Prince

If only the pigeon could fly like the falcon.
It took days, at least three, for a bird to arrive from the far eastern reaches of Larmania, which was frustrating when war was a possibility. For all the Prince knew, his nation could be at war at the very moment he prayed there wouldn’t be one.
Who knew if prayer really did any good, anyway?
“Sire?”
Taréz looked up from his desk, where he was studying the finance books. (No success.) Stecky stood there holding a tray with a small paper roll on it. “Yes, Stecky.”
The young Vle approached. “A message has arrived by pigeon, and your father wishes you to attend, Sire.”
“War?”
“I didn’t ask, Sire.”
“Of course not.” It would have been presumptuous for the chamberlain to do so. “Lead on.”
He arrived at the same time as his mother. That added to his already heightened sense of foreboding. The King took the little scroll, unbroke the seal, and read the message. Then, his shoulders slumped. “War, Father?”
“Yes. Four days ago, the A’peinese force attacked. It apparently went well, though— it was not surprise, and almost immediately, the force retreated into the mountains. The general heeded the Chief’s advice and didn’t pursue.”
“So our forces didn’t suffer many casualties?”
“Very few. Your guesses were right.”
“About their intentions?”
“Apparently so. I just hope our other guesses were right. But, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” The King looked at Fylen first, who came over to sit on his lap. “I’d like to send the both of you away from here. Fylen, I’d like you to go north. Back to Baldia if you like.”
“Nonsense. A Queen’s place is by the King’s side.”
“I’m not worried about where you belong, I’m worried about your safety. I cannot even imagine them doing the same to you as to me.”
“But—”
“No buts. You’re leaving one week from now. Taréz.”
Was Father going to send him away as well?! “With all due respect, Father, I’d rather not leave, either. If it’s time for our line to leave the throne, then so be it.”
“No, no, Taréz, I need you to go out to meet our forces at the border with A’peine. No one but the soldiers need know who you are, but I think it would be a very good education for you to see some action. Gardric will entrust you with that command, will he not?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Good. That will free the current commander to join the force on the peninsula. We’ll need a real expert of war there, one who is nevertheless far more expendable than you. I hope you’re not disappointed.”
Relieved, Taréz replied, “It will be far better than running from the conflict, Father. Have you spoken with Gardric about this?”
“Not yet, but I intend to. Until then, I want you to prepare, and prepare well. You may be out there for a long time, and you might not even know if the palace itself falls. You will need to be able to escape to Baldia.”
“If it’s all the same to you, Father, I would rather stay even then, incognito.”
“Of course.”
Taréz stood, raising his fist. “But we shouldn’t be so pessimistic! We will keep our enemies out, and we shall retain the throne forever!”
“By the Great Master, I sure hope so.”
“You’ve been swearing that oath a lot lately, Father...”

Just a half hour later, Taréz was packed and ready for war. He turned to wave to his parents, watching from the window above, and got into the coach. “To the camp, driver,” he commanded.
As the coach started, the driver asked, “The camp? Were my instructions wrong?”
“No, I just thought now would be a good time to visit. Gardric is busy, so I can throw my weight around a bit better.”
As beautiful as the scenery was (even in the rain!), he just couldn’t pay attention to it. Instead, he imagined (as best he could) what might be happening on the battlefield he was headed to. Was there enough of a force? Could the genius of Gardric save the nation from an attacker who had already taken large parts of the southeast?
Part of him said yes, the other said, you must be dreaming.
The coach arrived and he went directly up to the observation room. He was a little surprised by what he found: Yis and a lieutenant were arguing heatedly. “I should have you thrown in there with the rest of them!” the short dark Vle was saying. “Burn the King’s favor of you!”
Taréz cleared his throat, and almost smiled when the lieutenant turned nearly as pale as Yis. “What’s your name?”
“Uh, D- Difray, Sire.”
“Well, D-difray, I think perhaps it would be best if you came with me to the battlefield. Send a pigeon. Dismissed.”
“Yes, Sire.” The dark Vle was glad to get out of there.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, Sire. I’m not well trusted among the staff here.”
“Well, considering who their commander is, should we be surprised? So how are things?”
“Not worsening, Sire, but neither are they improving. There are still more arrivals, at a pace roughly equal to our ability to build. It used to be downright dangerous whenever we finished a new structure, but now we’ve got squatters who sit on a floor as soon as there is one so that they have a secured spot.”
“So, The King’s personal funds are doing some good?”
“Eventually, Sire, we will have it all finished and everyone will have a roof over their heads.”
“How often has it rained?”
“Oh, I’d say fifty of the days since I got here. Luckily, it doesn’t slow construction completely. We can always finish the interiors and let more Vle inside.”
“Doesn’t look like the fence has been begun.”
“No. They haven’t yet figured out how to expand it without making a hole we can escape through. Not that I would mind if that happened.”
The rueful sarcasm stabbed Taréz in the heart, and he struggled not to let it show. He knew Yis could tell anyway. “Well. Keep thinking. I imagine things are better without Gardric around?”
Yis shook his head. “No, he apparently gave his inferiors strict instructions to really be cruel. They’ve carried them out very well.”
“I may have to have a talk with them.”
“That may not work.”
“What?! Why not?” The suggestion that an order from him would be ineffective...!
“Because you won’t punish them for being so cruel, while Gardric will for not being cruel enough. Sometimes I think that’s the real source of these soldiers’ cruelty. It’s Gardric.”
Taréz listened, but didn’t quite believe that. Gardric really cared for his inferiors— as long as they were dark, of course. “I’d better try, anyway. What was the name of his second-in-command? Fass.., Fiss...”
“The name you’re trying to remember, Sire, is Fesson, and I’m sorry to say, he doesn’t exist.”
“Come again?”
“There is no one named Fesson here. Never was. It’s Gardric’s name for nobody. If I or you give an order he doesn’t like, he commands ‘Fesson’ to do it.” Taréz got angrier and angrier as Yis continued. “I found out one time when I overheard a young private relaying an order from me. He asked his superior, ‘Who’s Fesson?’ and the elder chuckled. Then, his answer was, ‘Don’t worry about it, kid. Just give me the message and I’ll make sure it gets to him.’ All the time, the man wore a bemused expression. From then on, I always gave my requests with the name of a specific Vle within the ranks. So far, it’s worked.”
“By the Great Master! That’s... mutiny! Treason, even! Disobeying a direct order!” Taréz felt as if he could punch a hole in the wall, but he put his fist through the door instead. “Let’s see ‘Fesson’ fix that!” He stepped into the hall. “Difray! Get up here on the double!”
‘On the double’ for the lieutenant turned out to be exactly two minutes, time during which Lajot only got angrier. “You called for me, Sire?”
“Yes. First, I want to review and speak to the troops as soon as they are ready. Please tell me what exact wording Gardric used regarding the treatment of our guests?”
“‘Show less respect for them than they for you,’ he said, Sire.”
Taréz only nodded in reply, biting his lip. Then he said, “Second, I want Fesson up here to fix this door.”
“Uh, I’m sorry Sire, but Fesson... isn’t here right now.”
“Indeed? Well, where is he, then?”
“He’s with Gardric, on the front line.”
“Is he, now? Funny thing. You see, the general I’m on my way to replace says that he had an Vle named Fesson... die during an attack. And he was the only Fesson enlisted.”
“Well, we’ve had a number of recruits recently...”
“And would one of those recruits already have advanced enough to have command of the building project out there?” asked Tarez, pointing out the window. “I don’t think so! My order stands. No one but Fesson is to fix that door.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Now, go about my other order.”
“Yes, Sire. Ten minutes Sire.”
“Very well. Dismissed.”
The younger Vle darted out of the room, undoubtedly scared by the Prince a second time. While waiting, Taréz continued his conversation with Yis. Then, a private came for him, and led him down to a rather large hall (Taréz decided it was probably a mess hall) where all the troops stationed there were in line. He walked along, inspecting the uniforms while all the Vle stood as stock still as they possibly could.
After he inspected the last, he circled back to stand before every one of them. “It is my understanding,” he began, “that Gardric told you to have less respect for our guests then they have for you. I order you now to reverse that order. These people are our guests. They are to be treated with twice the respect that they give you. Or more! If I hear of any more indiscretions or unusually cruel acts, then you will see your commander disciplined tenfold of whatever discipline he has given you. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sire!” the Vle barked, but it was clearer to Tarez that they were now quite confused. Their stony faces simply couldn’t hide it.
“Dismissed!”
As the troops marched out, Difray came over. “You seem to have quite a commanding presence, Sire. It will be an honor to serve on the field with you.”
“Sorry, it’s too late for flattery now, Difray. Come, we have a battle to get to.”