was in place. His gold-plated cuirass was straight, his sword at the ideal angle, and his belt buckle meticulously polished. His short-cut, nearly black hair was neatly combed and his reddish brown eyes looked ever alert. He tossed his cloak back behind one shoulder in a jaunty manner, revealing one of his pauldrons engraved with the crossed wheat stalk and pine sprig of Cairaga. In short, he looked perfect, as usual.

He inspected his chambers one last time before stepping into the corridor. All was in order. Not that things ever got out of order, as little time as he spent here. The life of a warrior king did not lend itself to lounging about idly at home. His grandfather Alexei, the founder of the modern Cairagan state, and his father Alexei II had not been that way. He had no intention of breaking their hallowed precedent.

He took the short walk down the corridor at a brisk pace. Today was the day. After years of preparation, much of it before he had even become king, he was at last free to pursue his own road in life. To make history or die trying!

Upon entering the war room, as he had dubbed the former study of his forebears, he found all his highest officers eagerly awaiting him around a long, map-laden planning table.

“Good morning, sire,” spoke the nearest, a man of about fifty with greying beard and weathered features.

“A good morning to you, General Dmitriov,” replied Caritus to his senior most cavalry officer. “And a truly fine morning for the Cairagan nation, wouldn’t you say gentlemen?”

“Oh yes, lord!”

“Without a doubt, my king!”

“Absolutely, sire!” came the replies.

These were no mere platitudes on the part of a few devout sycophants. These were the words of true believers. For this was a man who, at only sixteen, had helped his father secure the frontiers of Cairaga; who at nineteen had conquered the bickering nomadic tribes to the west known as the Plains Confederacy; and who now, at twenty-one, was ready to lead them to even greater heights. This was a man whose abilities were nearly as limitless as his ambitions, and who could not but bring them success whatever their endeavour.

“Lords of Cairgus and friends of my father,” he addressed them in Western Speech, the preferred language of the Cairagan court. “Today begins our greatest conquest yet. For decades now our people have clashed with the Draga of the High North in petty squabbles over inconsequential matters. This must and will end. For their good as well as ours, this disturbance must be brought to its final conclusion. And we shall be the ones to conclude it. We shall march into the very heart of Draakland and claim sovereignty over the whole country. Thereafter we shall have the peace on the northern frontier my father and grandsire so longed for, and the Cairaga may at last concentrate on earning their rightful place in this world as leaders of a new order.”

“And might I say, my lord, if your forebears could see you now, they would be pleased indeed at what you have become,” spoke another officer, younger than the first, but still quite weathered.

“Thank you, General Kalinovsky. That means a great deal to me.”

“Though he would no doubt be more pleased still to see a queen beside you, sire,” remarked Dmitriov.

Everyone chuckled at this remark, including Caritus himself.

“You may well be right, General,” he replied. “And I promise that should I survive the coming wars, Cairaga will have both a queen and an heir. But for now, such matters must wait.”

Just then a fair-haired officer even younger than Caritus entered the room.

“Lord Caritus, sir!” spoke the lad with an air of urgency. “Report from General Gallinus.”

“Very well, Colonel Kowansky. What does dear cousin Sergei say?” inquired Caritus with a distinctive grin. There circulated a quick round of nervous smiles and chuckles from the officers, who knew full well about the bitter enmity between the two royal cousins.

“Our western expeditionary force crossed the Ralgarian border just over a week ago, and is streaming across the plains despite all resistance. They expect to be at the gates of the capital by mid-May at latest.”

“Well, this is good news indeed. And all the more reason we must make haste in our own endeavours. Can’t allow them to take all the glory, can we gentlemen?”

“No, sire.”

“Not at all, lord.”

He nodded, then began once more in a serious tone.

“For as long as I can remember you have served beside me, and some of you far longer than that. For this I am grateful, and I promise you that your names shall be remembered for all time as the men who led the greatest army of the greatest nation in the world to eternal glory.” He gave them a Cairagan salute, grasping his left shoulder with his right hand. “To victory!”

“To victory!” they echoed, returning the salute. Then, one by one, they filed out of the room behind their king.

Shortly thereafter, Lord Caritus was riding with his entourage down the central avenue of Cairgus on his trusty black charger Zwaart, whom he had acquired and tamed in his youth. They were met with cheers from every side as they approached the grand square at the south end of the city near its main gate. Here was assembled a force of a thousand Cairagan soldiers in perfect rows, each taking up the chant of “Ca-ri-tus! Ca-ri-tus! Ca-ri-tus!” as he rode by.

Straight out the gate he rode, the soldiers following in fine marching order behind. Just beyond the gate were assembled the remaining throngs of troops, who also took up the chant as he rode through their centre at a full gallop now. Onward to the head of the ranks he sped, pausing out front and rearing his horse up on its hind legs for several seconds. On seeing this the soldiers went wild, cheering like mad for their beloved commander and king, for whom they would gladly give their lives and so much more.

For a moment he allowed them to go on, basking in the adulation of his grand army. Finally, he held up a hand to silence them, though it took a moment for the masses to settle. He then addressed them in his loudest, most commanding voice:

“Soldiers! Men of Cairaga! I have never been prouder of you than I am this day. For the new era of which our ancestors long spoke rises with this sun. With the aid of our brave new allies from the south, we shall establish an era of peace and order under the benevolent banner of this mighty country!”

The troops again went wild with cheers for their lord and supreme commander, who had promised them the world before and thus far delivered. He waited for the swell to lessen before continuing.

“Even now our brethren sweep across the Great Plains in their bold effort to bring about our reign to the outer territories of the once glorious Western Empire. And now we must do our part. We must show the ancient kingdoms of the High North that we will not be so easily brushed aside as they should like to think. The time has come to replace a once great nation with the even greater Cairagan Empire!”

Another shout of approval burst forth from his troops as he rode past them several times, then turned in the saddle to conclude.

“And now my soldiers, for your country, for your people, and for your king...Forward!”

More cheering ensued as he tightened the reins of his horse and began to ride south at a calm trot. He listened with approval as the sound of twenty thousand marching men followed. This was a spectacle like no other: a dramatic exit for those watching from the walltops behind. When they reached the nearby Cairgus River, they would swing westward, then curve around the Elba Mountains in which the capital city was nestled to begin their march toward the northern border and the lands beyond.