Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden (3 page)

Neetra’s shoulders were drawn tight as he pushed a piece of parchment toward his superiors. “Our numbers for the draft. I would have you both review them. Perhaps you’ll have words of comfort despite the sharp decline in our recruit numbers.”

Koal extended a hand, but King Rishi leaned forward and swiped the note for himself. Holding it at arm’s length, he squinted and took a moment to study it. After a long, pregnant pause, a wolfish smile tore over his face, and he tossed the parchment to Koal. The King reclined once more. “Yes, High Councilor, I see a dramatic drop in the number of
children
being forced into our military.”

A caustic pause filled the room. Neetra glared at King Rishi but motioned toward a man sitting across the table. “Perhaps Arden’s General would like to discuss the matter further.”

The man Neetra had indicated, General Morathi Adeben, lifted a cold gaze. From Gib’s seat, he couldn’t see the general’s face but had met him enough times to remember the severe expression permanently frozen onto the hard features.

“Highness.” Morathi spoke clearly and without hesitation. “High Councilor Neetra means to question the lack of fresh recruits. Where and how are we going to make up these numbers to ensure Arden’s safety?”

The King tilted his head to one side but took his time responding, and when he did, he spoke directly to Neetra. “Why are you forcing the general to speak on your behalf, High Councilor? I have listened to your whining long enough to know that surely you have a mind of your own. What was
your
concern?”

Neetra leapt from his seat so fast Gib worried the man might try to rush the ruler. It would have been an utterly ridiculous move, but Neetra wasn’t above being unreasonable.

The High Councilor pointed at the King with savage intent and hissed shrilly, “Have you no care for the size of your army?”

King Rishi flashed a smug smile. “I’ve never preoccupied myself with size as you seem to.”

Gib winced.

“I do, however, pay mind to important issues, such as the
quality
of our troops.”

Neetra was so red he looked like he might burst. The High Councilor sputtered as he responded. “Surely Your Highness must see the benefit of a formidable army in times of war! Beyond tactics and training, battle is a numbers game. We need to have the greater number.”

“Again, I say your worries for compensation are ill founded. And what, exactly, are you trying to compensate for? What are these times of war you speak of? Despite all of your worry and dread, we’ve yet to see any real threat from either border.”

Councilor Anders Malin-Rai, a known sympathizer of Neetra, slammed his fist on the table. “There have been multiple skirmishes along the Shiraz border! And every day, more troops from Nales come to man the wall above Port Ostlea to the north!”

King Rishi threw his hands in the air, but Koal snarled a response before the ruler could. “No one has mentioned how these conflicts have only sprouted up since we reinforced our borders. Intimidation is ugly and breaks men down, reducing them to their most base selves.”

Gib watched in silence as the argument went back and forth. Neetra and Anders continued to argue that the protection of Arden’s borders was essential. King Rishi and Koal countered, questioning the reason for reinforcing a border that had previously lain silent. General Morathi remained enigmatically quiet throughout the exchange, though Gib was sure it wasn’t from lack of nerve. Morathi was typically a collected man, not given to shouting. His silence was more troubling than Neetra’s shrill whine.

Anders’ voice rose above the others. “It’s not too late to overturn this new law, councilors! What say you? It’s within our power to correct this oversight now. Young men have always been called to defend their country. It’s a way of life.” Anders fixed a cold glare on the King. “Grievous as it may be.”

Hasain flinched, and Diddy took in a sharp breath. Gib froze as well. The subject of child soldiers was a sensitive one. It had nearly divided the council in half. Only recently had numbers shifted enough to favor the King’s new law, which commanded no man may be drafted against his will until his sixteenth Naming Day. Before this change, boys were considered men by their thirteenth year and could be drafted from then on.

With the ink still wet on this new law, King Rishi was more defensive than ever. The soft, silken whisper of his voice betrayed his wrath.
“Grievous? Tell me, Councilor Anders, how many grievances has
your
family suffered? How many uncles, brothers, nephews, or sons have you lost to the draft? How many thirteen-year-old boys—men according to law—have you looked upon for the last time as they picked up a sword they didn’t know how to use and a shield too heavy for them to carry? How many aunts or sisters have you comforted while they wept for their lost sons who were too young to own the family farm but old enough to die on the battlefield and did just that?”

Tense quiet blanketed the room, but Gib was certain he heard Liro huff.

Anders stiffened. “The lineage of lords is rarely called upon for war. It is a privilege passed on to us from those who came before—those who fought bravely.” The councilor locked his jaw as he finished speaking.

King Rishi leaned farther back in his chair. Despite the low tone, his voice seemed to fill every corner of the room. “Ah, yes, unearned privilege. It must come as a comfort to know your ancestors were brave and risked life and limb in order for you to declare others—not so privileged as yourself—must be willing to die for the country.”

Neetra scoffed. “This is hardly Anders’ war, Highness. No one gets to choose their destined path, but we all must comply with the hand we are dealt—”

“Easy enough to say from your safe and comfortable chair, High Councilor. Would your dedication be so steadfast had your son been called to war this year?”

“Enough of this!” Neetra looked around the table at the gathered men. “Councilors, should we take a vote on overturning this law?”

Gib clenched his fists. His eyes darted from one face to another, and desperation flooded his veins. This law was so important to people like him. Countless children along the countryside would be sucked into this potential war if Neetra and Anders got their way.

Even the King, who was typically so well spoken, had fallen silent, his face a crimson mask of rage.

The sound of a throat being cleared broke the tense quiet. Joaquin Aldino, Tarquin’s father, called attention to himself and made a point to avoid prolonged eye contact with any one person. “Councilors, was it not agreed that by allowing women to join the military, we reduced the need for such young soldiers?”

Several men threw their hands in the air at once. Women joining the army was yet another issue firmly dividing the council. Groans and sharp cries of protest clashed against fervent praise.

Seneschal Koal cut through the clamor to voice his opinion. “For all of the complaining endured here, Weapons Master Roland Korbin has informed me the number of our female recruits has only increased each year. Young women are pouring in from all across the country to join our forces—”

“Women are smaller and weaker than men!”

“They can’t be relied upon to make rational decisions in the heat of battle!”

“They require special accommodations! Women need supplies male soldiers don’t!”

“What if they become pregnant out there? What help are they then?”

Gib could barely keep up with the questions being fired. Hasain grunted and leaned closer to the rail, the young lord’s brows knitted. Below, King Rishi had had enough.

“Again, with the complaining! You argue women are weaker than men, yet I’ve never seen a man suffer through childbirth. Rational decisions in the heat of battle are difficult for anyone, yet the late Queen Jorja Viran was one of this country’s finest tactical minds. And as far as women soldiers becoming pregnant on the battlefield—” The King paused long enough to shake his head, features drawn into a sour frown. “Councilors, I assume you all understand how pregnancies happen, correct? I’m not sure when you think these soldiers are going to have the time, energy, or desire to create these pregnancies. However, I suppose if and when they do, at the very least, you can stop fretting about the need to send menstruation supplies into war camps!”

Diddy pressed his knuckles to his lips, and Gib’s face burned with uncomfortable heat. Hasain stiffened and sat back quickly, a horrified frown pulling down on his mouth. Behind them, Liro made a sound of disgust, and when Gib looked back, the understudy curled his nose.

Below, Dean Marc snorted a laugh, earning a savage look from Koal as he stood once again. The seneschal’s voice was level, despite his own crimson face. “Gentlemen of the council, I think we can all agree to disagree on this issue. The draft law doesn’t appear to be up for recall, and the issue of women soldiers is still too new to dismiss yet. Shall we move on to the next topic?” He dropped back into his chair.

Gib smiled to himself and stole a glance toward Diddy. Had they been anywhere else, the two of them would have shared a good laugh, but now was not the time. Papers were shuffling at the table below, and Neetra’s voice rose again.

“The next matter of discussion is exiled slaves.”
Neetra looked at the King and seneschal for a moment and, seeing no resistance, pushed on. “We’re all familiar with the problem of Gyptia’s slaves crossing our southern border in a claim for freedom. However, these people come here with next to no knowledge of how our government works, little valuable work experience, and often do not speak our language. They’re extra mouths to feed and have become a source of hardship for some of our southern provinces.”

The King twiddled his thumbs and offered nothing.

Koal frowned but replied in a measured tone, “There has been some discussion among the King, Dean Marc, and myself about how best to go about educating the Gyptian exiles so they may become a useful asset to our workforce.”

Neetra huffed. “Education? Why is it Arden’s responsibility to educate these slaves? They’re the ones who left their own country. It’s been suggested to me that perhaps we should put these people directly to work. There are menial tasks which they would be able to perform, even with their shortcomings.”

Marc, who had been mostly quiet until now, leaned forward in his seat. “Some of these foreigners have exceptional skills. They’ve served construction masters their entire lives, or healers, or scholars. Some of them have a wealth of knowledge. We only need to bridge the communication gap, and they could be great assets to Arden—”

General Morathi lifted his frigid voice once more. “Well, I suppose they should have stayed where their talents could be used then, shouldn’t they? It isn’t Arden’s responsibility to teach them our language, and in the meantime, there are jobs to be done. They don’t have to speak Ardenian to swing a pickaxe or dig with a shovel.”

“I agree,” Neetra said with a curt nod. “If these slaves are going to stroll into our country and demand our protection then the least they could do is provide Arden with service.”

The King shrugged. “I’ve never said Gyptia’s refugees aren’t eligible for work here, but if they’re going to become citizens of our country then they should be entitled to the same opportunities as anyone else. I feel Marc makes a valid point. Why should a scholar work in the mines? Their potential would be wasted.”

The high councilor waved a dismissive hand. “What care have I of their talents? They chose to leave their country and become a drain on ours. Therefore, it’s suggested the exiles be put to work under Ardenian law for no less than five years without pay. Their meals and lodgings will be provided, and they will be given the opportunity to work off their debt to our country.”

King Rishi squinted toward Neetra and took a breath. He held it for a brief moment before posing much the same question Gib was thinking. “Let me be sure I understand you, High Councilor. These people have risked life and limb to escape enslavement, braved the harsh desert—a fatal trek for most—and plunged themselves into an entirely foreign culture, all on the slim hope they will be able to obtain some scrap of dignity in their newfound freedom. Now you want to greet them with a sentence of indentured servitude?” The King turned up his empty palms, confusion still etched across his features. “Why would a slave leave their home country only to be a slave somewhere else?”

General Morathi smiled triumphantly. “Precisely, Highness. They won’t be our problem anymore.”

“It’s never been Ardenian law to punish the innocent.”

Not to be outdone, the general gestured about the room. “Are any of you gentleman aware of an Ardenian law which mandates our country feed and house refugees?” Murmurs made their way around the table, and although the King, Koal, and Marc all had scowls on their faces, none of them seemed to be able to think of a counterargument.

Gib shifted in his seat. He didn’t know much about escaped slaves. Indeed, such issues had never once crossed his mind while he’d been growing up on the farm. He’d always been too focused on staying alive to worry about the wellbeing of strangers. However, his heart told him of the inherent injustice it would be to abuse anyone, especially someone who had nothing.

Joaquin spoke again. “Actually, General, there’s no law I know of, but it’s a common practice amongst the various temples throughout Arden to house the persecuted and feed the poor. Would not these people qualify for such help?”