Princeps’ Fury

“Earlier in Alera’s history,” Gaius continued, gesturing at the walls of books, “our Legions fought practically every year against a veritable host of enemies-enemies who are no more.” He shook his head. “For several centuries, Alera has been the entire continent. We have held the Marat at the Calderon Valley, the Canim at the shore. Our Legions have fought comparatively rarely and only in certain places.”

Aria lifted her chin. “You’re saying that they aren’t up to the task.”

“I’m saying that most of our legionares have never lifted a blade in anger,” Gaius replied. “Particularly in the southern cities, which are those now threatened by the Vord. The only Legions who had any recent experience at combat were Kalarus’s forces and the Senatorial Guard-both of which were destroyed. The Crown Legion and the First Ceresian are the only other two veteran Legions in the area. The rest are… frankly, to all purposes, well trained but untested.”

“The First Placidan should probably be considered very nearly a veteran Legion as well, sire,” Aria said, her spine stiff. “My lord husband recruits heavily from veterans of the Antillan Legions, and you know that our officers all rotate through terms of service on the Shieldwall.”

“Quite,” the First Lord agreed. “Antillus and Phrygia represent the only two cities to maintain anything like true traditional Aleran Legions. Every legionare there has seen action. Every man of those cities has served his term in the Legions, seen real combat, so that even their militias are arguably better prepared for actual battle than the first-rank Legions of Attica, Forcia, Parcia, and Ceres-and, frankly Your Grace, your own Second and Third.”

Isana lifted a hand. “Gaius, please. I am not a Tribune or a legionare. What does this have to do with me?”

“If I am to defend Alera, I need the Legions of the Shieldwall,” Gaius said, gazing steadily at Isana. “Legions, militia, every Knight, every sword and spear of the north.”

“Antillus Raucus will never leave his people to the Icemen,” Lady Placida said. “Neither will Phrygius Guntus. And both of them have seen heavier fighting than ever, the past two years.”

Isana met the First Lord’s gaze and abruptly understood. “But if the war with the Icemen can be ended, those Legions will be freed to fight.”

Lady Placida’s coppery brows rose nearly to her hairline. “Ended? Peace talks with the Icemen have never been successful.”

“Neither have they ever had a moderator,” Gaius said. “A neutral third party with respect among the Icemen, willing to mediate a negotiation.”

Isana drew in a sharp breath. “Doroga.” She glanced at Aria, and said, “The foremost chieftain of the Marat. A friend.”

Gaius inclined his head. “I’ve been in regular correspondence with him ever since his daughter took up residence here. The Marat learned to write in less than six months. He’s surprisingly astute, really. He is already on the way to the site of the meeting.”

“And you’re sending me?” Isana said. “Why?”

“Because I need to be here,” Gaius replied. “Because by sending you, the most highly positioned woman of the House of Gaius, I am making a statement of trust. Because Doroga trusts you, and he most definitely does not trust me.”

“You did say he was astute,” Isana said wryly.

Lady Placida’s eyes widened slightly, and she glanced at Isana, but Gaius only lifted one corner of his mouth in a small smile and took a sip of his spicewine. “Aria,” he said, “I want someone with her who can protect her and Doroga in the event that things go awry-but who doesn’t appear to be overtly threatening.”

“Sire,” Lady Placida protested, “if the Vord take Ceres, Placida is next. My place is at home, protecting my people.”

The First Lord nodded calmly. “It’s up to you, of course, Aria, to decide if your people will be better protected by yourself or by Antillus Raucus, all of his Citizenry, and sixty thousand Antillan veterans.” He took another sip of wine. “To say nothing of the Phrygians.”

Lady Placida frowned and folded her hands in her lap, staring down at them.

“Isana,” Gaius said quietly. “Alera needs those Legions. I am issuing you full authority to make a binding treaty with the Icemen.”

Isana drew in a sharp breath. “Great furies.”

Gaius waved a hand in a deprecating gesture. “You’ll get used to it. It isn’t as enormous as it seems.”

Isana felt a small, hard smile stretch her lips. “And if Octavian’s mother arrives unlooked for from the north with a critical force at her back, loyal to the Crown, in an hour of dire need, it just might steal quite a bit of the glory Lord Aquitaine is going to gain for himself in the field-winning support for Octavian by proxy, even if the Princeps himself can’t be here.”

“I confess,” Gaius murmured, “that had occurred to me in passing.”

Isana shook her head. “I can’t stand these games.”

“I know,” Gaius said.

“But you ask me to save lives by helping to end a war that has gone on for centuries. I can’t refuse, either.”

“I know that, too.”