The Way of Kings

“That’s never been the point. We hold them in, besiege them, starve them out, and force them to come to us. Wasn’t that your plan?”

“Yes, but I never imagined it would take this long. I’ve been thinking that it might be time to change tactics.”

“Why? This one works. Hardly a week goes by without a couple of clashes with the Parshendi. Though, might I point out that you have hardly been a model of inspiration in battle lately.” He nodded to Dalinar’s name on the smaller sheet.

There were a good number of scratches next to his name, noting gemhearts won. But very few of them were fresh.

“There are some who say the Blackthorn has lost his sting,” Roion said. He was careful not to insult Dalinar outright, but he went further than he once would have. News of Dalinar’s actions while trapped in the barrack had spread.

Dalinar forced himself to be calm. “Roion, we cannot continue to treat this war as a game.”

“All wars are games. The greatest kind, with the pieces lost real lives, the prizes captured making for real wealth! This is the life for which men exist. To fight, to kill, to win.” He was quoting the Sunmaker, the last Alethi king to unite the highprinces. Gavilar had once revered his name.

“Perhaps,” Dalinar said. “Yet what is the point? We fight to get Shardblades, then use those Shardblades to fight to get more Shardblades. It’s a circle, round and round we go, chasing our tails so we can be better at chasing our tails.”

“We fight to prepare ourselves to reclaim heaven and take back what is ours.”

“Men can train without going to war, and men can fight without it being meaningless. It wasn’t always this way. There were times when our wars meant something.”

Roion raised an eyebrow. “You’re almost making me believe the rumors, Dalinar. They say you’ve lost your taste for combat, that you no longer have the will to fight.” He eyed Dalinar again. “Some are saying that it is time to abdicate in favor of your son.”

“The rumors are wrong,” Dalinar snapped.

“That is–”

“They are wrong,” Dalinar said firmly, “if they claim that I no longer care.” He rested his fingers on the surface of the map again, running them across the smooth parchment. “I care, Roion. I care deeply. About this people. About my nephew. About the future of this war. And that is why I suggest we pursue an aggressive course from now on.”

“Well, that is good to hear, I suppose.”

Unite them…

“I want you to try a joint plateau assault with me,” Dalinar said.

“What?”

“I want the two of us to try coordinating our efforts and attack at the same time, working together.”

“Why would we want to do that?”

“We could increase our chances of winning gemhearts.”

“If more troops increased my chances of winning,” Roion said, “then I’d just bring more of my own. The plateaus are too small for fielding large armies, and mobility is more important than sheer numbers.”

It was a valid point; on the Plains, more didn’t necessarily mean better. Close confines and a requisite forced march to the battlefield changed warfare significantly. The exact number of troops used depended on the size of the plateau and the highprince’s personal martial philosophy.

“Working together wouldn’t just be about fielding more troops,” Dalinar said. “Each highprince’s army has different strengths. I’m known for my heavy infantry; you have the best archers. Sadeas’s bridges are the fastest. Working together, we could try new tactics. We expend too much effort getting to the plateau in haste. If we weren’t so rushed, competing against one another, maybe we could surround the plateau. We could try letting the Parshendi arrive first, then assault them on our terms, not theirs.”

Roion hesitated. Dalinar had spent days deliberating with his generals about the possibility of a joint assault. It seemed that there would be distinct advantages, but they wouldn’t know for certain until someone tried it with him.

He actually seemed to be considering. “Who would get the gemheart?”

“We split the wealth equally,” Dalinar said.

“And if we capture a Shardblade?”

“The man who won it would get it, obviously.”

“And that’s most likely to be you,” Roion said, frowning. “As you and your son already have Shards.”

It was the great problem of Shardblades and Shardplate – winning either was highly unlikely unless you already had Shards yourself. In fact, having only one or the other often wasn’t enough. Sadeas had faced Parshendi Shardbearers on the field, and had always been forced to retreat, lest he be slain himself.

“I’m certain we could arrange something more equitable,” Dalinar finally said. If he won Shards, he’d been hoping to be able to give them to Renarin.

“I’m sure,” Roion said skeptically.

Dalinar drew in a breath. He needed to be bolder. “What if I offer them to you?”

“Excuse me?”

“We try a joint attack. If I win a Shardblade or Plate, you get the first set. But I keep the second.”

Roion’s eyes narrowed. “You’d do that?”

“On my honor, Roion.”