Chapter 43 progress post sword point diplomacy

The first two hours of the ride were excruciating in their stiff silence, heads held high as soldiers gawked and saluted again, again, and again. It was nothing like Rose’s initial trip out to the war front. She had ridden side by side with Etienne, far enough away from others to laugh and hold conversation.

This group  had to pass through miles of encampment to get alone. The royal army stretched out across the horizon.

Rose had to admit that from an outsider’s perspective, the sight was likely overwhelming and depressing.

She felt a moment of pained empathy for them again: the North country had been invaded with little notice. They hadn’t stirred up a similar army. They were nearly as large as her home, true, but no one kept a true standing army. The vast majority of these soldiers should have been working in the fields, mines, and coasts. Instead they were called to kill their neighbors.

She’d never wanted any of this. She didn’t care to prove anything. Father had wanted to make them a vassal state like their only other geographic neighbor, but for all Rose cared they could live their lives. They made enough money by trade. She didn’t need taxes from them as well.

Well. She could fix this. It wouldn’t make anyone less dead, but they didn’t have to compound the error.

When they were finally on the open road, the tension abated slightly. Still, no one broke the silence. Rose was considering doing it herself when the Chamberlain cleared his throat politely. “It’s been a decade since I was this far south,” he said mildly. “I thought that there should be the orange blossoms on the trees by the time of the year.”

It took Rose a moment to understand what he was talking about. “The fragrant trees,” she said, and looked over to the treeline. No cheerful orange clusters were visible from this distance. “I suppose they must have been cut. The ones in the capital gardens will bloom now.”

It was weird to hear someone talk about international travel. Rose stole a look at him, aching with curiosity about what that must have been like. The invasion force was the only group she’d been in that had ever crossed national borders.

‘Things used to be very different. My mother wasn’t even from this continent.’

“I look forward to seeing them when we arrive.” He sounded like he genuinely did. “It’s one of my favorite scents. My daughter favors it for her perfume.”

“Osmanthus,” LaGown said, a little triumphantly, as if she had just finally remembered the name. “I recall now.”

“Do you have them?” Rose asked politely. Context said no, but it was best to keep the conversation going.

“No, they aren’t native and we haven’t had them imported in great numbers,” the Chamberlain said. What was his name again? Celestin had said something. Hells. Rose frowned to herself. …Grant! His family name was Grant. It was vaguely familar.

“Perhaps you can bring saplings home for your daughter,” she suggested. It wasn’t subtle, but it was a reminder of her promise. Play along, work with me, I’ll end this.

Technically speaking, she should be worried for her safety now that she had freed them and left camp. None of them had any reason to like her. They outnumbered her, and they were now armed. She was a fantastic combatant, but she had to sleep sometime.

“That would be lovely,” Chamberlain Grant said.