I’m coming back to writing after a two-week break, so I’m going to share something I wrote before I left. It’s a choice block you can get when you meet some visiting yeoman conscripts from the imperial army, including the personal equerry of Lady Agarie de Irde, and have a chance to ask them questions about military life.
To keep it a little more readable in forum format, I’m putting the overall choice and its options in bold italics, to distinguish them from more deeply indented choice blocks.
Chatting with Quaelle Charbonnier and friends
You’d have expected the visiting Phalangites to be a dampening force on their families’ resentments. Instead, to your surprise, they grumble more freely and daringly than most. Quaelle Charbonnier, in particular, is nearly as ready as Alastor Korren to scorn the Telone’s demands. The equerry seems to take a liking to you, and you seize the opportunity to find out more from her and her comrades about one thing:
choice
#What it’s like to be a Phalangite—especially one drawn from the commons, not the nobility.
“Are you thinking of taking the omphalos?” Quaelle @{(sralibi = 4) asks with genuine-seeming enthusiasm. “We can always use folk who know something of combat—now more than ever.”|inquires with amusement when you ask.}
You just laugh. “No one I ever knew in my village walked that road by choice, kuria. Only the nobles, from what I heard. And begging your grace, but I always thought the aristoi were the only ones who got anything out of it.”
“There’s more to the army than being an officer, ${ird_name}…” Quaelle begins.
“But you’re as good as an officer, Charbo!” one of the others calls, caustic-voiced. “When you’re sent east, it’s as lady Agarie’s right hand. If the rest of us are ever sent there, it’ll be as a human hushing-flow.”
“As…what, kurios?” you call, while Quaelle strides over to cuff the man cheerfully on the head.
“No mines near your village, eh, ${girl}? If you don’t have an alchemist to make you powder, you have to use water to strip away the rock and get the ore. Great bursts of water.” The grizzled Phalangite’s smile is belied by the strain in his eyes. “That’s how they use us commoners, out east. Throw enough of us at the enemy to wear them down by our volume alone. Enough of us to absorb the worst the magi can throw at us and still overrun their positions.”
“Not since the trucebreaking, they haven’t!” Quaelle objects, as you try to imagine how many Phalangites would die from those tactics. “You’re still talking as if it was twenty, thirty years ago, before you or I ever saw combat. The generals made mistakes then, foolish ones. The mutinies taught them their lesson. They won’t try the same again.”
“Won’t they? Then why aren’t they training all of us like they trained you and the lady?” The other soldier folds his arms stubbornly. “A lance like yours, Charbo, made up of mostly nobles…even during the truce years, you were drilled constantly to fight and survive. But my whole hecaton has just about enough training to bless the Angels, hail Kleitos, face eastward, and run.” Lips twisting, he gestures at his fellow conscripts. “Reckon the Strategoi only give us this plough-holiday because they hope half of us will desert and get Harrowed. We’re worth more to them as blood than we are as meat.”
“Too far, you go too far,” Quaelle laughs. “Run off to ${lname}'s rebels if you truly believe that!” As they continue arguing, you think:
*choice
#There’s an opportunity here for my rebellion to win over the common-born Phalangites.
It’s no surprise that many feel ill-used, if they think their end is to be broadcast onto a battlefield and ground up by Halassurq magi. Could you convince them to mutiny against their noble officers and Theurges, instead?
*set phalangoal 3
*goto yeonation
#I’d rather try to inspire the whole Hegemonic army, both nobles and commoners, to mutiny.
Quaelle’s mention of mutinies before the truce caused your ears to prick up. The resumption of the endless war against Halassur will surely have brought many Phalangites close to the point of breaking. If you could turn them against the Thaumatarchy instead…whether or not they acknowledged your leadership, losing its army would be the Hegemony’s deathblow.
*set phalangoal 4
*goto yeonation
#I doubt that could ever work, but I’m not opposed to the idea.
However ill-used these yeoman Phalangites may feel, you find it hard to imagine them choosing to turn against their noble officers and Theurges. But you’ll keep one cautious eye open; if you ever did see an opportunity to win them to your rebellion, it would be the Hegemony’s deathblow.
*set phalangoal 2
*goto yeonation
#No—they’ll be too blinkered by their indoctrination. I need to build a new army, loyal to me and the rebellion.
Like the grizzled soldier said, even the under-trained yeoman units are still taught to bless the Angels and hail the Thaumatarch. The Phalangites’ minds and hierarchies have been too deeply shaped by the Hegemony to reliably serve a new order. You’ll need to build your own army, not rely on the flawed old one.
*set phalangoal 5
*goto yeonation
#The Phalangites @{(wonfight > 5) tried to slaughter us|slaughtered us} in the Whendward. They’re the enemy and must be destroyed.
In their home village on plough-leave, they may act pleasant enough. But they’d still kill you without compunction if they knew who you were—especially once they’re back in their black helms. You’re not going to forget that, even if it’s not worth the risk to attack these few here in Irduin.
*set phalangoal 1
*goto yeonation
#The state of the war in Halassur.
You soon realize that while the other Phalangites are garrisoned here in the Southriding, Quaelle and her lady Agarie spend almost all of their time on the Halassur-${errets} border out east. They’ve just returned from advising a Myriarch there, and only paused briefly in Vaulens to join the local conscripts on their way back for Barningday.
“So how many troops does your lady command, then, out on the Halassur front?” you ask the equerry when she’s walking down the lane one afternoon.
“Generally, none. If enough other officers died, her rank is equal in honor to a tagmatarch, and she could be required to take up command at that level. But Angels, she’d be dreadful at it.” Quaelle gives a throaty laugh. “She’s an ordnance officer. Thanks to growing up around the Stannary, when she first went to war, she was one of the only young officers unafraid of miners’ powder. She’s been packing it into shells to hurl at the Halassurqs for longer than either of us has been alive.”
Most of the war stories you’ve heard, whether of horrors or triumphs, focus on Theurgy: whole armies set ablaze in vitriolic fire or swallowed up by the earth. You’ve not heard many tales involving the use of the sort of alchemy non-Theurges can master. “Is that much done, goodwoman?”
“When milady first took up her post, folk called it a death sentence. A mage can sniff out powder from a mile away. Carrying it close enough to be used in battle is madly risky.” Quaelle leans forward, baring her teeth in a grin. “But some forty years ago, the Polemarchs decided it was a risk worth taking. Flood tactics, they called it: send in more of everything than the magi of Halassur could stop. Far more soldiers, far more ships…and far more explosives.”
*fake_choice
#I wait for a moment, and when it’s clear she’s done, ask: “But not far more Theurges?”
One corner of Quaelle’s mouth curves wryly upward. “Those are harder to come by, and far costlier to lose. They would fly in last of all, when the enemy magi were overwhelmed by wave on wave of attackers. If the ordnance officers had managed to bring up shells, the Theurges would propel them in from a distance then, before closing with any surviving magi themselves.”
#“And officers like your lady were ready to risk themselves that way?”
“For the chance at victory in the long war, and avenging themselves on the Halassurqs?” Quaelle smiles wryly. “Some, at least, were willing. And their courage moved others. My father all but worshiped lady Agarie and stayed by her side no matter how much mage-fire was falling.”
#“Did Halassur not try to flood us similarly?”
“Impossible.” Quaelle shakes her head smugly. “Halassur doesn’t know Ward-making. The Wardgates are all under our control, not theirs. So we’re the only ones able to move weapons and blood through the Ward—and you need huge amounts of both to make the tactic work.”
You try to imagine it, @{((ruthreal >= 45) and (ruthreal < 60)) uneasily|} @{(ruthreal >= 45) fascinated|feeling queasy with horror}. “So in their flood, the generals sacrificed…hundreds? Thousands?”
“Tens of thousands.” The equerry is silent for a moment. “But they were pushing back the Halassurqs, at a rate unmatched for centuries! The war was being won.”
“And yet…it wasn’t?”
Quaelle shakes her head. “Betrayal and mutiny. The generals were sweeping up the scum of the cities and sending them into battle. Too many of them started turning on their officers when the time came for the charge. Lady Agarie and my father couldn’t fight the magi and the mutineers at the same time.”
“But after the truce ended? Are we pushing back Halassur again now?” With the @{(ruthreal < 50) horrific|} flood tactics?
“I fear the moment was missed. The nearest Wardgates to the front are in Grezzagio and Moncesano on the Errets coasts, hundreds of miles from the actual front line. Any shells or other weapons need to be brought through the Wards there, or even further west, and be borne to the war by ship or Theurge.” Her eyes narrow bitterly. “Halassur didn’t waste the truce. Their coastal forts with mage-wrought ballistae, their flying patrols, their navy—all are far better at costing us ships than they were before the truce. We haven’t been able to build up enough weaponry on their side of the Ward yet to mount a truly mass attack.”
*fake_choice
#“So to be an ordnance officer now is even more a death sentence?”
Quaelle laughs. “No. Our side didn’t wholly waste the truce, either. Karagon’s alchemists found simple ways for soldiers to mix three or four inert substances to make an explosive. These days, the stuff we carry to the battlefield is far less visible to magi than miner’s powder, and we only blend it an hour before our Theurges arrive for launching. If we can just get a boatload of ingredients safely ashore, we’re less likely than ever to be caught on land.”
#“So how do you use the powder now, if not in a ‘flood’ attack?”
“A lochos—that is to say, a lance, a band of ten—can often slip ashore with a small boat, a Theurge, and perhaps thirty shells.” Quaelle shrugs. “That may not be enough to overwhelm their magi. But it’s enough to do plenty of damage from a safe distance to farms or villages in the war zone. And clearing those out is the first step to pushing out the Ward.”
#“Are you still conscripting Phalangites in the same numbers as forty years ago?”
Quaelle nods, looking a little @{((ruthreal >= 45) and (ruthreal < 60)) uneasy herself now.|uneasy.} “We’re still sending press gangs to sweep up the dregs of the cities, as well as landless yeomen in the countryside. I suppose they reckon it’s better to have them under arms than stirring up Xaos in the streets? During the long truce, fewer and fewer units were ever sent east, and more were packed into garrison cities back here, like Currechert outside Grand Shayard. Good for problems like the Rim Commotion, I suppose, if things get so out of hand that you need an extra fifteen thousand troops. Or if the Abhumans ever decide to invade.”
Her stories make me feel:
*fake_choice
*if aristo
#A little jealous of the glory they’re able to win on the battlefront.
#Relieved that Halassur is still being held at bay.
#Furious. The war is chewing up ${aristo nobles,|} yeomen and the free folk of the cities as callously as Harrowing consumes helots.
#Sick. The tactics she’s talking about are monstrous.
*goto yeonation
#The de Irde family and their secrets.
*set ird_sus +2
Quaelle won’t say a word against her mistress or against lady Alasais. But you overhear her speaking in high dudgeon about “those snakes in Grand Shayard who were family to milady!” After a few more cups of canewine, you follow her out of the Chesnery and ask what she meant by that.
“You’ve got a nose for all the gossip, haven’t you, ${girl}?” Quaelle says, warily and a bit unsteadily. “But you’d hear this soon or late from someone, so you’d best have it first from a trusty witness. I’m talking about the de Wrase. Westriding House from near Kellsbier. Their son Tyndar is father to lady Alasais’s children.”
You nod, trying to hide the keenness of your interest. “A divorce? And it went badly?”
“Everything about the man went badly.” Quaelle shakes her head and spits. “Else there wouldn’t have been a divorce. I’m the one who found him in…a compromising position…with one of the other yeoman equerries at a ball in Mesniel. When I was about your age, thirteen years back. Kurios Tyndar tried to buy my silence, then tried threatening me; and when I brought my testimony anyway and the marriage was being undone, he threw around all sorts of ugly allegations about House de Irde. But none of them found a purchase.”
“His family still bears enmity against you—and against lady Alasais?”
“His family, and his powerful friends.” Quaelle’s lip curls. “The Traditionalist faction in Grand Shayard. They help him press his grudge against the de Irde.”
*set tyndar 2
*fake_choice
#I think about the robes Alasais and her family wear. “Aren’t the de Irde traditionalists themselves?”
“In their dress and language, yes. That’s what first attracted the late lord de Irde to kurios Tyndar.” Quaelle sighs. “But lady Alasais has never paid much heed to the cabals of Shayard City. Her heart is here, and she rarely extends her thoughts or influence farther than the aristarch in Mesniel.”
“And your lady Agarie?”
"She cares only for crushing Halassur. But when we’re coming and going from the far east…every three years, we spend more time in Grand Shayard than lady Alasais has in her lifetime. So we hear more of what’s afoot with these
#“I’ve never seen a more successful ‘traditional’ relationship between noble and commons than here.”
“The kindly noble presiding over a peaceful community, with everyone in the village paying her respect and deference, and looking to her to protect them from the excesses of the Hegemony’s officials…I’d not thought it existed, until I came here.” You gesture back at the Chesnery. “Does that mean nothing to these so-called traditionalists in Grand Shayard?”
“They don’t know of it, nor care. You think they’d ever come out to a backwater like Irduin, to see what the old traditions of Shayard truly look like? They’d rather sit in their great plantations or city mansions, surrounded by helots and merchants and Karagonds, and pretend they’re the true guardians of our folkways.” Quaelle’s sneer only deepens. "Stupid
#“Shouldn’t they have more important issues to prosecute?”
@{(rescuer > 0) Like arming the Rim Commotion? |}“How does it serve tradition for them to spend their time chasing petty grudges?”
“Aye—spending all your time on infighting and backbiting between Houses is supposed to be Erretsin tradition, not Shayardene!” Quaelle smirks. "But you can’t tell them that in Grand Shayard. Seems like they spend all their time in some intrigue or another. Stupid
#“For a commoner who made an enemy of a noble faction, you seem to have done well for yourself.”
The equerry lifts her chin proudly. “My father was a martyr and hero who saved a dozen aristoi and Karagonds. Lady Agarie doesn’t hesitate to remind the Myriarchs of that, if anyone questions my place at her side. Anyway, when it became clear that we were going to spend our lives on the eastern frontlines, the Traditionalists decided to leave their revenge in the Halassurqs’ hands.”
“Still. Since the Halassurqs have failed so far…whenever you’re passing through Shayard City, couldn’t the nobles…?” You draw a finger across your throat.
Quaelle gives a coarse laugh. "I’d love for them to try. Weak-bellied
Laconnier bastards."
@{((rescuer > 0) or (ystor > 4)) The name sends a chill through you. “Surely they don’t style themselves that?”|“Laco-what?” You’ve heard the name before, but don’t want her to know that.}
“It’s what folk call them who wish the Kryptasts would make them all vanish,” Quaelle @{((rescuer > 0) or (ystor > 4)) concedes wryly.|explains wryly. “Even in the Rim you know the story, surely—how the last scion of the old monarchy disappeared into the Forests of Laconne, and ever since there’s been a ‘Laconnier conspiracy’ of nobles preserving the bloodline in secret? It’s nonsense, but it makes for a good slur.”}
“What do these ‘Laconniers’ want, then?” You’re sure your Keriatou @{aristo cousins|ex-masters} are part of the faction as well, but you want to hear what Quaelle thinks.
“They say they want to see the Shayardene way of life preserved; that following Karagond law shouldn’t require us to ape Karagond culture and forget our own. Sounds reasonable enough, no?” The equerry grimaces. “I say they’re a pack of petty tyrants who like to make up rules, just so folk have to obey them. Making an example of anyone who shames them fits well with that.”
*fake_choice
#I’m sympathetic to their official purpose. Perhaps if I ever meet these Traditionalists, I can steer them back toward it.
#I don’t want to be bound by old Shayardene traditions, any more than Karagond ones.
#@{aristo I prefer lady Alasais’s way. Nobles should focus on local needs, not intrigues in the Archon’s court|What a noble cabal thinks doesn’t make much difference to me either way}.
*goto yeonation
*label yeonation