Episode 20
A Royal Surrender
For a few minutes we stood, and smoked, and made small talk waiting for our next orders, until Captain Marks walked over and nodded to us. “Sergeant Hanley, men. I have a new assignment for you.”
“Yes sir,” Jock responded.
“Crown Prince Etna-Harald has surrendered,” Marks announced. “You and your men will be part of a 16-man platoon assembled to escort Colonel Emerson and Stratarches Tark as they take the prince into custody. You will command the platoon, Sergeant. Pick your men and meet Colonel Emerson at the command tent in thirty minutes.”
As Marks left, Jock turned to us. “So men, feel like rubbing shoulders with royalty?”
Park shrugged. “Do we get better food?”
“You can buy your own with the money we’re making. All right, all of you guys are with me, and I’ll pick some hardcases from Kilo Company. Where’s Four-eyes?”
“He was hanging around the Ulimbese com guys earlier,” Park said.
“Probably fighting AI withdrawal,” I said.
“Yeah, probably,” Jock said. “We’ll take him if we can find him too. You guys cleaned up as best as you can.”
I looked down at my stained uniform and mud-encrusted boots. I’d put my rifle to rights, but that was the only thing I’d been able to clean.
Jock must have been thinking the same thing, because he frowned as he looked us over. “Yeah, on second thought, let’s see if we can requisition something a little better for our brush with the blue bloods.”
Less than a half-hour later, dressed in clean clothes and armor Jock had found somewhere, we were lined up in two rows around Stratarches Tark and Colonel Emerson, walking down a fancy-looking path towards the wall around the castle. It was open and manned by Ulimbese guards. We walked through and I saw rows of bodies stacked against the inside of the wall, along with disarmed Ulimbese soldiers and prince’s guard lined up along the wall of the castle itself. A few soldiers were walking down the row and photographing each face as they went, logging them into the computer for ID. Both living and dead would be treated the same way.
About forty feet in front of the castle entrance, Colonel Emerson called us to a halt. We waited, at attention, for about a minute—and then the door opened and the prince stepped out. He wore black pants and a lavender silk shirt with white ruffs, and a red cape. On his head was a simple circlet of silver, over short brown hair. Except for the clothes, he looked pretty ordinary to me. Ordinary and exhausted.
Behind the prince were six men in sharp sky-blue uniforms and white gloves. His honor guard, carrying ancient one-shot rifles. I guessed they were unloaded, not like they’d be able to do much if they tried. Stratarches Tark nodded slightly to the prince and he and his guards walked out to meet us, stiff and silent. We fell in around them, but instead of walking back the way we’d come, we went around a sweeping walk behind the castle to a parking garage, now manned by Ulimbese soldiers.
There we waited as four vehicles were brought around. They were nondescript, armored types that might have carried spooks for any service. If I’m not mistaken, the prince had a bit of surprise on his face. I don’t think he expected this.
Stratarches Tark then addressed the prince. “Your Highness, the emperor has empowered me to speak on his behalf. With the imperial power vested in me, and in appreciation of your surrender of your person without further resistance or bloodshed, we are granting you parole, provided you travel directly to the royal capitol.”
“What of my men?” the prince said, turning for the first time to look the stratarches in the face.
Stratarches Tark nodded slightly. “Of your Royal Guard, perhaps 200 remain. They will be taken into imperial custody, where they will be treated with respect and honor. The city militia and the regulars soldiers being disarmed, and they, too, will be paroled after they are processed and their identies are recorded.”
The prince’s mouth was a thin line as he took the news in silence. Then he nodded slightly.
“I accept your conditions.” He paused for a moment, then nodded firmly. “And I thank you for your magnanimity in victory, Stratarches.”
“Take your vehicles, Prince Etna-Harald,” Tark said, after returning the prince’s nod with a formal bow. “Please travel directly to the capitol with no deviations. Your vehicles are fully fueled and we have cleared the highway to the north. You will not be molested.”
Diplomatic matters being settled, the Corwistalian prince and his escort got into the idling cars and slowly left us behind.
And that was that.
Or so I thought.
