The Broken Crown

Chapter 49

WARNING: explicit language and implied sexual stuff

 Raymond

 Raymond walked through the great courtyard, watching as soldiers trained. The air was filled with metal against metal, pants and sighs. The scents of sweat and leather and horse filled his nostrils as he walked past the training area through a wooden door and into a dark room.

 Through small windows placed high on the walls, beams of light entered. In here, too, there was a chaos of men, though these men were workers of wood and architecture.

 “Alain?” he called. “Alain?”

 A man with broad shoulders and brown hair that was streaked with grey stepped out of the crowd. “M’lord,” he greeted, his accent thick and brusque.

 “Are they ready?” Raymond asked.

 The man nodded. “If you went to war now, you could take them with you.”

 “We might,” Raymond said humourlessly. When the sun had been covered by the great shadow some days earlier, it was interpreted as an omen, one that favoured war and forecasted strength in the royal army. “They have been tested?”

 “They have, m’lord.”

 Raymond nodded. “Good, good.”

 Alain led him through the room and through another room into a great hall. Ten large mangonels had been placed there, side by side in a long line.

 The catapults were built mostly in wood, with the only exception being the bowl at the end of the arm; the wood here had been replaced by metal. The metal was lighter than iron or gold and made it easier to swing the arm quickly and powerfully. At the same time, it was possible to place a burning projectile into the bowl without setting the entire catapult on fire.

 “It will work?” Raymond questioned. They had to be certain. For the past months, ever since they retreated to Lionhall for the solstice, Raymond and his advisors had been planning this.

 They would attack Westhall, which had now been under the command of rebels for some months, and put it back into the King’s hands. It was the centre of the rebel forces now and without it, they would not survive another winter, especially not if the next one would be as cold as this one.

The common people and the rebel forces were no longer one. While the militia fighting the King’s men wanted to kill Raphael and place their own usurper on the throne, the common people had grown tired of war. They would be as likely to let a rebel into their homes as they would to let in a member of the King’s Guard.

 Jonathan used to say that the people were the kingdom. If that was true, it was a divided kingdom that was being fought for now.

 “It will work just fine, m’lord,” Alain said, and Raymond trusted him. The man was a talented craftsman and had been esteemed as one of the finest war engineers in the kingdom for more than a decade now. He could not build anything, but what he could not build, he turned away, and what he could build always worked. By helping Raymond now, he had also proved his loyalty.

 Raymond clapped his shoulder in a friendly gesture. “Thank you, Alain. Truly. Your have been invaluable these past months.”

 “Judging from my fees, not invaluable,” Alain jested, even if there was a bit of true bitterness lacing the undertones.

 Raymond smiled but did not laugh. “If we win, it will be on your shoulders, and that will not pass anyone’s notice.”

 The day after, the King’s Council as well as the Queen and Queen Dowager went to the hall with him to look at the new catapults. They nodded in satisfaction as they walked around the large, wooden constructions.