\hypertarget{chapter-7-snares}{%
\section{Chapter 7: Snares}\label{chapter-7-snares}}

\begin{quote}
\emph{``Petty thieves hang, the great wear crowns.''}

-- Proceran saying
\end{quote}

``We're being baited,'' Juniper announced.

We'd cut loose the general staff for this particular meeting, at my
insistence. The Arcadian Campaign had taught me that while the broader
officer councils had their uses they also devoured time and focus that
would be better spent on other matters. The Hellhound was my Marshal of
Callow now, she had the clout to run those however she liked without my
being at the table to back her up. There were advantages to formal rank
and not leading an awkward coalition I had only nominal authority over.
Only the bare bones of a council were in attendance, the people that
would have direct relevance, and that meant three aside from me: Juniper
herself, Thief and Grandmaster Talbot. I preferred to cut that latter
out of these little evenings when it came to politics, but on campaign
was a different beast. I could not have the head of my horse ignorant of
the larger realities at work.

``That's the theory, anyway,'' Thief hedged. ``There's a few unprovable
assumptions at work.''

``May I assume we are speaking of the Proceran vanguard?'' Brandon
Talbot asked.

``We are,'' I confirmed. ``The report you haven't gotten to read yet
states that, as of midmorning, five thousand Proceran horse has invested
Harrow.''

The Grandmaster's eyes narrowed. We'd given ground to the crusaders
knowing they would take or pass through the city on their way south, but
Talbot was a clever sort. He'd noticed, as the rest of us had, what the
reports \emph{didn't} mention. Which was anything but a detachment of
horse sent far ahead of the still-lumbering Proceran army.

``The Jacks could not get into the city itself, mind you,'' Vivienne
said. ``But I had knots of people out in the country and they say the
riders came alone. The crusader army is at least two days behind.''

Talbot smiled ruefully.

``Five thousand light horse,'' he said. ``We have number parity with the
Order, and the strength of the Woe and the Hunt besides. Should we play
it carefully, we could wipe out a significant part of their cavalry
before it comes to a pitched battle.''

``We're being baited,'' Juniper repeated.

``Too good to be true, isn't?'' I agreed darkly. ``I think we need to
reassess how much of a threat Princess Malanza actually is. I didn't
expect that kind of sophistication from a Proceran commander, given the
nature of the trap.''

The Principate was famous for rarely fielding Named, unlike Praes and
Callow who usually had at least a handful on each side when the blades
came out. And while it was an assumption, like Thief had reminded us, I
was willing to put hand to flame that if we gated into Harrow we'd be
walking straight into a carefully arranged heroic kill zone.

``Assuming this is her notion,'' Talbot frowned.

``It's not Milenan,'' I said. ``We know exactly what \emph{he's} up to,
as it happens.''

The Grandmaster raised an inquisitive eyebrow, though he knew better
than to request information he might not be cleared to know. I cast a
look at Vivienne and nodded.

``Prince Amadis Milenan had a previously unknown agent within Hedges,''
she said. ``We know that now, because this morning the woman attempted
to discretely get in touch with Baron Darlington.''

Talbot grit his teeth.

``He always did fancy himself ruler of the north,'' the aristocrat
unkindly said.

``We allowed it to happen,'' Thief said. ``While watching, of course,
but we wanted to know exactly what he was after.''

``Land,'' I bluntly said. ``Land is what he's after, as it turns out.
Prince Milenan is already gathering support for the divvying up of
Callow, and he seems to believe Darlington is the key to the north.''

``The man's making a lot of promises, for someone without a field
victory to his name,'' Juniper growled.

Brandon Talbot, for all that his meddling got on my nerves, was not
slow-witted. He understood what we were driving at without need for an
explicit statement.

``Darlington's been promised the north as his own principality under the
First Prince,'' he deduced, visibly appalled.

``Mostly right,'' Vivienne said. ``There's a prior change of throne
involved in that promise coming true. Amadis is a little more openly
ambitious than we'd previously assumed.''

And he was gathering allies for his bid. I'd let Talbot into the loop
for the Darlington play, but for now there was no need to tell him that
Prince Milenan was also sending men towards the Silver Lake as quickly
as they could ride. The Observatory had picked them out two days ago,
and I agreed with Thief's assessment of their ultimate destination:
Daoine. The crusaders were trying to get Duchess Kegan on their side
before moving south. I could see why he'd assume there was room to
negotiate there: the last time Callow had come under Proceran
occupation, the Duchy of Daoine had remained out of the fray in exchange
for concessions and effective independence. They'd even fielded armies
alongside Procer's, when the Empire began the Sixty Years War by trying
to invade occupied Callow. Both Praes and the Old Kingdom had come out
of that ruinous war on the brink of collapse, but Daoine had gotten off
light. It always did. House Ismail had a well-earned reputation for
knowing when to strike its banners and cut its losses. Unfortunately for
Milenan, I'd cut a deal there long before he'd thought of opening
negotiations.

``Regardless of all that, I think we can safely discard the possibility
that the crusaders don't know about the fairy gates and the Hunt,'' I
said. ``The trap doesn't work otherwise.''

Without cutting through Arcadia, it would take my men weeks to get close
enough to Harrow for a battle. Long after the rest of the crusader army
caught up to the vanguard.

``And that puts a lot of their behaviour up until now in question,''
Juniper grunted. ``I'm having a hard time reconciling a general clever
enough for this kind of snare and one who'd willingly take her army
through a bottleneck -- especially one she knows we might have been able
to seize the end of.''

To be frank, trying to hold a narrow pass against a company of heroes
would have been godsdamned ugly work. But I had the Named and the trump
cards to be able to make a solid try at it, and if we did manage to hold
then the entire invasion plan collapsed. Which meant, most likely, that
we'd missed something.

``If this trap is not Malanza's own notion,'' Talbot tried. ``Then your
estimation of her competence might be\ldots{}''

``Believe me,'' I interrupted quietly. ``I'd love to have an idiot in
charge on the other side. But that's genuinely not feasible, not with
Hasenbach running the show in Procer. She doesn't want this army to do
\emph{too} well, but she's still banking on a victory. That means
whoever holds the reins of the soldiers knows what they're doing.''

``Without alleging incompetence, the information they're using might be
imperfect,'' Thief said. ``There's not a lot of reliable witnesses
outside our most loyal for how quickly we can move through gates. She
might have been under the impression that even by Arcadia you wouldn't
be able to arrive in time to hold the pass.''

``If we're lucky, that's the case,'' Juniper said.

``If we're not -- and let's be honest, when have we been that lucky? --
I think we have to proceed under the assumption that they're sitting on
something that would have blown us away at the pass,'' I said.

``Proceran sorcery is nothing like the Wasteland's,'' Talbot said.

``Sorcery is the least of our troubles,'' I said. ``This is a
\emph{crusade}. The Choirs aren't shy about stacking the deck even when
it's just skirmishes between Named. For something of this magnitude
they'll have taken out the good silver.''

That saw grim looks bloom across the table, with good reason. No one had
forgotten the kind of threat the Lone Swordsman had been able to cause
in Liesse with just a few days and a singe angelic feather. \emph{And
Masego tells me Contrition isn't exactly head of the pack when it comes
to the Choirs}, I thought\emph{. If Judgement or Mercy gets involved,
this will be a whole lot nastier}.

``It goes without saying we have to reassess a lot of our engagement
doctrine,'' Juniper announced bluntly. ``Which is why I think we need to
dust off Headsman.''

``It's not going to look good abroad if we pull the trigger on that,'' I
grimaced.

``I made it clear when we killed the plan that I considered it a
measured and reasonable response,'' Talbot noted. ``The Dread Empire has
signed no treaties barring the targeting of officers, and while the
Principate \emph{has} they've never enforced the terms unless it suited
them.''

``If we want a seat at the table by the end of this, people, we can't
act like Praes,'' I reminded them. ``There's a reason we didn't spend
the last year scrabbling for every destructive artefact and ritual we
could get our hands on. We start using shit like the Dark Days protocols
and the only peace we're getting is after one side has been pounded into
dust.''

``No one's dumping alchemy into rivers,'' the Hellhound said. ``We're
talking two hundred dead at most, including projected collaterals.''

``We made those projections before we knew how many heroes there'd be on
the other side,'' I pointed out. ``I'm not refusing out of hand,
Juniper, but if we start using assassination campaigns then we get a
reputation that might cost us more in the long term than we gain in the
short term.''

``If you have another way to shake them before battle, I'm listening,''
she said. ``Look, I don't give a damn about the politics of this. I'll
own that. But I think the hole we fall in if we lose is a lot deeper
than the one we dig with Headsman.''

She wasn't wrong about that, even if I didn't like it. Hasenbach would
have absolutely no interest in negotiating the kind of peace I was after
if she had me on the ropes.

``Talk with Kegan,'' I finally said. ``She was never eager, and it's not
a given she'll still be willing. There's risks involved for her people.
If she agrees, though, start laying the groundwork. But we're not going
through with it until I give the word.''

``Chances of success improve significantly if we don't wait,'' Thief
said, tone mild. ``Especially given the amount of heroes they've got
floating around.''

``It also kills every other option than pitched battle to get the
crusaders out of Callow,'' I flatly replied. ``I'm not committing to
that unless I have no other choice.''

``As you say,'' Vivienne shrugged. ``That still leaves our little
problem in Harrow.''

``I realize we're dealing with a trap,'' Talbot said. ``That said, Your
Majesty, if we don't thin their horse soon we're going to have
trouble.''

I raised an eyebrow at Juniper in silent invitation.

``He's right,'' she admitted. ``If Malanza moves against us with the
meat of her host and peels off a few thousand horsemen just before, the
only assets we have to check them are assets we're going to need in that
battle.''

``What kind of damage are we looking at?'' I grimaced.

``If Darlington flips, or even just stays out of the way, they've got
free rein until Southpool,'' the Hellhound said. ``If they move quick
enough, they could possibly hit central Callow before Adjutant manages
to force a battle. Our forces just aren't deployed to block raiding
parties coming from up north. Even if I pull the garrison from Vale
tonight, there's no guarantee it'll get there in time.''

``We have watchers on Darlington,'' I told her. ``He's not changing
sides anytime soon.''

``I understand we are worrying about the devastation the riders could
cause in the countryside,'' Talbot said slowly. ``Yet it occurs to me
there is another possible target for a detachment. The Red Flower
Vales.''

I almost dismissed him out of hand. A few thousand horse wasn't going to
worry Black in the slightest, considering the kind of forces he had at
hand. On the other hand, what if they \emph{didn't} fight Black?

``The supply lines,'' I said.

``It would be risky,'' the Grandmaster said. ``Hostile territory, and
they'll be within our scrying net -- though they might not know about
that yet, at least not for certain. But the Carrion Lord is already
heavily outnumbered, Your Majesty. Can he afford to detach the men to
keep his supply lines clear?''

``He's been stacking food, munitions and steel for almost a year now,''
I said, but it was half-hearted.

``We lose the Vales, our entire defence collapses,'' Juniper said. ``We
have contingencies in case they lose, Catherine, but none of them
involved fighting up here at the same time. None of us saw the passage
coming.''

Shit. I hadn't thought of that. Which was exactly the point of these
councils, I supposed.

``Juniper, I know this is a lot to ask but I need\ldots{}''

``You need me to get close enough that if this is Malanza's intent she
will send off the horse, then avoid battle until you've dealt with the
threat,'' the orc said.

``Is it possible?'' I asked.

``You did not appoint me Marshal of Callow because I look good in
furs,'' the Hellhound grinned, slow and savage. ``You will have the
margin you need.''

I'd made a few good decisions, over the years, but none that'd paid off
quite as much as offering her that draw back at the War College. I
smiled gratefully at her, not that she seemed particularly moved by that
gratitude.

``There is one last matter to address,'' Vivienne said.

I nodded.

``Prince Milenan attempted to arrange a meeting with Baron Darlington
through his envoy,'' I said. ``That means I'll be away from the army for
a while.''

``I don't follow,'' Talbot frowned.

``He wants to talk to a Callowan?'' I smiled thinly. ``Well, he's going
to get his wish. It's about time we had a closer look at the
opposition.''

---

It took three weeks for the meeting to become feasible. Three weeks
where we watched the crusader host slowly move south, camp at Harrow for
a few days and then resuming the march when it become clear my own army
wouldn't march to meet it. They were still at least a month of march
away from Hedges, at their current pace, but we wouldn't be letting them
get that deep into Callow unchallenged. The border between the baronies
was the battlefield Juniper had picked, and I'd seen no reason to
gainsay her on that. We had scouts out on the green to find us the kind
of field that would best play up our advantages, but for now the
location was still in the air. It'd been tempting to grab and
interrogate Prince Milenan's envoy, for a plethora of reasons. The
strongest among them that if Milenan hadn't known about the pass -- and
we were reasonably sure he hadn't -- then he'd sent that envoy months
ago and trusted her judgement enough she would have been able to
negotiate in his name without being in contact afterwards.
Plenipotentiary authority was not something Procerans gave lightly, and
she would have been a treasure trove of information. But that would have
been giving the game too early, so instead Baron Henry Darlington was
given strict instructions and arranged the meeting where and when I
wanted it.

He wasn't going himself, of course. The envoy had not requested as much,
understanding that with my army camped outside his city his absence
would not go unnoticed. Instead he'd sent his nephew, an anointed knight
who stood fourth in the line of succession for Hedges and was young
enough to be unmarried. The other diplomats were people Thief had gauged
we had enough leverage over they wouldn't speak up, including a small
escort. Of which I was part, riding a still-living horse for the first
time in quite a while. The possibility of heroic presence had meant it
was necessary for me to take some additional precautions, but those
wouldn't come out of the woodworks unless blades left the scabbard.
Hopefully it wouldn't come to that. We were fewer than twenty all in
all, and dawn found us out in the wet plains waiting for the other side
to arrive. The nephew -- Julian Darlington -- had insisted we get a fire
started for cooking before the Procerans came and I'd declined to speak
against it.

I sat on a hollow log I'd dragged by the fire, surrounded by men too
visibly scared of me to attempt conversation. I didn't particularly
mind, since I was in not in a talkative mood myself. Milenan's envoys
arrived half a bell later, riding in on tall steeds. I raised an eyebrow
at the Darlington nephew and he hurried to raise the truce banner as we
all got to our feet. The anointed knight stood behind a pair of guards
but positioned himself clearly as the leader for our side while the
Procerans approached. I watched them as discretely as I could. The one
in the gilded armour seemed in charge, and from the looks of his nose I
could guess why. The Jacks had gotten their hands on a few sketches of
Amadis Milenan's likeness, and the resemblance was noticeable. A
kinsman, then. The Prince of Iserre was taking this seriously. Most the
others were soldiers, with only one woman bearing a scrivener's kit over
her back. Only one man wore entirely unadorned clothes, a loose grey
robe that seemed almost a priest's garment. I kept my face schooled into
mild boredom.

If that wasn't the Grey Pilgrim, I'd eat my hand.

Julian Darlington greeted them warily, and was answered by the man who
confirmed himself to be highborn -- and a Milenan, too. Likely a cousin
or a close branch family. Elaborate courtesies were offered by the
Proceran side while the Callowans offered stilted greetings in return.
It wasn't long before they got to the meat of the meeting, as I
suspected neither of them were comfortable speaking in the open like
this. The Proceran envoy and Darlington strode off away from the rest,
standing side by side and speaking in low voices. No matter. I could
hear them well enough from where I was, back sitting on the log as the
soldiers all stood down.

``-the duty of all children of the Heavens to deliver their fellows from
the tyranny of the Tower's get, of course. Still, there are practical
necessities to be addressed.''

``May I?''

The Grey Pilgrim stood before me, hand gesturing at the log.

``By all means,'' I replied.

Did he know? It shouldn't be the case. I was wearing leathers and mail
with a Callowan-forged longsword, nothing out of the ordinary for a
retainer. And without drawing on Winter or him actively looking for it,
he shouldn't be able to tell I bore a mantle. Assuming he didn't have
some sort of trick that allowed him to see through those things, anyway.
Something I was less certain of by the moment. The old man gingerly sat
at my side, warming his hands by the fire. It was my first time seeing a
Levantine, and I had to admit they really did look like the cousins of
Taghreb. This one was darker in skin, though, his face tanned and
leathery. But the limpid blue eyes were sharp, and for someone as old as
he allegedly was he displayed surprising vitality. The few tufts of
white hair on his head made a makeshift crown, but his face was either
hairless or very closely shaved.

``Nothing quite like a fire on a cool morning, is there?'' he sighed.

``One of the little pleasures in life,'' I agreed.

Or it had been, before Second Liesse. Nowadays neither heat nor cold
made much of a difference.

``The truce banner,'' the Grey Pilgrim said mildly. ``Is it genuine?''

My fingers clenched. So much for being unnoticed. \emph{And he's
distracting me from overhearing what his people are saying to mine}. I'd
have to let that go, irritating as it was. This was the more important
conversion of the two.

``It holds,'' I said.

``There have been rumours you care little for such arrangements,'' he
noted.

I grimaced. Three Hills, when I'd had the Exiled Prince shot.

``I was younger, then,'' I said. ``And no banner was raised.''

He hummed, and did not disagree.

``Then your friends in Arcadia will not be joining us?'' he politely
asked.

Well, shit. So much for that remaining quiet.

``No unless that is made necessary,'' I replied.

``It won't,'' the Grey Pilgrim said, with bedrock certainty. ``Shall we
have a talk then, Catherine Foundling?''

My eyes narrowed.

``We're about due,'' I agreed.
