Kalvan looked down at the parchment sent to him by his Chief of Intelligence, Duke Skranga. He had spent the day with Master Ermut trying to explain the concept of a lens for the new telescopes, or farseers as Ermut called them. It was too late to return to Tarr-Hostigos, so he was running over some of the day's briefings. One of Skranga's moles at Tarr-Harphax had picked up a very interesting bit of information, a communique between Great King Lysandros and Great King Niclophon of Hos-Bletha. The Hos-Blethan King was sending five thousand regulars from the Royal Army and another six thousand irregulars, mostly light cavalry and javelin throwers, under the command of Captain-General Lykron to join the invasion of Hos-Hostigos in the spring. The troops and their mounts would be ferried by Styphon's Great Fleet directly to Port Naphros in Hos-Ktemnos and from there they'd join the Great Host atTarr-Veblos.
Kalvan shook his head wearily and poured another shot of Ermut's Best into his new glass goblet, swirling the burgundy spirits around the glass before drinking it all down in one gulp. Suddenly the Styphon's House sponsored invasion force was beginning to live up to its billing as the Grand Host, as Great King Lysandros was calling it as he rallied his under lords. Captain-General Phidestros already had a sizeable Harphaxi force, five thousand cavalry and six thousand infantry, not counting the City Bands. If Great King Cleitharses sent the Sacred Square and the other Princely squares, or tercios, Kalvan could be facing another twelve to fifteen thousand Ktemnoi-next to the Hostigi the best man-for-man army in the Seven Kingdoms, or Eight counting the Sastragath under Wannax Sargos as a Great Kingdom, which it would be soon under his dynamic leadership. Kalvan could really use the sixty thousand nomads that had helped chase Grand Master Soton and his Knights back to Tarr-Ceros; unfortunately, they were all irregulars and couldn't be harnessed up and set aside for a rainy day. He had a feeling that Hos-Hostigos was going to be in the middle of a veritable manure storm come spring.
He needed a way to tie down those troops from Hos-Bletha, since there was nothing he could do short of an invasion of Hos-Ktemnos to keep the Sacred Squares out of the war. Maybe it was time to use some of the Confederate guerrilla tactics that his maternal great-grandfather, a former Virginian, used to tell him about as a lad. Winter was approaching and time was running short. Whom could he send? Skranga had the brains; once he was given the mission he'd improvise and make it work, if it could be done at all. He'd need a military advisor, but which one?
Someone with leadership qualities, like Harmakros-but he needed Har-makros at home to fight the Styphoni.
If truth be known, Kalvan himself was the perfect candidate to lead a popular uprising. With Verkan's help, they could have the Blethan countryside in such an uproar it wouldn't subside for a decade! It would be fun too. A sojourn to Hos-Bletha would give him and Rylla some needed breathing room too but, sadly, without the Gods-Sent-Kalvan to depend upon, the Army of Hos-Hostigos would shrivel up and blow away. He was growing weary of the role of the indispensable man. Kalvan poured himself another slug of brandy.
Then it hit him like a flash: Colonel Democriphon. Democriphon was an excellent officer and tactician as long as it was an independent command, but balked at orders when part of a force. Yes, he would be an ideal officer for this kind of campaign, although like Custer before him, Democriphon suffered from a bad case of over-inflated ego. If he pulled this off and took some of the military pressure off Hostigos, he would be welcome to it. It would be best to let him pick his own troops too. He was commander of the Third Royal Regiment of Horse. No riflemen. That would mark them as Hostigi right at the outset. Democriphon needed some kind of cover story.
Kalvan needed more information about Hos-Bletha, but Skranga was back in Hostigos Town, and the only Blethan Kalvan knew was the troubadour Gasphros who was the University gadfly. For being untutored- although Kalvan suspected Gasphros' childhood station had been higher than the troubadour let on-he had the intuitive gift of making interesting connections and asking the right questions. Gasphros had proven to be an asset to the University--enough so that Kalvan had put him on salary as a 'roving' recruiter. Young people flocked after him like the Pied Piper.
Gasphros had also been one of Skranga's best operatives in Harphax City until the Duke's cover had been blown. Gasphros had been a fixture at Skranga's legendary soirees and had left, like Skranga, one step ahead of the local gendarmes.
Kalvan had given Cleon permission to retire hours ago, so he went down the stairs into the kitchen where the best of the University's interdisciplinary work took place. He found Ermut in the midst of a deep discussion with Gasphros over the length of the copper condensing tubes for the new distillery that was being constructed on the outskirts of Hostigos Town. Already, the taverns and inns in town were ordering more brandy than Ermut could produce at the University's makeshift distillery. Kalvan, with a huge standing army to support, needed all the revenue he could squeeze-casks of brandy were selling for three times the price of winter wine.
Kalvan was tempted to start distilling corn mash, until he remembered the horror stories that occurred when cheap gin was distilled from grain and sold in England on the streets by the cupful-"drunk for a penny, dead drunk for two." Alcoholism had hit England's poor with the savagery of the Great Pox. Cheap distilled spirits from grain or corn would come along soon enough, with or without his help, but Kalvan didn't want to be known for bringing this plague into the Seven Kingdoms.
"Gasphros, come into my study. I have some questions about Hos-Bletha I need answered."
Gasphros emptied his tankard of ale and pushed himself away from the table with his more than ample belly. "My information is badly out of date, but I'd be glad to share it with you, Your Majesty."
"Good." Kalvan said as he led the way up the staircase.
Gasphros was puffing by the time they reached the study. "I'm out of shape. It's time to go a-wandering again."
Kalvan smiled. "That's just what I had in mind."
Gasphros intelligent eyes peered over his bearded cheeks and into Kalvan's own. Kalvan pointed to a chair, sat down behind his desk and pulled out a pouch of tobacco. Gasphros' long clay pipe was out and filled before Kalvan had time to reach for his own. They both lit up, using Kalvan's Name Day tinderbox, which was made of brass and in the shape of a cannon: a present from Rylla during better times.
Gasphros picked up the heavy tinderbox and examined it closely. "This is a remarkable piece of craftsmanship. It even has a real barrel."
Kalvan pointed to flintlock mechanism. "Reverse this and you've got a working pistol!" Kalvan reached over and reversed the flintlock to where it would flash into the touchhole of the tiny barrel.
"Amazing! Who made this?"
"Count Rogos, a friend of the family and a wonderful goldsmith. Rylla likes for me to shoot it off whenever we win a battle." He pointed to the wainscot where there were two rows of tiny lead balls sunken into the wood. "Have to be careful of the load or it'll put a hole in the wall." He uncorked the stopper on the decanter of Ermut's Best and asked, "Would you like a drink?"
"Certainly. If I didn't take one, it would be the first one I've ever turned down, Your Majesty."
Kalvan nodded and filled Gasphros' goblet. "From the latest intelligence reports from Harphax City, it appears that Styphon's House is using every bit of influence it has to get all the soldiers in the Five Kingdoms into Hos-Harphax to fight against Hostigos."
"You'll tan their hides, Your Majesty! You always have before."
Kalvan bit down on his pipe stem. "This is going to be a bigger and tougher and more experienced army than anything we've faced."
"You mean the so-called Grand Host might even live up to its name?"
"Exactly. I just learned today that a sizable army is set to arrive this spring from Hos-Bletha. Delivered to our back porch, lock, stock and barrel, by Styphon's Great Fleet. What I need to do is to pick your brain of knowledge about Hos-Bletha."
Gasphros exhaled heavily. "Whew! As I said before, most of what I know is twenty winters past."
Kalvan blew out a small cloud of smoke. "Understood."
"Your Majesty, I've spent most of my life traveling all over this land, and I've learned that Hos-Bletha is completely unlike any of the other Five Kingdoms. Bletha was originally settled by colonists from Hos-Ktemnos around three hundred winters ago. Even today most of the Blethan nobility have links to the noble houses of Hos-Ktemnos. Bletha is also different in that there are large numbers of Ruthani living in the swamplands, which extend for many hundreds of marches almost to lands' end. We call it the Magaouisse Swamp. Only the Ruthani and a few outcast swampmen live in those lands of disease and mud.
"Even Bletha City is not a true city like Harphax City or Agrys City, but a town the size of Hostigos Town with nearly the same population. Because the lands are sparsely populated, the lords are accustomed to having their own way. The Great King of Bletha is a title little honored outside of the Princedom of Bletha. Several of the major dukes believe they should be Great King and have claims going back a century or more. These are a source of great friction and occasional rebellions. This independence also extends to the freemen themselves, many of whom consider themselves the equal of any noble."
Gasphros looked at Kalvan closely to see how he took to this notion. When he didn't react negatively to the idea, he continued. "This notion of independence among the commoners has long frustrated the Blethan nobility."
"It's an affliction that is common in the Cold Lands, as well."
Gasphros looked at Kalvan shrewdly. "Some day you will have to tell me more about your days in the Lands of the Gods."
Not in this lifetime, Kalvan thought to himself. Gasphros was too smart for his own good, and Kalvan wasn't about to let that particular bobcat out of the basket. He'd already told too many stories of his arrival here-and-now and it was an effort to remember to whom he'd told what. Last year the Council of Dralm spent several moons trying to decipher the rumors and facts of Kalvan's arrival; the last thing they needed to hear was the truth, which was far more fantastic than the rumors.
"From what I hear, the present Great King Niclophon is a puppet of Styphon's House and Hos-Ktemnos and has been importing mercenaries to enforce his rule. There have been two rebellions that I've heard about in the last ten winters."
"Do you still have friends in Hos-Bletha?"
Gasphros snorted. "None that I've heard from in fifteen winters. I get my information from merchants and peddlers."
"So no one would recognize you if you were to return?"
"Not anymore." This time there was a note of sadness in his voice. "Why, Your Majesty?"
"I want you to help head up an operation to neutralize the Hos-Blethan Army."
"Me?"
"Yes, you're the only man in Hostigos who knows anything about Hos-Bletha or Blethan politics. Of course, you'll have plenty of help. I want to bring about an insurrection within Hos-Bletha that will cause Great King Niclophon to recall his troops from the Holy Host."
"Is that all?"
"For now, yes."