could return there quickly, if needed. But again, it would be of great fortune to us should Aydrian decide to sail the gulf in this season. Likely, more than half his forces would be taken to the bottom."
"He'll not come north until St.-Mere-Abelle is conquered, I would guess, and that will be no easy task," Pony agreed.
"And just north of Vanguard city, and to the east, my ally has encamped, and they will defend my land as fiercely as my own subjects."
"Andacanavar has come to your aid," Pony reasoned.
"And Bruinhelde," Midalis explained. "I do not expect that they will march with me when I go south to dislodge King Aydrian, but if he brings the battle to Vanguard, he will find my army strengthened by my loyal neighbors from the north."
"And what're ye to do if word comes from Aydrian that he's givin' ye yer kingdom north o' the gulf, and that he's takin' all the rest?" Bradwarden asked.
The prince squared his shoulders, seeming every bit the man, the king, that his brother had been before him. "Honce-the-Bear is my kingdom, not Vanguard," he said. "I deny Aydrian's claim, and will fight him to my death or his own." As he finished, he looked at Pony and winced, perhaps only then realizing to whom he was speaking.
But then Pony dismissed that tentative look by saying, "And I will fight beside you, to the bitter end."
"Let us plan our first moves, then," said Midalis.
"Belli'mar Juraviel of the Touel'alfar is already on the move," Pony informed him. "His scouts will scour the land in short order. We will have one advantage in this battle for your kingdom, that of information."
She turned to Al'u'met, a wry grin suddenly spreading on her fair face.
"Tell me of Pireth Dancard, good Captain. Take me to the sea and point out the direction."
"What're ye thinkin', lass?" Bradwarden asked.
Pony's response came through a wicked smile. "I'm thinking that we should find every loose thread that Aydrian shows around the edges of his blanketing army and tug them hard until the whole of it unravels."
Most of all, the city seemed secure. Soldiers marched along the streets in orderly fashion, and the walls were thick with sentries. Defensive fortifications were under construction at every point along the wall, including many new catapults and ballistae.
Aydrian could hardly contain his smile as he moved through the streets of tamed Palmaris, to the cheers of soldier and townsman alike.
"Marcalo has done a magnificent job in putting the city in line, it would seem," Sadye was happy to say at his side.
Aydrian didn't answer, but just kept looking around at the beehive of activity that was Palmaris. He and his charges made their way to the eastern end of the city, to the great square outside of St. Precious, where Aydrian's commanders put the soldiers in line, rank upon rank.
The doors to the great abbey creaked open and Marcalo De'Unnero came forth, flanked by a dozen Abellican monks. He walked up to stand right before the king, who dismounted.
"Welcome back to your city, King Aydrian," De'Unnero said when the cheering of the multitudes gathering about the square had at last ended.
"You will find Palmaris most accommodating, I assure you."
"Accommodating and secure," Aydrian replied.
"More so than ever before," the monk said with great pride and great conviction. "The garrison has spent the entirety of the season at work in preparing the defenses. Should our enemies choose to march south to this city, they will find the place a singular fortress designed to hold them back."
"Any word from Duke Kalas?" Aydrian asked.
"He has pushed across the breadth of the land, and last word had him fast approaching St. Gwendolyn," De'Unnero replied. "And his army has swelled to many times its size, with new recruits rushing in to join in the glory of King Aydrian."
Aydrian beamed and looked to Sadye, who verily glowed at the news. "And what of the Church?" he asked.
"When St. Gwendolyn falls, if it has not already, then there will remain but two opposing abbeys: St.-Mere-Abelle and St. Belfour of Vanguard,"
the monk replied. He wasn't looking at Aydrian as he spoke, however, but rather at Sadye, who continued to stare at her liege, offering a look that was not hard to read.
Aydrian hesitated a moment to take note of De'Unnero's shifting expression as the monk looked over the woman. "Duke Kalas will turn his march to St.-Mere-Abelle as soon as St. Gwendolyn is secured?" the young king asked, thinking it wise to distract