The king's guard spread out as the procession entered the camp, and Azoun made his way through the crowd to the royal compound. Thom followed as close behind as possible, leading Vangerdahast, still unconscious on his horse. The other three generals met them outside Azoun's tent.
Brunthar Elventree of the archers was already smiling when Azoun clapped him on the shoulder. "This is unbelievable," the king exclaimed to the dalesman, then glanced at the cheering crowd. "What forged the group of soldiers I left into an army in only one day?"
The king faced his cavalry commander, Lord Harcourt. Even though it was warm, the old Cormyrian nobleman still wore his heavy chain hauberk. Harcourt simply shrugged as a reply and continued stroking his sizable white mustache.
Carrying Vangerdahast between them, Farl Bloodaxe and Thom Reaverson broke into the scene. The wizard was mumbling in fits, but he was still obviously unconscious. The king's smile fled and was replaced by a concerned grimace. "He's better," Thom offered as they brought Vangerdahast into Azoun's tent, "but we should call for a healer."
After kneeling for a moment at his old friend's side, Azoun turned to Thom. "That's already been done. Will you watch him until the priest arrives?" When the bard nodded, the king motioned for General Bloodaxe to follow him from the tent.
Once outside, Azoun invited his generals to sit around a campfire, then he quickly explained what had transpired in the Tuigan camp. The cheers from the army had died down somewhat, but the men could still be heard alternatively praising Azoun and cursing the horsewarriors. Finally, the king looked to Farl. "Can you tell me what brought the men together like this?"
The ebony-skinned infantry commander drew his mouth into a hard line. "Rumor," he said, plucking nervously at the sleeve of his white shirt. "There are incredible stories circulating through camp, stories of how you were ambushed by the khahan and had to fight your way back."
Clearing his throat noisily, as he often did before speaking, Lord Harcourt added, "They've been telling wild tales about the Tuigan, too, don't you know." He twirled his mustache and frowned. "Some say they sacrifice babies and do horrible things to the women they capture. Nasty business. Even the nobles have been busy with the gossip."
Seeing the concern on Azoun's face, Brunthar Elventree leaned toward the king. "But the source doesn't matter so long as the effect is right," he noted brightly, the heat from the fire turning his face as red as his hair.
"Of course the source matters," Azoun snapped. "It's all a lie! The Tuigan aren't monsters, and I did not have to fight my way back to camp."
A few guards at the compound's edge looked toward the king, and Lord Harcourt cleared his throat again. "Your Highness," he began haltingly. "You may want to lower your voice a bit."
"Why?" both Azoun and Farl asked simultaneously.
Brunthar Elventree poked the fire, sending an angry shower of sparks into the night sky. "Because a word or two like that will shatter whatever spirit this army has mustered," he growled. "You might as well kill the men yourself if you demoralize them now."
Farl fell silent, but Lord Harcourt nodded his agreement. Turning from the fire, Azoun paused a moment to gather his shattered thoughts, then commenced pacing. After a few turns, the king faced the generals again.
"I did not fight a single Tuigan today, so the tales of heroism the troops are telling are lies," he said flatly. "Can you let that be the thing that unites them?" He allowed his gaze to drift slowly from Farl to Lord Harcourt to Brunthar.
It was the dalesman who spoke first. "They'll fight together now, Your Highness," he answered confidently, meeting the king's eyes. "And if they fight as a unified force, perhaps they won't have to die at all."
"Harcourt?" Azoun asked after a moment.
With a nod, the old noble said, "I agree with General Elventree. It's regrettable to let untruths fester like this, but with the Tuigan ready to attack tomorrow, it's for the best. If the men are galvanized by the tales, I say let them believe whatever they want."
Before his king could ask him, Farl Bloodaxe stood and faced away from the fire. "I'll do as Your Highness asks," he said. "We've known each other a long time, so I'll be bold enough to be honest. I believe this is a serious mistake." Turning toward Azoun again, he added, "By not correcting the rumors, we're fostering them."
"If my archers survive the battle," Brunthar interjected, "they wont care what we did to motivate them, so long as we win. If we lose-" he shrugged and poked the fire again "-then no one will be around to argue the point."
Azoun's first impulse was to strike the cocky dalesman, but he knew that the urge was more a reaction to his own indecision than anything General Elventree had said or done. He saw his choice clearly laid before him: either let the rumors circulate freely and unite the army, or tell the troops the truth and possibly demoralize them on the eve of the first battle. And though his heart told him otherwise, the king looked Farl in the eye and said, "Let the men think what they will." After a pause he added, "But I want all three of you to get your troops under control and ready them for the morning."
Lord Harcourt and Brunthar Elventree bowed and left immediately. Only Farl paused before carrying out his liege's commands, and he stood for a moment, studying the king from across the fire.
"You know this is wrong, Azoun," the general said at last. He cast his eyes to the ground and toed a stone.
"There's no other choice, Farl. If you were in my position, you'd see that."
The infantry commander shook his head. "No, Your Highness. Wrong is wrong, and-"
"Go on," the king prompted. "As you said, we've known each other a long time. You can be honest with me."
"I'm afraid you'll be made to pay for this somehow, that letting these rumors go unchecked will come back to haunt you."
A weak smile crossed Azoun's lips, and he nodded. "Perhaps," he said wearily. "Perhaps." With a sigh the king sat on a large stone near the fire. "But this is war, and my responsibility is to the troops. I cannot be guided solely by my beliefs."
Farl bowed and turned to go. Before he got more than a few feet away, he stopped. "The soldiers are here because of your beliefs, Your Highness, and the true crusaders will gladly die for the causes you champion.. but never for a lie."
Then the general was gone, leaving Azoun alone with his thoughts. He stared at the fire for an hour, wondering if this was what Vangerdahast had warned him against in Suzail. If so, the king decided as he rose to check on the royal wizard, then my old tutor was right. I'm not prepared for war at all.
13
That night most of the clouds fled the sky, as if they were reluctant to be witness to the upcoming battle. The morning after Azoun's visit to the Tuigan camp began bright but much cooler than the day before. The king, as restless as the clouds, rose early, just as the sky to the east was growing pink. His first office that morning was to offer a short prayer to Lathander, Lord of the Morning, God of Renewal.
"If Lord Tempus does not see fit to strengthen our arm in the battle today," Azoun's prayer concluded, "then let our sacrifice fall to you, Lathander, and lead to the beginning of a united Faerun, one that will rear up to crush the Tuigan."
The prayer done, the king donned the foundations of his armor-a new quilted doublet and hose-and went to check on Vangerdahast. The handful of guards outside the Royal Pavilion snapped to attention as Azoun passed. The guards looked as if they'd stood at attention for hours, but the king didn't miss the empty wineskin or the marks in the ground around the fire where they'd likely passed the night.