The Last Stand (The Eleven Years War: Book One)
Chapter Sixteen

Polain took a sip ofherbal tea, working on calming his nerves. His cabin, a small building in FortAsfalis where he stayed when he came, was quiet, the only sounds being thesounds of boys training outside. His room was simple, and looked as much like aJotiese room as he could manage to make it. The table he knelt at was low tothe ground, the pillows soft and made from silk, the lantern made from paper,his bed rolled up neatly and tucked into a corner; there were times where heeven managed to forget that he was in Caitha, and thought that he was back inJotai. Then, someone would walk in and ruin the illusion.

Thatwas exactly what happened that day. Just as he finished off his first cup oftea, the door opened and someone’s heavy footfalls entered the building. Italmost sounded like his visitor was stomping their feet as they walked in.

“Howmany times must I tell you to take off your shoes before you walk in here, CommanderSilas?” Polain asked without looking behind him at the door. “It took me a longtime to save up the money for these tatami mats, and I don’t wish for them tobe ruined by your muddy boots.” He could hear him slipping his boots off of hisfeet.

“Alright,I’ll save your precious mats from destruction,” Silas muttered. He walked overand plopped down on one of the pillows, his legs crossed. Polain almost askedhim to kneel on the pillow – after all, that was how one sat in the presence ofan officer in Jotai – but he managed to resist. Though he’d been in Caitha foralmost twenty years, he still had a hard time with how informal they were. Onlythe gods (may there names be praised) knew exactly how he managed to keeppatient with this Mirinian, who was informal even by Caithian standards.

Besides,his posture wasn’t the thing he was most concerned about.

“Wouldyou like some tea, Commander Silas?” Polain asked as he poured himself anothercup of tea. “Or perhaps a change of socks? Yours seem to be worn through.”

Silaslooked down at his soiled socks, with holes that let both of his big toes show.By the gods (may their names be praised) how long had he had them? They lookedlike he’d taken them off of a corpse. Even by Caithian standards it wasinappropriate.

“Ithink I’ll pass on the socks,” Silas said, looking back up. “I’ll take you upon the tea, though.” Polain poured him a cup of tea, which he downed in asingle swig. It almost pained him to see it.

“CommanderSilas, would you mind not swigging this tea?” Polain asked as he poured himanother cup. “It’s been quite hard to replace it as of late, and I’d appreciate itif you didn’t drink it like cheap liquor.” Silas took the cup and made sure totake the tiniest, daintiest sip of tea he could manage.

Polaintook a sip of tea. “Now, what is it that you need? I assume that you aren’there simply to have tea with me.”

“Youknow that kid Eza brought in earlier?” Silas asked. He took another sip of tea.“He claims that he’s prince Kael of Gishk.”

Polain frowned. He’dmet prince Kael years ago, just before Raul killed the Gisken royal family.He’d been a small, almost frail child, due to the fact that he wasn’t oldenough for sword training and spent most of his time inside with his youngersiblings. Even if he had survived the massacre, there was no way that hesurvived much longer than that, let alone eleven years.

“Doeshe really think that?” Polain asked. Silas nodded.

“Heeven told me to get you down to the brig to see him, as you know who he is,” hesaid. “I think he may be a little desperate, though; he knows that I’ll takethe ax to him if I decide he’s a Gisken assassin.” He took a few sips of tea,enough to finish off his cup.

“Isuppose I should see him,” Polain said. “It may be his final request.” Silasgave him a weird look.

“Seriously?”he asked. “As far as you know, he really isan assassin; you aren’t dying on my watch.”

“Withall due respect, Commander Silas, there isn’t much he could do to me while he’sin chains,” Polain said. “Anyway, it would also be quite dishonorable for me torefuse a prisoner’s final request; I will not risk being eternally damned forsomething as simple as this.” Silas sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Sometimes,I don’t think I’ll ever understand that religion of yours,” he grumbled. “Ifyou’re going down there, at least take a few guards down there with you. Chainsor not, he’s a Gisken who managed to bang up one of the best fighters I’ve everseen. I know you don’t think there’s much he can do right now, but I’d rathernot take the chance.” Polain nodded, though he found himself a littlesurprised; Silas had never tried to give him orders, before.

“Ifyou insist, commander,” Polain said as he finished up his cup of tea. “Icertainly hope you don’t mind if I finish this pot of tea, do you?” Silassighed.

“Ofcourse not,” he said. “I know how seriously you Jotiese people take your teatime.” He held out his cup. “I’ll go ahead and help you with it, if you don’tmind.”

And so, for the nextfew minutes, the two worked on finishing the tea, making small talk about thatyear’s crop of Rook recruits, how things were going in Semata, even thepossibility of a marital match for princess Marion, which she was fighting evenharder than the other men that had tried to court her. After the final drop oftea was gone, the two stood up, put on their shoes, and walked to the brig.

Itwas dark in there, dark and clammy. The passageways Silas led him down werenarrow enough that they couldn’t walk side-by-side, and the place smelled ofhuman waste. It was the kind of place that Jotiese officers wouldn’t be caughtdead in; however, he’d learned from his time in Caitha that it was quite normalfor officers here.

Finally,long after Polain had become lost in the winding passageways that were FortAsfalis’ brig, they stopped in front of a cell.

Silaspulled out the keys. “I would make this short and sweet, sir; the men probablyknow there’s a Gisken down here, and they’ll want blood.” The cell door openedwith a creak, and Silas gestured inside.

“Afteryou,” he said. Polain stepped into the cell, then looked back at him.

“Iwould greatly appreciate it if you were to stay out here until I’m finished inhere,” Polain said. He could see that Silas wanted to protest, but for once inhis life, he managed to keep his mouth shut.

“Yes,sir,” he said with a nod. He shut the cell door, but didn’t lock it.

Polainlooked behind him at the Gisken. The boy was young, perhaps eighteen years old,and was dressed in furs like a Kurzhian; the shaved head, a common occurrenceon the border between Kurzh and Gishk, sealed the illusion. The boy perked upthe second he saw him.

“CommanderSilas told me you wanted to see me,” Polain said as he knelt in front of him.He had to admit, there was an air of familiarity about him, as if they’d metbefore.

Thenagain, his face looked like every other Gisken he’d ever met.

“Ididn’t think he would actually get you,” he said. He slowly began to adjusthimself, making his chains jingle.

“Now,you know who I am, but I’m afraid I don’t know who you are,” he said. The boyfrowned.

“I’mPrince Kael,” he said. “Don’t you remember me?” Polain shook his head.

“I’mfairly certain that I’ve never met you before,” he said. “Besides, Prince Kaeldied with the rest of his family eleven years ago.” The Gisken looked down athis feet for a few seconds, as if trying to decide what to say, then lookedback up.

“Iknow that I don’t look much like the kid you met years ago, but you have tobelieve me,” he said. “I’ve been hiding out until I could reclaim my throne,which I can do in a few weeks, and I couldn’t tell anyone who or where I wasbecause of Raul.” Polain gave him a look, which the Gisken took withfrustration. Then, he sighed.

“Iremember when you came to Gishk a few weeks before the incident,” he said. “Yougave me a training sword and tried to get me interested in fighting.”

Polain paused,confused. It was true; he had giventhe young prince a training sword, in the hopes that he would stop humoring hisyounger sisters with tea parties and would get out into the courtyard and starttraining to be a proper soldier. It was something only someone very close tothe family would know.

Even so, he tried tokeep his face from showing it; if this wasan imposter, he would only be encouraged by a positive reaction.

TheGisken began to chuckle. “Mother was so angry; I wasn’t sure who she was goingto kill first: me for breaking that Vercourian vase with it or you for givingit to me.”

Polain felt an icygrip on his heart. The Gisken was two for two, now. For the last few days ofPolain’s visit in Gishk, Queen Helena had been angry about the vase. It hadbeen a one-of-a-kind and special enough to her that she’d hardly spoken a wordto him or her son for almost a week. Onlya few people, including Polain knew that, and other than him, everyone who knewabout the incident was dead.

Unless…

Hewas beginning to see it. While he certainly didn’t look much like the boy he’dmet eleven years before, there was still a resemblance: The olive skin, the bigbrown eyes, the narrow nose, the soft jaw… now that he saw it, he knew exactlywho it was.

Polainstood up, his mind running laps. He would need some time to think this over.

“Ifyou’ll excuse me, I have some other business to attend to,” Polain said stiffly.Trying to ignore the confused expression on the boy’s face, he turned aroundand walked out of the cell to replace Silas, leaning against the door of the cellacross from that of the prince’s.

“Howwas your private conversation with the mad man?” he asked. They began to walktoward the exit of the brig, winding their way back through the labyrinth ofnarrow corridors.

“Ithink he may be telling the truth.” Silas stopped and turned around, a look ofshock Polain didn’t think possible for him etched on his face.

“Then,you’re even loonier than he is, Polain,” Silas sighed, shaking his head. “Whythe hell would you think that?”

“Heknew things that very few people beyond the royal family would know,” Polainsaid. Silas cursed, folding his arms over his chest and rolling his eyes.

“Well,that’s sound reasoning,” he muttered.“Let’s let a Gisken lunatic roam around the country, claiming that he’s somedead prince. Seriously, Polain, I think all that green tea has gone to yourhead.”

“Thatwasn’t the only thing, Commander Silas,” Polain said. “He looks a lot like KingAlberich did, minus the shaved head-“

“-Whichis a sign that it’s a sham,” Silas argued. “Last time I was in Gishk, having ashaved head was pretty frowned upon; it showed that someone was a criminal. Whythe hell would you trust the word of a man the Giskens think is a criminal?”

Polain sighed as hebegan to rub the back of his neck. When put that way, it certainly didn’t lookall that great. How was he supposed to explain something he only had a gutreaction to?

“You’reprobably right, Silas,” he said. “But there’s something about him… every time I look at him, I think ofKing Alberich. It’s like those gut feelings you and Eza have all the time.”They continued to walk down the corridor.

“So,are we staying the execution, then?” Silas asked. Polain nodded. Silas sighed,almost as if he was disappointed.

“Andwhat do you plan on doing with him when you leave tomorrow morning?” he askedas he looked up at Polain. “Don’t tell me that you’re going to leave him here;the only thing that’s keeping that bastard from getting killed is the fact thatthey think he’ll be gone, soon; if you take the executioner and leave thecondemned, someone else will do it, and it sure as hell isn’t going to bepretty when it happens.”

“Ican assure you, Commander Silas, I will not be leaving Kael here to rot,”Polain said. “He’ll be coming with us to Semata; if he really is Prince Kael, heneeds to be at a safe distance from the invasion front and Marion needs to beintroduced to him.” Silas smirked.

“Idon’t suppose you’ve told her about him, have you?” he asked. Polain began torub the back of his neck.

“Ididn’t see the need,” he said. “Until today, I thought he was dead; theredidn’t seem to be a point in telling her that they were supposed to be marriedwhen they were old enough.” Silas snorted as a boyish grin came to his face.

“She’sgoing to be so pissed.”