Page 39 of The War of Four Winters

Katyr hesitated. "Not entirely. Not without more battle mages of our own. I can mitigate the effects around Calibarra itself, create a protective ward to keep the worst of the cold at bay. But the supply routes beyond our immediate control will remain blocked."

"Then we send a force to break through," Northfire insisted. "Secure at least the eastern road to the Riverlands. Without grain, all your defensive strategies mean nothing."

"And divide our already strained forces?" Victorin countered. "Vinolia would crush any detachment small enough to move quickly."

I traced potential routes on the map, mentally calculating distances, supplies, vulnerable points. The phantom pain beneath my ribs flared.

"We need the Yeutish forces," Taelyn observed, her voice carefully neutral. "With the Broken Blades accompanying Elindir, our numbers are dangerously thin."

"Ieduin should have reached the Yeutlands border by now," I acknowledged. "But mountain passes are treacherous even without magical storms. They'll come when they can."

"And if they come to find nothing but starved corpses?" Victorin asked bluntly. "What then?"

"We should consider Savarran mercenaries," Lord Northfire suggested, leaning forward. "They have no stake in our conflict with Tarathiel. Their swords follow coin, not cause."

The suggestion sent a ripple of murmurs around the table. Hawk, standing near the wall with his weathered face set in a frown, shifted his weight. He’d been a mercenary before he was a slave, and if the thought didn’t sit well with him, I wasn’t willing to give it much thought. Not unless I had no other options.

Captain Akira, the acting commander of the remaining Broken Blades in Niro's absence, spoke from her position at the far end of the table. "We could hire The Crimson Company. They come highly recommended."

"At what cost?" I asked quietly.

"Cost is irrelevant if we starve," Northfire countered.

"Cost is everything," I replied, "when the mercenary's loyalty extends precisely as far as the last coin you placed in their hand." I straightened, meeting each council member's gaze in turn. "And who has more coins than Tarathiel? The Ivygrass clan supports him fully, and they are the wealthiest house in the kingdom. Whatever price we offer, he can double it."

"You think they would betray us?" Lord Craiggybottom asked, his voice gruff with concern.

"I think they would follow their nature," I said. "Mercenaries have no stake in our vision of a better world. They fight for pay, not principle. And the moment Tarathiel or Vinolia offers more, they become our enemies rather than our allies."

From the shadows at the far end of the table, the Empress of Bones finally stirred. The other council members fell silent as she rose to her full height.

"The Spine tribes have more warriors," she said, her voice carrying the weight of ancient mountains. "Not mercenaries who chase coin, but fighters who honor blood debts."

The unspoken reminder hung in the air between us. Our pact remained only partially fulfilled. I had recognized their sovereignty where my father had only seen resources to exploit, but I still owed the greater part of our bargain. I’d promised strong husbands for her finest warriors once all this was done. I only hoped there were enough willing men left.

The Empress of Bones had already brought two hundred of her fiercest women warriors to Calibarra as part of our alliance, but many more remained in the Contested Lands.

"How many more could you summon, honored empress?" I asked.

"Three hundred more would answer my call. Perhaps four. But the passage through the Contested Lands grows treacherous. Vinolia's storms have turned the ancient paths into death traps even for those who know them well."

Victorin cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Your Majesty, if I may..." He gestured to the supply reports. "More warriors means more mouths to feed. Our stores are already stretched dangerously thin."

"Your people bring their own provisions?" I asked the Empress.

She inclined her head slightly. "For the journey, yes. But not for a prolonged siege. My warriors eat sparingly compared to your soft southern soldiers, but even they cannot fight on empty stomachs."

A practical concern that couldn't be ignored. Four hundred more fighters would strengthen our defenses considerably, but also accelerate the depletion of our limited food stores.

"And the other tribes?" Taelyn asked carefully. The relationships between the various peoples of the Spine were complex and often touchy.

"The Ghost Owl clan might send warriors," the Empress replied after a moment's consideration. "They owe no loyalty to Tarathiel after what his soldiers did to their sacred groves. The Frost Wolves remain neutral, as always."

"Four hundred more fighters could break the Seashore blockade," Northfire said, calculations replacing skepticism in his expression.

"If they can reach us through Vinolia's storms," Victorin said.

Aryn, silent until now, spoke from his position near the chamber's eastern window. "The Spine warriors know paths even Vinolia's battle mages cannot track. That's why Tarathiel has never fully conquered their territories, despite centuries of trying."

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