Storm and Steel by Jon Sprunk Page A

both chuckled as they looked in Horace's direction.
    He focused his attention on the queen. “Of course not. However, if there was a way to avoid future war, that would be a good thing. Don't you agree?”
    The conversation around the table died down, until the only sounds came from the servants as they moved about the room.
    The queen popped an olive into her mouth. “Of course, if the circumstances could be decided in a way that favored Erugash. But your leaders are not inclined to negotiate in good faith, Horace. Furthermore, the consensus of the imperial court seems to be to crush the savages—pardon me, the crusaders —and push them back into the ocean.”
    â€œIt's actually a sea,” Horace murmured.
    â€œPardon,” she said. “What do you mean, it is a sea?”
    â€œThe ocean. Technically, it's a sea. We call it the Midland Sea.”
    The ire vanished from the queen's face, replaced by a look of intense curiosity. “Truly?”
    Horace pushed his platter aside. Dipping his finger in his wine, he drew a rough outline of the Akeshian coastline on the table's surface, from the shores of Arnos, Altaia, and Etonia in the north down to the headlands of the southern continent.
    â€œThis.” He tapped the open space between Akeshia and the westernnations. “Is the Midland Sea. Farther west past a few other countries is where you'd find the Ergard Ocean, which stretches on for…well, to the edge of the world, as far as we know.”
    Everyone was straining to see the crude map.
    â€œFascinating,” Byleth said. “We know so little about the West beyond our own colonies. Tell me, are these things universally known among your people?”
    â€œWell, it's common knowledge among sailors. I was friends with the pilot of the Bantu Ray —the ship I sailed on before I crashed here. His name was Belais Reymeiger, and he knew more about the seas and coasts than anyone I ever met.”
    â€œMay I ask a favor, Lord Horace? Would you meet with our royal cartographers and help them produce a more accurate map?”
    Horace hesitated before answering. He remembered how paranoid Belais had been about his precious charts and logbook falling into enemy hands. Apparently, navigation material was considered a national secret. However a gesture of goodwill might convince the queen he was really on her side or at least a trusted neutral arbiter. He believed the Akeshians wanted peace as much as he did. They just needed to know they could trust him. “Of course. However I can be of service.”
    Byleth caressed the back of his hand. “I'm glad to hear you say that, Horace. I've been thinking about your role as my First Sword. Now that the thorn of Omikur has been removed from our side, we intend to devote our attention to crushing the slave rebellion once and for all time. I wish you to undertake this duty.”
    â€œMe? Excellence, I'm not sure I am the right choice.”
    â€œI am,” she said, and smiled at him in a way that made his heart beat faster.
    Horace struggled for a suitable reason to turn down this “honor.” He had no intention of harming the slaves fighting for their freedom. In fact, he'd rather help them achieve their final goal. “Excellence, I wouldn't know the first thing about ending a rebellion. I could help more by bringing our two nations together in peace. Perhaps I could act as an ambassa—”
    The queen clapped her hands. Horace shifted on his couch as everyone else filed out of the room. Lord Xantu was the last to depart, casting a stern gaze around the room before he closed the door behind him.
    Once they were alone, Byleth squeezed his hand. “Horace, you are the only one I can trust with this. Too many in court wish to topple me from the throne so they can fight over the scraps. I need you. I need your strength , now more than ever before. I finally have a chance to rule my city in truth, and I will