The Lady and the Prince

The days passed in a similar fashion. Elizabeth struggled with archery, finding it difficult to make her arrows fly straight. But the instant Connidian put a long, slim sword in her hand, it seemed she had found her weapon. She naturally held it properly, and her height gave her a reach that equaled a man’s.

Her throwing knives tended to hit the target handle-first, but the Arms master soon had her doing advanced work with the sword, engaging some of the younger boys that had been studying the weapon for three or four years in matches that she invariably won.

“It is a pity that you are a woman, Lady Elizabeth, and cannot carry a sword openly. Let us work more with the dagger, and remember that it is not just a shorter version of the sword but a separate weapon,” Connidian told her.

Elizabeth reluctantly put away her practice sword and worked with her dagger. She wished she could carry a sword instead, but it wouldn’t fit under her skirt or over her skirt either, puffed out with petticoats as it was.

Lady Hornswaggle taught her dances and proper behavior at a ball in anticipation for the Midsummer festival. The palace always held a ball, and many of the nobility that spent little time at court would be present. Elizabeth was an important newcomer so she would be a center of interest, and her every move would be watched and critiqued. The GPE master assured her she would be ready in time.

Elizabeth’s Franckish improved rapidly as well. She knew many common phrases and could say them naturally, although she still had difficulty with the proper word endings when she tried to make up her own sentences.

Princesses Anne and Eugenie came to lunch with her and Giselle as often as not, and they were all kind in their corrections of her odder sentence structures. Getting to know the other princesses made Elizabeth feel more like she belonged with them as one of them.

Giselle was gentle and sweet and a little shy. She liked sewing and creating pretty things from fabric, lace, and ribbons. She read occasionally, enjoying romantic stories with brave heroes and beautiful maidens. Elizabeth could understand why Richard loved her. He was a man who liked being a protector, and Giselle seemed to need protecting from the rougher aspects of the world. She showed Elizabeth the ins and outs of needlework, and sometimes after lunch they would sew together for a while. Elizabeth had discovered that all the married royal men had shirts embroidered by their wives, and she was determined that Nick would too by the time they actually wed.

Anne herself said she should have been a prince rather than a princess. She liked the spice of a little danger in her day, riding boldly, and challenging men to knife-throwing or darts contests, which she usually won. She was thrilled that Elizabeth was learning the sword so quickly and offered her extra practice bouts. The two women were closely matched—Anne being a little more experienced and Elizabeth having a longer reach and excellent instincts. They were both very quick, and it wasn’t unusual for some of the boy trainees to sneak into the private practice area and watch their sessions. Connidian himself sometimes peeked in and offered a word or two of correction or encouragement to them both.

Princess Eugenie was close to Giselle’s age, both being in their mid-twenties, but she seemed older. She rode conservatively and only did the minimum necessary with weapons, but she could offer insightful comments on everyone at court. Originally from Ibarra, she had completely adopted Anglia as her country and knew a great deal about it, not only what was happening within its boundaries, but usually why it happened as well. She read histories and biographies and almost everything else her husband read. She stayed in Crown Prince Edward’s shadow, but Elizabeth suspected Eugenie was more intelligent than her husband and had perfected the art of advising him without him being aware of how heavily he leaned on her wisdom. Her needlework was almost as good as Giselle’s, and sometimes Eugenie sat with the queen and her court and sewed or played games that she was careful to almost never win.

Elizabeth listened to the other women more than she talked, but she occasionally contributed funny stories about her little brothers or odd neighbors back home. She wished she could speak of Nick in depth like the princesses did about their husbands, brothers, and brothers-in-law, but hopefully that would come with time. Right now she rarely saw him, but when they went on Progress they would be spending all day together. Once Nick reached sixteen, he wouldn’t be attending classes anymore, so even with his Commerce job he should have some free time. Elizabeth was looking forward to that.

Prince Nicky was enjoying digging in to his new job. He was finding Commerce to be more interesting than he had expected, mostly because it was so complicated but also because it provided information that few had access to.

The Anglian import, export, transport, and other fees were a jumble of rules. The Crown controlled and taxed imports and exports from Anglia, but each of the great lords had the right to set their own fees within their domains with a percentage going to the Crown as well. Then there were hereditary rights granted in the historical past that gave some cities and some lesser lords taxation rights as well.

The only good thing about the confusing mess was that all the money that came in to the treasury from the movement of merchandise came with a detailed list of what had been taxed at what rate to justify the amounts being tendered. That meant that Commerce had a great deal of information about what wares in what amounts were being produced and transported throughout the country as well as what goods were entering and leaving the country as a whole.

Nick’s battalion of Commerce clerks kept track of it all and did reports and analyses on increases and decreases in revenue, trends over time, and likely explanations for changes. So Nick could see things like Ulle’s wool production remaining steady over the last decade, but Completon’s declining. At the same time, beef and dairy production had increased in Completon as its superior grazing land was being converted to cattle, which was more profitable. Ulle, however, tended to be rocky and scrubby, and most of it would not support cattle. Nick was learning a great deal about Anglia without leaving his office.

The bad thing about the profusion of fees and duties was that an ordinary person wanting to sell a product could end up making a nice profit or very little depending on where he took it to sell. Most people had no way of knowing ahead of time whether to go left or right at an intersection to get the best price, especially since the rules could change at any time at the whim of some lord.

Experienced merchants, on the other hand, could make a very nice living, even become wealthy, just by knowing which lord or city charged fees and taxes of how much for which product coming into or leaving their boundaries. Nick didn’t think it quite fair that the person producing the product might make only a small percentage of what the product finally sold for. Unfortunately, even as Head of Commerce, there was nothing he could do about it. No one was willingly going to give up their right to tax as they pleased.

His lessons with Winkershime were mostly going well. His ability to observe and remember had improved quite a bit. Nick could remove his valet’s purse from his belt without him feeling it, and the prince could ghost up and down a creaky staircase without a sound. The only difficulty was picking locks. The lock picks were steel, and he couldn’t wear gloves to use them and still feel what he was doing inside the lock.

Holding the picks felt like being stung repeatedly by a wasp. After the third time he dropped a pick with a ringing clatter within a minute, Nick decided he had to do something about it. His spy tutor was frowning at him, and the prince could see the man thinking about why he was having so much trouble. Winkershime was no fool. Given long enough, he might figure it out and that Nicky couldn’t permit.

“Winkershime, these picks, they are just like a common thief would use, aren’t they?”

Winkershime stopped frowning and looked confused. “Of course, Your Highness. All lock picks are pretty much the same.”

“Well, I won’t have it. I am not a common anything, and I won’t use these as they are.”

His valet’s face had gone very blank, and Nick knew he was reacting negatively to Nick’s “spoiled brat” act. The prince hated that Winkershime would think that of him, but he had to do this.

He pretended to critically examine the picks in their leather case. “I want silver handles on my picks.”

Winkershime spoke very carefully. “Your Highness, it is necessary to put pressure on the handles, especially with a heavy lock. Silver would not hold up to usage.”

“Then dip the handles in silver. I won’t use them as they are.” And I wish you could do the same with my sword, but since the tang is beautifully wrapped I don’t have an excuse to order it. Nick thrust the case at Winkershime who grabbed it before it fell.

“Very well, Your Highness, I will have a set done for you. But for practice, surely these would do.”

Nick pretended to be angry. “They will not do. Don’t contradict me!”

“Yes, Your Highness, I will see to it immediately,” Winkershime said, his voice as neutral as his face. “Perhaps you would care to do a different exercise…”

“No, that’s enough of this for today. Take care of the picks and don’t bring them back until they are suitable for my use.” He tried to look haughty, not a natural expression for him.

Winkershime bowed stiffly and left. Nick felt horrible about pulling rank on his spying teacher, but it had been necessary. He couldn’t let his valet suspect his magic ability.

A page came to fetch him, even though it was nearing lunchtime. Edward had finally returned from Franck, and the king wanted him immediately in his consulting room. When Prince Nick arrived, the king and crown prince were already there, and Arthur came in just a few seconds later.

Prince Arthur was the new Warleader, and Nicky worried a bit about that. Although Arthur was an excellent fighter and quite brave, he was no strategist. But Richard had promoted intelligent men to be generals and admirals, so it might work out well if Arthur was willing to listen to them, and especially if Richard was willing to advise.

But today’s meeting was about Franck. The king nodded to Edward to start.

“As you know, for the last few weeks, I have been traveling to and from Franck and participating in the ceremonies there for the late King Charles and the ascension of Crown Prince Louis—not the crowning, of course, that will take place later. However, it’s just a ceremony; for practical purposes, Louis is king now. What this meeting is about is the fact that Louis has been gathering his troops and put on quite a display of strength for the visiting foreign dignitaries.”

Arthur asked, “A threat, a boast, or a defensive measure?”

Edward considered a moment. “A little bit of boast, perhaps, but more of a threat. He had the representatives from Telesia and Ausland on the reviewing stand with him. The rest of us were relegated to a lower set of seats. Not quite an insult, but a clear message to Drusia that their southern border is not secure. And of course Drusia on Franck’s eastern border is our assurance that Franck will not attack us.”

“So Franck is saying that if they attack Anglia and Drusia attacks Franck as per their treaty with us, Drusia in turn will be attacked from the south by Ausland and possibly Telesia,” the king stated.

Edward nodded. “I believe that was the message. More alarming, on the journey back, I saw a buildup of troops and military equipment between Parisia and the border as well as a large number of Franckish warships in the harbor. I do believe that before summer is over we will be under attack, unless we can find some way to discourage it.”

The king looked at Arthur. Arthur said, “I will start military games and maneuvers in Landsford and recall a portion of our fleet, but the fleet will do us little good if they use their sorcerers.”

William turned to Nick. “Will they? How many do they have?”

Since reports on potential magical opponents came through at regular intervals, Nick was able to answer the question. “Franck currently has five full sorcerers and one apprentice. Lady Grande is quite old and is training her grandson, Alberet. Neither of them is likely to leave Franck and may or may not be capable of defending Franck internally. Lord Richemont is Louis’s personal magician and bodyguard; he will always be with Louis. The other three, Lord Coppere, Lord Frais, and Lady Strelliere are all deployable, but I think with the potential threat from Drusia, Louis is unlikely to send more than two of them with an invading army.”

“Two is sufficient to defend a Franckish fleet on the north and south ends of the channel and burn any of our ships that approach to the waterline,” Arthur contributed.

The king said, “Then we will need to be prepared to stop them when they attempt to disembark troops. Have our ships ready to abandon our harbors and stand off and wait for a signal. If their army gains the shore, their sorcerers will land with them, and our ships can come in and attack Franck’s fleet.”

Nick wasn’t sure that was wise. If the Francks couldn’t retreat, wouldn’t that make them fight all the harder? But he was new to this and kept quiet. For all he knew, having their fleet destroyed might make the Francks lose heart and surrender instead.

“We will need to know when they intend to launch their attack at least a week, but better two weeks, ahead of time so our lords will have time to join their forces with our main army. I will put out word to them to begin training their peasant conscripts now,” Arthur offered.

King William nodded. “Prince Nicholas, can your people give us warning?”

Nick was surprised to be addressed by his full name as if he were an adult, but didn’t show it. He didn’t know how many of his agents were in Franck or where they were positioned, but he would find out. “They will do their best, Your Majesty. I will send you a better assessment of our capabilities in that area as soon as I have it.” As soon as Winkershime can get it, if he doesn’t already know.

Arthur addressed Edward. “You’ll give me your troop count on what you observed?”

Edward passed over a piece of paper with numbers on it and gave one to Nick as well. “I’ve written down everything I remember. Perhaps, Nick…Nicholas’s people can verify?”

Nick took the paper and nodded. “We’ll do our best,” he said. He just didn’t know yet what his agents could do.

“Anything else?” the king asked. No one answered, so the meeting was over.

Nick went back to his suite to talk to Winkershime. If the valet was angry with him, too bad, this was serious business. Winkershime was there, still acting rather stiff, but he forgot about being affronted when Nick told him what was going on and what was needed.

Winkershime said, “We do have agents in Franck. I have seen reports on the troop movements, but thought Louis was just making a display to impress everyone. The arrangement of seating at a ceremony seems little enough to go on to jump to the conclusion that Anglia is going to be attacked, but better safe than sorry. I’ll have them start tracking Franck’s army by unit and up the frequency of their reports.”

“Good. Was I right about their sorcerers?”

“Yes, six is the current count, and your analysis was the same as mine would have been. Lunch now?”

Nick nodded, expecting the worst for his earlier behavior, but got sausage and cheese melted on toast. So Winkershime wasn’t too offended about the lock picks. He was probably making allowance for the “spoiled prince” upbringing of his charge.

As Nick was finishing his food, Winkershime ventured, “Your Highness, after your classes today, do you wish an in-depth assessment of Franck’s fighting capabilities?”

“I have other things to do this afternoon, but after dinner I will take a look at what you have.” Nick was doing his haughty act again. He had realized in the meeting with his father and brothers that his ability to use magic might become critical in the near future. He and Ulle could be the only sorcerers in Anglia, and he wasn’t at all sure of Ulle’s intentions or reliability. Someone had killed his cousin with magic. It could have been Ulle, or even a third sorcerer, so he had a magical enemy within as well as potentially hostile Franckish magicians.

Winkershime hesitated a long time and then said, “Yes, Your Highness,” in his carefully neutral voice. Nick knew that he had expected his Spymaster trainee to put the threat from Franck at the top of his priorities and was disappointed in the delay and in the prince’s attitude.

But Nick had to practice his magic. He was just getting into the “good” part of his magic book about how to actually control, shape, and eject magical energy. So far his offensive magic consisted of tripping someone, flipping small rocks at them, or giving them a few burns. He was definitely not ready for a battle, or even a sorcerous duel.

He had a place where he would be unseen, a cave not too far from the palace. Most of the royal boys and their friends had used it at one time as a “secret” meeting place, but since there weren’t any royal children younger than Nick, it was currently abandoned.

After he finished classes, he had an hour or two before dinner, and no one expected him at the high table anyway since he had been eating and working in his room for weeks. Winkershime might serve him burnt beans and pickled fish for dinner after all the attitude Nick had been giving him, so even if the prince came back late and missed the meal he suspected he wouldn’t be missing much, although lunch hadn’t been bad.

Nick tucked his little book into an inside pocket to keep it safe and went out to the stable and saddled Falcon. While he was saddling his hunter, he heard a familiar voice in another part of the stable—Elizabeth? But there was another voice too, a man’s voice, and then the voices faded as they moved away with the clip-clop of horses. Nick mounted and followed, a little concerned about who Elizabeth was with, but not very. There was probably a chaperone waiting outside to accompany her, whoever she was riding with.

Outside the stable, he could see her and her companion cantering into the woods. There were only two horses, and on them Elizabeth and some red-headed man. She was going into the woods alone with a man?

Prince Nicky spurred his horse, alarmed now. Was Elizabeth seeing some other man, cheating on him before they were even married? And the man, whoever he was, was going to regret this. Nicky would make sure of that! He put Falcon into a run.

The prince charged down the path through the woods and out into a meadow where the other riders had paused to look back. He raced up, threw himself off of Falcon, strode up to the red-headed man and pulled him off of his horse on to the ground.

Nick realized as he did so that the man was poorly dressed, not even a nobleman but some servant. So he wouldn’t have to challenge the rat to a duel, he could have him whipped, maimed, or even hung if he chose.

Benji recognized the prince and realized he was very angry, although at first he could not fathom why. What had he done? Whatever it was, he knew that if the prince so much as injured his hand hitting him, Benji would be to blame for the injury and could be punished severely. The stable boy was far bigger than Prince Nicky, so he did the only safe thing and stayed down on the ground.

“Nick, what are you doing? Benji, are you all right?” Elizabeth demanded. Benji sat up and nodded, not wanting to draw attention to himself.

Nick turned from his suspected rival and strode over to Elizabeth. “What are you doing out here alone with him, going to some tryst just the two of you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Benji is helping me improve my riding. He’s just a stable boy, Nick.”

“A stable boy you are alone with out of sight of everyone. Do you know what people would say if they saw you leaving together? Or have they already seen you going off with him, and everyone is laughing at me behind my back? And what do you mean, improve your riding? Can’t you ride?”

Elizabeth dismounted so they could talk face-to-face. “Not very well. I told you we didn’t have much money, certainly not enough for horses. And it is rather an insult to accuse me of having relations with a stable boy. Benji is a nice lad, but certainly not my type. I am engaged to a prince you know.”

Elizabeth could see the inner struggle on Nick’s face. Finally he said, “All right, I believe this was just an innocent mistake. But Elizabeth, you have to think before you act, not just about what something is but what it looks like as well. We don’t have the luxury of just doing as we please regardless of what anyone else thinks. Appearances matter to our reputation, and the reputation of the royal family is critical to the stability of Anglia.”

“I understand, and I’ll try to be more careful. In return, I expect you to refrain from wild accusations with no proof.”

“Sorry, I was angry, and my imagination…well, I have a very good imagination that has gotten me in trouble before.” Nick turned to Benji who was sitting cross-legged on the ground, watching them. “In the future, you will come nowhere near Lady Elizabeth, do you understand? If I find you two alone together again, I will have you whipped and dismissed.”

Benji got up and bowed awkwardly. “Yes, m’lord Your Highness, sir. I won’t go out riding no more with her, I promise, whatever Your Majesty wants.”

Nick sighed. This one would never even make a house servant. How could he have thought Elizabeth would want to be romantically involved with him? He just shook his head and gestured for Benji to mount up while he went and got Falcon, who was nearby chewing a mouthful of long meadow grass.

They rode back to the palace—Nick and Elizabeth together with Benji behind them as chaperone. At the stable, Nick waited outside while Elizabeth took care of her horse. When she came out she was surprised to see him still standing there with Falcon.

“Aren’t you coming in?” she asked.

“No, I have business to attend to. I’ll just see you safely inside. Oh, and don’t expect me for dinner, Arthur will—”

“Escort me, I know. I see more of Arthur than I do of you.”

“That will just be for a while. When we’re on Progress, you’ll get sick and tired of seeing me all day every day.”

“Perhaps. Will you come to dinner tomorrow?”

“Doubtful.”

They left it at that. Elizabeth went in to change out of her riding clothes, and Nick mounted up and headed for the cave. He rode down a bridle path in the woods, but then veered off down a gentle slope into a ravine. The ravine walls gradually grew steeper and higher and rockier the farther he went until he was almost in a gorge.

Nick stopped, dismounted, and tied Falcon to a tree. He scrambled up one of the steep banks to a large rocky protrusion. Around the side of the protrusion there was a narrow slit in the stone, and he slid inside. The cave wasn’t easily found if you didn’t know it was there.

Inside, the passage widened and split repeatedly, but getting lost wasn’t a problem. All the tunnels led either to dead ends or a large cavern. Nick created a magical light for himself; that was one thing he had to work on. His light was soft and diffused, and he wanted to be able to create something small and intense whenever he wanted so he could shield it from view in all except one direction.

When he came into the large cavern, he moved to the right to a waist-high shelf of rock that held everything from candle stubs to nearly unused tapers, all sitting on a thick coating of wax. He easily lit two of the midsized candles, left one there, and took the other across the cavern to another shelf, which was also well-spattered by years of candle drippings.

He remembered the first time he had come here. Arthur had let him tag along with two of Arthur’s friends. Nick thought he had been about eight, so Arthur and the other boys would have been about thirteen. The others had gone down the tunnels in the dark, leaving him at the entrance, but he had soon followed. After all, the other boys wouldn’t be going down tunnels with pits or monsters without light, would they?

He made it to the large cavern a bit behind them, but he had passed some sort of test by making it through on his own in the dark. They lit candles, and all of them did some sort of ritual about being Brave and Honorable and Loyal to Anglia. Nick could even hear the capitals Arthur put on the words as he said them. Then they had put out all but one candle, sat down around it, and told scary stories.

Nick hadn’t been at all frightened by any of it. When it came his turn to tell a story, he made up something about a vengeful ghost and added sound effects by dragging his trip line across the ground out in the dark. That had made the other boys look around fearfully, although Arthur just put his hand on the hilt of his dagger. Near the end of his story, Nick said something about the ghost continuing to haunt isolated dark places and managed a little glow off to the side. One of the boys had leapt up, grabbed the candle, and run. Arthur and the other boy had been scared too, but they did their best not to show it, calmly fetching candles and lighting them but quickly leaving. Nick was invited back with them once or twice, but the older boys seemed to lose interest after that.

Nick had tried bringing a couple of noble boys his own age out, but they didn’t even last through the end of the story, insisting on leaving with a lit candle. After that, they made up excuses not to play with him until he gave up asking them. Albert had come once, and they had invented outrageous lies and had a great time, but he was almost never at the palace and free to do as he pleased. Coming back to the cave made Nick feel the sadness of his loss again.

So while his memories of the cave were both good and bad, he knew no one was coming here now, and it was a safe place to practice. Nick didn’t need his magical light with the candles burning, so he extinguished it and concentrated on pulling in a large amount of energy through his aperture and then grounding it out. It wasn’t something he had to do, but the book recommended it, and it did feel good to run that much magic through himself and flush out his system.

He had learned to modify his trip line into both a point of force and a flat plane. He practiced in his room moving and lifting his heaviest books, but that had gotten too easy. In the cave, he could reach farther and push and lift heavier rocks. The book said the more he practiced, the better his control would become. He could pull in and eject a great deal of magical energy, but it did him no good if he couldn’t control it and put it to use. When he tried something too heavy or too far away, the magical force just seemed to lose hold of the rock and slide off, grounding itself.

After he had spent some time moving rocks, he decided to practice his fire control. He was working on two things—spreading a line of flames across a wide area and using the hottest, most intense fire in a single tight line. He shot streams of energy out of his eight fingers with his thumbs folded under his palms, moving his hands laterally a little to make a solid line. He found he could send out the energy in a way that it took a few seconds to react to the air and actually produce flames some distance away from him. He didn’t want a stray breeze to backwash the fire into him, he could be burned just like anyone else. There was something in the book about shielding, but he didn’t understand it yet.

He couldn’t keep it up for very long though. His fingers felt like they were being scraped on the inside, and the raw feeling slowly crept up his arms until he had to stop. The book said more fire use would gradually lessen the discomfort, but he couldn’t practice any significant amount of fire in the palace so he hadn’t put in much time on it yet.

The concentrated single line of fire was mostly about intense control in shaping the magic before it left his finger. It made the finger hurt faster, but he could use any finger and could trade off. Nick tried writing his initials on the far wall with it, but it wasn’t hot enough to burn the rock, and the lines of fire looked like the scribbles of a very young child.

He thought the broad horizontal line of fire would be useful against a charge by common soldiers or mounted lancers, while the single concentrated line would give him a weapon against a heavily armored man. Nick doubted anything he could do right now would give him even a tiny chance against a real Franckish sorcerer.

The last spell he wanted to practice was one that was new to him. His little magic book said that he could produce lightning, just like up in the sky during a thunderstorm. He had been afraid to try something like that in his room. He had no idea what kind of damage he might do if he succeeded.

Nick reread the book’s instructions by candlelight and tried to produce lightning. At first, he didn’t get much of anything, but then he managed a few little wiggly lines of light that just crackled around his fingers. He must be doing something wrong. He rechecked the instructions, and he’d done what it said, but it just wasn’t working.

He kept trying. Suddenly a large bolt leapt from his hands to the far side of the cavern, the force of it catching him by surprise and knocking him on his rear. The prince got up and tried it again, struggling to repeat exactly what he had done, and produced another bolt. He was braced for it this time and remained standing.

The only problem was he had no idea how to control it. Like wild lightning, what came out of his hands just randomly flashed to a wall, or the floor, or the ceiling. Well, that was going to take a great deal more practice, and that meant he had to find time to get out to the cave or find a closer place to practice that was large, empty, and private.

It was long past dinnertime when Nick left the cave and scrambled down the slope to his horse. By the time he got back to the palace, the sun was near the horizon, and the light was beginning to fade.

Winkershime did have dinner waiting for him, and it had probably been a decent meal when it was fresh. Apparently his valet was more tolerant than Nick had expected, but cold dried out pork didn’t appeal to him at all, and he just took a piece of fruit off of the tray and waved the rest away.

“Your Highness is very late, and I was becoming concerned. I could have your dinner reheated.” Winkershime was too well-trained to quiz the prince about where he had been all this time, for which Nick was grateful. He was too tired to make up lies or do the “I’m a prince, you can’t question me, you servant” attitude.

“No, thanks, Winkershime, I’m tired and going to bed soon. Give me the Franck analysis, I’ll read it before I go to sleep.”

Winkershime just bowed, handed him a sheaf of papers, and began clearing away the food as Nick went into his bedroom. Once he was inside with the door closed, he put the magic book back inside its hiding place, took off his jacket and shoes, and flopped on his bed with his secret papers.

Franck’s standing army was bigger than Anglia’s, but their total forces, including peasant conscripts, would be about the same except for the sorcerers. Louis had a large personal guard that would stay with him, so that somewhat evened out the quality of the respective armies that might meet on a battlefield.

There were several mentions of Franckish lords drilling their peasant farmers with weapons, and there was one alarming report of Silovian mercenaries being spotted in eastern Franck. Louis was definitely getting ready for a war, and Nick’s intuition said it indeed was going to be with Anglia. But Franck was far from ready to attack, so they had time to prepare. And perhaps there was still a way to prevent a war from happening. What Nick didn’t see in the analyses was why Franck wanted to attack Anglia, or anyone else for that matter. Maybe it was just a personal decision by Louis; Nick couldn’t think of any economic advantage off hand.

Nick read until his eyes grew heavy. He got through about half of the reports and was in the middle of reading about Franck’s potential ability to supply its troops when he fell asleep.