Behind the Serpent Throne (CK2)

Turn 11A--Results, A

This was not the Southlands, and any moment that Kiralo might forget it, he'd be reminded of the fact in a dozen ways. This wasn't how the army worked down there, for better or worse. For better and worse, he thought. A general down there might ride among the troops and talk to them, get a feel for their concerns, since ultimately he'd be fighting with the reserves, not hiding at the back of the army like a coward, ready to flee if he failed.

It was something that Kiralo understood could be argued both ways, but he also understood that there was an advantage to having yourself with the reserves, to be willing to gamble everything on the battle, and if a general retreated, Southlander or Csiritan, it still destroyed the morale of any army.

But besides that, there were three problems. First, that the culture of the soldiers wouldn't really allow him to go among them, at least not easily, because it wasn't expected, he'd be fighting against the tide. Second, and most obviously, there were a hundred thousand people, many of them conscripts, more than a few of them ready and willing to escape at a moment's laxness. This wasn't the army of mercenaries and patriotic city-people.

And third, put simply, many of them would struggle to understand him. Most of the army, in numbers at least, was illiterate, and even those who could read didn't speak Csiritan. Or rather, in some cases, they spoke a local language similar to Csiritan, or in a dialect whose many differences in speech, form, and word choice made it just about impossible to understand them.

Everyone educated and important spoke Csiritan in the courtly way, and there was only one writing system, at least among the non-heretics, so that helped, but just talking to a random peasant in another province was fraught with confusion, misdirection, and slowly working your way sentence by sentence towards some sort of understanding.

So the way to maintain morale was to keep a hard hand, and be aware that ultimately, if they ate decent food, drank decent rice wine, and weren't too badly treated, it was good enough for the immediate term. Good enough to keep them going in the same direction, day after day, when some days they were very slow, and others the speed was a little more welcome.

Kiralo, aware that there would be deserters, had started to set up patrols of known loyalists, troops that the sergeants were confident of, so that they could get some training, at least in the matter of hunting down and capturing the men. And once they were captured, they could be branded, whipped, and brought back into the fold. If they did so again, they would be executed, publically to make sure that the message came across.

Even then, Kiralo wasn't done. He had to make sure that they understood that deserting would get them nothing, and so he'd ordered the sergeants to make stern talks about the danger of such a course, and issued an order that no merchant was to extend more than a week's due of credit to any one man after an incident, four days into the patrols, where it was found that one man had almost escaped attention entirely by drawing up an entire month of what little he'd earn acting as a conscripted soldier, and spending it like water itself to hide his crimes from others.

It was all stressful and complicated enough without having to deal with his vision suddenly turning red, or the way his arm ached for an entire day for no reason. Aiyistin was acting out like the most childish of spirits, and it was making his job harder for him, even as he read news both good and bad. On the good side, there was the fact that having been beaten back from a few towns, the raiders from Hari-Os were now razing the countryside.

'Our men are happy, and a stream of refugees is choking the towns, which cannot help them, and yet cannot ignore them.' The cities themselves remained untouched, though words was that the Typhoon had begun an offensive to take one of the great cities of Hari-Os, but there was no telling how well that would end. If he actually managed it, though, then it'd be a sign that this was a real threat, one that could threaten the entire province, though not the Empire itself.

Kiralo tried to ignore the knowledge that he knew why the men were happy. They were stealing food, clothing, money, and there was no doubt in his mind that they were having their way with the women. A raiding party was especially hard to manage, and while the Rassit had the discipline to refrain from the last one, nobody in this world can stop a raiding party from looting, since the alternative still involves the destruction of everything a peasant had. Burning all of their food and stealing some to eat all led to a starving peasant, they all led to misery that couldn't be stopped.

Kiralo, for all his care for those below him, had caused such misery after Banner Day. He'd tried to focus mainly on military targets, and not steal all of the food, but there were probably still people who died without even seeing him thanks to what he'd done.

So he read, and he understood the words between the line. He knew war, and he knew how much could be said without saying it.

He knew how futile it was to give orders from this far away, too. What he had gotten was no doubt wildly out of date, and so he listened from afar to the sounds of combat, even as his own army marched closer and closer to their own war.

Jinhai was staying the course so far, his bluff still working, his men in a surprisingly good mood from the one report Kiralo could read. They were confident, for whatever reason, and the Hari-Os troops, while uncertain about the future of their province, thought that he had left behind enough troops and done enough that they were willing to follow him forward, at least for the moment.

The question was how Kiralo could shake that certainty, because right now, despite things going badly for the Prince in some ways, in others he was doing better than expected, and he had to have a plan, a plot, a scheme here. It was something deeper, and yet Kiralo, frustrated, could not quite see it. It was clearly not merely a miracle battle victory. From what his spies could report, their two forces were roughly equal, and so perhaps he thought he could win? But then again, Kuojah was the one in charge, and with two other significant armies…

Defeat in detail was one thing, but did he really think his men and troops were good enough to win against Kiralo? He might, but he felt as if he were missing something. A plot, a scheme.

...a well timed assassination or diplomatic ploy.

But two could play at that game, and Kiralo had a few ideas already. And just as importantly, he had forces that he could use, if need be.

But first, he had to figure out why Aiyistin was acting as it was.

******

'Danger. Warning' the spirit thought at him as he stood in an empty tent. The tent flap was closed, and he looked around. He looked at the spirit, which was just barely visible. It was like a shroud, that you'd wrap the body of a dying man in to carry him. White like death, and floating, hanging there, spreadin gout.

"Warning about what?"

'Die soon.'

"...what?"

'You will.' Its mental voice was monotone, yet oddly interested, as if it wanted to see how he would react.

"It's war," Kiralo said, "I assume you mean I'm likely to die?"

'Seen it. If nothing happens. Die soon.'

"Tomorrow?"

'Not here. Not bath town. But before the battle.'

"Then he's going to kill me," Kiralo said, "Or at least, he'll try. And you were trying to warn me? Why not just tell me?"

'Because you would not ask. Cannot give what do not ask about. Rules. Ways around rules.'

Kiralo looked at the spirit that had foretold his death. "How likely?"

'Very.'

He felt so much pain he fell to his knees, his head aching, his limbs shaking with the force of the blow, the sudden moment of pain as his insides tore themselves apart, and then...and then he was just kneeling in any ordinary tent. "Very painful...too."

'Yes.'

"And yet you're helping me?"

'Yes.'

"And if I ask, will you explain it?"

'No.'

"...I think it's because you like me. Or at least, there's something you see that means you don't want this connection to end. There's something you want of me, and it's no great destiny, but if you could help me, that would be good. If you could guide me, if you could tell me what you knew--"

'Maybe. If you live.'

The voice sounded fascinated, in a monotone sort of way. The spirit enveloped him, and Kiralo took a breath, "Is it a deal? I live, you help?"

'...yes.'

"And in the meantime, any hints?"

'No.'

Of course not.

Kiralo left with a pall over him, and yet with the famous spring baths ahead.

*******

Gain new temporary trait!: "The Shadow of Death: All actions not related to preventing the death receive -2 to their rolls. All rolls related to preventing it, get a +2."

*****
What to do at the baths? (Choose 2)

[] Find...someone. It's been too long, and Aiyistin has given something like assurance that death won't come via this way. The town, there's sure to be...some means of relaxation. (Moderate to High chance of reducing the negative effects of The Shadow of Death)
[] Hang out with Kueli. Ask his advice. (Moderate chance of reducing the negative effects of The Shadow of Death.)
[] With both the men's and women's baths taken over by, well, the soldiers, that means that Ayila will have nowhere to go. Help her, and perhaps talk to her while you're at it. (Low to moderate chance of reducing the negative effects of…)
[] Perhaps this will be a good setting for discussing matters with some of the merchants, and laying down the law (Bonus to Vend Only.)
******

A/N: Jinhai is not playing. You'll have options next week regarding this. If you'd seen his rolls, more of them, this would make more sense.