The Lives of Velnin chapter 18

The Maiden and the Pavilion

Mar 29, 2025

An endless column of soldiers stretching past the horizon, the forces of the Dark Empire had come to Dragonclaw Pass. We donned our armor, said our prayers, and prepared for battle. They did not attack. Instead, their column stopped its motion out of bowshot from our wall, dug in, and made camp. They awaited something.

A lane opened up in the center of their column, and through it rode a maiden, flanked by soldiers in black armor. She sat atop her horse, staring at us, as we prayed, kneeling upon the wall. After what seemed like an age, she turned her horse around. Behind her, some distance back, had been raised a large pavilion as part of their camp. Here she rode her horse, dismounted, and entered. No attack came that day.

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We sung a hymn, received the bread and wine, exercised, and slept for the night. The next morning was much the same. The smell of baking grain wafted over from their camp as we ate our breakfast. We cut our hair, did our morning exercises and prayer, and continued as usual, albeit without further military drills. Once more the maiden rode out and looked at us, during our haircuts and during our evening exercise. She stared long, idling stroking her horse's mane, and returned to her pavilion.

Three days passed thus. Our daily routine passed uninterrupted. We continued to eat, exercise, pray, and take care of our hygiene, whether in front of the wall, behind it, or upon it. Sometimes the maiden came to look at us; sometimes she did not. We had ceased to worry about it.

Finally, late on the morning of the fourth day, a messenger came running from her pavilion. In a loud voice, he proclaimed, "The Dark Empress requests the presence of the leader of the blocking forces in her court this afternoon." His message received, he ran back.

We considered what to do, as men of honor. Our goal, of course, was delay–but delay without deceit. With their millions to our thousands, they would be consuming vastly more food and water than us, and be vastly more vulnerable to disease–especially as they did not appear to take care of their health the way we did. We briefly considered ignoring the message, but immediately discarded the idea as both dishonorable and likely inviting an earlier attack. Dialogue would slow things down.

We also considered rejecting the request. The story of the capture of my brother and Aloree by the Black Citadel after Aloree's invitation as a diplomat was well known, and my officers cautioned me that a treacherous death as I visited the Empress would likely damage the men's morale substantially. I replied that the Empress had been more than honorable with our spy, and the payoff of delay or even reprieve from war was more than worth the risk to my life.

Ultimately, we decided to send a messenger at the end of the day, just as the sun was beginning to set. Our offer: Given the promise of safe passage there and back, I would come to her pavilion, flanked by two of my hand-picked men, fully armed, the afternoon of the next day. Of course, we did not in any way expect this offer to be accepted–coming fully armed before a monarch as an adversary was surely a poison pill. The messenger would deliver his message, then immediately return to camp without waiting for a reply, stating that he must return before darkness, lest in the dark he be impossible to identify and shot as a spy.

In this way we hoped to drag out the negotiations. She would send her reply–eventually. And we would debate ours, and send ours again in the evening, with our poison-pilled conditions lightening each cycle, one day at a time.

Our plan came to naught. Our messenger was received warmly by the Empress in person. Upon the messenger stating our conditions, the Empress simply said, "I accept."

And so it was that on the fifth day I temporarily–or so I hoped–passed overall command to Canmar. Myself and two laconic heavy troops from my personal unit, Dianeces and Maron, marched alone through the enemy columns into the Empress's pavilion, fully armored, spear and shield in hand, swords in our scabbards.

Two guards in black armor nodded at us, greeted us grimly, and brought us before the Empress.

Brian Heming - author and pulp fiction fan

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